Page 42 of Hounded (Fire & Brimstone)

42

Loren

Soaped, scrubbed, and fresher than I’d been in days, I emerged from the shower. Indy kept two towels on the rack, one for hair and one for body. I wrapped myself up accordingly, wringing the moisture from my hair and winding the larger sheet around my hips. All that remained was to deal with the stubble peppering my jaw and work the knots out of my hair.

Padding over to the sink counter, I swiped the second towel over the mirror to clear a spot where I could see myself. The scratches on my cheeks, self-inflicted, would fade in time, but I cringed nonetheless at the evidence of my panic. I had enough scars without adding more, especially not such visible ones. With a huff, I searched the counter and drawers for Indy’s razor and shaving cream.

A bit of rooting uncovered them in a haphazard pile of beauty supplies. Shifting things aside, I set down the can and razor, then reached for the faucet when a knock on the door made me jump.

“Yeah?” I called over .

“I brought you some clothes.” Indy’s voice was muffled.

I slid the door aside, letting light pour into the hallway and illuminate Indy’s petite figure. His teal curls were tousled, and deep pink splotched his cheeks. He held a stack of folded clothes.

“From the back of your truck,” he explained. “It’s like Mister Rogers’ wardrobe in there. All sweaters and slacks. Have you got those weird leg suspenders, too?”

“Garters,” I corrected.

Indy’s eyes skated over my bare torso, stopping on the towel knotted around my waist before moving rapidly upward. “What?”

“Sock garters,” I said. “And not for the last sixty years or so.”

He swallowed hard, then offered the garments. “Your boxers are cute.”

I took the stack and piled them on the sink counter.

Indy loitered, wringing his hands for a few seconds before giving an awkward cough. “Well, I didn’t mean to intrude. I’ll give you some privacy.”

“You don’t have to.” I shrugged. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” With a tug, the towel fell away, hitting the floor in a damp heap.

Indy’s golden eyes bugged wide, and the color on his face deepened to a darker shade of red. “Jesus, Legs, you gotta warn a guy before you start stripping. Lemme pull up a chair and get some singles or something.”

Smiling, I rummaged into the stack of clothes and found the “cute” boxers. Indy did most of our shopping, which meant he picked out a lot of my clothes. I’d heard the Mister Rogers crack before, plus another about roleplaying life as a college professor. My style was vastly different from Indy’s, but he never tried to change it. Argyle socks and underwear with bananas on them notwithstanding.

I stepped into the boxers while Indy alternated between ogling me and aiming his gaze away. By the time I’d pulled on my jeans and buttoned the fly, his wanton lust had been replaced by a more studious expression. He stared at my chest with his brows knit together.

“Loren?”

I paused with the shirt he’d selected draped over my arm and tipped my head toward him.

His mouth pulled to one side, clearly uncertain as he spoke. “If you’re a dog, does that mean you have an owner?”

I stiffened at the question. “Yes.”

Indy nodded slowly. “Are they nice?”

“… No.”

Indy’s expression flickered, torn between a question and sinking sadness. I wanted to hold him, comfort him. I got the feeling he wanted to do the same.

“Is that who… how this happened?” His gaze dropped to my torso, lined and dotted with evidence of injuries long healed. The marks varied from the puckered circles of Abernathy’s bullets to long, swiping slices from Whitney’s saber. Around my back, there were more, including the recently added puncture mark from Abigail’s dagger.

This wasn’t the side of me I wanted him to know. He always did, though. It happened in every life, and each time I felt myself falling lower in his estimation.

Not invulnerable. Not invincible. Not strong enough to save him.

“Your owner,” Indy continued, driving that point uncomfortably home. “Is that where you go for ‘work’? Where you were before tonight?”

I nodded mutely.

“And they hurt you?” He looked so wounded that I would have thought the injuries were his. When he stretched out his hand, I didn’t pull back even when his fingertips brushed the jagged scar that raked across the left side of my ribs.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” I muttered.

Indy’s gaze met mine as he placed his other palm flat against my stomach. His touch was warm and welcome, but I couldn’t stand the sympathy on his face.

“You shouldn’t have to handle it,” he said. “Not alone—”

“Indy.” I grabbed his hands and held them in the space between us. “It’s over now. I’m not going back—”

“Clearly, you think it’s your job to protect me.” Indy’s features turned stern. “But who takes care of you?”

“You do, Doll,” I replied. “You take good care of me.”

His blush from earlier returned in force. He pulled free of me and scrubbed his hand over his scalp like he was chasing my touch.

“Well, um,” he began. “Can I take care of you now?” He nodded to the razor and can of shaving cream on the counter. “I could help with that. And your hair.”

