Page 16 of First Snow
“Well, technically—”
“It is,” Jareth interrupts him. A bloody virgin. Why hadn’t he noticed before?
Arttu’s face closes off at the harshness of Jareth’s voice.
“If that’s a problem for you, I can leave.”
He’s so touchy, so easily angered, both traits unbecoming of a sub. So why does Jareth find him irresistible?
“That’s not what I said,” Jareth soothes. “If you want to play with me, you’ll have to learn to listen, though,” he adds as gently as he can.
Arttu sends him a dirty look, but nods eventually.
“Fine,” he grits out as if it costs him something to agree with Jareth.
“Good,” Jareth purrs, unable to hide how much the concession pleases him. He pours himself a cup of coffee as well, and watches Arttu squirm for some moments.
“So, does that mean we can—Like, now?”
Jareth chuckles. Arttu is just too precious. The almost panicked look Arttu sends him has him sobering quickly. Jareth gently takes his hand to reassure him.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do: eat your breakfast and then see if you can sleep another hour or two,” Jareth starts. “I have some things to take care of, anyway. When you wake up you can shower. Take your time. If you still want to try a scene then, come to my office. Naked. Kneel in front of the desk.”
Arttu’s jaw drops open, and he blushes fiercely. Jareth can’t resist brushing his thumb over Arttu’s bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan before he closes Arttu’s mouth with a gentle push.
“Does that sound agreeable to you?”
“Yeah,” Arttu says, sounding a little breathless.
Jareth sips his coffee, feeling the dark, predatory part in him that’s always shifting restlessly behind the surface settle. It’s a feeling he usually only gets after a successful hunt. This is probably bad, but the feeling is nice enough that Jareth doesn’t care.
Chapter 6
Arttu
Hestepsoutofthe shower on slightly wobbly legs. Damn, he needs to get his shit together. It’s just sex. Well, kinky sex with a potential serial killer, but that’s just details.
Arttu tried to follow Faeling’s instructions; that’s what a sub is supposed to do, after all. So he ate the admittedly delicious breakfast and made awkward conversation while Faeling looked at him like the cat that got the canary. Arttu just hopes he isn’t literally the canary in this scenario. But he has already come too far to back down now. At least he’s getting to know Faeling. That’s what he wanted, right? He even managed to fall asleep again with Faeling still sitting at his bedside. Technically, Arttu’s plan was to pretend to sleep, but he seems to be lacking even a modest amount of self-preservation.
Rubbing furiously at his hair, he stares at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. A self-deprecating grin forms on his lips. He doesn’t look as tired as he did a few days ago when he was juggling several cases at once with too few personnel. A part of him seems to think that seducing a serial killer is some kind of vacation.
He exhales sharply and carelessly drops the towel he has wrapped around his waist. Arttu doesn’t consider himself unattractive and he’s reasonably fit, but the way he sees it, Faeling is a celebrity within the BDSM scene. There must be many subs who want to play with him, surely men and women who are younger and prettier than Arttu.
So why is Faeling bothering with him? Is he looking for someone in a vulnerable position he can take advantage of? But he can’t know if Arttu is worth preying upon or not. He didn’t even ask questions such as “Do you have family” or “What do you do for a living”. Arttu sighs. There’s no use speculating about it now. Whatever compelled Faeling to ask him to play with him, it’s probably Arttu’s only chance to get close to the man. It may be the only shot he has at solving the disappearances of Jenna Scott and Mikael.
Arttu gathers his courage and steps out of the bathroom. He crosses the bedroom and slips through the slightly ajar door into Faeling’s office, not without first making sure that they’re really alone. The thought that Faeling might just be mocking him makes his stride falter. Or is the whole subbing thingsupposedto make him feel ridiculous?
Faeling looks up from his paperwork, a slow smile spreading over his face that promises mayhem and chaos—probably naughty things too. Arttu freezes. Faeling’s scrutinizing gaze feels like a physical touch. It makes Arttu’s breathing turn shallow, a wave of confusion and arousal washing over him.
“I knew you’d look stunning naked,” Faeling purrs.
Arttu nearly snorts.Yeah, sure.And he thought the Americans were the ones overdoing it with the compliments. But a traitorous part of him almost preens under the praise. It certainly does nothing to tune down his arousal.
Faeling smirks. “Come over here.”
Arttu stumbles around the desk to where Faeling indicates, right at his feet between his open legs, the fucker. But Arttu can’t deny that being told what to do is a relief compared to the uncertainty he felt before. He sinks to his knees with all the grace he can muster, naked and flustered as he is. Faeling doesn’t seem to care. He grabs Arttu by the neck and pulls him closer. Faeling’s hand on his bare skin sends a jolt of electricity down Arttu’s spine. He gasps and instinctively leans into the touch. He feels a little disoriented, kneeling on the plush carpet and looking up at Faeling through his lashes. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Is he supposed to clasp them behind his back? He only knows that he’s desperate for Faeling’s hand to stay where it is.
“Didn’t expect you to be so eager,” Faeling says. He sounds almost fond, not as condescending as Arttu would’ve thought a guy like him to be. “Relax. I still have some paperwork to finish."