Page 19 of Little Fangs

He smirked a little. “I’m not completely vulnerable,” he said. “You saw the way I chopped through those logs. I was so good.”

“The thing is, I like you, and I know that’s going to hurt me.”

He shook his head. “I’d never hurt you. Is this about getting my things? Because I already said I don’t want them back if it means you’re gonna get hurt. I mean it. I can—I can—I think I could live without them.”

I pressed my lips to his, forcing his mouth to close, startling him with my kiss and the way my soft lips felt against his. I didn’t mean to kiss him like that, but I was never good with words, and actions spoke louder, directly, right to the soul of the matter.

Micah’s big blue eyes blinked at me. He liked his lips. “You like me like that?”

“I like you like that,” I said.

“I guess that makes the other night—”

I nodded. “Again, you were vulnerable, and if I kissed you, it would’ve been taking advantage.”

He swung an arm around me and pulled me in with immense strength, hugging me tight. “I know I’ve been sad and scared, but you were never taking advantage.”

“Damn, you are strong.” I chuckled through the grip he had on me.

“See,” he giggled. “I think part of it has to do with the blood you gave me last night, so thank you for that.”

I tried my best to squeeze my arms around him too. He really was strong. I think it tickled him more than anything else, though. “You’re gonna have to tell me what it is you need from that house,” I said.

“You’re not going,” he said with a big smile now.

“I am. I have to,” I said. “It’s important to you, so it’s important to me, and—I want you to get back at those assholes.”

He shook his head, looking away. “I don’t know if you’ll still like me after you get my things,” he said. “A lot of it is from my past, that I collected, and also the lifestyle I’ve lived.”

I stroked my hand against his face, my thumb down his cheek, feeling the smile line that hadn’t been able to fully turn into a wrinkle because of what he was. He had that youthful look on his side, despite being older than me. I could spot a little, and I knew what he needed from me; he needed a Daddy. “I know exactly what you are.”

Not the first time I’d engaged in that dynamic, in fact, it found me frequently in life. In the gay community, I was considered a bear, a muscle bear when they were on show, and then sometimes a lumbersnack, but I always liked being called Daddy, and taking care of submissives, especially a little.

So, what were the odds a little would come into my life, hiding himself in my log shed, in need of protection, but more than that, in need or warmth, my human warmth. I knew vampires needed blood to survive, and spending time with him made me realize I’d been missing out on my own survival needs. Touch. His touch.

7. MICAH

We made out on the bed, since neither of us wanted to keep talking about how he’d told me he wanted to go to the manor, and as much as I wanted him to, I wasn’t willing to put him in harm’s way, even if it was daylight. I didn’t want him getting hurt.

Kissing on the bed, we rolled around a little, with Harlan making sure he didn’t lay on me, thinking he was too big or heavy. It was nice to be cared about like this, reassured by his every touch and every word. I was overwhelmed in the way I got after having all my needs met—and Harlan met them all.

We were both still in the clothes we wore to bed, and as it had been a platonic thing up to that point, when Harlan lay on top of me, I didn’t realize his dick was pressed against my belly. I’d thought it was a smart phone—and then it pulsed. My eyes widened, and we stopped kissing.

“Fuck, I—”

My legs wrapped around his waist. “I liked it,” I said.

“You did?” His dick pulsed again, and I shuffled a little, trying to move my chubbed dick from the way I’d tucked it to the side. “I can feel you now.”

Holding him in place with my ankles interlocked behind his back, I brought him in closer, deeper against me. “Okay, so before this goes any further, you’ve got to know—”

“That you like to be submissive,” he filled in the blank. “You want someone to take control of you.”

“Not someone,” I whispered. “I want you.”

He turned with me in his arms. I lay on his chest now, my feet sliding down the side of his body, hooking around his thighs, as if letting go of him meant I’d be sliding down some large handsome mountain. He claimed control over me, as he had slowly been doing since he found me. He undressed me and himself until our bare chests were against each other, and our dicks inside our boxers were practically rubbing against each other. I was still wearing his clothes, so the tip of my dick poked out of the top where the elastic waistband had worn and was too big for me.

“No biting,” he said, smirking at me.