Here’s another bit for those of you keeping up with this story. I do have to thank the Moderator of the TT blog, Jean Joachim, for unhinging my brain with a pair of great prompts both this week and last.
That having been said, when you finish up here, check out the Tuesday Tales blog for lots more great stories.
Markus lay across the bed, face down with his legs propped up on a pillow. He hated himself for not being able to do more for Sadie and the rest of their clan. But that damned coyote’s teeth had been sharp, and the muscles in his leg had been no match for such a bite. At least he’d done away with the little bastard – after all, a wolf’s jaws were obviously no match for a gangly little dog like that.
While the skin had long-since healed, the muscle still ached each time he flexed his toes. Even Sadie, as she’d left the room earlier, had developed a bit of a limp. That he regretted more than anything – inflicting pain on her, whether unintentional or not. As she came back into the room, he could still hear the heavy step from her left foot.
“I am sorry,” he said, knowing the sound would be muffled by the pillow in which his face was buried.
“For what?” Sadie asked as the bed dipped beside him. “For saving me from the dart? For killing the outsider?”
“For hurting you.”
“Hush already,” she warned. “You have apologized quite enough.” Her cold hands came down on the back of his leg, surprising him. “Hold still.” Slowly, she smoothed her hands from his thigh to his ankle and back again, careful not to apply too much pressure to the scarred skin on his calf. Her fingers rose higher, teasing the insides of his thigh in a way that was nearly obscene, then slipped back down, kneading careful circles into his flesh.
“Feels good,” he grunted, and bit back a wince as her fingers hit on the injured muscle. He could feel the discomfort in her own leg reflected back at him, amplified by the feel of her hands on him. Slowly, whatever wall she’d build in her head came down and her consciousness flooded his again, overwhelming him with the feeling of her hands on his skin through her own recognition. He heard the thought before she even moved, so her lips pressing into the small of his back were no surprise.
What did surprise him was her questing, kneading fingers finding their way under his boxer shorts. Her growled in approval, feeling her arousal pinging in his mind alongside his own.
“Dangerous game,” he murmured. “Too many people downstairs.”
“Makes the game more exciting, don’t you think?” she asked, her voice little more than a soft purr near his left ear. Her hands moved up his body, kneading the muscles of his back, slipping over his biceps and into the close-cropped hair on the back of his head, each movement experienced from both consciousnesses. His palms tingled with the desire to touch her and the feeling of her hands on him. Her small, lithe body stretched over his, her breasts pressing against his back as she continued to draw her fingers over him.
“Tease,” he said, reaching one hand up to tangle in her hair and pull her around. His mouth found hers as if they were drawn together by magnets, and for that one brief moment in time, the rest of the world beyond her embrace fell away.
And for those who want to follow the bits and pieces of this story to date: