Love for the Cold-Blooded Read Online Free Page A

you that your neutral default expression makes you out to be a —” murderous pyrokinetic psychopath?
    But Pat never got to finish that sentence, on account of Nicholas’s mouth blocking the rest of his words.
    Nicholas kissed slowly and thoroughly, almost methodically. It wasn’t a surprise, exactly; Pat hadn’t had a theory on what the man would kiss like. Plus, he didn’t have the attention to spare for surprise, what with everything else going on. Like the heavy weight of Nicholas pressing Pat into the bed — wow, who’d have thought that would be such a turn-on? And he was right there , one hand sliding slowly into Pat’s hair, fingertips dragging against his curls. And his thigh was snugged up against Pat’s cock, which, holy fuck, Pat wasn’t entirely sure he was up to processing how good that was just yet.
    Somehow, Pat’s hands had ended up on Nicholas’s ass. It felt even better than it looked… all muscle, ridiculously firm and more than enough to grab hold of. This was actually happening. Pat was allowed to touch .
    “Dude, I gotta touch you more,” he gasped into Nicholas’s mouth.
    Nicholas grunted and nipped at his lower lip. Pat had never realized how great kissing could be — but, no. He wasn’t going to let himself get distracted here. He wanted to touch more, now . “Hang on, okay. Back up.”
    It took a little squirming, but Nicholas did back up. He proceeded to stare at Pat like a particularly grumpy murderous pyrokinetic, but by now Pat was used to the guy’s face doing that particular thing. He just went ahead with shoving Nicholas over onto his back and letting his hands roam.
    Pat found himself trembling as he stroked along Nicholas’s collarbones, down his arms all the way to the strong wrists… up his firm, trained stomach and chest. A confusing rush of greed and nerves swirled in his gut, mingling oddly with the intoxicating feeling of soft warm skin over hard sculpted muscle. And Nicholas obviously wanted this as much as Pat; it was easy to read in the way he tipped his head back to let Pat skim avid fingertips up his throat, how he held his breath when Pat leaned forward for a taste of the delicate skin over his pulse. How he watched him with glittery dark eyes all the while.
    Nobody ever looked at Pat like that. It was doing weird things to his head.
    Nicholas was still wearing underwear, which was clearly entirely wrong. Pat attempted to remedy the situation by tugging at the offending boxers, but didn’t get anywhere until Nicholas sat up to strip them off and toss them off the bed.
    Outside of porn, Pat hadn’t seen an awful lot of erect penises that weren’t his own. Objectively speaking, Nicholas’s cock was probably entirely unexceptional. Except, it was right there in front of him, just as hard as Pat’s own and attached to a gorgeous man he was allowed to touch. Kinda hard to be objective when his hands were unsteady with lust, the blood rushing in his ears.
    “Suck it,” Nicholas rasped. He’d flushed a hectic, uneven pink, a feverish gleam edging into the pyrokinetic stare. It was a startlingly good look on him, and… yeah. Pat might have hesitated for the merest second there — talk about jumping in at the deep end — but… yeah, sure, he could do that. Absolutely.
    Nicholas’s erection felt improbably hot and heavy in his hand. When he stroked it once, experimentally, Nicholas gave a stifled sound that made Pat’s heart skip a beat; he only realized he was biting his lip when he looked up to find Nicholas staring at his mouth.
    “Go on. Suck my dick, you little slut.”
    The words came out so flat — almost bland — that they took Pat a moment to process.
    “Uhm.” Suck my dick, you little slut? Seriously?
    The hotness of the idea was gone immediately, vanished in a cloud of awful dirty talk, just like that. Pat barely managed not to snicker, caught halfway between amusement and disbelief. A bit of seductive competence would have smoothed the