Link here to a general overview of the novel
Prologue, Chpt 1, Chpt 2, Chpt 3, Chpt 4, Chpt 5, Chpt 6, Chpt 7, Chpt 8, Chpt 9, Chpt 10, Chpt 11, Chpt 12, Chpt 13, Chpt 14, Chpt 15, Chpt 16, Chpt 17, Chpt 18, Chpt 19, Chpt 20, Chpt 21, Chpt 22, Chpt 23, Chpt 24, Chpt 25, Chpt 26, Chpt 27, Chpt 28, Chpt 29, Chpt 30, Chpt 31, Chpt 32, Chpt 33, Chpt 34
Chapter Thirty-five
Sebastian
I squeeze off the bullets, my soul crowing with wicked pleasure as they hit him mid forehead. Got you, yes!
Until three guards converge, slamming me to the motherfucking floor. Fuck!
My skin scrapes across the ground, burning. Someone wrenches the gun from me.
My ears feel blocked, the sounds around me dull after my shot. I think I hear raised voices in a dim echo, and heavy weight presses me down.
Finally, sound breaks through.
“Stop!” Isolde yells, commands, demands, like she’s been repeating it at high volume for a while. “Carl Harkness is dead. I’m his heir, your leader now. Stop this!”
They have me by my arms, bent back behind me in exquisite torture with me on my belly. One of the large bozos sits on top of my waist, pinning me down.
“Now!” she barks. “Get off of him. Put down Gil!”
Out of the corner of my eye, another man crouches over the blessedly dead Harkness. “He’s gone,” he confirms. He tips his head as if to honor the man.
The moment he utters the words, another thing entirely happens. All the air is sucked from my chest, but not from the weight of the guard. It’s more like the squeeze of a bellows, suctioning out the oxygen from my lungs with a sudden expansion of its handles.
With it there’s a flash of the thorny points of my tumbleweed tangles, dark, leering and cackling, whirling into my vision. Their call, their painful caress, travels through me and leaves me with the idea of their feeling a sweet joyful regret.
A goodbye.
And then, I’m hollow. Empty.
I try to remember how to breathe.
Oh, it’s happened.
Daav predicted it, the closing of all the Verse. I’m alone. I turn my head to find Daav from my awkward position of body compressed to the floor. He’s there, still safe, although fallen to his knees. Thank fuck, you princely asshole with your big theatrics. Birthday boy is everything the Conclave hoped and damn will they be pissed.
The thought makes me smile.
Daav blinks from where he looks like a frozen statue as he kneels, and then he’s dragging in deep breaths, shaking in place. A moment later he’s up and staggering toward where I’m pinned.
The guard begins to listen to Isolde, to follow her orders as the death of Harkness is confirmed, the fact finally sinking in for his dream team of muscled SWAT wannabees.
The pressure on my back gives and the man crawls off me, releasing my arms. I groan with relief. No dungeon master would sign off on his restraint technique.
Daav’s next to me, and helps pull me up, folds me into his arms. Verse, that feels good.
Isolde moves to Gil where he’s been released, scoops him up and holds him tight, rocking the sobbing boy.
“Your Majesty, what are your orders?” the Captain asks with a bow. All his men look confused.
“Leave these people alone,” Isolde answers. “Take my father’s body, bring it to your transport. I’ll be out in a while to give you additional instructions.”
“We can’t leave you without protection here.”
“You can, you will. Take my father’s body. I’m in no danger.”
None of our friends are speaking as she gives her orders.
Around the room dazed, glassy eyes look back at me. Yep, they’re hollow and shocked, and I wonder if my eyes look the same.
Even with Daav’s earlier warning, the last sweep of magic and its outcome has stolen something key to who we know ourselves to be. I’ve seen similar looks on photographs of soldiers back from war, alive but floating and lost.
The room’s a disaster, tipped, broken tables and chairs, shards of ceramics and plastic, and bullet holes riddling furniture.
