Pack of Lies, page 12
Well, maybe not any, Eli amended when Julien began to rub teasingly at the insides of his thighs. Julien was staring at his body with such an odd expression on his face that Eli felt inexplicably shy. He absolutely refused to squirm away or hide, but couldn’t stop his arms from trembling where they were still pinned behind his head and holding up his sweater.
Julien’s fingers brushed lightly over his dick, tracing the line of it behind the fabric, then cupped his balls. “You’re so hard,” he said wonderingly, squeezing lightly.
“I need to come,” Eli said. “Please let me.”
Julien’s gaze flickered up to Eli’s, eyes huge and so black it was difficult to tell where the pupil began. He leaned forward, almost crowding Eli against the door but not quite, and nudged the side of his face with his own, nipping at his earlobe.
Then he pressed his thigh against Eli’s dick. “Rub.”
Eli’s knees wobbled and he almost fell, but Julien caught him, hands grabbing his hips and then sliding around to his ass. They slipped up the back of his briefs from the bottom and massaged the naked flesh there as Eli began to rut into his leg frantically, their chests just barely brushing, Julien’s short hard breaths against his ear.
When Eli felt Julien’s fingers slip into his crack, pull him apart as he bit at his jaw, he came unexpectedly. As if the orgasm that had been building steadily, heavier and hotter within him, had suddenly burned through its last restraint and plummeted free fall down the length of his body, leaving nothing behind but smoldering ash.
What...the fuck. He wasn’t even undressed. He hadn’t even made it into the room. And yet somehow his ears were ringing, his muscles were goo and he was docilely allowing Julien to gather him up and lead him to the bed, where he collapsed face-first into the mattress. Somewhere over the edge, he felt his shoes and socks come off, gently followed by his pants. The cool air on his feet and legs was so blissful that it suddenly felt imperative that he get naked right now and good god why was he still wearing a sweater?
“Shh, shh,” Julien said, helping him pull the rest of it all off, and then left the room. Eli’s ear twitched as he tracked him entering the bathroom, running some water and then returning, the bed dipping beneath them. A moment later he felt a gentle wet washcloth clean him and the coolness of someone blowing lightly on his back.
“Oh,” Eli groaned, and heard soft laughter though it sounded a bit strained. Oh. Right. Eli glanced over his shoulder. Julien was sitting on the edge of the bed, twin spots of color high on his cheeks, gripping the towel that was still modestly bunched in his lap, looking at Eli’s body and then away as if not sure he was allowed.
Eli tilted his hips invitingly, and was gratified to see Julien’s eyes widen so dramatically it was almost funny. “Go ahead. You can if you want to.”
Julien’s whole face flushed and he coughed on a choke. “Um, no. Thanks.” Then in a rush added, “Not that you aren’t—I just don’t have stuff for, uh, that, here, now.”
Eli raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit more like himself now that Julien was blushing and stuttering and order was being restored in the world. “I wasn’t saying you could fuck me,” he said, amused.
“No, right, of course not.”
“Not like that.”
Julien snapped his mouth shut and his eyes darkened. Eli spread his thighs slightly and tilted his hips up again. Hesitantly Julien got up on the bed and placed the towel to the side.
“Fucking hell,” Eli murmured, genuinely startled. “Do people often invite you to jump in them sans prep with that thing?”
Julien looked a little embarrassed but his voice was wry when he said, “Not often, no.”
“Although now I understand how the towel was staying up.”
“Okay.” Julien rolled his eyes, but he looked more relaxed as he crawled over and then decisively put a strong hand on the small of Eli’s back and pushed him down firmly.
“Mmmmph,” Eli grunted, burying his face in the pillows. His teeth sharpened and his muscles rippled, wanting to shift, and he pulled everything back into place. Now that he was sated, the feeling of someone dominating him tickled wary defensive instincts. But as surprisingly strong as Julien felt, Eli only needed to flex to reassure himself that he could overpower him, if necessary.
Not that it was going to be necessary in the least since aside from that hand on his back, Julien wasn’t even touching him. Eli looked over his shoulder again to find him slowly stroking himself, watching him.
