Those Words I Dread (Tales of the Tuath Dé #1)

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Trent shut the bedroom door while Ciaran stumbled ahead of him with a laugh.

“You don’t have to be angry,” the fairy teased as Trent stalked toward him. “It was just a bit of fun.”

“Shut up,” he whispered, fisting one hand in the other man’s shirt and pushing him backward until he hit the nearby dresser.

“Easy now, lad, I’m still injured,” Ciaran chuckled, and Trent put a finger to the fairy’s lips with a hard scowl.

“Shut. Up.” He pressed the other man into the dresser with the weight of his body, his hand moving to grip his jaw as his thumb roughly brushed the fairy’s bottom lip. He leaned in to him, tilting Ciaran’s chin up as he drew close, but he skipped his mouth entirely and instead fastened his teeth on the tender skin of his neck. Ciaran’s small sound of surprise and approval was all he needed. This was what the fairy had wanted all along, after all. Just a conquest. Just another lover. Trent could use him just as easily, he told himself. He slid his hand between them, deftly unbuttoning the fairy’s jeans and slipping his hand inside. He couldn’t hold in his own soft groan as he felt Ciaran pulse against his palm, and he squeezed the silky skin until the other man was bucking into his grip.

Trent bit hard kisses down Ciaran’s neck as he stroked him, but when the fairy’s whimpers got too loud, he pushed his thumb into his mouth, shuddering at the gentle scrape of teeth and the heat of the other man’s tongue. He shut his eyes as he ground his hips into Ciaran’s, his breath quickening into light pants. He had lied. It had been too long. He looked up when he felt Ciaran’s hands on the sides of his face, and he held him fast by one side of his neck while the other man slid his glasses down his nose and discarded them on the far end of the dresser.

“You’re not half pent up, are you? We could have done this ages ago,” Ciaran taunted, lightly scratching his fingernails down Trent’s cheek.

“If you don’t shut up,” Trent growled, letting the threat die off as he pulled away. He tugged the other man’s shirt up, his heavy amulet thumping back against his chest, and tossed it away. He turned him around and shoved him toward the bed so hard that he tumbled backward, then hooked his fingers into the fairy’s jeans and jerked them down his thighs. Ciaran obliged him by propping himself up on one elbow, his free hand setting to the task Trent had abandoned. He stroked himself slowly, looking up into the other man’s eyes like a challenge.

Trent’s heart pounded uncomfortably against his ribs, but he focused on his shirt buttons, only managing to undo three before giving up and pulling the shirt up over his head. He tugged on his belt to loosen it, but he hesitated just a moment as he stood at the edge of the bed, Ciaran shamelessly touching himself right in front of his eyes. He didn’t want to seem bumbling, especially after Ciaran had so effortlessly aroused him, but he wasn’t sure at all how to ask the other man to touch him again. He was certain it would come out as begging, and that was the one remaining line he refused to cross.

Instead, he removed his pants as quickly as he could and crawled over the top of the other man, tightening his fingers around Ciaran’s own and matching his pace. The fairy let his head fall back with a soft, growling laugh, and Trent knelt over him to put a hand across his mouth.

“My father thinks I’m alone in here,” he whispered against Ciaran’s cheek as a warning, following him lower as he dropped down from his elbow. He meant to add a threat, but his breath caught in his throat as he felt the other man’s fingers slip around his aching erection. He let his forehead fall helplessly against Ciaran’s shoulder as he struggled to support himself, and both men kept time with each other, stroking and squeezing and panting together.

Ciaran’s breath was hot against his ear, but when the fairy turned toward him in an attempt to catch his mouth in a kiss, Trent pulled away, unwilling to make the connection. It would have been too much. Too close.