I scoffed. “I can shave my own face. ”

“Sure, you can.” Indy shrugged. “Or I can. I want to.”

Allopreening, was it? Between mated pairs. Because I was his mate, and he was mine.

I tipped my hand permissively toward the shaving supplies.

Indy grinned and I went to sit on the closed toilet lid. He wet a hand towel in the sink then came over with the shaving cream and razor. Hesitating before me, he seemed to debate with himself before deciding to swing his leg around and perch on my knees.

He daubed the steaming towel against my cheeks, then chased it with a layer of thick, foamy cream. I wasn’t sure where to look or what to do with my hands besides sit on them while he set to work.

For someone who didn’t need to shave often, Indy took to the task with expertise. He directed my head from one side to the other with gentle touches, then tipped my chin back to slide the razor down the long stretch of my throat.

Somewhere in the midst of it, my calm became decidedly less so. It was Indy’s proximity. His fingers near my lips. His painted nails grazing my Adam’s apple as I swallowed.

He shifted on my legs, wiggling his ass in a way that made my cock jerk. I gulped again and forced my attention toward a gap in the wooden floorboards.

Indy wiped the residual shaving cream from my face. The job was done, but he stayed in my lap, inches away, twisting the damp towel between his hands.

“Loren…” He squirmed a bit more, looking at everything but me before speaking at last. “I’ll be your fr iend. Just your friend if that’s what you want.”

My fingers were half-numb from being pressed beneath my thighs for the past several minutes, but they ached to hold him. I rocked forward, almost throwing him off my lap in the sudden move to catch him by the waist and press my mouth to his.

When I pulled back, Indy’s expression was tentative but hopeful.

“I don’t want to be just friends,” I told him.

He shook his head, then whispered almost reverently, “Me neither.”

The shaving cream and razor fell away with a clatter, creating space for him to slide up my thighs and hug his knees against my sides. He threw one arm around my neck and cupped the other to the back of my head, and we kissed again. This one went deep, open-mouthed with our tongues tangling and breath rushing back and forth.

My cock swelled inside my jeans, and I groaned. Indy beamed, and I could have sworn I glimpsed his golden aura.

“What else do you want?” he asked, his lips dragging over mine. “Tell me.”

“All of you,” I said. “All over me.”

Indy sat back, and his eyes rounded. “Fuck, that’s hot.” His throat bobbed through an audible gulp. “Okay… Yeah. I can do that.”

He dipped in, using his grip on my hair to tug my head back and gain access my neck. The skin there was sensitive and ticklish as he trailed kisses along my jaw.

My fingers crept up his back, sliding under the hem of his shirt before he pulled away once more .

“Are you sure?” He caught my gaze, deadly serious. “I can wait.”

I couldn’t. This felt urgent. Not only because the hounds were on the loose, but because I wanted to give Indy the same comfort he’d given me, even if he didn’t remember doing it.

“I’m sure,” I replied.

With a single, fluid motion, he stripped off his shirt and cast it aside. He surged forward, pushing his chest against mine and canting his hips so I felt the hardness in his shorts.

“How do you wanna…” He kissed me between breaths. “How do you like to fuck? You never said.”

I would have him any way. Under me, on top, or tucked in side by side. But I liked him best on his back, looking up at me, drunk on bliss while he whimpered my name. I craved the feeling of his heat swallowing my dick and locking us together.

“What say I start, and you finish?” I asked.

Indy flashed a smile. “I’ll start,” he said. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need to lie down when you’re through with me, and I’m already drooling at the thought of your cock.”

Scooting backward off my lap, he dropped to the floor. His palms smoothed up my thighs toward the fly of my jeans.

I leaned back, letting him work through the buttons then tug my pants and boxers down simultaneously. My erection sprung free, and Indy licked his lips.

“You’re gonna ruin me, aren’t you?” He looked at me with hooded eyes, taking my uncut cock in one hand and resting the other on the narrowest part of my waist. “Wreck me. I want it.”

My breath stuttered through an exhale, and I kicked off my jeans and underwear. Indy pushed my knees apart and shoved himself between my legs. He stroked slowly down my shaft, thumbing over the tip already beaded with precum. Two pumps turned into three, then four, and I writhed in his grip. He grinned, then stuck out his tongue, dragging it across the head of my dick.

My hips bucked in a wordless plea.

Indy’s fingers cinched around my base, and he went down on me, taking my length inch by inch. His tongue curled as he suckled with wet, hungry sounds that made me groan.

I gripped the sides of the closed toilet lid, doing everything I could not to thrust into him. He’d barely begun and already I wanted to pull him to his feet or get on the floor with him, pin him down and feel his body everywhere.

