Free CollectiveMemory by Tielle St. Clare Page A

running
together into one long confused babble about torture and pleasure and why would
humans—
    Mace got no warning—but then maybe neither did Cayl—except a
scream. Cayl came, filling Mace’s mouth with hot streams. He swallowed, taking
in what he could, pulling away when it became too much.
    He bent down and lapped at a drop of come that had
splattered on Cayl’s hip. That taste called him to more and he flicked his
tongue across those beautiful abs, working his way up Cayl’s body, stopping and
sampling bits of skin, licking his flat nipples. The strain in Cayl’s muscles
vanished and he moved into each easy caress, his hands leaving their frantic
grip on the bedspread and sliding up Mace’s arm, his shoulder.
    Mace rose up, over Cayl, hands pressed into the mattress, he
rubbed his still hard cock against the rippled abs. He could come this way,
savoring the stunned, satisfied look in Cayl’s eyes, rubbing his dick against
those tight abs. But he wanted one more taste.
    He bent down, watching Cayl’s eyes widen, then perception
set in. He thought Cayl might pull away but after a moment’s hesitation, Cayl
pushed up, opening his mouth, meeting Mace’s kiss, driving his tongue into
Mace’s mouth.
    He groaned as Cayl kissed him. For just having come, the guy
had energy. Cayl threw himself into the kiss, sucking and tasting. Made Mace
wonder what it would feel like to have Cayl’s mouth on his cock.
    Cayl nudged his shoulder and Mace drew back, allowing Cayl
to push him away. Mace sighed to hide the groan and dropped onto his back. He
should have rubbed off on Cayl’s stomach while he’d had the chance. But seconds
later, Cayl followed him over and down, mouth returning to his, tongue
exploring with heady deep kisses that blinded Mace. Cayl rose up, his free hand
skimming down Mace’s chest, fingers tripping across his nipples. His precise
touches sent tiny shivers into Mace’s chest.
    “You are likewise afflicted.” Cayl’s hand moved purposefully
down Mace’s stomach, aiming for the hard cock pushing against the thin material
of his sweats. “Is it not customary that I should assist you as well?” It was
phrased as a question but Cayl didn’t seem to be waiting for an answer.
    Mace raised his eyes and met Cayl’s stare. Heat reflected
back and him and damn if it didn’t look like Cayl’s eyes were sparkling. They
stared at each other, neither moving, waiting.
    “Yes,” Mace said, answering the question Cayl hadn’t asked.
     
    Cayl’s body moved by instinct or hunger—he didn’t know,
could only observe as his hand reached down and slid over the thick bulge in
Mace’s pants. Unexpected heat filled his hand. Touching his own shaft had been
interesting but this was different, more powerful. Fascinating.
    He tightened his fingers around Mace’s erection, finding the
sensation strangely appealing, and scanned the male form beneath him.
    Cayl forced oxygen into his lungs. Agent Denning had told
him he couldn’t stop breathing but she hadn’t warned him there would be times
when it would be difficult to catch his breath—like when he’d had his mouth on
her nipples and his fingers in her pussy. Or when Mace had brought him to
orgasm. And now, with Mace stretched out beside him, the hard shaft almost
pulsing beneath his hand.
    The methodical portion of his brain told him to pull back,
that increasing his knowledge of the human senses would do nothing to elevate
the collective awareness of his world, but the heat beneath his palm distracted
him long enough that he was able to push aside the cautionary voice.
    After all the man had assisted Cayl when he was afflicted.
It was the least he could do. Quid pro quo.
    Clinging to that bit of universal logic, he hooked his
thumbs in the waistband of Mace’s sweats and tugged them down, not bothering to
pull them all the way off. There was little point when the thick cock popped
out. Breath locked in his throat.
    The shaft on his own form appeared