Ciaran let out a groan of mock frustration and fisted his free hand in the hair at the back of Trent’s head, his tongue tracing a teasing line along the other man’s upper lip. Trent shuddered against him but still refused him a kiss, instead pressing their hips together until he was unsure exactly whose hand was touching who. Ciaran ground up against him despite the injury on his stomach, but when his brazen moans grew loud, Trent fastened his hand over the fairy’s mouth and kept it there, letting the other man groan into his palm. He grit his teeth to avoid making noise himself, eventually forced to bite down on Ciaran’s shoulder to muffle his growls, and he kept his hand over the fairy’s mouth as he let the full weight of his body rest against his lean torso.

Their hands worked together, both of them stroking themselves and the other all at once until Trent let out a telltale whimper, and Ciaran tightened his grip and quickened his pace, panting against Trent’s clutching hand. The younger man’s hips jerked, and he hid his moan in Ciaran’s shoulder as he finished, spilling hot liquid onto the fairy’s stomach. Ciaran rolled his hips against Trent’s lingering erection, his back arching away from the bed, and he bit his lip, his breath held in his chest as he came. His head fell back to the bed as both men gave a final shuddering jerk, their seed mixing between them from the press of their bellies.

Ciaran was eventually forced to return to reality as the wound in his stomach began to throb, and he shoved Trent off to lie beside him instead. The younger man hadn’t yet opened his eyes, his chest rising and falling with slow, uncertain breaths. Ciaran wanted to tease him, but he only curled up nearby Trent and shut his eyes, listening to him breathe. When he was clearly asleep, Ciaran slipped out of the bed to clean himself up. He stood in the bathroom doorway and watched Trent in silence for a while until he noticed the quiet smile that had formed on his lips and shook his head. This had been frustration and lust, nothing more. Very fun frustration and lust, but empty nonetheless. Just a pleasant diversion. It wouldn’t do for him to forget that.

With a short sigh, Ciaran crawled back into bed and wrapped himself in the blanket, then tossed what he could over Trent’s sleeping body and shut his eyes.

Trent opened his eyes to Ciaran’s sleeping face, and a swell of panic grew in his chest as he sat up. He tugged the blanket up around his hips and folded his arms, gripping his jaw with one hand to cover his mouth as he looked down at the man in his bed. It had gone too far—he had let it go too far. He had let a sly smile and a freckled nose tempt him, and now there was a fairy asleep next to him who would doubtless have certain expectations about them now that this door had been opened. He could just imagine trying to get anything done now with Ciaran’s hands on him, those sharp teeth nipping at his ear or his shoulder, lithe body pressing into him in the office—Trent shook his head.

“No,” he said aloud, more to himself than his sleeping companion. He threw the blanket off and shut himself in the attached bathroom, turning the shower on as hot as he could make it. He touched the dried fluid on his stomach and frowned, eager to rinse it away. The room was too large to steam up properly, but the glass door of the shower turned opaque as he scrubbed himself under the scalding water.

This couldn’t go any farther than it had. After breakfast, his father would leave for the day to take whatever meeting he had come to Vancouver to have, and Trent would tell Ciaran plainly that last night had been a mistake. It had been. He had no room in his life for drama, he told himself. He was alone, and he liked it that way. No one bothered him. He lived however he liked, and he wasn’t responsible to anyone outside of making sure he passed his classes. Without sex and relationships, he had no problems. There was no stress, no drama, and no possibility of having to ever again see the look on Jason’s face when Trent had told him they couldn’t be together anymore.

He heard the bathroom door click open, and he saw Ciaran approach through the clouded glass. Trent purposely ignored him until he heard the ceramic thunk of the toilet lid being lifted.

“What are you doing?” he asked over the sound of the shower. “No. Get out.”

“What?” Ciaran said, already in position to relieve himself. “You want me to go in your dad’s bathroom?” He chuckled. “After last night, I thought we were at this level.”

“No. We’ll never be at this level. Go away and wait until I’m done.”

“It’s too late; this is happening. I can’t stop it now.”

Trent sighed as he heard the unmistakable trickle into the water, doing his best to ignore it as he ran his hands through his wet hair. The water was too hot for Ciaran’s flush to make much of a difference, and Trent let out a short breath of relief as he heard the other man’s footsteps again. Then the shower door slid open, letting in a rush of cool air, and he was faced with the sight of Ciaran’s naked body through the escaping steam, his hair delightfully mussed.