Moving to the couch, Isolde carries Gil cradled in her arms even through her continued commands. The guards still hesitate.
“Do you recognize me as your leader or not?” Isolde demands.
“Of course, your Majesty,” the Captain answers, bowing again.
Finally, at his nod, his men gently raise the lifeless body of their former leader and carry him out. She trails their progress, and once they’re gone, turns her gaze back to the place on the floor where Harkness’s blood still stains the wood.
No one else in the room speaks, the only sound from us is Gil’s hiccuping sobs now that the guards have left which draws attention to the other background wail of a younger child from somewhere outside this room.
Tuck!
“Where is he?” I ask Isolde.
“There’s a door off the mud room to a storage area converted into a little den like someone’s hideaway. I moved a bookcase in front of the door and put canned goods on it. He’s in there.”
Daav releases me and I’m off. And when I find the mud room, pull off the canned goods and push aside the furniture, I open the door and find him. The relief is a cascade of melting muscle down my body.
He’s sitting up on a couch, blankets fallen away from him, strands of wet hair falling in his eyes, his face red and twisted with his cries. But he’s crying, and his face isn’t the listless dead eyed boy from the video. I prefer the wails.
“Tuck, hey little guy, it’s okay, hush. I’m Seb. It’s okay.” I keep my voice level, a soft cadence as I approach slowly so as not to scare him. “I’m here, you’re okay. I’m your big brother. I’m here to take care of you.”
His gray eyes blink, the streaks of tears still falling, but his wails stop. I freeze.
I meet those eyes and it’s like he recognizes something. I know I do.
My heart stops as his little arms raise over his head. “Up,” he orders. “Up, up.”
I’m over to the couch and lifting him in my arms before I even recognize I’ve moved.
And I hold him tight, the heat of his too thin, too frail body a precious weight. I breathe in the scent of his hair, unwashed but still with remnants of that baby smell.
My throat’s choked and I brush my palm over Tuck’s soft, fine locks. Behind me someone coughs.
“You okay, he’s okay?” Daav asks.
And, yeah, we are.
“Yep. We’re coming.” The rooms a bit blurry, but of course it fucking is. Tuck’s here. Daav, too. Nothing else even compares. I follow him.
Out in the living room, it’s like everyone’s strings have been cut. They’re collapsed across the couches, chairs and floor, and look like they’ve run a marathon. Guess they have. Only now I search for Colleen who sits in her own armchair, just as shocky looking as the rest but still managing that annoying regal, condescending air she’s always wearing. She’s whole despite stepping in front of those bullets meant for me as the rents in the red stained fabric of her shirt attest to the truth of what happened. Miracles, because there’s no reason she should be alive. Okay, yeah, Daav, but still. I’m not sure I understand her choice to save me, or how I feel about it.
Daav moves to the couch where Isolde’s still holding Gil. He sits close to her and gently pulls me down on his lap, careful with my full arms. His lips are in my hair now, pressing my skull.
We let time tick by as we try to figure out what to say, although under me Daav sits in a well of peace I don’t think I’ve ever felt from him. He’s never given himself a chance at it before. I like it.
“What do we do now?” Nuée finally asks, laying her head against Ravel’s shoulder.
For some reason the question strikes me as funny and I snort. “I don’t know. Breakfast? Call a cleaning crew for this mess?”
“Don’t be a jerk, Seb, you know what I mean. There’s no more magic.”
“Time for new dreams then, create new plans.”
Daav laughs into my hair where he’s kept his lips. “Mine are to go to prison once the Conclave shows up, treason or some such.”
Isolde huffs. “No, I promise you the next ruler of Staltz will definitely be tying their extensive recovery funds for Orreance to a condition about keeping you out of lock up. How else will I make sure you’re available for family holidays?”
That gets me chuckling.
“You all laugh, but it’s no small thing to lose an entire way of life,” Pike says with scorn.