When their eyes met, Julien bit his lip but didn’t look away. “I want to come on you. Is that okay?”
Eli nodded. “Yes.”
And Julien picked up the pace. The sounds of his soft panting and slapping skin in the otherwise silent room was oddly exciting. Illicit, somehow. Eli dragged one knee up to the side so that he was practically presenting himself to be taken.
Julien gasped, “Jesus. You’re—”
“Yeah,” Eli agreed. Because whatever he wanted to say, he probably was. “Tell me.”
“So pretty.” It was less than a whisper. Definitely not meant to actually be heard, but Eli couldn’t help preening a bit, arching his back. Julien’s hand moved to grip his shoulder, instead, and Eli thrust lightly against the mattress to move his ass. He wasn’t going to come again, but there were definite rolling swells of pleasure cresting somewhere deep inside.
“I want it. Mark me. I want to smell like yours.” Oops, maybe not that. But either it still worked in translation or Julien hadn’t even noticed because his breath was coming in short gasps now. “Please, give it to me. I want to be so pretty for you.”
Julien grunted and Eli felt the first splash of heat on his ass before the hand on his shoulder moved suddenly, grabbing the back of his neck. Eli reacted without thinking, twisting his head and biting down on the threat. He tasted Julien’s scent against his tongue, and stopped just in time to avoid breaking the skin.
Julien grunted and finished, jerking so hard he knocked into Eli’s body a couple times by accident, then collapsed on the other side of the bed on his back, wrist sliding out of Eli’s mouth, teeth scraping skin.
They both lay there panting. Julien from exertion, Eli from nerves. He’d let his canines slip to something way too pointy to pass as human for a moment there, and he waited for the horror, the fear, a fist—anything to confirm whether or not Julien had noticed.
After a long moment Eli glanced at Julien as subtly as possible, but the man didn’t seem to be alarmed or on the verge of demanding answers. He just seemed a bit dazed. Staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, one hand—not bleeding, thank god—resting on his rapidly beating heart. He hadn’t caught sight of the teeth then. Now the only thing to worry about was if Julien was upset Eli had bit him like some kind of skittish animal.
Eli pushed himself to sitting. “Well—”
“Thank you,” Julien said at the same time, then blushed. “Sorry, what were you going to say?”
Well, see you on the slopes. But that seemed a bit harsh now with those big dark eyes staring at him so intently. Also...thank you?
“Can I use your shower?” Eli asked instead.
“Oh! Yes, of course. Do you want me to—” He started to get up and Eli quickly stood.
“I think I can find it. Good sleuthing practice for tomorrow.”
“Right. Hot water to the left. Cold to the right. Just, you know, one less for the caseload,” Julien said, wincing and shaking his head a little as he spoke, as if he regretted it, but was powerless to stop.
And with that sparkling exchange, Eli retreated into the bathroom.
Yeesh. So top marks for the sex and participation points at best for the post-coital conversation. Though to be fair, Eli hadn’t exactly been his usual droll self at the end there either. He felt oddly flustered by the whole thing. That had been far too sloppy of him, biting like a brand-new pup. Was Julien acting oddly? Had he seen something after all? No, surely not. When humans did manage to notice the existence of wolves it leaned more toward screaming than bumbling repartee over the plumbing.
The truth was he’d felt uncomfortably...seen by Julien in ways that had nothing to do with being a wolf. It had been unbearably exciting by the door for reasons he hadn’t realized others could see in him. Things he certainly hadn’t expected a man like Julien to have picked up on, anyway. They’d only met a couple days ago. And in between a busy itinerary of breaking and entering, monster hunting, fire fighting and body discovery, had managed approximately five minutes of non-antagonistic conversation cumulatively. Hardly soul-baring stuff. But somehow Julien had plucked at threads Eli had allowed be woven into a simpler, safer pattern a long time ago.
Eli wasn’t sure he liked it. And yet he felt a delicious swoop in his stomach imagining doing it again. Julien might follow him into the bathroom, tell him to keep his hands up, keep washing his hair, while he did anything he wanted to his body.
