Page 18 of The Tenor's Shadow

Chapter 5

Freddie

Anthony turned on the water, and Freddie sighed with relief. He desperately needed a moment to himself. Anthony was everything he hated about being around people. He was loud, demanding, and obnoxious.

Master Hughes and Daniel had warned Freddie, but he hadn’t really understood how difficult this would be. Anthony could make his job impossible. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

And why did he have to smell so good? After hundreds of years of heightened senses, Freddie no longer registered the scent of the typical human he ran across in daily life. He noticed only when something was seriously wrong, when the odor of decay was strong enough to attract his attention. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d caught the aroma of any man, never mind one so pleasant.

Anthony smelled more than pleasant. He smelled delicious, a mix of citrus and leather, both fresh and well-worn. Freddie wanted to lick him from head to toe. And he was exactly Freddie’s type: short and solid, with olive skin and dark eyes, like a young Stanley Tucci, but with a better ass.

Anthony stood just beyond the door, slowly removing his clothes piece by piece. Freddie couldn’t help but imagine it, Anthony unbuttoning his shirt to reveal a layer of fine brown hair. Were his nipples tiny, barely big enough to flick his tongue against, or were they larger? Large enough to suck hard, as Anthony writhed and moaned beneath him.

He’d have to unbutton his pants. He couldn’t slide them down over that gorgeous ass. Freddie saw it in his mind’s eye: his hands cupping those firm cheeks, grabbing onto those muscular thighs. And his cock? There’s no way it wasn’t beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful.

Why was he so fixated? He’d just met the man. He spent the last hundred years ignoring humans. Yet this one human, this one frustrating man, he captivated Freddie’s imagination. He’d known him for all of an hour, but his inner demon was humming with electricity, not slumbering as it usually did. Even the monster inside of him wanted a taste.

The sound of feet against tile reached Freddie’s ears as Anthony stepped into the shower. He couldn’t keep the image from his mind: Anthony covering himself in soap, letting the water run down his toned body, forming rivulets in his fine chest hair.

He shook his head, throwing off the seductive vision that had taken up residence there. What was wrong with him? He moved to the far corner of the hotel room, away from the bathroom. Maybe a little distance would allow him to focus.

That’s when it began: the soft slap of water and skin. Freddie cursed his vampire abilities, the superpowered senses that let him know exactly what was happening. Anthony was jerking off. Why would he do that? Was he trying to torture Freddie?

The slightest moan floated through the closed bathroom door, and Freddie was hard, so hard it was painful. He felt himself strain against the fabric of his tight suit pants. This was ridiculous! Freddie was a two-hundred-year-old vampire, not some schoolboy with a classroom hard-on.

The slapping sound came faster now, and Freddie couldn’t help but imagine Anthony, his cock in his fist, his smooth fingers running back and forth down the shaft, teasing the head. Did he shudder with the intensity of his need? Was he leaning, one hand against the shower wall and one hand wrapped around his erection?

That’s when the stifled moans began, wordless at first. Freddie’s vision blurred with his body’s reaction to the sound. Anthony’s voice, too soft to be heard by human ears, teased him. He shifted his hard-on, trying to ease the painful restriction.

“Mmm…mmmm…yes…please…suck me…”

It was too much. Freddie was trembling, Anthony’s expressions of ecstasy hitting him deep at his core. They came fast and furious now.

“Yes…please…that’s it…oh fuck…oh fuck……”

And then a final word, mumbled so softly that even with his supernatural hearing, Freddie wasn’t certain of what he heard.

“...Freddie…”

With the sound of his name, real or imagined, Freddie’s vision flashed with a bright white light. His fangs dropped, not in his control, piercing the flesh of his bottom lip. And his whole body shook as the orgasm took him, desperate relief flowing over him.

The tremors continued as the smell of Anthony’s release hit his nose, sweet and citrus. The powerful scent overwhelmed Freddie’s senses, tempting him and enticing him through the door. Freddie looked down at himself.

Shit.

It finally registered that he had come in his pants. Thank god he was in a black suit, the wet stain was barely visible. Still, it was embarrassing, and more than that, it was utterly ridiculous.

Why would he have this reaction? He was on the job. They had just met. Had he been so desperate for a sensual connection that his body had taken over?

He pushed down his humiliation and buttoned his suit coat. Hopefully, that would help cover the signs of what had happened. He could consider any deeper meaning later. Or maybe never. He didn’t need to think about Anthony and his strong thighs and his perfect ass—

Freddie.

He blinked his eyes, erasing the image of Anthony from his brain and searching for something to replace it. Dead puppies, the taste of cilantro, the sound of the word moist, anything to prevent Master Hughes from catching him imagining Anthony naked.

Sir?

You’re flustered.

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