As much as I hate Pike’s attitude at times, he’s right. It’s a mindfuck of a plot twist. But we’re still stuck doing what we always have to do, figure out how we want to deal with the twisted path of life. Humor is my easiest defense, and maybe I want to dilute the heavy thing inside me in this post-battle fugue.
“I for one know my plan,” Colleen assures. “I’ve decided to travel the world. I won’t be stepping back inside Orreance’s borders for a good long time.”
There’s quiet after her announcement. Self-imposed exile for her sins or a true desire to leave behind the ghosts of her past, I’m not sure which this is for her. Or maybe her absence is simply a final gift for Freddie.
Freddie’s gaze is distant, trained on the broken glass of the sliding doors and out to the ocean. He blinks and then he’s looking straight at Colleen.
“I’m going to medical school. I want to be a doctor, I want to heal people.”
My throat constricts again, and all I can do is nod. It’s exactly what he needs to do. I squeeze Tuck a little closer.
Colleen dips her head in Freddie’s direction. “You’ll be an amazing doctor, Frederick.”
“Thank you,” he answers quietly.
It’s both a solemn exchange, and one full of a strange kind of caring.
“So what’s your dream?” Nuée asks me.
It’s Daav who speaks on my behalf. “He’s going to love and raise his brother, do his art, open a gallery if he’s so inclined. And let me take care of him while he takes care of me.”
Fuck, he knows me. He sees me, when almost no one has. It’s the most perfect answer from my Prince, and I worry about crying soon as the shocky feeling begins to give.
Tuck’s head lolls against my chest and he’s snoring. Sweet boy. I’m going to love the shit out of him and out of Daav, who tips his face up and brushes a kiss against my lips. It’s soft and tasting of promise.
Gil’s little voice breaks the spell of this witching hour conversation with our musings over the future.
“Izzy, can we go home?” he asks. “I’m tired and I don’t like it here.”
She ruffles his hair, rocks him again. “Sure, sweet guy. I know Mama must be missing you badly.” She stands and shifts him to her other hip.
I hope she’s told him the truth. I don’t know much about Daav’s mother, although I’ll never be a fan. But maybe if she raised Isolde to be the person I’ve come to know, she might be a good mother for Gil. Either way, it’s clear Isolde will be there for her brother, with the power to keep him safe.
I’m watching Daav’s face as he turns toward his sister. “We’ll walk you out.” There’s something like heartbreak on his face as he looks at her and Gil. He’s losing them just after finding them. Not permanently, but he’s grown used to her in these few short days, I can see it.
We untangle, moving so as not to wake Tuck. I hand him into Nuée’s eager arms and follow Isolde. He’s in that early deep part of sleep little kids have when they’re out so soundly they’re impossible to wake. Jellisia taught me the value of that time as I watched her raise her daughter. There’s a drop inside my chest as I hand him over, giving him up just after I found him. Hadn’t that just been the same thought I had about Daav and his siblings? But I’m not giving Tuck up, this is simply a brief moment when I need to focus on my Prince. Part of me’s waiting for Daav to lose it, and I’ll be there if he does. But Tuck’s okay, I have him, and Nuée is someone safe and trusted.
Isolde goes over to the mantle where the camcorder continues to tape the action of the room. She transfers Gil over to Daav, and although the little boy whimpers, he settles into my Prince’s arms, who looks big time grateful for a chance at holding him and smiles at the boy. Isolde hits stop on the camcorder and reaches for the device. There’s a battered storage bag for the thing laying on the floor nearby and she drops it into place and hefts the strap over her shoulder.
“I’m taking the video tape with your ancient camcorder and editing this fiasco. Between that and the earlier footage of father’s gold eyes, I have enough to deliver our people a story that will manage the crisis and transition. They’ve been unhappy too long with the threat to our children. Economic prosperity isn’t the only thing that matters.”
“With magic off the table, I hope it’ll be easier,” Daav answers.
“It will.”
“You have enough backing? There won’t be a challenge to your rule by your father’s Council?” Daav asks, eyes squinting at her with worry.