Eli lingered in the shower thinking on that.
Well, and why not do it again? He wasn’t one to get precious about sex. Quite the opposite. For him fucking was comfort, distraction, fun. An easy way to feel better when life felt bad. At least that’s what it could be with Julien. The man was mouth-wateringly hot with an eye-watering cock and apparently predisposed to be compatible in bed. Even better, he was only here for a limited amount of time. Eli didn’t have sex with the same human more than once. It was a good rule that avoided the risk of feelings and prying questions and dreary breakups when they determined he was hiding something.
But Julien was leaving town on his own accord. And he already knew he couldn’t trust Eli. They’d be spending time together investigating a murder, god help them all. They could have some fun while they found their answers and then go their separate ways.
He couldn’t have any more slipping or fucking biting, but at least Julien seemed as cynical about all the Sweet Pea nonsense as Eli was. It was easier to get by unnoticed with humans like that who’d rather file just about anything under “quirk” rather than entertain the possibility that they’d been quite efficiently lied to for thousands of years. So Eli wouldn’t need to be too careful. Have your cake and get your cake eaten too, if he was lucky.
Eli got out of the shower and quickly dried off, slipped his twitchier bits back and forth until they were soothed and walked back into the bedroom fully convinced and ready to get off again. Right now, preferably. But Julien was asleep.
Propped up, he sat against the headboard, hands clasped in his lap like he was waiting for an appointment. He’d slipped into a pair of boxers and laid out a selection of sweatpants, T-shirts and underwear options on the bed as if in offering. That was...oddly sweet. Even if they were still some of the most boring clothes Eli had ever seen.
Eli put on some sweatpants and folded up what remained. He wasn’t trying to wake Julien, really, but if he jostled the bed a few times, accidentally, of course, and it happened to wake him, that would be fine.
But Julien didn’t stir once. Not even a twitch. Honestly, how this species continued to survive without the least bit of self-preservation was beyond him.
Eli sighed and went to put the leftover clothes in the dresser, but the top drawer was already full. Books, papers, notebooks, charcoal sketches. Words leapt out at him. Windigo, Chupacabra. Werewolf. Nagual. Michigan Dogman. Werewolf. Ningen. Dover Demon. Dybbuk. Werewolf. Werewolf. Werewolf. Monster after monster interspersed with images of fleshless, fanged women. Slinking creatures with glowing eyes and dripping claws. A wolf howling at the moon.
Eli dropped the clothes and ran.
Chapter Seven
Julien woke up, heart pounding in his throat, alone and aching all over around three a.m. His neck was so stiff the pain seemed to radiate up through his entire skull. Even his jaw cracked as he yawned and he walked to the bathroom, shuffling awkwardly because his spine was lodging some serious complaints, all of which were valid.
How embarrassing to pass out sitting upright like an old man in front of the TV. He was almost grateful the nightmares had woken him tonight. Almost. His insomnia had been particularly bad since arriving at Blue Tail and part of him was surprised he’d managed to sleep at all. Of course, sex always put him out like a li—
Julien stopped in the middle of washing his hands. “Oh no.”
He rushed back into the bedroom as if Eli might have been tucked away in a corner stealthily amused, as was his custom. But of course no one was there. Had he even said goodbye? Or had Julien just come and then tipped over like an asshole? Like one of those insects that died at orgasm. No, that was being too generous. At least their mates got a nice post-coitus meal out of it. He hadn’t even offered Eli a beverage.
“Fuck.” Julien sat on the end of the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Well, that was that. Decades of simmering curiosity and wondering what if had finally culminated in completely fumbling one of the hottest encounters of his life. Just as he’d always suspected.
It wasn’t that Julien didn’t know he was bisexual. Maybe he’d realized a tad later than some, but so what? He didn’t have hang-ups about it either. He might not be out in a public way, but most of the people he loved knew. Being bi had never been the scary part. But being bad at it?
