Blood Brothers (Rocky Mountain Shifters) Page 2

  Tristen’s dick jerked, releasing a jolt of cum while twinges of pleasure escalated inside his body. He tightened the reins of his self-control. Had to hold back. The wolf inside him wanted to let loose and mount Fin, plunging his cock between his friend’s ass cheeks and claiming him. So far, they’d only marked each other without a full moon ritual. He thoroughly relished getting his partner so out-of-control that he screamed in ecstasy, but Tristen held back.

  “You’re pushing.” Finally, his military training in self-control came to the forefront. He let go of a breath that hissed out between his teeth. They both seemed to be holding back from each other on several levels.

  “Only in your mind. Do me. If you’re keyed-up, then let me get a taste of what we both want.” Fin’s gravelly voice shook. “I want it. Can’t you just try it? It might help us both.”

  “Don’t ask that of me.” It was as though his partner had read him and knew he was on a tenuous ledge. His cock throbbed at the thought of Fin’s face scrunched up in an orgasm. Just once he’d like to hear him say his name as though it came from the depths of his soul without him beating it out of him.

  “Why? Because you don’t think I can take it?”

  “I’m not shoving my fist up your ass. Not when I’m like this. I already said, we need a solution to this stalemate. Something we both can live with. Me hurting you…that’s a step backwards into a real snafu. Just turn over. Right the fuck now.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s your ride.” Impudence saturated Fin’s voice.

  Fin lowered slowly himself onto the mattress, pushing Tristen’s buttons. “Fine.” He roughly pulled Fin’s legs apart and took hold of his cock. Without waiting or saying a word, he thrust deep into Fin. The warmth of joining with Fin spread over his dick, making him shudder. “I’m so close. Fin. So close.”

  He lifted Fin’s hips off the bed, power-fucking him with long strokes. The sight of his dick, glistening and engorged, going into Fin’s ass, brought him to the brink. He took hold of his partner’s shoulders, slamming into him. Deeper and farther.

  “Tris, fuck me. There, you got me.” Fin’s body shuddered, and his dick sprayed against the sheet.

  “Now my turn.” That was it. Tristen jetted his load deep inside and didn’t stop rocking. Fin’s slick ass had him pumping harder, unwilling to let this sensation end. Shit. He bucked one last time, holding himself tight against his partner. He folded over on Fin’s side, running his hands over his lover’s perspiration-sheened body. “I hope that met with your approval.”

  They were polar opposites. He maintained his composure by enforcing boundaries in his life—professional and love. What Fin wanted wasn’t a mystery—it was pushing boundaries and therefore off-limits.

  “You’re a beast.”

  He met Fin’s cool stare. “Then don’t push me. I don’t do that. I can’t trust myself…not like this.”

  The muscles along Fin’s jaw pulsed, yet he remained silent, his red eyes unblinking. Fin was the most disciplined and contrite shifter he’d ever encountered. The wolf simply didn’t lose control. He was tempered steel. Never shed a tear, never raised his voice. One never knew what the man was thinking when it came right down to the truth.

  “No sweat.” Fin pushed off the bed as though the matter was forgotten. “You want something to drink?”

  “Nope. I want to know what’s up.” Fin didn’t fool him.

  “As in?” Fin held out his palms. His face remained impassive.

  “Damn. Pulling canines would be easier than a simple conversation around here. Suddenly, you’re back on the kink track.”

  “Never left.”

  “Feels more pressing. Is it the full moon?”

  Fin snorted. “Doubt it.”

  “Well, is that all you’re going to say?” Tristen studied his lover, the way he slid his eyes away like a door had closed.

  “I’ve said enough. I’m not into nagging.”

  “Fine. Have it your way.” The man was up to something, pulling out enough hints and then downright asking for the impossible only to clam up. Tristen shook his head, marveling at his lover’s body. Already his skin was smooth again, nearly hairless except the trimmed area around his cock. For once he wished he knew what the hell Fin was thinking.

  Exhaling, he settled back against the headboard. He didn’t need to know the exact nature of Fin’s thoughts but guessed they ran similar to his own. A clusterfuck since they’d both done active duty tours and basically had gone to hell and come back. The secrets that Fin kept were his own. They both had ways to keep misery and sorrow and pain stowed.

