Page 21 of The Vampire's Werewolf Bodyguard

Simon

This time, Simon pushes Cody to the bed. The mattress protests as Cody sits back, but Simon has no complaints about being yanked closer. Bending down, he surrenders into a kiss.

Cody’s lips are an anchor. Simon has never craved someone like this before. No human meal, no fellow vampire, not even Dima. It seems at once impossible and inevitable that Cody would crave him too.

“Sit,” Simon murmurs against Cody’s lips.

A laugh rumbles between them. “You little bastard.”

“Good boy.” Another shallow kiss. “Stay.” Simon pulls away just enough to unfasten his holster.

Setting the weapon on the nightstand feels natural. He doesn’t need it. Cody’s touch is hot enough to burn away any fear of moonlight. In a fluid motion, Simon swings a leg over Cody, straddling his lap to more deeply kiss him.

Cody moves with him, stroking Simon’s back, pulling him closer. His eyes are so dark and fierce, it hurts to look at them. Kissing is easier.

Simon is hyperaware of the sweater between his back and Cody’s hands. The faint whisper of friction. He’s even more aware that nothing separates his hands from Cody’s chest. Typical werewolf brute, taut muscle covered in thick hair. Curls trail in a thin line to his waistband, where his tan continues. Simon can’t even remember what sunlight feels like.

Maybe something like this. Simon takes in enough air to tease, “Is this the moon’s influence too? Your animal instincts?”

Cody exhales, like steam against Simon’s throat. “Every instinct.”

Whatever this is, Simon wants all of it. They surge into another kiss, and the room thunders with Cody’s heartbeat.

Simon’s blood, taken from others and transmuted by the shadow-gift, runs slow. He hardens gradually until the pressure of denim becomes nearly unbearable. His body can wait, though, while mind and heart sink into the soft movements of Cody’s lips. While rough hands slide beneath his sweater to hold him steady.

Simon is ancient. Patient.

Cody isn’t.

With a low growl, Cody flips Simon back onto the bed. Cold air separates them for an agonizing instant until Cody leans over. He braces, hands splayed on either side of Simon’s head.

Tonight, Cody is stronger. Simon’s strength and magic are still shackled by poison, and Cody’s body hums with animal force. All that power barely contained, focused entirely on him. Simon was taught to be wary of creatures stronger than himself. Security comes from overpowering any threat or hiding. Trading favors. Trust was never an option.

But Cody’s strength and focus are too exhilarating to hide from.

“Simon, I think…” Cody’s expression twists, feral, with some internal conflict.

Simon traces Cody’s bare arms, from biceps to shoulder. “What do you think? Or—” He hooks one leg around Cody to yank him closer. “—we could stop thinking. Just for tonight.”

Cody jerks, rutting their cocks together in a blaze of heat. The look on his face is better than Simon’s own pleasure. “Okay. If you want.”

“What do you want?” Simon asks, smirking.

It’s not a fair question. Not when Simon’s stretching his arms over his head, spreading himself out beneath Cody’s gaze.

Cody’s laugh is more like a snarl. Pinning Simon by the wrists, Cody leans close. “I want to fuck you so hard, you smell like me for a week.”

Simon shivers at the brush of lips against his ear. “Just a week?” He arches against Cody’s firm body. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Cody sits up in a ripple of abdominal muscles. Simon half-expects some sort of sardonic comment. Like what you see? He would have been forced to answer yes.

“Take your sweater off so I don’t ruin it,” Cody says, clearly controlling himself. “It probably costs a thousand dollars or something. Vintage. Antique.”

“About twenty bucks.” Simon twists obligingly and tosses the sweater across the room. “I got it on clearance. These jeans, on the other hand…”

He doesn’t remember buying the jeans. All that matters is getting them off. Which he’s about to do when Cody pushes him back down. Very pushy. Simon likes that, particularly when Cody reaches for his fly.

Okay, yes. That’s better than taking them off himself.

Cody slips the button open and tugs the zipper, his knuckles brushing the hard line of Simon’s cock. The touch is electric, rocking through Simon’s body. He hears a groan, not his, and looks into Cody’s face.

He’s nearly undone by what he finds there: an expression of incandescent wonder. Raw, stripped down, ravenous enough to consume them both.

Simon wants desperately to know what that might entail.

Cody cups Simon through the denim. “I assume you’re not a virgin.”

“No, but it’s been about a decade, and I’m tired of waiting.” Simon bucks into the firm touch. “Get on with it.”

Rolling his eyes, Cody obeys the demand. After some awkward wiggling—immortality and supernatural reflexes can’t fix everything—jeans and underwear sail across the room to join the sweater. Cody slides from the bed to shuck off his sweatpants.

Simon leans back, one leg propped up, ignoring his own needy cock in favor of admiring the view. Cody’s turned away, so Simon is free to observe without being seen. Yet he knows Cody is aware of him. Listening, scenting.

Every muscle and sinew moves in harmony, elevating to an art the act of rummaging in a drawer. Cody returns to bed with a plastic bottle in hand. Simon is more interested in Cody’s body, now fully exposed .

Simon had seen him briefly after the shift, of course. Too briefly. The mood wasn’t right. Now the mood is perfect, and Simon wants to savor every detail. Particularly Cody’s cock, jutting red from the nest of dark curls. Imagining that thick length spearing him has Simon nearly salivating with need.

