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"That was a reckless thing to do," John said sternly as he wrapped a bandage around the wound. He kneeled in front of his friend, the other man sitting on the edge of the chair.
"It was an honorable fight." The normally monotone voice was softened a little by the brandy but Byron's eyes remained bright. "And I won, John."
A fight that left bloody teethmarks in Byron's thigh. A shame his friend wouldn't learn any lessons from this; he'd gotten off with nothing worse than a temporary limp and a new scar. At least the wolf was dead.
Of course having his hands feeling around his friend's thigh meant that he noticed when Byron, well, perked up so to speak. It wasn't unusual for the hunter to get this way, especially after a successful kill.
"Would you like a hand?" John asked drily.
"That would be appreciated."
Byron's pants had already been removed to enable access to the injury. Careful not to jostle the wounded leg, John pulled the half-hard cock out of the underclothes. He was warm and solid in his grasp.
Well, since he was already on his knees...
"Try to stay still," was the only warning John gave before he wrapped his lips around the head. Byron gave a soft groan at the feeling. It was rare for him to have less control. Maybe that was why his fingers curled into John's hair, tugging a little.
They had done this many times before, Byron always trying to push how far they could go and how long they could last. This night wasn't like that.
It only took a few minutes of determined sucking for the other man to spill down his throat. It felt good to know that John was the cause of those shivers of pleasure. Just as the hand curling through his hair felt good, like this was the most natural place in the world for him to be.
He didn't have the heart to tell Byron he was losing enthusiasm for the hunt.