“They like me, never questioned the succession, and I think many will be relieved, although they would have never said it before.”
She looks back another time at the stains on the wood of the living room, and her face goes slack for a moment. Then she shakes herself loose from it. “The guard will be getting restless. I shouldn’t keep them waiting longer.”
She says her goodbyes to the rest of the group, returns to Nuée to sweep her thumb down Tuck’s sleeping face with affection one last time, and we step carefully over the shattered glass and out to the deck.
The wood is rain slick and the outside furniture is tipped over, some broken, some blown over the edge and littering the beach below. The air is calm, a peace in the atmosphere like the earlier storm never happened.
Isolde turns to Daav as we gain distance from the house, and moving almost purposefully to the side out of sight of the doorway, it’s like something inside her breaks. Her strong branches, holding up the world, finally crack under the impossibility of the task. In a flash, her eyes tighten, her face folds, and she falls to her knees.
“Isolde!” he asks sharp with worry and reaches, but he’s holding Gil.
“Izzy?” Gil calls, with a small cry.
My arms free, I go to her, crouch next to her and wrap her tight. “Hey, Iso. Shhhh, shhhhh.”
Soundless tears stream down and she’s shaking in my embrace.
“She’s okay, Gil,” Daav’s saying to the boy. And after a bit, when nothing else happens, Gil relaxes.
We don’t speak as she lets me hold her. After a while, she wipes at her face, pulling away.
“Sorry, sorry. I just…”
“Hey, sweetie, of course. Take whatever time you need.”
But like she’s allowed herself all she can, she nods, stands and puts on her strong face. “That’s enough of that.”
The moon is full over the cloudless night sky, nothing blocking the bright stars which string the sky like diamonds. Daav hands the sleepy Gil back into her arms.
She frowns at her brother. “I need to ask, do you want to come home with me? You’re the first born, the rightful heir. If you want it, I won’t get in your way. I’ll support your claim.”
He closes his eyes briefly and grimaces. “No. Orreance is my home, it has been almost my entire life. But thank you. The position belongs to you. You were raised for it, and you care about your people. They’re lucky to have you.”
“But you’ll come and visit? Let us be a family?”
She seems to need it as much as him.
“Maybe I’ll visit, with time, but I’m not ready yet. You’ll always be my family, Isolde. Gil, too. I found you and I won’t let you go easily.”
“No need to.” She leans forward and kisses him on his cheek. “I’ll send the recording of what I have, and contact your Congress and Conclave to start diplomatic and relief efforts.”
“Goodbye, Isolde. Thank you for coming to find me at the Tristan Crane day party and barging in with that gun.”
She chuckles and winks at him. “My pleasure. Plus I’d always wanted to go on vacation here. The beaches are as beautiful as they say.” She arches an eyebrow as she looks down to where broken furniture, strands of seaweed and ocean flotsam litters sand. She turns to me. “I’ll miss you, too, Seb. And I won’t forget what you did for me tonight, kept me from having to do. It was…. Thank you.”
I reach to hug her again and wrap arms around both her and Gil. “Stay well, Iso. Go kick some political ass back in Staltz.”
“I will.” She leans into Daav’s arms next, who kisses her forehead along with Gil’s. “Love you, Brother.”
“Love you, Sister.”
And then she’s walking down the deck steps to the waiting private jet that must have fancy landing technology to have touched down on the sand.
We watch her and Gil enter the modern, sleek, tech-as-shit craft and wait as the engines come on and the aircraft lifts vertically off the ground, hitting altitude enough to launch forward through the dark sky.
“She’ll be alright,” I say. “Gil, too.”
“I know.”
When the jet’s no longer visible, Daav grabs my hand. “Beach?” he asks.
“Yes.”
# # #
We’re down the steps and walking out onto the damp shore, kicking off our shoes to keep them from getting wet. Low tide means we move a far way down to the waterline. Neither of us has been willing to let our grasp go of the other.