The mattress dips, and Simon’s world tilts too, as Cody kneels between his legs. Callused fingers stroke the underside of Simon’s thigh.

“Do you want to top?” Cody asks.

“I want you in me,” Simon demands, and answering hunger flares in Cody’s eyes.

This is insane. Simon knows this, a fact both learned and inherited, as he drags Cody into another blazing kiss. As a bottle cap clicks, and wet fingers map an eager path beneath his thigh. He’s about to fuck a werewolf. A werewolf he only met a month ago. It’s been so long since he allowed himself to get close to anyone.

Nobody else matters as slick fingers rub over his hole, a shock of heat. Simon moans into Cody’s mouth. Manages a sound more whining encouragement than actual words.

Cody’s first finger pushes in easily. It’s been a decade, but Simon’s body opens like he was made to take Cody in. His own hands wander, tangling in Cody’s hair, gliding over firm shoulders and arms. His nails dig into Cody’s back, not quite deep enough to tear flesh.

Is the chill of his body unpleasant?

Simon’s fingers flex, making Cody groan and rut forward. His cock slides hot against Simon’s thigh. Not unpleasant at all, then.

“Come on,” Simon grits out as another thick finger pushes in. Warmth seeps into him with every stretch, and the heel of Cody’s hand rolls over his balls. That’s great—fantastic—but Simon needs more. “Give it to me, wolf.”

With a savage grin, Cody slows to a leisurely, messy pace. “You know, I’m kind of liking the bratty thing.”

Then he hooks up, directly into Simon’s prostate. Simon whines, arching off the bed. “You fucking tease.”

“Yes,” Cody purrs into Simon’s neck. “Like that, you beautiful brat.”

Simon should be offended. At a mere twenty-eight years old, Cody doesn’t know anything about anything. But Simon can’t bring himself to care. Every deep stroke sends him writhing, cock straining. He jerks upwards, seeking friction, but finds only heated air.

Fingers slip away with a filthy sound. When Cody repositions, Simon moves in perfect concert with him. Their bodies align, Cody’s blunt cockhead nudging Simon’s entrance.

With one long shove, they’re together.

When Simon first turned, the night was an awakening. The world brightened and darkened, sharpened and softened, every element intensified. Simon felt every faint promise of pleasure and pain. Everything ordinary became new, and Simon reveled in it.

The spark faded over the centuries. Age and loneliness dulled his senses. Now, Cody’s touch makes him feel like a fledgling again.

Only this time, the architect of Simon’s transformation is just as overcome. Cody fucks with unrelenting force, eyes wild but each thrust slow and deep. Pleasure crashes through Simon, and his mouth waters. His teeth ache.

“Your eyes are red,” Cody says. Fascinated. Not alarmed. Not stopping.

Thank fuck. Simon rocks into each thrust, his bloodthirst transfigured into something even more primal. “You smell delicious,” he manages on shallow breaths. “Don’t worry. I won’t mar your virgin throat.”

“What a coincidence,” Cody says, just as breathless. “You smell delicious, too.” He adjusts, forcing the angle slightly off, slightly painful. Just one thrust, but Cody must see how Simon’s whole body sings in response. Because he repeats that every few thrusts.

Each fleeting hurt binds Simon to the present moment. He needs Cody so deep inside him that no part remains untouched. Physically and mentally. Cody’s concentration is absolute. Simon feels it in the precise force of each movement. The tension of Cody’s broad shoulders. Clenched jaw and closed eyes, before Cody drops his forehead to Simon’s collarbone.

Cody hooks one hand under Simon’s thigh, and Simon bends nearly in half with the push. Deeper. Better. Exactly what he needs, even before Cody’s other hand drops to Simon’s aching cock.

One rapturous touch, and Simon falls silent, rigid, blinded with pleasure. Like staring into the sun after centuries of night. His release spills over Cody’s hand.

With a final, brutal thrust, Cody shudders to join him. Hot come paints Simon’s insides, almost too much for overstimulated nerves. Lost in the sound of Cody’s harsh breath, Simon falls back onto the mattress. His fingers loosen with difficulty from Cody’s biceps.

They’re still joined when Cody collapses on top of him, all scratching hair and sweat-slick skin. Cody mumbles, “You’re incredible.”

Simon isn’t sure if he’s supposed to have heard that, so he decides not to answer. To be polite. Not because he’s too dazed to formulate a response. Better to close his eyes and relish the calm. He deserves this respite.

He wouldn’t mind having this forever. That isn’t impossible—but Simon shies away from all the questions and decisions that would entail. Now isn’t the time to think about the future.

Eventually, Cody pushes up with a grunt. His softened cock slips away, and his hand lingers, tentative, on Simon’s hip. Cody lies beside Simon, still surrounding him with sweat and heat.

Simon rolls over and touches Cody’s throat. Blood pulses temptingly beneath his fingertips. Pulses even faster as Simon leans in for a wet, lazy kiss.

“Don’t say anything,” Simon whispers.

Cody obeys his plea by silently pulling him close. Perfect. Simon doesn’t want to speak or listen or even think. He just wants to curl up—like this—under Cody’s strong arm, pillowing his head over that thundering heartbeat.