Home > A Warm Heart in Winter (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18.5)(13)

A Warm Heart in Winter (Black Dagger Brotherhood #18.5)(13)
Author: J.R. Ward

Now, all things considered, Qhuinn had no problem having sex in front of an audience. Then again, when you were good at something, showing off was hardly a character flaw. His lover didn’t feel the same way, though, and Blay’s need for privacy was something that was always respected.

And hey, the truth was, Qhuinn liked the fact that his male only shared that side of himself with the one who loved him most in the world.

“Let me see it,” Qhuinn prompted as Blay stood up from the chair. “I want to see it . . .”

Blay’s hands trembled as they went to the belt, to the button, to the zipper at the front of those slacks. Fumble, fumble . . . then the two halves were yanked wide.

The enormous erection that burst out was exactly what Qhuinn was looking for.

“Commando,” he moaned with approval. “It’s meant to be.”

As his mate’s dagger hand encircled the thick shaft, Qhuinn did some groaning of his own. Except then Blay took a sharp step back.

Cue the sound of a needle scratching over an LP.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Blay asked. “I mean, what if something bursts open and—”

“The only thing bursting is going to be you, lover mine—”

“Qhuinn. I’m serious.”

“So am I.” When Blay stayed where he was—way out of hands-on range, much less tongue-piercing reach—Qhuinn tried to level his stare and pretend he wouldn’t say absolutely anything to get what he wanted. “They weren’t even going to make me take a wheelchair back. I’m allowed to walk on my own. And I already feel soooo much better.”

“You can’t roll onto your side.”

“That’s my hips, not my head. And besides, your pelvis is going to do the work, not mine.”

It was probably unfair to flick his piercing around, but what was that saying? All’s fair in love and blow jobs?

Okay, fine. That wasn’t the saying.

“Please,” he said. “And I promise I’ll tell you if anything hurts.”

There was a pause. And then Blay stroked his cock.

“Good,” Qhuinn said with a smile.

“I haven’t said yes.”

“Yeah, you have. You’re pumping yourself off.”

Blay looked down as if he’d had no clue what his palm was doing. “Traitor,” he muttered.

“Are you talking to your hand right now?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Just give me my medicine, Blay. You’re not going to hurt me.”

Worried blue eyes stared over. “I couldn’t bear that.”

“I know. It’s one of the many reasons I trust you.”

With the decision finally made, there wasn’t any more talking, the blunt head of that arousal coming at Qhuinn’s mouth, just as he’d begged for. And yes, he opened wide and took it all, sucking the length in, savoring the heat, the taste, the guttural sound that his mate made. Lifting his eyes, he had the pleasure of watching Blay’s head fall back and his arm shoot out to steady a rocky balance on the solid wall behind him.

A smacking noise rose up between his face and Blay’s hips, quiet, repetitive, achingly erotic. The rhythm was slow, Blay deliberately taking his time. Which was fine—until it became frustrating, at which point it was even better. Snaking a hand out, Qhuinn grabbed onto the back of his lover’s thigh and opened his throat, taking the full tip to base, everything stretching, his head moving back on the pillow.

Blay gasped and started to pump properly, noises rumbling in his chest, his breath starting to come fast and hard. And yet he was holding back.

Qhuinn pulled himself free of his prize, his lips releasing the head with a pop. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me. Give me everything.”

Those blue eyes flared. But then went to Qhuinn’s abs. “It feels so good, but—”

“It could be better.” Qhuinn put Blay’s hand on the back of his own skull. “Fuck me proper. You know you want to.”

“You’re just out of—”

To cut the conversation, Qhuinn extended his tongue and deliberately tickled the tip of Blay’s arousal with his piercing, the silver ball teasing, tasting . . . tempting, assuming he was doing it right.

“Oh, Qhuinn, God . . .”

Yup, he was doing it right. And what do you know, in return, Qhuinn got exactly what he wanted: Slowly at first, and then with increasing urgency, Blay drove his cock in and out of the mouth that was so greedy for him. In and out. In and out. Harder now. Faster now. And the broad palm on the back of Qhuinn’s head was the guide that made it all possible.

Well, that and those hips, those lean hips with the wings of muscle on both sides.

Blay’s body had been sculpted by a master, every part of it. Especially the part that was fucking Qhuinn’s mouth.

Ah, yes. This is exactly the kind of medicine he needed.