I drop to the surface just at the tip of where the waves now encroach on the sand and pull Daav down next to me. The next lazy but inexorable swell wets our toes as we sit, legs stretched before us, hips flush against one another, fingers laced, arms entwined lying on the place where our thighs touch. My arm extends behind me to prop myself up as we lounge, my digits bent and buried in the wet sand.
The wind’s gentle but steady, and there’s no new storms brewing in the air. I’m not cold despite the lack of sun, the heat of my Prince’s body is a magic of its own, creeping through me from the place our edges touch. Daav lifts his head to the night sky and the winking stars, but I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Do you know why I call you Angel?” he asks, eyes still lifted.
“Cause of my purity?”
He slides me a sideways look before returning it to the sky. “Clearly.”
But Daav’s attention to the stars and the question on his face tells me he needs more. And giving him what he needs is what I’ve tried to do since we were five.
“I don’t know why.”
“You saw my tangles? The light they hold…held?”
“Yes.”
Is he sad having lost it all?
“Every time I entered my Verse they reminded me of you. So beautiful, so strong. The beauty of that place never really made sense to me, why I was gifted that kind of experience. But each time I came out and saw you, you lit up the rest of the mundane world just as brightly, like some shining halo encircled your soul. And I had the same thought, why in this world would I be gifted you?” He’s turned to me, watching me carefully.
“This isn’t going to devolve into some self-deprecating soliloquy, is it?”
“No, no self-deprecation. Even an old dog can learn new tricks.” He blushes, shrugs, looking damn adorable.
“Who you calling old? We’re the same age, asshole.”
“Angel, listen, I want you to understand.” He’s cradling my cheeks in his hands now. “Listen.” The grit of sand coating his hands is the gentlest rough against my skin.
“I’ll try.”
I shake my head in his hold to feel the grit rub more as the lapping waters at my feet begin washing away the numbness. Everything under the surface is bubbling up and I’m scared. I wasn’t when Harkness and his men had guns pointed, or had tried to lock away the magic with their cuffs. Not when I had to take that shot and make sure Isolde wasn’t the one to kill her father. And not much when I felt the Verse close up and leave me hollow. But now, now the fear digs in its claws and starts to pull. “It’s difficult…because I’m sitting here and can’t stop wondering when it is you’re going to crash. Your whole life has been about staying alive with Harkness gunning for you, and waiting for the day you’ll save Orreance and all magic.”
“And now that those goals are gone? You think I’m going to fall apart, and whether you’re enough or even willing to put me back together.”
True words hurt, open the fear wider.
“Maybe.” Tremors have started in my body, he has to feel them underneath his touch. “Can we even lead a normal life together? That shit’s been defining us forever.”
His grip tightens at my cheeks, demanding my attention.
“We can. You mentioned needing to make up new dreams, new plans for our lives in there.” He nods toward the house where our friends lick their wounds and struggle with the aftermath. “But you’re afraid it’s not possible for you.” He sighs. “I started to tell you about why I call you Angel because I need you to believe in that light. You tell us all the time about your darkness, your ability to walk in pain and appreciate the shadow in yours and everyone else’s soul, but you’re the brightest light out there, Sebastian. You always have been and now that your ugly, painful Verse is gone, you have to believe in that light.”
“Daav–”
He ends the rest of what I’m about to say with a hard kiss. He lifts his lips from mine.
“Daav, I–” and then he’s kissing me again.
After the third time he does the same and cuts me off with lips and tongue, I’m growling.
“Can I finish?”
“Only if you tell me you accept your light, and that you know you deserve to get what you want. You accused me of having a martyr complex, but you’re going to have to say farewell to your own savior complex.”
When did my tears start? Daav’s resting his soft lips over the moisture, rubbing over the wetness and drinking them away. Why is this so difficult? I’m confused, and not sure why it feels like I’m the one disintegrating.
