18. Jesse

Chapter eighteen

Jesse

I wasn’t a coward, by any means. But Anders’ father scared the shit out of me, and I couldn’t say precisely why. He looked at me like I was a puzzle to solve, he always had. Sleeping in this house made me worry that one morning I would wake up and find out he’d taken a scalpel to my ears. The man was driven to fix things, whether they needed to be fixed or not.

Grace was summoned, along with Anders and Erik to oversee the war council or whatever you’d call two powerful men announcing an alliance to the city. Anders was still furious with Grace, and while I didn’t blame him, I also didn’t understand why he was so angry. Wasn’t the goal to keep her safe and keep her with us? I mean, it was official now. She was one of us by marriage. I knew Erik was upset, but moreso because he’d wanted his ring on her finger eventually. Even he couldn’t fault Grace for finding a solution to our problem, because we had been, up until this morning, royally fucked.

Staying with Levy had been my decision. I was well enough to join them—the cuts on my face were superficial, the pain just a memory of what it had been when the glass had shredded my skin. But I couldn’t stand the tension, and I hated being in the same room as Gregori, especially when I couldn’t punch him in the face. So I sat on the bed with Levy instead, watching him flicker in and out of view as he slipped in and out of consciousness. The blast had bruised his muscles and burned his skin, not to mention the shrapnel that had cut him to ribbons. The doctor came by again to give him another topical treatment, some crap that smelled like eucalyptus and was supposed to speed up his healing.

Around lunch time, a server appeared with two trays of food, a bottle of pills on one of them. I ate my food begrudgingly, aware that we were only getting this fancy treatment because Grace had promised the sick fuck a grandchild. I could not picture that psychopath with a child, especially knowing how he’d been with Anders. I’d seen the bruises, I’d overheard the things he said to his only son. He’d never forgiven his own child for killing his wife, even though childbirth complications weren’t within a baby’s control. Once, when Anders had had one glass of scotch too many, he’d explained that his mother—who had powers just like us—had been six months pregnant when her blood pressure skyrocketed. Gregori, the ‘problem-solver’, had realized that it was Anders who was causing it, pre-eclampsia or whatever the term was. He’d told his wife they needed to get the baby out, but she’d refused, because it had been too early, and Anders was unlikely to survive. Gregori watched his wife get sicker, and finally she was rushed to the hospital a month early. Anders lived, but she didn’t. And Gregori never forgave him.

I understood grief, and I understood rage. But to put a lifetime of guilt on a baby? That just wasn’t right.

Levy was still out cold when I finished my lunch, and I set his down on the end table next to him for when he woke up. Being a nosy asshole, I checked the pills that they’d dropped off for him. Regular old sleeping pills, from the looks of it. Well… fuck it. I hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in over a month, not since this shit with Douglas started. I tipped one out of the container and popped it in my mouth, then climbed back beside Levy and flopped down onto my stomach, letting the little pill drag me off to sleep.

Something tickled my ear, warm and soft. I turned my head, and the tickle shifted down my neck, slow and languid as it moved. Lips, someone’s lips were on my neck. If this was a dream, I was taking those pills every damn night. The lips were everywhere, gentle and teasing as they peppered my skin, and soon they were joined by something else— fingers? Brushing down my sides and up my calves, sparking little bursts of pleasure as I relaxed deeper into the bed.

What was moving? My hips lifted, and I felt a draft around my back, something moving down my legs. My shorts? I was too boneless to care, especially when the feather light caresses began anew, tickling up and down my back. I was still asleep, I was sure of it, my boneless limbs ignoring any signals I sent them to move. All except one. The teasing had woken up part of me at least, and I wished I could move and rock my hips into the bed, to get a little bit of relief.

Whoa, what was that now? My throat vibrated with a groan as a gentle stroke of heat brushed over my back entrance. It happened again, and I realized it must be a tongue, because nothing else would feel that fucking good. This must’ve been a dream, because why would someone be teasing my asshole with their tongue in Gregori Howell’s home? The pressure increased, and something— a finger? —slipped past the ring of muscle. Oh fuck, oh fuuuck. The burn quickly morphed into pleasure as this dream of mine got more intense. Another finger joined, stretching me until my cock was throbbing against my stomach, leaking and staining the covers underneath me. I wanted more, I needed more, as they stroked that area deep inside that had lightning shooting down my spine.

I would be this sleeping pill’s biggest supporter, a lifelong fan. The pressure disappeared, and I grunted, willing myself to fall back to sleep and continue the dream. I was so turned on right now, my balls ached, and if I could move my arm I would finish myself off, I was so fucking close.

Abruptly, the pressure returned, and holy fuck, was it more than a finger. I was glad my face was buried in my pillow, because I was sure I let out a moan as I was filled up and stretched to max capacity, fire spreading down my thighs as something heavy pressed against my ass, bottoming out inside of me. Then came the lips, soft and warm, brushing my cheek and down my jaw as I relaxed and stretched to accommodate the intrusion. The lips remained on the back of my neck as whoever it was pulled out, and then rocked into me, hitting my prostate and jolting me with pleasure. If I had words, I would shout them. “More, fuck, please give me more!” I wanted to arch into them, press my hips back and up and take more, I’d beg for it, I was not ashamed to admit it.

My unbandaged eye fluttered open, and I saw a scarred hand next to my face. Scars I recognized. Not a dream then? Or maybe it was just a fantasy of mine. The thrusts grew longer, more intense as he pulled out nearly completely before slamming back in, over and over until I was biting the pillow to keep from making the garbled sounds my throat wanted to unleash. Each thrust brought me closer to the edge, my cock pulsing as I was slammed down into the mattress.

I felt my balls tighten as the pressure built in my spine. It took only one more vicious stroke before I was spilling out into the covers, the onslaught relentless as he drew out my pleasure, my cock jumping with each additional thrust as they grew shorter. I felt his release spill into me, filling me up as he slowed, then collapsed on top of me, breathing hard. More kisses on my neck, and a small burst of heat— did he bite me? —then a hand brushed my hair behind my ear, as I sighed, a smile playing on my lips.

When my eyes opened again, the room was dark. I blinked a few times, willing the sleep out of my eyes, and looked over beside me. The bed looked empty at first glance, but a quick scan with my fingers told me that Levy was right where I’d left him earlier, fast asleep. I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a little sore, but after the explosion I always woke up sore now.

I stood on shaky legs and stumbled to the bathroom, relieving myself and splashing some water on my face. I must had slept the day away, which was a stupid move. Now I’d be up all night. I squinted at myself in the mirror, touching the skin around my stitches and brushing over the bandage that covered my eye and most of my cheek. My vision should be fine, they’d told me. But my eyelid was scratched and needed to heal. I glanced down and frowned, leaning forward as I studied myself in the mirror. If I twisted just right, I could just make out a small bruise on the side of my neck, right where one would be if my dream had been more than just a dream.

I glanced out into the room, and noticed the tray beside Levy was now missing. Warmth pooled in my stomach, and I slipped back into the room, climbing up on the bed carefully so I wouldn’t wake him up. I laid down on my side and reached out tentatively, until I found his short cropped hair, and ran my fingers through it gently. I was proud of him for trusting me and taking care of me so well. My cock throbbed at the memory, and I smirked. I hoped he would be willing to do that again.