  Tonight was one of those times when brute strength could get the better of him. He’d made a mistake, a critical error in his judgment when Fin had convinced him to explore the idea of kink. Fin had wanted to be punished, and he’d pushed the limits with Tristen.

  He’d relented, giving in and delivering a round of discipline as Fin desired. Except Tristen had gotten to a point he feared. Fin lost consciousness. Tristen hadn’t pulled back in time. Afterwards, no matter how much Fin declared he wanted to do it again, Tris couldn’t. He never planned on crossing that line again. He knew Fin desired kink, a relatively silent craving that had reared its head. Yet this was all he could offer him at the moment. He lay there, thinking of how to bridge this gulf. Was he becoming an absolute pussy?

  Fin returned from the bathroom.

  “Are you ready to try sleep again?” Fin stood near the window, lifting the curtain and letting a stream of moonlight into the room. The glimmering light cast shadows over his masculine features. Tristen’s heartbeat kicked up. He inhaled Fin’s scent and his cock sprang to life.

  “No. Come here. I’m going to do you again.” He moved over, making room on the bed.

  “Here?”

  “Yeah. Bend over for me, Fin.” His heartbeat thudded as though whispering, Do him hard. Rough. Without so much as a drop of lubrication, he wedged his crown up against Fin’s asshole. “You’re tight.”

  “You’re tone is…different. Are you angry?”

  “Not with you. Damn, Fin, you get to me.” Tristen moved behind him. He opened his ass cheeks and lightly traced a finger downward. Fin had cleaned up and his opening puckered snug in front of Tristen’s rod. He pressed one finger into Fin and began pumping. Steady and hard. Fin moaned, lowering his head onto the mattress and Tristen plunged two fingers into him, thrusting and opening him up. His cock hardened at the sight and shit, he pushed three fingers into Fin’s ass. Rapid-fire ramming. His pulse raced, and then he did it. Four fingers. His lover was tight. He pumped once, then removed his fingers before giving in to a sizzling craving he’d end up regretting.

  Fin groaned, rolling his hips upward. “Please, more. Jesus.”

  The wolf in Tristen growled. His skin itched with the release.

  Black fur bristled over Tristen’s skin. “Lift your ass all the way up. Keep your head pressed to the fucking mattress.” He slapped his partner’s ass cheeks to make his point.

  He reached between Fin’s legs, finding a hard cock. That monster curved up against Fin’s belly. Rock against rock.

  Tristen didn’t have dick envy. He had his own special package, built for endurance. His cock extended in front of him, glistening in lust to take Fin. Give him a taste of what he’d asked for.

  Tristen grasped his dick, thicker than most men’s. “I’m so ready for you. Shit, you’ll only think of me tomorrow.” He had the length to back up his son-of-a-bitch arrogance, but what he also had was the ability to fuck for hours. Sure he’d come, but then he’d jump right back in the saddle and continue fucking and coming. Six, seven, eight times in a row. The women from his past couldn’t take what he had to offer and many times had brought friends to spread the wealth.

  Fin had always taken his dick until Tristen had nothing left to give. Each and every time. Tonight, he just wanted to fuck like an animal. Fuck the thoughts out of both their heads. He thrust forward brutally. The man took his length in sil
ence.

  Tristen flexed back, riding low from Fin’s asshole before slamming back into him. Again, he pulled out, and watched his dick, then his crown poised, and a spasm of pleasure erupted from his core. He drove himself into Fin again. Fucking mind-blowing, and just the way he liked to get off.

  Leaning over Fin’s back, he stroked the man’s cock. Tristen pumped his dick into his lover’s ass as Fin’s dick glided against his curled hand. His palm became lubed up by pre-cum. Jesus fucking Christ, it made him harder tonight to own Fin’s dick and ass.

  His own cock was pure steel, and he ricocheted against Fin’s hips as he manhandled his partner’s shaft. This time he was going to come in record time. Forget holding back.

  “Shit, blue fucking blazing.” Tristen groaned between clenched jaws as he climaxed. His nipples tightened into erect points. He shuddered. No way was this over. He’d not finished. He wanted Fin with a vengeance.