His grip on my face loosens. “I love you. I’m not going to fall apart. I promise I’ll tell you everything that happened with the Verse in there, up there, and how I’m feeling if you promise to believe me when I say we absolutely can have a normal life.”
I laugh through the tears. “Normal? Don’t overstate the matter, Prince. I’m still kinky as fuck even if my Verse is gone.”
“Luckily, I know where to get ahold of plenty of torture devices.”
“Don’t tease,” I say, sticking out my tongue at this gorgeous man.
And his thumb wipes at more of the wetness, spreading the sand granules against my skin. Then he’s brushing over the strands of my hair.
“Your hair and hawks fly like mad when it’s windy, but it’s calm now. They can rest.”
“I just….messy.” I lose my words, and can’t seem to make them come out coherently.
He drops his hands and instead is grabbing for me, pulling me onto his lap again. The tide keeps moving further up the shore and we’re basically sitting in shallow water now. We’re going to have to move soon or start swimming.
“It’s really gone, the Verse,” he says.
I deflate further in his arms. I didn’t even realize this was one of my questions or that part of me hoped the opposite.
“Maybe not gone,” he continues. “Everything’s still there, it’s just resting where it’s meant, connected without rips that expose the pieces. But, when it happened, I got this sense that I’d made it happy. And on the way through it, there was this thing that occurred. “
His face has a peculiar expression, a little bit of amazement, disbelief, pleasure. My fingers rub back and forth over his forearm, feeling the small hairs along his skin as he holds me. The scent of seaweed, breeze, fish and salt is a tang on my tongue, inside my nose.
His hold tightens as he presses his head against me, and while it’s more difficult to hear his words, I’m pretty sure there’s a shake to them. “I received all this information, things my mind isn’t built to hold. But what I did get was like an unburied memory, something I should know but forgot.” He frowns, pulls back, and his sea eyes glow under the stars and moonlight. “And finding it was an exchange for being part of the healing.”
He shudders and while it’s him holding me, I stroke as much of him as I can. He needs it.
Daav stays silent as the water laps our bodies. And then he tilts his head and looks up into my eyes. “It felt like love, I mean, that unburied thing. Knowing it’s the stuff of creation and I’m part of it, this love. That I don’t have to be anything but me. The Universe or whatever it is loves me and I’m good, not based on anything in particular, just because.”
He’s searching my face for reaction, maybe my disbelief.
“Are you worried I don’t believe you or don’t get it?” I shake my head. “Because remember, I’ve known you were good and you fit from the moment I met you. You are love, Prince.”
He chuckles. “Yes, well. It’s the strangest moment, making me want to embrace this idea, be unafraid to do the things I love, share those things. I said it before, I want to take care of you and not because you need it. You’ve taken care of me my entire life, Sebastian, and I know you’ll keep trying. Which is one of the many reasons I love you so much.”
“This whole love revealed during the magic encounter trope, damn thing sounds very woo woo, Prince.”
He smiles. “Well, I have heard that I’m a witch.”
I can’t resist, I meow at him and he cracks up, and I adore how it makes me jiggle a bit in his lap. Which is a perfect reminder that grinding down on his dick is a lovely idea. My ass agrees and starts in on the plan.
“Wait, wait,” he protests, although not too much. “Before I lose all ability to talk.”
“Hhhhmmmm, sounds fine to me.”
“I have a point to make.”
“I feel your point.” I grind on his lap again.
“Stop!”
I pout, but stop moving.
“My original point is that now that I’ve discovered this about myself, you’re just going to have to accept that the same is true for you. We’re both this light.”
“Can we get on with the sex?”
“Sebastian!”
“I know. Okay.”
“You really have a hard time hearing this?”
Guess I do, although he deserves to understand why.
“It’s just….You can’t get rid of my dark, Daav, even with the Verse gone. It’s not something to be cleaned up by this light you insist is inside me.”
“Love, I’m not saying that. There’s nothing to clean up. I’m not insisting on replacing the dark, it’s a part of you. Verse, it’s part of me.”
