J. Emberglass/Bedevilled: Book III

Freya's Bower

A burning sensation made Dean suck in his breath, but gradually, it faded. To Dean, this was wrong on so many levels. He had always wondered why some people preferred same-sex relationships. Sure he’d wondered what being fucked in the ass would be like, but he wasn’t gay. Hell, he realized now that he wasn’t even bi-sexual. He was just plain old Dean Wellern, curious, sometimes easily swayed, lousy at picking up women, and good at landing in trouble—the deep shit kind of trouble.
But…he couldn’t deny that what Rowan was doing to him didn’t feel good. Yes, it both frightened and delighted him, but he still had to know more. Despite his inner whispers that he shouldn’t let Rowan do this to him, that it went against what he believed proper, Dean still needed to know and to experience what he’d always wondered about. Where was his willpower? Better yet, what the hell had happened to his coordination?
He drew on the very last thread of his strength, and with a urgent, frantic surge, he rose up slightly.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Rowan lay across his back, his movement forcing his cock another inch into Dean’s ass. “You will be seduced by the Bedevilled, and you are mine.”
Dean gasped, struggled, and let out a pain-filled, startled cry as Rowan bit down on his opposite trap muscle. Blood coursed down his chest, around his collarbone, and dripped on to the drying patch that had soaked into the silky sheets earlier. Rowan began sucking Dean’s life fluid from the wound and, inch by erotic inch, his cock filled Dean up.
“Ungh!” Dean stiffened, his entire body convulsed. The passage that he’d always believed to be a one-way street, screamed with fiery pain, but gradually, the pain ebbed, and a mind-blowing electrical current pulsed throughout his body, his penis so hard it throbbed where his body pressed it into the bed. He groaned, the sound betraying him, and Rowan stopped drinking from him long enough to chuckle in his ear.
“I’m going to fuck you, Mr. Wellern, fuck you until you don’t know where you end and I begin.”
“Ungh,” Dean moaned again.
“Oh, you’ll do more than just moan.” Slurping the blood that oozed from the fang punctures, Rowan added, “You will never be the same again.” With that, he latched onto the offended muscle and bit down, creating yet another set of puncture wounds.
Dean cried out, his body spasmed, and he realized that Rowan Headman did, in fact, possess a venomous bite. Languor swirled through Dean’s bloodstream, and a high unlike anything he’d ever experienced before consumed his entire body. Rowan continued to drink; he sucked harder, drew upon Dean’s blood as if starved. Dean collapsed against the mattress, his face half-smothered in the sheet. Beneath his body, his rod thumped so hard, needed to spew his seed, yet he didn’t come, couldn’t come. One of Rowan’s tall, pointed ears brushed his face, and vaguely, Dean became aware of snarls and growls. Euphoria blew through Dean on a wave of sensation so intense that he nearly blacked out. His body jerked again and, at that moment, Rowan’s cock began moving back and forth inside Dean’s ass.
Shutting his eyes, Dean abandoned every inhibition, every warning that his brain screamed. Tentatively, he pushed back and met one of Rowan’s thrusts.
Rowan released the damaged trap muscle, and a pleasured sound burst from him, followed by laughter, loud and almost obscene in the quiet chamber. He moved a little faster. Dean grimaced at the friction against his anus muscle, but that faded too. Soon, he met each of Rowan’s short pushes with vigor.
“Please,” he said.
“Yes.” Rowan grunted. “Fuck me back, slave.”
“I want more.” Dean couldn’t help it. He tried, but the feelings sliding through his body on demon toxin and faerie wine defeated everything else that mattered, whether in mind, body, or spirit. Lightning coursed through his veins, delirium ruled over his brain, and from his waist down, sensation screamed in every nerve ending.
Rowan sank his cock fully into Dean’s ass. He lay still for a moment, allowing Dean’s body to adjust, their breathing ragged, excited.
“I want to come,” groaned Dean. He gripped the sheets, balling his fists until he thought his knuckles might shatter into a shower of white bone and red spray.
Red like a floozy’s garter, red as ketchup, red as a warning label…
“I…I can’t,” Dean gasped, “take much more.”
“You’ll endure it for eternity if I deem it so,” said Rowan. He pulled back, his penis slick, sliding easily now. He thrust forward. Dean cried out and clenched the sheets harder, clenched them until he gasped at the pain in his fingers, his dick full of both agony and pleasure. In and out, Rowan moved faster, more urgently, the skin of his hips slapping against the flesh of Dean’s ass.
Somewhere deep in a dark, cobwebbed corner of Dean’s mind, he knew he’d regret Rowan’s seduction, knew that for the rest of his life he’d experience remorse for this one moment, but the high he rode upon felt unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. Just this once, he’d be naughty, try something new…satisfy his curiosity, and oh, how satisfying it was to do just that.
“Please,” he begged. “More!”
Rowan slammed against his ass, his thrusts quick, sharp, piercingly hot. Meeting every one, Dean smothered his cries of ecstasy against the mattress.
“Come for me, Mr Wellern,” said Rowan.
The ache within his balls and at the base of his spine exploded into Dean’s cock and rocketed to the tip of it. The cum surged out of it, its sticky heat spreading between his belly and the soft bed. Dean shouted, bucking his ass as Rowan spewed himself into him, the master’s sounds of climax eerily animal-like, otherworldly.
Darkness danced at the edges of Dean’s vision.