The Brotherhood - Tezcatli's Game Part 8

Then again, they were at Amour Magique. Did it matter? Somehow, he didn't think it did. Not anymore, at least.

His head whirled, full of thoughts. Some of them good, some bad, and some he didn't understand. Tezcatli moved a little faster.

"Home," the man said, somehow choosing the words that would strike directly to Quentin's heart. "Family. Belonging.

Acceptance."

"Texas?" Quentin managed to ask.

Tezcatli shrugged. "It's where I come from. I'm not happy in the city. There's no place to run, unless you're brave." His sparkling eyes told Quentin just who had been for a midnight jog to scare the locals. "Are you?" He rocked. "Brave? Strong enough to believe me?"

Quentin hesitated.

"You'd never be alone again," Tezcatli promised him. He ran his hand down Quentin's arm, stopping with a hold on his bicep. "I'd be by your side. Alpha and beta. Mate and mate. We would rule together. You could bring so much to us. That is what I can give to you."

He hesitated. "I won't say 'love.' Not yet. It's too soon. And I ..." His voice trailed off.

Quentin knew what had stopped him. "It's okay," he said. "Most guys can't say that, ever, even when they mean it. But what's between us -- I think it can become more significant than love. A different bond of sorts. You and I would be together. And with me, until death do us part has a deeper meaning."

He felt a surge of panic. "Oh, G.o.d. What if something happened to you? I couldn't lose you, too."

Tezcatli bit down again on his chest. He didn't break the skin. Almost, but not quite. "Shh. No one can ever know about that sort of thing. I might lose a fight one day, but I don't think so. No one's brave enough to come up against me. They haven't been in years. Do you see any scars on me?"

"They'd heal, in human form. You heal fast."

"I keep forgetting you know too much about us already. Do you know what Liam is, too?"

"Nope. Something not human as well, I'd guess. But I don't care. Do you really want to talk about Liam at a time like this?"

Quentin lifted his hips off the ground. His c.o.c.k, miraculously fully hard and ready yet again that night, scored over the hard planes of Tezcatli's lower belly. Both men drew a ragged, l.u.s.ty breath.

"No." Tezcatli swore in something not quite Spanish. Older, Quentin guessed hazily. The intense look was back in his eyes.

"But before this goes any further, choose. Are you mine? Will you run with me under the next full moon? Go back to the border with me? Out where there're wild lands? Take care of me and mine, even as I will take care of you?"

He thrust against Quentin, his words becoming thick and labored. "Don't say yes because I want you to. If you say no, I will let you go. But I want you to say yes. Say yes for me, and mean it."

"Tezcatli ..."

"No. This is the way the game is played. In or out, Quentin? Choose. Choose now."

Quentin tipped his head back. He met Tezcatli's eyes. Dark, serious eyes, flickering between brown and gold and green. His mouth was like a knife slash, but Quentin knew how kissable it could be.

Something inside him said it wasn't fair to have to choose in a heartbeat, not when someone was making love to him and his brain was all down south. But would he really make a different choice when he was awake, or in the daylight hours? Tezcatli wouldn't change if you saw him by day.

And once you'd tasted pure, wild freedom, you could never turn away.

He grinned. Then, he arched up to kiss the man. A full kiss, sucking on lips, biting, tongues clashing and rubbing against each other. Tezcatli thrust quicker. His breath was hot on Quentin's mouth. "Say yes," he muttered, stopping for a moment. "Please."

Quentin opened his mouth."Yes," he breathed. "Take me. Make me. Change me. I can't live this life I have. No, not living. Existing." He gripped Tezcatli's shirt by the collars. "The real me -- Quentin -- never made it here from the West. Turn me into someone -- something -- new."

Tezcatli tipped his chin back, grinning proudly. "And you do this for me?"

"For me." Quentin pulled the proud Aztec closer, smashing their mouths together in a kiss that became ravenous. As their tongues clashed, he let out a low moan that seemed to start down at his toes and rush through him, out his mouth. "Do it, Tezcatli."

Tezcatli looked down into Quentin's face. He was breathing heavily. "You're sure? No looking back?"

"Not for a minute."

"Let it be as you say, then." Tezcatli lowered his mouth to Quentin's chest, nuzzling at his nipples. "Skin," he muttered. "Such supple, gorgeous skin. Touch yourself for me. Tease me, just a little. A show for both of us."

Quentin obeyed, his hands shaking just a little. Nerves, nothing worse. Adrenaline. Excitement. He raised his hands to the small brown nubs on his chest, first toying with them, then tugging and tweaking in earnest. The shock of sensation took him by surprise, ripping a groan from him. "I'd rather this was you," he said in a low voice. "Your mouth. Right here. Sucking me."

"You tempt me to the point. But only just there?"

Quentin licked his thumb, then made slow circles around his nipple. The taut flesh glistened in the light of the moon. "No more waiting," he ordered. "Do it."

Tezcatli flashed him an unreadable look. "Are you so impatient?"