  Frustrated, he slapped Fin’s ass, thrusting from crown to balls in one power-driven slam. Oh, that was it. A rush of cum squirted out his dick again. He smacked Fin’s ass cheeks again, alternating deep pumps with hard slaps. He pushed in far, angling himself between Fin’s legs, going absolutely balls to the wall, grinding his cock into Fin’s recesses. His cum made sliding in and out of Fin’s ass absolute perfection.

  “Fuck me,” Fin shouted, coming a third time.

  “Christ, take me all. I’m into you deep, baby. Talk me. Tell me what it feels like.”

  “Just do it. Tris, give me what I want.”

  One last time, he swung his arm back only to land another hard-handed spank. His hand burned. Body-wracking shudders rippled from his hips up his torso. The furious eruption sent jolts of electricity racing up his spine and exploding into ecstatic bliss. “Goddamn, Fin. Your ass is milking my dick. Grip me tight. I’m just getting started.”

  Pushing up onto his arms, leveraging his hips, he let the weight of his body and gravity do the work as he fell, the tip of his dick diving into Fin. This fiery edge had him spiraling, and he pulled back before he lost control. For a second, he understood Fin’s desire for hard sex that pushed limits.

  He couldn’t, wouldn’t do that to him. Fucking-A, they needed a chaperone or referee. Someone to announce a TKO, since neither he nor Fin were going to tap out if he agreed to skate the edge.

  “Fin, is that enough? I want you so bad. Cum is dripping from your ass. I know you’re filled to the brim. Can you take me on tonight?”

  Fin glanced back. “Don’t make excuses. Do it. I want you to use my ass. I love the feel of you letting loose. Pound me. Let go. I know you want to. Damn, I already told you what I want. You think your pecker is going to wear me out? Bring it on, motherfucker. Beat my ass like I want. Fuck, Tris. Do it!”

  The wolf was a hair away from bursting through Tristen’s self-control. He stared at Fin’s gaping opening. Shit, he wanted to give them both relief. “Give me a second.”

  Rubbing his hand over hard flesh, Tristen stopped and picked up the bottle from the nightstand. He squeezed lube over his hand until his skin was slippery. He inhaled, positioning his two fingers at the opening into Fin’s ass and pushed in and out. Then he tried three. His lover’s body was slick around him. His rod stiffened. Again.

  Fin moaned. Tristen imagined himself pushing his arm up into Fin’s body. He didn’t have the ability to be gentle when he fucked. Dick or hand. He pressed his fingers together and delivered a power punch thrust. Four fingers, and he pumped hard and fast.

  Shit, he wanted to feel the inside of Fin’s ass. “Man, I don’t know…”

  “Jesus Tristen, I want this. Don’t make me beg. Give me…what I want. You won’t break me.”

  How much more would it take to open Fin up and slide his whole fist into him? No. He couldn’t trust himself. A man could tear and hemorrhage. Lose consciousness. He wouldn’t ever put Fin in that position again. Cold sweat beaded his hairline. Shit. Tremors overtook his body. Chills slithered up his spine. Another attack was coming on fast. He closed his eyes. “Fin,” he murmured.

  He began to shake, and then Fin had him in his arms. “I’ve got you, Tris. Stay with me. Listen to my voice. Take a deep, slow breath. I’m going to count. On go. One, two. Three, four. Now, hold for a count of four.” Fin tapped his arm to help get him grounded. “Release and exhale to the count of eight. Slower. Tris, slow down. Focus. That’s it.”

  He rocked his head, breathing and leaning against Fin’s warm torso. Never had an anxiety attack come on this strong. Fin’s hands rubbed his shoulders and neck. He’d completed ten rounds of slow, methodical breathing. The world still had this giddy feel, and his head felt like a helium-filled balloon. It was as though light poured out from his head, white glaring light, blinding him. Shit, he needed to lie down. Fuck. He was worn out. He closed his eyes. Blackness surrounded him.

  Chapter Two

  Tristen pushed himself to sprint the last leg of the trail that wound alongside the cliff adjacent his house. The pine trees thinned on this section of the northern ridge. Scrub dotted the land atop this private mountain wholly owned by Shawn, his boss and friend from high school. Shawn’s house lay a mile off and Tristen veered wide, preferring a solitary journey while running a course—the same course he ran daily—and less than a quarter mile remained. His lungs burned, his muscles were on fire, and his mind razor-sharp.