“No,” Trent said immediately, retreating until his back touched the cool tile wall. “Get out.”

Ciaran only smiled at him, lingering in the doorway and drumming his fingers on his flat stomach.

“Get out,” Trent said again. “Just go somewhere and be quiet until my father leaves.”

“It was cold in that bed after you left,” Ciaran murmured, stepping inside and letting out a soft, happy hum as the hot water touched his shoulder and chest. “Not much for pillow talk, are you?”

“I don’t want to do any kind of talking with you,” he snapped, conscious of the volume of his voice. He dropped to a harsh whisper to add, “I just want you to get out.”

“So rude,” the fairy chuckled, his gaze dropping to Trent’s hips with a slow smirk that made the other man’s stomach tighten. “You’re sure? And here I woke up thinking how much I wanted to taste you.”

Trent shook his head in an attempt to avoid seeing Ciaran lick his lips, but the image was burned into his brain .

“How about we give it a go, and when you’ve had enough, you tell me to stop?” Ciaran took a step forward, letting his fingertips brush down Trent’s bare chest to his stomach. He smiled at the other man’s shudder and paused with his fingers buried in the nest of black curls at Trent’s hips, waiting for a protest. Ciaran moved close to him, leaning up as though to kiss him but settling for nipping at the other man’s jaw when he turned his head away. “Now’s the time, friend,” he whispered against the wet skin of Trent’s neck, but he heard only the other man’s soft hitch of breath as he wrapped his fingers around his rising erection.

Trent let his head fall back against the tile wall, his hands in tight fists at his sides. He needed to say no. He needed to shout, to push Ciaran away, to ignore him and get dressed and pretend none of this had ever happened. But when the other man pressed a warm kiss to his chest, he couldn’t help the sigh that slipped out of him, and as Ciaran dropped to his knees, Trent found himself with one hand tangled in the fairy’s messy locks.

Ciaran hummed his approval as he took Trent into his mouth, his tongue running eagerly over the rapidly hardening flesh. Trent gasped and tightened his fingers in the fairy’s hair, urging him deeper and finding no resistance as he touched the back of Ciaran’s throat.

“Fuck,” he swore. He felt heat beyond the warmth of the shower rise in his face when Ciaran looked up at him, green eyes clear and tinged with mischievous promise. The other man’s mouth was hot and overwhelming as he groaned around him, and Trent bit his lip to hold in his moans as he saw Ciaran’s hand move down to tend to his own aching arousal. The fairy kept a quick pace, his hand matching the rhythm of his mouth, and he groaned as Trent guided him with a hand in his hair.

Trent swore again, gasping and desperate, until his grip tightened and he panted out, “Stop. I’m—I’m going to—”

Ciaran only hummed an agreement, shifting closer on his knees and taking every inch Trent had to offer into his mouth. When Trent let out a gasping groan and emptied himself into the fairy’s mouth, Ciaran swallowed it down without spilling a drop, though he did make a bit of a mess when he spilled his own climax onto the shower floor a few moments later .

He leaned in to press a kiss to Trent’s hip, a teasing chuckle in his throat as the other man shivered, and he got to his feet under the cooling shower. For a moment, neither of them moved except to catch their breath, each watching the other for some sort of sign or hint of what to do next, each waiting for the other to speak.

Trent jumped at the sudden, sharp rapping on his bedroom door, and he barely heard his father’s voice over the sound of the shower, “Trent? Are you still asleep?”

With a soft curse, Trent ushered Ciaran out of his way, wrapping a towel around his waist as he strode quickly out of the room. He opened the bedroom door just enough to see his father’s face.

“I’m sorry, fu chan,” he said automatically. “I was just getting out. I’ll be just another minute.”

Mr. Fa clicked his tongue and glanced at the clock, but he nodded and allowed Trent to shut the door again.