Maybe I squint my eyes at him, not able to hide my suspicion.
“I’m serious. The thing about your light is that it limns the border of your dark, and makes that darkness that much more. I don’t want it going anywhere.”
And finally, with a last expression crossing his gorgeous face, I believe him. About everything. Well, maybe I’m three-quarters in on my inner light, but I’ll try.
His face turns serious again. “We don’t need to be okay all the time, that’s not what I mean by light. A lot’s happened to us.”
“I know. And this big game you talk, it doesn’t mean you’re not broken and fucked up, doesn’t mean I’m not. Once a freak, always a freak.”
“But you’re my absolute favorite freak.”
My cheeks hurt my smile is so wide. “Then take me upstairs and wreck me, Prince. Grit’s unpleasant in crevices.”
He’s heaving up from the sand in a feat of strength, managing to keep me in his arms although he staggers some. And then he’s carrying me over the beach toward the house.
Startled eyes turn our way as he marches us through the living room with me still in his arms. I wave behind us at the crowd as he’s huffing up the stairs and to the bedroom he’d first claimed when we arrived at the house.
“My, what manly arms you have, Prince,” I say before he dumps me on the bed.
I bounce on the mattress. We’re wet and sandy and who the fuck cares.
“Strip. Butt in the air. And no more speaking until I give you permission. Same for coming, none of that without my okay.”
My body hums and shivers. Yes, please.
I open my mouth to reply then close it, leaving the bed only long enough to peel out of my clothes and throw them to the floor. He can clean compulsively later, although I notice my bag’s in the room.
I’d left it behind when I drove away from the house on my doomed mission. Daav hasn’t forgotten its existence because he’s rooting around in it and removes the supplies packed days ago with my hopeful slutty longing. On his side table are the photos I’ve collected for him, old fashioned faces peering up, the bunch of them spread like he’s been sorting through them in my absence.
With another scowl from my Prince I’m turning onto my hands and knees, lowering to my forearms, ass up as directed and the throbbing between my legs a living thing of its own.
And then I feel his heat above and behind me.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod vigorously, and the lovely brush of the flogger’s strands hit my cheek, swing again and hit the other. Light, dull thuddy sensations warm my skin as Daav begins weaving a back and forth motion, increasing in strength, in speed, as he starts us up, starts my engines.
My head drops to the mattress as I focus on the hypnotic pattern of the burn. He pauses running his hands over the hot skin, running nails over my ass cheeks, and I hiss. Then he’s returning to the flogger. So good.
“Aaaaah.” He wants me quiet, but I can’t keep it in, can’t keep the panting breaths from whistling into the room.
Another pause and he reaches around to my stomach to stroke my dick in a hard jerk up and down. And again for several rubs, thumb grazing my tip on the upstroke. It’s already plump and pressing against my belly when he releases it.
“Yes, Angel, turned on already. So responsive, so perfect. I’ll give you pain and you’ll take it.” It’s pure awe in his voice, a deep rumble that flows easily and sweetly from him, and the sound mixes with the slap of the supple strands as he goes back to the flogging to drive me crazy.
I press my forehead harder into the bed. Whimper.
I’m lost to time. Bells later, maybe moments, he’s rubbing my ass cheeks again, his head bent over to my ear whispering. “More, sweetheart, yes?”
“Uh huh,” I manage. The hazy dark feeling’s already with me.
“Ready?” And then the sharper sting of a strap.
“Verse, yessssss! It’s……can’t…….”
“Quiet.”
“Mmmmmhhhhh.”
The thuddy sting returns. Again. Again. Hurts. More. The sound fills the room, everywhere.
I cry out with the loud cracks.
“Good boy. Your cheeks are beautiful all red. Mine, Angel.” He keeps up the steady rhythm. “All mine, and when I’m ready to get inside that hole of yours, you’re going to squeeze me nice and tight. Hot. And you’ll wait as long as I say because that release belongs to me. When I want it, if I want it. Your pleasure and pain is for me and I’m going to take both for as long as I want.”