Desire and experience were different games. He’d been monogamously married to cis women for the majority of his adult life. Out of his three nonconsecutive years single, he’d spent one of them at the bottom of such a pit of grief he wasn’t having sex with anyone, and the other two he’d just been, well, nervous. Being a man in your forties and relatively famous meant people treating you a certain way, having certain expectations. Especially the ones who wanted to sleep with you. Especially especially the ones who wanted people to know they’d slept with you.
Julien Doran Sucks Dick was a headline he could shrug off and laugh about. Hell, he might even frame it on his wall.
Middle-Aged Man Julien Doran Gave Me the Worst Blow Job of My Entire Life, Spit Up on my Dick and Then Started Crying was a little long for a headline, but the perfect length for a coroner to write under “Cause of Death.”
He’d been scared last night, too, obviously. But the moment Eli had reached for that door, the idea of losing the chance to touch him was worse. He’d been operating on instinct and a prayer with that one, and it had been a rush. For a man like that, all quick and biting and sly, to stand still for Julien, to look at him with nothing but honest desire in his eyes was intoxicating. Too much so, apparently, since he’d keeled over immediately and Eli had taken the chance to run like a shot.
Well, of course he had. It had probably been the worst sex of his life. Julien hadn’t even been brave enough to give him a hand job. He hadn’t even taken his underwear off, for fuck’s sake. Too worried that it would be obvious he hadn’t done this before. Just ordered him around, made him ride his thigh in his clothes like a teenager, came on his back and immediately cosplayed Weekend at Bernie’s. What, no morning sex?
Jesus, what if Eli reconsidered working together? What if things were just too awkward between them to continue? He couldn’t let that happen. Eli was precisely the sort of help he needed in this. He’d only just begun to see that on the mountain yesterday. Even just the prospect of maybe not being alone with this miserable, suffocating thing every single minute of every single day—
Julien felt a tightening in his throat. Ah, god. Enough of that. He’d gotten here on his own, he could keep on the same way, if that was how it had to be. Would he rather do it with a sharp-witted, good-hearted, quick-thinking, sexy-as-fuck manager of a haven for disenfranchised people, who, oh right, apparently had access to information Julien had crossed the country looking for? Well, yeah. He also would rather have gotten Eli’s briefs down and sucked him off better than anyone else ever had in his entire life, but here they were.
Julien pulled at his own hair and groaned loudly. I never even kissed him. Somehow it was that thought that propelled him into action. Well, all right. He owed the man an apology, that was all there was to it. Maybe if he explained—
Julien winced. What? Sorry for the shitty lay? Come across any clues while you were fleeing into the night? Also, can we please try again? God no. He’d go over there, at least. They did say they’d get to work in the morning. Then he’d play the rest by ear.
Julien stood—now that he’d decided on a course of action, he wanted to get started right away—then remembered it was the middle of the night and sat back down. The really smart thing to do would be to get back to sleep. This was a conversation best had while well rested.
After seven hours of sitting in bed replaying every second of the evening, which was equal parts agonizing and arousing, and reading through Rocky’s notebook trying to determine what he could and couldn’t share, Julien knocked on the door of the retreat with coffee and pastries in hand. Then knocked again. It was snowing a little and the air was that sharp, wet cold you felt in your throat. It seemed silly not to walk right in—it was a lobby, after all—but Julien wanted to avoid previous mistakes. If he demonstrated he was capable of learning and improving, who knows, maybe Eli would extrapolate from there. Or at least that’s what he’d like to demonstrate if anyone was even home.
Julien took a step back to look for something louder than a knock—a doorbell, gong, boom box to place on his shoulders—and saw something flash by from the corner of his eye.
He turned to face the empty parking lot. “Eli?”
But no one seemed to be there. Julien turned back to the door and saw it again. Now he was sure something had run past. Julien walked down the porch steps and into the snowy parking lot.
“Hello? Is someone out here?” It was the same feeling he’d had out on the road, that strange quiet, like the world was holding its breath. This time Julien held it, too. His heart was beating fast and his hands tingled. He curled them into loose fists and rolled onto the balls of his feet in preparation. Check me out, Patrick West.
