Becomes the Rose by Pelaam Page B

thrust into his body, Boyce suckled at his neck. His legs tightened around the older man’s waist, hands gripping Boyce’s arms as he bucked upwards on each thrust, trying to deepen his lover’s penetration of his body.
    Tarin tightened his legs around Boyce’s hips, tilting his lower body upwards to take Boyce deeper still. Beginning to feel weak, he breathed hard, desperate for release at the hands of this man he loved more than life itself. He clenched his muscles tight around the iron-hard rod seated deep inside him and moaned.
    “Oh, Boyce, please,” he begged, his voice barely more than a puff of air.
     
     
    Boyce fought for control, wanting to make their coupling as pleasurable as possible for his lover. He suckled at the rich, intoxicating elixir, Tarin’s lifeblood, as his hips continued to thrust in smooth powerful movements.
    For a second, Boyce stilled, and then he growled gutturally and surged forward, taking Tarin with hot, powerful thrusts. Bracing himself, he pounded hard and fast into the younger man, the feral nature of his subconscious taking over. All his being was focused on bringing the man beneath him more pleasure than Tarin could ever dream of or need again. Boyce never ceased to suck, even as he plunged hard and fast and deep into his beloved’s body, unconsciously aiming for, and finding, the tiny nub that drove Tarin wild with ecstasy.
    Boyce heard a mewl of frustration escape Tarin as he moved away from his lover’s neck and his hips ceased their pleasurable pistoning motion. Looking down at Tarin, his lover arched his head back, freely offering his life’s essence. Tarin’s eyes watched him, obviously enraptured as Boyce licked an escaped drop of blood from his lips. He deliberately raised his own wrist to his mouth, opening the skin with his teeth and offering it to Tarin.
    “Join with me, Tarin,” Boyce rasped. It was the penultimate step. If Tarin would not, could not, feed from him, he would not turn his lover.
    As Tarin hesitated, Boyce thought he was being rejected and he was helpless to prevent the pain from showing in his eyes.
    “I love you, I want this,” Tarin panted. “I fear failing you. I’m not sure I’m worthy…”
    “You will never fail me,” Boyce assured him, elation coursing through him. “I love you. Join with me?”
    A single droplet of Boyce’s blood landed on the skin next to his lover’s mouth and he watched Tarin lick it away. His lover’s eyes widened as the taste exploded on his tongue. There was a salty, coppery flavour, but there was so much more. Strength, integrity, passion, love, it was all there, all open to him, and Boyce fought down the urge to bellow his victory as Tarin’s lips tentatively closed over the small wounds in his wrist, clearly afraid of causing hurt.
    Boyce groaned in a heady mix of elation, pleasure, and arousal. Tarin suckled with increasing fervour, feeding hungrily, and his desire for the young man increased exponentially.
    It was time.
    He could hold back no longer, and with a long, guttural moan, he thrust forward again. His pace increased incrementally until he slammed forward into Tarin’s tight heat. He drove his lover to the point of release again and again until Tarin was shaking and sweat-damp. He felt his lover suckle harder as slender hips moved instinctively to meet Boyce’s thrusts. Boyce could feel his body tightening like a wound coil as he approached his completion.
    He moved with preternatural speed, removing his wrist from Tarin’s mouth, pinning his lover’s head to the side, and exposing the bruised throat. His hips pistoned frenetically, each sharp, feral snap ramming Tarin’s sweet spot. At the moment of his lover’s orgasm, Boyce bit deeply, suckling vigorously at what remained of his lover’s human blood.
    Boyce knew that pleasure and pain had melded into one intense maelstrom of sensation for Tarin. His lover’s eyes were slightly unfocused as if seeing something beyond their