  Starting out this morning, he’d shifted into his wolf form. He couldn’t hold back any longer. Not this close to a full moon and not after last night. He ran through his rage, or at least tried to each morning come rain, sun, or snow. Fourteen miles, a little over half a marathon, every day, no excuse. This kept him ready whenever the mood struck to run with a bunch of other sweaty bodies from the VA in their Sunday Rocky Mountain shifter meet-ups when Fin held a yoga class on the hospital grounds near the pond.

  He slowed, gulping air, gravel crunching under his human feet. Naked, Tristen took the three front porch steps to his home in one leap, curling his hand around the wooden porch column, smooth under his fingers from Fin’s woodwork. Leaning against the railing, perspiration drizzling down his body, he focused on Fin inside the living room stretched over a yoga mat. He’d seen this routine before, countless times, as Fin posed for God knew how long in some contortion resembling a human triangle, simultaneously extending his arms up and down, his legs spread wide.

  Shit, just looking at his partner’s body made him dizzy. He moved silently along the porch, entering the house through the kitchen door. He punched the coffee pot switch on his way to their bedroom. The house smelled of burning sage. The scent of the acrid smoke reminded him of pot, and his stomach clenched as he stepped into the shower.

  Tristen lathered up and stood under the tepid water long enough to rinse the suds before getting out to shave. The mirror wasn’t even fogged when he stepped out onto the terry mat. He turned on the faucet at the sink. Steam rose from the hot water flowing down the drain. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he pulled a razor across his face, nicking his chin.

  He ran, showered, and shaved before sunrise. His routine. Just as Fin had his. They lived structured lives. Military precision during the day. At night, things tended to come undone. Like last night.

  Their lives were boxed-in to some extent, more than likely the reason Fin kept forcing him to clubs on the weekend. A yen for excitement. After the Middle East, he doubted a shifter club would ever provoke an adrenaline rush. He wiped his face, ignoring the few drops of blood spilling down his neck.

  Fin sauntered in through the doorway. “You’re bleeding. Do something before you drip blood on the rug.”

  “Uh, thanks for the concern.” Tristen tore off a square of toilet paper and stuck a piece on the cut. Red blossomed over the white surface.

  “Hitting the ibuprofen lately?” Fin came up beside him. His flushed skin provoked another round of craving that hit Tristen deep.

  “A bit.”

  Fin spoke slowly and in a calm yogi voice.
“You need to increase eating foods to assist your dosha.”

  “Dosha? Naw, this is all about business. Not some Sanskrit lesson in eating and breathing. Not now.”

  “These ideas do work. Thousands of years. But I guess you know better.” Fin arched a brow and Tristen sensed there was something on the horizon.

  Was Fin going to mention last night? He watched a throbbing vein pulse in Fin’s throat. “It’s only a headache, Fin. Time of year. New ordinances and new employees to train. Fuck, I dislike new. There’s no rest for the insane or the wicked.”

  “Or those with a type-A personality who get stuck in…a trench.”

  “Don’t start on me. I thought you were in your yoga flow glow?”

  “Clearly, you’re the one on edge. I’m only offering you a solution.”

  “The only answer is about Shawn’s business. Not some new age recipe for a smoothie or salad. I need another set of eyes, ears, and hands. I’m going to talk to him today about hiring another person to keep up with security.”

  Fin stopped before the shower door and jutted his chin, eyeing him in the mirror. “You got any prospects?”

  “No, but I haven’t gotten it approved. What? You think I’d put out the word before I spoke with Shawn?”

  “No, jackwad. But I know a guy—”

  Tristen held up his hands. “Hold on a fucking minute. Not one of those vets from the hospital. Shit, Fin. It’s fine and dandy that you lead yoga classes there, but the last time we tried to help one of those guys, it cost us. Big time. We’re not social workers.”

  “First, simmer that shit down. Second, the man’s not exactly in need of our services, or anyone else’s for that matter. Third, you need to meet him. I swear....” Fin paused, smiling oddly. “He’s special.”

  “Special sounds like a grandmother’s description. Or a condition.”

  “Different. The man is one-of-a-kind.”