He stops, and he’s pulling me up and flipping me to my back where the sting at my butt increases with pressure against the reddened surface.
Daav’s hand holds a cock and ball harness and grabs me to close leather snaps around my junk, under the penis and between my balls as a divide.
“Let’s keep that dick nice and hard and help you avoid accidentally coming.”
And fuck but I need the help because the flare in his sea eyes as he stares down at me, the dilation of his pupils, black and full of a will I’ve never seen before, is drowning me fast. The tight hold of the harness makes my rigid dick harder, painful.
And then his fingers are at my nipples, squeezing, pinching, twisting.
“Aaaaaaaah, uuuuuuhhhhhhhh.”
“Your noises are delicious, Angel. I want you quiet, but those tell me how much you like this, are needy for it.” He’s deeper in this thing with me than ever, giving into this piece of himself in a way he’s never done. It’s a foggy thought beneath the pain, but floating there.
He lowers his mouth to my chest and his teeth bite over a rigid pierced nub while his fingers twist the other and I cry out again. Yes, more, agony, a wash of need and haze.
And then his mouth and fingers are gone and I blink my eyes open again from where I’d closed them to fall into pain. Blurry focus but he has nipple clamps. The first bites my chest, clasping over both the nipple and piercing, and my face can’t help but twist, my eyes leak with the deep pinch. Then again at the other nipple.
I’m crying now, and not sure what’s coming from my lips, although he bends to press his mouth to mine, swallowing my sounds as he bites at my lips.
His hand winds into my hair, wrapping his hand in the long tangle and fisting it tight.
And then he’s pulling me up by it and moving my body, a sack to wrench and shove and place me just the way he needs. And gorgeous dark, dark, dark.
I’m flying high already. He’s all the wind I’ve needed, like I told him.He’s sitting and I’m manhandled on top of him, his hand still threading tight in my hair, pulling my neck back taut, my breath hitching. He’s spread me open over his lap and fingers are at my hole, slick with lube and pressing, then inside with small thrusts. Opening me. Yesssssss. Quick incremental intrusions, never enough.
“More. Please. Please.” It’s a low, desperate plea.
“Hush. Or I’ll gag you.”
“Aaaaaaahhhhhh.”
Falling deeper. And then fingers gone and the thick head of him at my opening as he helps me lower down on him. Thank Verse. He presses inside, so large, and the unholy burn and fullness spirals me higher. Cock and balls tight, so tight. Bursting.
He’s past my circle of muscle, fully in and thrusting up into me. Brushing past my gland, hitting it each time. Deep. Faster.
Moaning, both mine and his. Slapping wet sounds where we meet.
“Yes, Angel, so good, so hot.” Words force past gritted teeth. “Love this. Need to take you. Mine.”
Hard pulls on my hair where it’s fisted. Caught. Another hand at my throat now, squeezing, struggling to find breath.
Falling, flying, dark, lightness, too. Sensation and building but nowhere to go.
Cut loose. Panting, groundless flight.
Fingers at the nipple clamps, pulling them off with quick tugs.
I cry out with agony as blood rushes to the surface of skin. More hands at my base, a snapping sound. My cock and balls are finally free.
“Come for me, Angel. I want to feel those muscles tighten around me.”
Before he’s even finished the words, I’m exploding.
His own hoarse cries dance with mine. His thrusts lose pattern, but he goes deep, trying to force himself out the other side of my body.
Hot cum fills my ass and my load spurts between our bodies. Slick, sticky smell of sex.
Collapsing on top of him with boneless, breathless aftermath.
Tired and floaty and perfect.
And later he’s gently pulling us apart, lying me down on the bed, wiping me clean, soft kisses brushing my thighs, hip bones, stomach, nipples, throat and lips.
His arms wrapping me tight as he strokes my hair, whispers sweetness in my ear.
Love, just like he’s said.
Both the dark and light wind around us and pull us down to sleep.