“Just getting off, more like,” Ciaran chuckled from the bathroom door, still completely naked and dripping onto the tile floor.

“Shut up,” Trent hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the door. He stepped over to Ciaran only to keep his voice low. “You need to stop this. I’m going to talk to my father, and you are going to stay in here and not make a single. Fucking. Sound.”

“Yes, sir,” Ciaran smirked, giving a mock salute as Trent turned from him.

He didn’t have time to argue. Trent dried off as best he could and dressed himself, pointedly ignoring the fact that the fairy was watching him. He left without looking at him again, and he shut the door behind him and went to greet his father.

“I have a meeting at ten,” Mr. Fa said, tugging lightly on the sleeves under his suit jacket. “I will be out after lunch, but my flight doesn’t leave until quite late tonight, so I expect you will be available for dinner?”

“Yes, fu chan.”

“You could bring Ms. Hickey.”

“She’s…busy tonight.”

“Ah. That’s a shame. A nice girl,” he added with a small nod. “Good for you.”

“Yeah, she’s…great. ”

Mr. Fa glanced at his watch. “I need to be going. I will call when I’m finished, and we can meet for dinner.”

“Yes, fu chan.” Trent walked his father to the front door and leaned his forehead against it once it was closed.

“I’m busy tonight, am I?” Ciaran asked behind him, startling him. Trent was glad to see that the fairy had at least dressed himself when he turned around, even if he was wearing Trent’s same hastily-removed button-down from the previous night. “If you want to go out, I promise I won’t paw at you,” he teased, a sly smile on his face as he moved toward the other man and hooked one finger into his belt loop. “I’ll save it for when we get back.”

“Stop it,” Trent said, swatting Ciaran’s hand away from him and brushing by him on his way to the kitchen.

“You know, you keep saying stop, but you never actually seem like that’s what you want.” Ciaran hopped up to sit on the kitchen island, watching Trent fill a glass of water from the tap. He drank the whole thing, then took a slow breath and moved to face the fairy on his countertop. Ciaran grinned and reached out to tug on Trent’s collar, but he gripped him by the wrists and threw his hands away.

“Don’t you get it?” Trent spat. “I don’t want this. I didn’t ask you for your help. I told you not to help. I have a life that I plan to get back to the minute you’re out of this house, and that can’t come soon enough.”

Ciaran frowned at him, unexpectedly stung by the other man’s words. “It’s just a bit of fun,” he countered, immediately wishing he hadn’t. He wouldn’t plead for this man’s affection. He had hoped that with this, it would be enough, and he would stop feeling that pounding in his chest when Trent was nearby. But that hadn’t happened. Even now, he wanted to reach up and touch the other man’s face and ask him why. “And anyway, a mhac,” he tried again, slipping down from the counter to look Trent in the face, “don’t forget that you started this. I may have done some teasing, but I’m not the one pushing folk down onto beds and such. You ought not have begun something you wanted to say later you didn’t like.”

“I started—” Trent stopped himself and let out a short sigh through his nose. “It was a mistake,” he said. “That’s it. A stupid mistake, and it won’t happen again. ”

“Then why don’t you tell me what it is you really want?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be daft. You let me stay here, you buy me food, you keep me from that hunter—you want something in return.” He didn’t mean to sound so bitter. What could Trent want from him, if it wasn’t sex? He had thought they were on the same page—but using each other was only victimless if they both agreed.

Trent ran a hand through his damp hair and shook his head. “What I want is for you to be gone.”

“You have to want something,” Ciaran insisted. “Some repayment. I can do magic, or have you forgotten?”

“What is it you think I need that you could possibly give me? I said no. Now just…leave me alone. Please,” he added as an afterthought, and he walked past Ciaran and shut himself in the office.

Ciaran stood in the kitchen, scowling as he folded his arms across his chest. Trent was lying. He would ask; they all asked. And Ciaran was going to be right there waiting when he did, even if it was just to tell him “no.”