A Warm Heart in Winter(24)

Qhuinn pulled himself free of his prize, his lips releasing the head with a pop. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Give me everything.”

Those blue eyes flared. But then went to Qhuinn’s abs. “It feels so good, but—”

“It could be better.” Qhuinn put Blay’s hand on the back of his own skull. “Fuck me proper. You know you want to.”

“You’re just out of—”

To cut the conversation, Qhuinn extended his tongue and deliberately tickled the tip of Blay’s arousal with his piercing, the silver ball teasing, tasting . . . tempting, assuming he was doing it right.

“Oh, Qhuinn, God . . .”

Yup, he was doing it right. And what do you know, in return, Qhuinn got exactly what he wanted: Slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency, Blay drove his cock in and out of the mouth that was so greedy for him. In and out. In and out. Harder now. Faster now. And the broad palm on the back of Qhuinn’s head was the guide that made it all possible.

Well, that and those hips, those lean hips with the wings of muscle on both sides.

Blay’s body had been sculpted by a master, every part of it. Especially the part that was fucking Qhuinn’s mouth.

Ah, yes. This is exactly the kind of medicine he needed.



Blay had been feeling so guilty about the whole thing. For godsakes, his male was lying in a hospital bed, just unhooked from monitoring machines maybe twenty minutes ago, the stitches still fresh from closing a damn stab wound . . .

And here he was, face-fucking the guy—

Qhuinn looked up, his blue and green eyes glowing, his mouth stretched wide, his cheeks flushed from arousal. Then he purred.

Well. Okay, so fine, his mate did seem to be enjoying this. Even though Blay was drilling into Qhuinn’s mouth, the male was taking it all—and loving it. If the noises of approval weren’t a tip-off for how good it was for him, then the erection that had thickened up under that hospital sheet was another clear sign— The growling sound in the back of Blay’s throat was a drumroll to his culmination, growing in urgency and volume—and fuck, he was drilling Qhuinn’s mouth now, the thrusting going wilder as he visually focused on what was happening.

The sight of those lips stretched so wide, and his shaft going in and out, and the gloss on his arousal was too much.

Blay pitched off the cliff, a tremendous orgasm ripping out of him.

Thankfully, Qhuinn took things from there. As Blay grunted and his pelvis locked into his lover’s face, his whole body went rigid, all of his muscles from his feet to his shoulders going rock hard. And so Qhuinn was the one who moved now, nursing at the head of the erection he’d treated so beautifully, pulling more and more out of the release, milking it to continue.

The legs that kept Blay upright turned into wire, and he listed back so that he had to brace himself against the wall. The angle was bad, twisting his spine, making his ass strain, but like he cared?

He was just watching what was happening as Qhuinn’s blue and green eyes looked up at him— That tongue, that talented, pierced tongue, lapped around the head of Blay’s arousal again, then tickled the tip with the metal.

Blay’s eyes squeezed shut again. “You’re going to make me—”

Come again. Yup. Here it was, the pleasure peaking for a second time, jets shooting out of him and going right into Qhuinn’s mouth. More sucking now. Lots more sucking.

Blay squeezed his eyes shut and fell forward, collapsing across Qhuinn’s upper body—and still his male kept going.

And it kept going. For so long. Until Blay completely fell apart and had to stretch out on the hospital bed next to his lover or crush Qhuinn. As he settled in, his mate pulled him close, making sure his head was tucked against the big chest that was marked with the sacred scar of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.

“I should be cradling you,” Blay mumbled. “I need to take care of you—”

“Shh.” That big hand made slow circles on Blay’s shoulder, going up and around. “You did take care of me.”

Blay lifted his head. “I can assure you, it was the other way around.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I owe you one. Or four, I think it was.”

“Five, but who was counting? And I look forward to collecting on that debt.” Qhuinn’s smile was so honest, so open. “Anytime.”

“Just maybe when you’re, like, not right out of an operation.”

“Nah. Any. Time. Like how ’bout now?”

Blay blinked. “We’ve already covered this. You can’t move.”

“All fours is probably out of the question, but I can roll over.”

“No, you can’t.” Blay shifted his head because he knew eye contact was necessary to get the point across. “And I am not doing that to you right now.”

“Buzzkill.”

As they started at each other, they both laughed. And then Blay got serious as he admired his mate’s hard face, and that strong chest, and that constant wellspring of sexual desire that was ever present, ever ready. Instantly, nothing else mattered or even registered, and it was funny—you’d think after all this time, things would stop receding. But it happened again: The hospital bed disappeared. The room disappeared. The clinic, the training center, the mountain, the world. Everything was gone but the male who was looking back at him.