My fingers ratcheted down until my knuckles were white and straining while he gulped and gasped over me again and again.

Sensations shook my body. The wet heat of his throat, the squeeze of his hand on my side, the soft hum he gave as he starved himself of air…

My resignation not to budge gave way, and I rocked against him. His moan vibrated my dick from base to tip.

My unbidden whimper made him go harder until saliva dribbled down his chin. His eyes watered, too, clumping his long lashes into spikes. He was relentless, gagging and sputtering and making noises that went straight to my cock.

The next deepthroated suck made me certain he was going to siphon the cum out of me before I was ready, so I grabbed him. He pulled off my dick with a hollow pop as I took him by the shoulders and shoved him backward.

He tumbled onto his tailbone, licking his lips while bracing on his arms. As I stood, his golden eyes raked over my body, stopping on the hand I offered to help him to his feet.

He nodded before I said a word. “God, yes,” he rushed to say. “I can take it. I wanna take all of you.”

I pulled him up, and he shimmied out of his shorts to reveal a pair of high-cut satin panties with a wet spot on the front from precum leaking out. I cupped him through the slick material, tucking my fingers around his balls and using that grip to bring him crushingly close.

We collided with another searing kiss, grinding against each other while our hands roamed. Hair pulled and nails bit into bare skin, driving out a chorus of groans.

In a single lunging step, Indy’s back hit the wall. I pinned him there, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat and dragging my teeth over his skin. He whined when I released him, then adjusted my grip to spin him around.

His breath hitched as he raised his arms above his head, forearms flush against the wood paneling. I shoved his panties down around his ankles, then slid my knee between his legs, spreading them wide.

Indy craned his head back. He watched over his shoulder as I popped two fingers into my mouth, getting them damp and ready to stretch him. He shivered as I slid the digits down my tongue, devilishly slow .

“Oh fuck, baby,” he murmured, then blushed. “Can I call you baby?”

With my mouth emptied, I dipped in and kissed his cheek. “Always.”

He turned toward the wall and pushed onto his tiptoes to raise his ass for me. I reached between his legs, stroking from his taint to his asshole, where I circled his entrance.

“Baby…” He moaned.

My finger eased inside, and I hung my head over his shoulder so I could kiss a trail up the side of his neck. He shuddered when I hit the sensitive spot behind his ear. That plus my hand invading him was enough to merit a needful cry.

I fingered him a few seconds more, spreading my digits and making him writhe.

When I pulled out, he rubbed his ass against me. “Now, baby, now. I want you deep.”

I spit into my palm, then wet my dick before guiding it to his entrance. Indy expelled a breath as I pushed past the tight ring. Once I was inside, Indy braced on the wall and pushed back into me, taking all I had to give.

I groaned, guttural, as he held that pose with his elbows locked and his ass thrust against me. I snugged one arm around his waist to hold him close, then ran my other hand up to tangle my fingers in his. With our hands clasped, I drew back then plunged into him. The motion made him yelp, but he bucked against me, matching my rapid pace.

I drove him onto his tiptoes, pumping in and out until his chest was flat against the wall and his legs were quivering. His ass clenched around me, and I gasped, almost spent then and there.

“Don’t stop,” Indy sputtered. “Not ever. You feel amazing. God, just… fuck me harder.”

I squeezed his hand and railed into him again, but my smooth, steady rhythm had been replaced by urgent thrusts. Climax overtook me as a tingling swell that built then overflowed, and Indy whimpered as I came in his ass.

Drawing a series of steadying breaths, I slid out of him and watched as cum dripped down his thigh.

“So good,” he murmured, leaning heavily against the wall. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pulling his arms down to his sides, I turned him to face me. His cock was still stiff and glossy. I dropped to my knees and reached between his legs toward his used hole.

He groaned my name as my fingers entered him, slicked by the cum oozing out of his ass. His knees shook, and he bent over me while I went down on his cock. He whined and stammered half-formed words while I fucked him front and back.

When my fingertips grazed his prostate, his grip on me turned bruising. His cries became clearer—“more, baby, more”—while I stroked and sucked.

Then, he came undone, keening out a cry as he emptied into my mouth. I swallowed his load in two gulps and waited until his ass stopped tensing to pull out of him.

Indy’s dick twitched as he slid down the wall in a slow collapse. He sank until he was kneeling before me, sweaty and shivering. He looked spent, limp, with his head dropped between his collarbones and his chest fluttering.

“So good,” he repeated, barely a whisper .

I took him in my arms and pulled him atop my bent knees while I combed damp curls off his forehead and followed each touch with a kiss. He curved against me like he remembered it there, like he knew that was where he belonged, and I held him, murmuring that I loved him and that he was mine, always.