Page 50 of Natural-Born Cullers

“Oh and look at that.” Martin narrowed his eyes. “No fear, not even a trace. Oh good on you, Welsh. Good on you…. You’re more… all balls, no collar.”

Martin slipped the blade in his mouth and eased a touch to Gray’s hips. Gray didn’t look at him again, not until Martin tried to tug out his shirt, and then Gray took a step back, his warning made clear.

“Ah-ah.” Martin slipped the blade out of his mouth and came back in close. He rested his cheek to Gray’s. “Play nice now, Welsh,” he whispered quietly, his breath brushing Gray’s ear. “Promise I’ll be gentle.” He pulled back, and Gray looked at him as he slid a touch to Gray’s shirt, then eased the tail of it free.

His touch brushed the scar at Gray’s side, and Gray shivered.

“Hm. Feel that?” Martin shivered right along with Gray. “The move into our fast lane, where you fucked Jack? The crossover from life to… really fucking living?” Martin licked at the dagger’s blade, drawing a little blood and sending a shiver down Gray’s spine with it. Silver greyness to Martin’s eyes was almost completely black, and he didn’t wince, that ability to always make hurt and step into Gray’s field of play looking so damn good.

Blood marking the blade, the dagger dug into Gray’s throat the next moment, and Gray didn’t flinch as Martin played the point along the length, a slight smile creeping up. “You ever think about us fucking in that fast lane, Welsh, huh?” Silver eyes flashed so playfully. “How we both know now that we could turn our own world upside down by fucking in the heat of consent?” Martin’s lips almost touched Gray’s, and that trace of blood, thatscentof…

Every drip… fucking drop.

“How fucking twisted would that be, hmm?” added Martin. “You… me.” A smile. “No chains, no force, just us fucking like normals, where our only natural twist of body would be to see who’d come out on top. I mean, all those steps of yours into my personal space… that’s you, your subtle testing of the consent waters… right?”

Gray kept his breathing so steady as the dagger slipped beneath his shirt, scraping hip first, then sending a shiver to his core as it settled over an old scar belonging solely to Martin.

“Hmmm,” murmured Martin. “And look at all that trust there. How far we’ve come, hmm?” A slow smile. “Because you know that if I mark you now, it won’t be to kill, just to… get playful.”

“Huh.” Gray hissed as Martin quickly sliced the dagger at his side, then he flinched, his hand finding the wound a second later.

Gray shifted, gripping the back of Martin’s hair, taking him back one pace, two, the dagger slipped from his hand. A moment later he dug the dagger blade into Martin’s throat and forced his look up.

But in Martin’s smile, trust was there, all fear gone. Because like Martin holding the blade to Gray’s throat, Gray would never cut deep enough to kill, never when it came to Martin or Jack.

“Oh careful.” Martin winked, pure blackness in his eyes. “You’re getting hard, Welsh.” A touch brushed discreetly between his thighs. “But we both knew you would, right?”

“Hmm.” Gray kissed just above the knife, more nipped… licked. Yeah, to a certain extent, Martin owned him as much as Jack and Jan. “I think I finally found out why you’ve turned my heat on its head all these years,” he whispered against Martin’s skin.

“Hmm?” said Martin distractedly, a smirk touching his lips as Gray played along his throat. “For God’s sake, tell me something I don’t know. Please. Life’s fucking boring here with the stiffs trying to play peep show. Good job they let you fuck the stress out of your body, because they offer up fuck all for the intellect.”

Gray chuckled. “People… they either fuck with the light on or with the light off. No one can do both.” Another kiss. “Only you.”

Martin quirked a brow.

“Hm.” Gray bit a little harder at his throat, a little lost with how good it felt to have Martin under his kiss. “Jack sleeps, you fuck with me. You sleep, Jack… he fucks with my head just as much. So together?” Gray kissed at Martin’s jaw. “Together there’s no black and white with you, no light… darkness, just you… fucking with me.”

Martin chuckled, so low, so soft, keeping Gray’s head buzzing with… with whatever Martin always did to him. “Still confuses you after all these years, huh, Welsh? I’m neither a killer or saint, just a natural sinner born to play with his food, while you go for the kill, walking a more simple do-or-die line. So you stop, you stutter, you try to figure out why I taste wrong walking your path as—” That discreet touch between Gray’s thighs rubbed a little harder into his cock, and Gray briefly closed his eyes. “—me,” added Martin.

Gray shook his head, the blade shifting along Martin’s throat. “I never said you tasted wrong,” he whispered against Martin’s jaw, then a smile ghosted his lips. “Fucks with my head with how right you both taste…. And yeah, no crowd here, I’d fuck you in the fast lane.” And that… that played so hard with Gray’s head, how Martin’s consent was the endgame, maybe always had been, and it threw his whole world upside down as he stood in the fast lane, realising it.

He craved Jack’s no, but Martin’s… yes.

A chuckle came from Martin and his look found Gray’s. “Pity I’ll never give it you then, huh? My consent.”

Gray swiped a thumb at Martin’s cheek, the dagger handle now in his palm. “Yeah, pity you’ll never give it.” Then he smiled, stepped back, and held the dagger towards Halliday.

Only it was Martin who took the blade off him and put it back in the box Halliday held.

“Did he pass, Doc?” Martin put the lid back on the box and patted it.

At some point, Carr had come over and now stood next to Halliday, her hand resting on her firearm. Gray hadn’t even seen her come over, nor Brennan as he stood next to her.

“Actually.” Halliday scratched at his head, his hand shaking slightly. “You both did.”

Martin cocked a brow as Brennan eased Gray’s shirt up to look at the nick.

“It’s good,” said Gray, trying to pull away, a little irritated now with how they’d seen all that.

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