"You're the one who taught me not to wait." Quentin raised up to his knees, removed his pants completely, then leaned back on his arms. He knew his c.o.c.k would be an irresistible temptation to the Cat, hungry beast that he was. He'd take care of Quentin and then some.

Sure enough, Tezcatli stared, dark eyes glittering. He licked his lips. Then, heedless of the public place they stood in, reached for the fastenings of his own pants. He jerked them down and kicked them aside. Holding his c.o.c.k out, hard and dark as carved teak wood, he asked, "Is this what you want?"

"I want," Quentin breathed, letting his lips part invitingly. Enticing Tezcatli in.

Tezcatli stroked himself. "Where do you want me? In that devil mouth, or somewhere else?"

"Else," Quentin said, swallowing hard. "Do it."

"Here? Now?"

Quentin gave in to temptation and reached up, straining to touch. "Here and now," he whispered. "I want you inside me.

Come on. Now is the time and here's the place. Fill me up."

Tezcatli snarled, not angrily, but as if he were sizing up a savory meal. Naked, he made his way down to the cement floor.

Quentin felt questing fingers at his entrance, and a m.u.f.fled sound of pleasure that must have been Tezcatli deciding he was still slick enough to be taken without waiting.

Tezcatli lifted Quentin's legs easily as feathers, resting them over his shoulders. Quentin could feel the tip of Tezcatli's c.o.c.k pressing at his opening, just about to breach him, but not ... quite ... there. "You're ready for me?"

"So very ready," Quentin breathed, reaching for something to hold on to. He had a feeling he was in for the ride of his life.

Tezcatli pushed in, one slow inch at a time. As he moved, he chanted something soft and low in a language Quentin almost recognized. A prayer? A blasphemy? He didn't know and didn't care. He was being spitted open on one of the best c.o.c.ks he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and now that it was okay to appreciate it, G.o.d, did he ever.

When they were joined fully, bodies pulsing around and within one another, Tezcatli grabbed at Quentin's chin and forced him to look up. "You're ready?" he asked one last time. As if he had to be sure.

Quentin almost laughed. He arched up, shameless and wanton. "I'm yours."

Tezcatli let loose with an unearthly cry and plunged down, raking his nails deep in Quentin's chest. At the same time he began to thrust hard, fast and deep, so that with the pain and the pleasure mixed together Quentin was coming -- right over the edge and into the great white beyond.

And when he came to, somehow he knew he had been changed. Now he, too, was Cat.

Sweat-sheened, Tezcatli offered him a hand. Though they were still joined more intimately, Quentin took it. Tezcatli squeezed tightly enough to crack human bones. "Brother," he said roughly. "Lover. Mate."

"Mine," Quentin breathed, reaching up for a fierce kiss.

"Yours," Tezcatli replied, bending to return his embrace ... * * * * *

"For the last time, move. You're blocking the view."

Liam shook his head. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the solid door leading to the patio. The blinds had been drawn, and Liam wasn't allowing any comers to push him out of the way.

Not that everyone couldn't guess what was happening outside. Tezcatli and Quentin's voices were raised high enough for the mixed clientele at the bar to have a good idea of the events in motion. Some enterprising folks had even placed pools on who would come first, who topped whom, and whether or not Quentin would say yes.

In the moment that followed, there was nothing but silence -- then, two voices, raised in howls of mixed pleasure and pain.

Some men winced, either from uncomfortable hard-ons or from imagining what Tezcatli must have done. Raspy breathing drifted in along with murmured words too low to hear.

Liam closed his eyes and smiled. "I will have to suggest that this bar be renamed The Two Cats," he said. He thought back to the needle, the chocolate and the G.o.d-touched Aztec he'd known would climb the stairs to lay claim to Quentin. Of Zach, of jaguars and of things that went b.u.mp in the dark.

Hours past midnight, and there was still so much more to do. Liam let himself rest for another minute. Soon, he would be needed somewhere else. But for the moment, just one moment, he could let himself go boneless.

He was tired, so very, very tired ...

Finding true love for his friends might very well be the death of him, instead.

Willa Okati

Although a relative newcomer to the field of e-publishing, Willa Okati has been writing since before she was old enough to pick up a pen. She thinks she knows where those dictated stories are hidden, but she'll never tell.

Willa is also very interested in the paranormal: magery, Wicca, New Age philosophy, transgender studies, and of course, writing. You can drag her away from the computer if you really fight, but you'd better be prepared for a battle.

Just so she doesn't sound entirely dull, Willa has her fun: she is a practicing member of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) and is involved in her community. She is owned by far too many cats, all of which have serious att.i.tudes, and addicted to anything made out of chocolate or involving coffee. She is quiet, but has a very wicked sense of humor that springs out when you least expect it.

A secretary for eight years, she now writes full-time -- and wouldn't trade it for the world.

She loves to hear from readers, and always responds. You can contact her at or visit her website to check out her work at www.willaokati.com.