Blay had been feeling so guilty about the whole thing. For godsakes, his male was lying in a hospital bed, just unhooked from monitoring machines maybe twenty minutes ago, the stitches still fresh from closing a damn stab wound . . .

And here he was, face-fucking the guy—

Qhuinn looked up, his blue and green eyes glowing, his mouth stretched wide, his cheeks flushed from arousal. Then he purred.

Well. Okay, so fine, his mate did seem to be enjoying this. Even though Blay was drilling into Qhuinn’s mouth, the male was taking it all—and loving it. If the noises of approval weren’t a tip-off for how good it was for him, then the erection that had thickened up under that hospital sheet was another clear sign—

The growling sound in the back of Blay’s throat was a drumroll to his culmination, growing in urgency and volume—and fuck, he was drilling Qhuinn’s mouth now, the thrusting going wilder as he visually focused on what was happening.

The sight of those lips stretched so wide, and his shaft going in and out, and the gloss on his arousal was too much.

Blay pitched off the cliff, a tremendous orgasm ripping out of him.

Thankfully, Qhuinn took things from there. As Blay grunted and his pelvis locked into his lover’s face, his whole body went rigid, all of his muscles from his feet to his shoulders going rock hard. And so Qhuinn was the one who moved now, nursing at the head of the erection he’d treated so beautifully, pulling more and more out of the release, milking it to continue.

The legs that kept Blay upright turned into wire, and he listed back so that he had to brace himself against the wall. The angle was bad, twisting his spine, making his ass strain, but like he cared?

He was just watching what was happening as Qhuinn’s blue and green eyes looked up at him—

That tongue, that talented, pierced tongue, lapped around the head of Blay’s arousal again, then tickled the tip with the metal.

Blay’s eyes squeezed shut again. “You’re going to make me—”

Come again. Yup. Here it was, the pleasure peaking for a second time, jets shooting out of him and going right into Qhuinn’s mouth. More sucking now. Lots more sucking.

Blay squeezed his eyes shut and fell forward, collapsing across Qhuinn’s upper body—and still his male kept going.

And it kept going. For so long. Until Blay completely fell apart and had to stretch out on the hospital bed next to his lover or crush Qhuinn. As he settled in, his mate pulled him close, making sure his head was tucked against the big chest that was marked with the sacred scar of the Black Dagger Brotherhood.

“I should be cradling you,” Blay mumbled. “I need to take care of you—”

“Shh.” That big hand made slow circles on Blay’s shoulder, going up and around. “You did take care of me.”

Blay lifted his head. “I can assure you, it was the other way around.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“I owe you one. Or four, I think it was.”

“Five, but who was counting? And I look forward to collecting on that debt.” Qhuinn’s smile was so honest, so open. “Anytime.”

“Just maybe when you’re, like, not right out of an operation.”

“Nah. Any. Time. Like how ’bout now?”

Blay blinked. “We’ve already covered this. You can’t move.”

“All fours is probably out of the question, but I can roll over.”

“No, you can’t.” Blay shifted his head because he knew eye contact was necessary to get the point across. “And I am not doing that to you right now.”


As they started at each other, they both laughed. And then Blay got serious as he admired his mate’s hard face, and that strong chest, and that constant wellspring of sexual desire that was ever present, ever ready. Instantly, nothing else mattered or even registered, and it was funny—you’d think after all this time, things would stop receding. But it happened again: The hospital bed disappeared. The room disappeared. The clinic, the training center, the mountain, the world. Everything was gone but the male who was looking back at him.

“Your face is a view I never tire of,” Blay whispered as he stroked the black-and-purple hair that had been mussed in the process of . . . well, the blow job of his life.

Qhuinn nodded. “And yours is my true north. So there.”

With a smile, Blay meant to keep the compliments going. But then it dawned on him—

“Oh, crap, my pants are around my ankles.”

“I can think of no better place for them to be.”

“Good thing that door is locked—” As Qhuinn went to move, Blay put his hand on the male’s shoulder. “Wait, where are you going?”


Qhuinn’s face tightened as he sat up and sucked in a breath. But when Blay went to pull him back down to the pillow, Qhuinn fought the urging even as it cost him more pain.

“What are you doing?” Blay demanded.

Ah. The blanket that was folded at the end of the bed.

Qhuinn pulled the soft weave free, shook it out of its squares, and placed the softness over Blay’s lower body with careful hands. Even as his face lost its color from whatever he was feeling at his wound site, he batted away efforts to help, and covered that which was clearly precious to him.

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