Page 68 of How to Bare Your Neck and Save a Wreck
“Of course. Work and play are different situations…” Their voice dropped into a growl as they spoke, and they scooted closer, dipping down enough that their lips brushed the top of Shane’s ear as they added, “When you’re attending my pleasure, though, I get to show off however much of your skin I desire.”
The shudder that rolled through Shane was so ecstatic it felt like its own kind of orgasm. “As you say, my love.”
That seemed to please his vampire immensely, Andres’s fingers coming to drag teasingly along Shane’s sides. They settled against his scars, the thin ridges tingling beneath the fabric. “What about these? Do you want them exposed or hidden?”
The timid ecstasy of being touched there, not with hesitation but with affection and desire, tightened in the back of Shane’s throat. It wasn’t as though his past partners—the few he’d had since his transition—were anything but courteous with him. But they’d remained at an arm’s length, people who Shane might, possibly, let touch him, but would never have laid beside his bed as he slept, never have thought of his needs first or treated him like he was something to be treasured. Some of them had fucked him, but not once had they made love.
None of them had made who he was feel like a treasure.
“Exposed,” Shane replied, “but only when I’m with you.”
“Oh,” they said, and Shane thought it was a sound of understanding; of more than that—of recognition. A single trans person was a victim. A group of them was an army. Together, they could conquer, if not the world, then at least the anxiety the world had instilled in them.
One of Andres’s hands slipped back down, sliding curiously under Shane’s shirt. Shane felt as though his heart stopped, the world slowing to those five points of contact, fingertips drawing gently along his skin. It wasn’t like they hadn’t touched before, but Andres had never been this bold with him—this possessive—tracing each rib like they owned it. Shane relaxed under the pressure. He leaned back against his vampire’s chest, letting Andres feel each tremble that ran through him.
Lingering in the sensation, having Andres experience it with him, felt so right, and safe, and beautiful. Now, if only Andres would push him just a little farther… if Shane could get that meandering hand to reach between his legs…
Instead, his vampire did the second-best thing.
“You know what else I get to do with your skin whenever I want?” Andres pressed their mouth to Shane’s ear, letting one fang scrape harmlessly along the lobe.
Shane braced himself on the countertop, focusing on the feel of his palms on the cold granite to stop himself from fingering his own clit through his jean fabric. Oh—god, he’d have to tell Andres to order him to keep his hands off himself once they finally made it that far—he could already hear the growled commands in his head:don’t touch yourself until I tell you to. Don’t come unless I say.
Just the thought had him pressed up against the edge, a hungry pounding between his legs, the tender flesh around his slit hot and swollen and his clit greedy for pressure.
With their free hand, Andres fiddled with the collar of Shane’s shirt, tracing the spot where his collarbones met. “What do I want from you, my pet?”
“All of me,” Shane breathed.
“Then give it to me.”
Shane did, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against Andres’s shoulder. His whole neck felt unprotected, his exposed throat a fragile thing that could be torn through with a single rip. Andres traced the path of Shane’s trachea, a soft pressure against him as he swallowed.
“Thank you, my magnificent little swan,” they murmured, lush and hot on Shane’s neck. The shivery delight of those words were still sinking in when Andres bit down.
A delicious pain sliced through Shane’s mind, like hitting the head of his clit rough and fast, held down by the hips and pushed through it to the peak. The crest of the venom burst made him gasp, a whimpered sound that turned quickly to a moan. He could see only stars, bright and twinkling between his lashes, and feel the hold of his vampire’s strong arms.
That they could do this while sitting in the kitchen, on a quiet, normal evening between work, and it could feel this fucking good—last month, Shane would not have been able to imagine it. He allowed himself a little smirk, basking in the joy of that, before the yearning caught back up with him.
He kept himself steady, curling his toes around the barstool’s footrest. The little pleading moan he gave when Andres bit down harder was nearly feverish, escaping him before he’d even realized he was making it. His vampire shuddered against him in response. Andres’s hand slipped down, thumb hooking into the belt of Shane’s jeans.
Oh,god.
A chime clattered through the house, so loud and unexpected that it took Shane a split second to recognize it as a doorbell.Andres sputtered, yanking their fangs out with such speed that it widened the little pin-pricks, a pulse of pain making its hazy presence beneath the venom still coursing through Shane’s body. Blood slid in dual rivulets along Shane’s shoulder and dripped off his vampire’s chin.
“Fuck, sorry,” Andres muttered, quickly licking the wound shut as they pulled out their phone. They swiped a few times, and their expression darkened. They turned the screen towards Shane.
From the doorbell camera, the person’s form was blurred and twisted, but Shane would have recognized him anywhere. Frederick Maul had come to call.
24
ANDRES
Maul was here—at his home. Maul knew the townhouse, of course; he’d first purchased it fifteen years before he’d begun renting to Andres. Andres just hadn’t expected him to physically show up. He’d text and call and email, leave enough voicemails that it filled Andres’s inbox, and ultimately demand that Andres come to him, but he’d always left the house be.
That Maul had decided to change thatnowchilled Andres to the bone.
As he showed the live video to Shane, the text Maul was clearly typing into his phone arrived.
