Incubus Dreams - Laurell K. Hamilton [159]
I leaned into him, and he leaned back. I kept moving forward, and he kept moving back, so that I slipped out of the chair, and he ended up on the floor for a second, before he rolled to his feet. I was left kneeling on the floor, but I had a handful of his robe. The cloth stretched away from his body, and I saw that he was wearing something under it, but not much. It was lust, but it was more than that. It was lust, as if sex were food. I’d thought the ardeur was the worst of it, but this felt . . . less, worse. Except for that first time I’d had some control over the ardeur. Not liking someone, or knowing someone helped me fight it off. This was different. It wouldn’t have mattered. This was need so raw that it just wouldn’t have mattered.
Jean-Claude screamed through my head, “Anita, help me!” He’d used my real name, and his desperation cut through me like a knife.
Some of that desperation fell into my voice. “I’m sorry, Byron, but Jean-Claude is about to lose control of Primo. He needs more food.”
“And who gets to be the food?” he asked, and there was that edge of fear to him.
I had to close my eyes and take a deep breath. “There’s no time.”
“I won’t let you tear my throat out, just because the master has bitten off more than he can tame.”
I shook my head, eyes still closed. “Don’t be afraid, Byron, please, that fuels the beast. I’m offering the ardeur.” I opened my eyes and stared up at him. He still stood as far away as the stretched fabric of the black robe could take him. My voice had found an edge of growl when I said, “But it’s a limited time offer. Either come across, or food won’t be a euphemism.”
A funny look crossed his face. “Do you mean sex? Real sex? Not a euphemism for anything?”
If I’d had time, it would have been funny. “Yes.”
“Oh, duckie, why didn’t you say so?” He came to me, undoing the sash of his robe and letting it fall away. He was wearing only the tiniest of black thongs, with his pale, pale body exposed everywhere else. The muscles that he’d managed to acquire in less than a month worked under his skin as he dropped to his knees in front of me. “Who gets to be on top?” he asked with a smile.
I put my hands on his bare shoulders, and the moment I touched his skin, the smile faded. “I do,” I said, and pushed him to the floor.
37
BYRON LAY BACK against the floor with my body riding him, my hands on his wrists, pinning him to the floor. The only thing I’d ripped off my own body had been underwear. There was no foreplay, there was no time for it, no need for it. Everywhere I touched him, I could feed a little. Bare skin was all I needed now, but it was an incomplete feeding. It wasn’t enough. I pressed our mouths together, slid my tongue into his mouth, and again I could feed, but it wasn’t enough. I ground myself against him, but he was still trapped in the thong. I let go with one wrist, and his hand found the side of the thong first.
“Snap away,” he said, in a voice that was deeper, more real than his usual.
I tore the cloth away, and he was suddenly naked against me, not inside me, but pressed against me, and he was warm. Warm with the blood he’d taken from someone else. The feel of him pressed against me made me cry out.
Nathaniel said, “Anita?” He came pressed as far from us as he could get and stayed where I could see him. “It’s like the ardeur, but worse, more.” He looked almost panic-stricken. He had an armful of gauze packets.
I wanted to say I’m sorry, or something civilized, but Byron moved his hips underneath me, and that one small movement brought my attention back to the man underneath me. His eyes had darkened like sky before a storm. And staring down into them, I wondered how I’d ever thought they were soft. He spent so much time being the charming youth, playing to the body he’d been given, but now suddenly out of his eyes I saw just how much grown-up I was dealing with.
“Fuck me,” he said, and it came out softer the second time, “fuck me, fuck me.” He whispered it over and over, softer and softer, until his breath