Cut and Run 7 - Touch and Geaux

knives deployed. It nicked Ty, who cried out and let Zane go.
    “Son of a bitch!” Ty shouted.
    Zane rolled to his back and kicked at Ty’s chest, sending him staggering as Zane stood.
    “I’m trying not to hurt you, Garrett!” Ty shouted. He wiped blood from the cut on his forearm.
    “Fuck that.”
    Zane grabbed for him, but Ty easily avoided his hand with a slap of one palm against Zane’s forearm. Zane rounded with the other hand and Ty repeated the move, not dodging but merely redirecting the force of Zane’s swings.
    “Russian sambo, right?” Zane sneered as they circled each other. “Another secret I’ll probably never have explained.”
    “Add that to the list, right behind sobriety.”
    Zane lunged and Ty went into a modified kick flip, only instead of kicking out, he rolled over Zane’s back to land behind him. Zane shoved his shoulder back, catching Ty in the side and flinging him onto the bed. The springs complained and the headboard banged against the wall.
    Zane climbed on top of him and grabbed both of Ty’s wrists, holding him down before Ty had a chance to recover. Ty bucked under him, but he couldn’t fight Zane’s weight in that position, not unless he meant to do real harm. And if there was one thing Zane knew about Ty, it was that he would let himself be beaten to a pulp before he truly hurt Zane.
    Zane could feel Ty’s heart pounding, his breaths growing more difficult, his hard muscles working to free himself. Zane pressed down to keep him from getting loose and kissed him, hard and messy, forcing his tongue into Ty’s mouth and not giving him a chance to say otherwise.
    Ty fought his grip, bucking his hips. Zane was growing harder with every struggle. Just like the first time they’d fought in an alley in New York City and then fucked all night long, the violence fueled him. He thrust down, grinding his cock against Ty. Ty moaned into his mouth, but he still tried to pull his hands from Zane’s grasp.
    Zane let go of one wrist and grabbed a handful of Ty’s hair instead, yanked Ty’s head to the side, and bit at his neck. He let Ty’s other wrist go and reached for his shirt, ripping it at the neck so he could taste the sweat along Ty’s collarbone.
    Ty’s breathing was harsh and labored. He twisted, and his forearm caught Zane in the cheek. Zane grabbed his hand and yanked Ty’s arm across his body, shoving it to the bed and pinning him. Ty tried to twist out of it, but Zane was too heavy.
    “Asshole!” Ty snarled.
    “I know you can throw me off,” Zane grunted. “Go ahead, Ty. Do it.”
    Ty’s eyes narrowed. His breaths were gusting across Zane’s face. He didn’t make a move to break Zane’s grip, though.
    Zane released his hand to see if Ty would struggle more. When he felt Ty’s body relaxing under him, he kissed him again, pushing himself between Ty’s legs, shoving his tongue between those sinful lips. He bit at Ty’s lower lip. Bit hard.
    Ty’s fingers dragged down his shoulder and he let Ty’s lip go. He thrust again, his cock growing painfully hard inside his jeans. He reached between their bodies to loosen his belt and pull the zipper, then pushed his jeans and boxers down.
    Ty’s eyes were dark and unreadable. “I thought we were done.”
    Zane smiled slowly. “As soon as you know what it feels like to be used. Then we’re fucking done.”
    He grabbed Ty’s shirt to rip it the rest of the way. Ty swatted at his fingers, but Zane knocked his hand away and instead reached to pull the straps on both his wrist sheaths. He tossed the knives away and hovered over Ty, pressing their bodies together.
    “Where’s your fucking kit?”
    Ty licked his lips. “By the door.”
    Zane pushed off him and moved to rummage through Ty’s toiletry bag. He finally dumped everything on the floor. Toothpaste and shaving cream and several EpiPens went rolling across the floor. Zane grabbed up the lubricant, but he stopped when he saw a small black jewelry box at his foot.
    He picked it up and straightened. Ty had tossed his torn shirt to the floor and was shoving his pants to kick them off, his movements jerky and irritated.
    “You don’t have to order me around, you know,” Ty told him. “As far as I’m concerned, I’m still yours.”
    Zane huffed, his stomach tumbling at Ty’s words. The anger ebbed as he held the box up for Ty to see. “What is this?”
    Zane watched sadness roll over Ty’s face. “It was for you.”
    Zane was breathing hard,