The Butcher and the Beast by Sean Michael Page B

away, hiding his own grin.
    “I have no need for shame and your last patient just left, Butcher.” John’s voice deepened, became husky. “You know you wish to.”
    “I will not dally with you here, Beast.” He lifted his chin. “And I am no butcher.”
    “Where will you dally with me then…Doctor?”
    His lips parted, caught between aggravated and wanton. “Your quarters, only.”
    “There is a bed here.” John nodded toward the tiny cot Stephen used as an examination table.
    “A filthy cot and I have already told you no.”
    “But I called you Doctor. And I told Geoff to listen to you. I deserve a reward.” John was incorrigible.
    Stephen laughed, shook his head. “Have some ale.”
    “I want you , Grey.” John’s hand reached out and wrapped around his arm, tugging him up against all those muscles. “And then the ale.”
    He groaned, tried to pull away. “Not here. Not here, you Beast.”
    “Why not? What does it matter where?” He could feel John’s shaft against his hip, hard and hot.
    “There are old bandages, the room smells of illness. Have some care, John.”
    John’s eyes rolled and the hand on Stephen’s arm tightened, but the man turned and tugged him out of the room. “My cabin then.” The words were growled, but Stephen recognized the sound of need in it now, rather than anger.
    “Yes, Beast. Your cabin.” There was little good in denying his own need.
    It was not very far at all, only a few steps to the end of the dark hall and they were in the captain’s quarters. It was just weeks ago that he’d been a prisoner in this room at the pirate captain’s mercy. Now he was… He was unsure of what he was. Of his place. He spent hours not considering it.
    “Here we are. No more stalling. We both want this.”
    John tilted Stephen’s head, mouth descending upon his own. The kiss enflamed him, his hands tangling in John’s hair, the heat between them an addiction. John’s tongue pushed into his mouth, sweeping through it before sliding away, almost daring his own to follow. He moaned, chasing John’s tongue, his own sliding along before pulling back again.
    A groan vibrated deep in John’s chest, one big hand sliding down along his back and landing on his ass like it belonged there. They pressed together, both moaned as their bodies rubbed. Insanity. Madness. Lust.
    John’s free hand slid up under his blouse, sliding across his belly before climbing, headed right for his nipple. Stephen went up upon his toes, his nipple tight, hard, embarrassingly eager for sensation. The kiss turned into nibbling, John’s lips grabbing his lower one between them, teeth testing his skin.
    “Is this what you want?” John asked as his fingertips slid across the small bud of Stephen’s nipple.
    He groaned, pressing against that touch.
    “My passionate butcher,” murmured John, lips attaching to his throat, covering the mark that had not faded since it had first been left on his skin.
    “Not…not a butcher.” Heat flooded him, his chin lifted, passion making him ache.
    John chuckled, teeth scraping along his skin, fingers pinching his nipple. “Are you sure?”
    “Sure?” He arched, lost in sensation.
    There was no answer, only more biting, more pinching and tugging and rubbing. It felt like John was everywhere, all around him. He slid his own hands down John’s arms, John’s chest, petting and stroking.
    “That’s it, Stephen. More. Skin. Come now, Butcher, you know you want me.”
    “Be quiet, Pirate.” He pushed John’s shirt up, dragging his hands over the rippled belly.
    John laughed, stomach fluttering beneath his fingers. The sound soon turned into a moan, the suction on his neck growing fierce. Stephen’s own moan drove him closer, his hips bucking against John’s thigh. John pushed his leggings from his hips, freeing his cock to the air.
    “John.” Stephen would not beg, he would not .
    John drew back, those blue eyes staring into his own. “I like the way you say my