Reason returned, and Kisho groaned.
Morgan was all that, and more. Morgan was his doom.
Chapter Four
Morgan lay there, trying to regain his wits, as Kisho fumbled with his clothing. Agitated and fierce, like the beast that writhed beneath his skin, the Circ just begged for Morgan to say to hell with everything and claim him. But he had a plan and an agreement to keep, so he'd bide his time. He'd wait, if not with patience, at least with the surety he'd found what he'd been so long in searching.
Sighing with contentment, Morgan linked his hands behind his head and watched his lover shove his arms through his shirt. “Where are you going?” Kisho glared down at him but said nothing.
Morgan could almost see the wheels of his kitsu's mind churning. Right now, Kisho had to be wondering what the hell to do. For years, Morgan had kept quiet tabs on the man. He was familiar with the way Kisho thought. Deliberate, decisive, straightforward: Kisho Hayashi dealt with life the way he wanted it dealt to him.
Growing up as an unwanted bastard on the streets of Okinawa had given him a hard shell, one that would be tough to crack. But Morgan lived for challenges. Hell, he'd been born to create friction, as his parents were fond of saying. Morgan always conquered obstacles in his path.
He had an innate gift for self-preservation. He should have died several times over during the course of his lifetime, but something—or someone—had always kept him tied to the here and now. He healed from mortal wounds. He never scarred and had never suffered from so much as a cold. Those closest to him, those people who were important to him, kept him grounded.
He knew there were some, like him, like his family, who were simply more. People like Fallon who could pull secrets from the mind, and Olivia who could read emotions. They could pose a danger to him if he let them. But Morgan refused to allow anything to threaten what he considered his. His family, his friends, his lover.
Nothing in his life had ever mattered as much as making sure he didn't lose Kisho.
“Aren't you going to get dressed?” Kisho asked in a quiet voice.
The quiet Morgan didn't mind. But the careful tone alerted him to pay attention. He deliberately stretched and rubbed his stomach, pleased to feel the sticky residue of Kisho's marker. “I'm basking in the afterglow. Gimme a minute.” Kisho frowned. “I need to…” He glanced toward the door, then back at Morgan, his gaze fixed to Morgan's hand on his belly. His dark eyes lit from within, and Morgan swore he saw an animal staring out at him.
So fucking sexy, that beast. Hearing Kisho purr while they'd blown each other had been heaven and hell, because it made Morgan hot and so hard, he hurt. He'd wanted to come while sucking off his lover, that huge cock that tasted like warm cherries in his mouth.
Kisho cleared his throat. “We're supposed to be fighting, not fucking. Tuck your hard-on away.”
“Morgan. Tuck your hard-on away, Morgan. Say my name.” Kisho scowled. “I know your name.”
“But you have a hard time saying it unless you're coming in my mouth,” Morgan provoked. “What's wrong, baby? Afraid your boyfriends will see me and get jealous? Don't worry. I can handle them.”
Anger crossed his face, and Morgan realized that in the short span of time he'd actually spent with Kisho, he'd never seen the Circ broadcast so many emotions. The stoic features of perfection looked even better creased in confusion or darkened in anger.
“They're not my boyfriends, Morgan. They're my friends, my brothers.”
“Really? Kind of an incestuous relationship you have going on there.” Kisho jumped on top of him and wrapped a hand around his throat before Morgan could blink. Good Christ, the man could move.
“Watch your tone,” Kisho growled, exposing a hint of fang.
He knew it wasn't smart, but Morgan couldn't help antagonizing him. Anything to shake up his lover's well-ordered world. He rasped, “Watch your tone, Morgan.”
Kisho swore. To Morgan's surprise, Kisho removed his hand and mashed his mouth against Morgan's in a kiss that sparked instant heat. But as soon as the fire started, Kisho backed away, wiping a smear of blood from his lips as he stood.
Morgan licked the coppery taste from a cut on his mouth and contained a shudder. Damn, his kitsu could kiss. Even brutal, the connection between them flamed hotter than ever. The tent in Kisho's shorts and the answering arousal paining his own groin said what neither man would.
That the connection between them went deeper than normal lust.
Noise outside the gymnasium sounded, and Kisho froze.
The animation that had previously lit his face faded. Kisho's expression cleared, suddenly resembling a blank wall. “I need to talk to Mrs. Sharpe. I'll see you later.” He left Morgan for the double doors and had just reached the exit when he added, “And stop calling me 'kitsu.'” He pushed through the doors and disappeared.
Morgan stared down at his overeager dick and wondered how the hell he got into these situations. The plan had been to seduce Kisho slowly. Some time alone, a few dinners, maybe some walks on the beach.
Instead, he'd lost his mind being so close to the object of his desire. Going down on his little fox— big misnomer there—had been the best thing in his life. Salty sweet, that cum addicted him like nothing else. It spoke of a need, of a hunger for Morgan that his lover couldn't hide, no matter how much he might want to.
This whole mission revolved around finding Colonel Montaña and Captain William Delancey, at least so far as the Circs were concerned. But Morgan had arrived on an altogether different agenda. He'd come to claim what Alicia had started when he'd turned sixteen. She'd given him that damned jade fox as a birthday present and changed his life forever.
The small memento from some forgotten trip abroad promised a love he'd kill to experience. So many years ago, yet he could still remember the feeling, when the instinct long dormant inside him had blossomed in seconds, telling him that the person who possessed the figurine's twin was his.
Growing up surrounded by a loving family made Morgan no stranger to affection. He recognized the close ties the Circs here had for each other. The annoyed yet protective way Ava treated Alicia, the loving, sexual heat in Olivia's eyes for Fallon. All of it felt real, and he ached to feel it for one special person.
Except his lover seemed less than inclined to meet him halfway. A better man would try to soften Kisho's edges, to show him with tender loving, and time, that Morgan could be trusted to hold his heart.
But Morgan didn't have time.
Finding Kisho nearly dead two months ago still haunted him. Instinct had led him to seek out Alicia sooner than he'd intended. And thank God for that. He'd been born for that moment, to heal his future mate and tie them even tighter together. By sharing a breath with his other half, by sharing the very essence of what made him what he was in a kiss, he'd jumpstarted Kisho's own healing abilities.
But now what? He still had to find Montaña. Morgan didn't think of his skills as psychic, not like Alicia's Circs. He couldn't predict the future, read minds, auras, or turn into a hulking killing machine. But his instincts never failed. Morgan simply followed the course set for him and didn't stray. Unfortunately, Kisho screwed with his reasoning.
He should have allowed the man some time before jumping him. Three days wasn't all that long to get acquainted. Still, their raw loving had soothed that ache building inside him. Despite Kisho's obvious upset, Morgan felt boneless, sated, and on the verge of falling asleep, naked as the day he was born.
“Oh man, I could have lived my entire life without seeing this,” Tersch groaned from the doorway.