6. Diablos
Chapter six
Diablos
His body pressed against mine was a dream turned into reality. Dagon’s strong hands wrapped around me set my skin on fire. His scent enveloped me and nothing else existed. I was utterly and irrevocably consumed.
“So, tell me, sweetheart, is that what you wanted?” I heard him whisper the words in my ear.
“Yes,” I breathed with a moan.
A shameless moan tore out of me as his hips rolled against mine, his cock hard. The friction was maddening – denim against denim, and still somehow the most devastating thing I'd ever felt.
“I fucking need you,” he growled against my neck, his lips dragging over the mark he'd already left there.
His beard leaving burning sensations on my skin.
I couldn't get enough. I rolled my hips harder, greedy for more of this…
more of him. A broken whimper left my lips when I heard the deep rumble vibrate in his chest. I did it again.
I couldn't contain myself. I was like a man possessed by need.
Even through denim, the press of him against me was enough to undo me. He rocked against me with more force, seemingly just as lost in the pleasure as I was.
Oh God, this feels so good. Forbidden, yet glorious. Fuck me.
“S-stop.” I whimpered. Even though I begged him to stop, I kept moving. My hands tightened around his shirt, “God, Dagon, don't stop. I mean... stop. Fuck.”
It was all an act. I was saying the words from the book. I was playing my part. That was all this was.
“Say it. Do you want this?” he repeated the words from the book. We were following the script, yet the lines blurred in my mind until I couldn't tell where the fiction ended and the truth began.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy,” he rumbled, and claimed my mouth like it had always belonged to him.
My movements faltered as pleasure crashed through me in waves that didn't stop. I felt Dagon shudder against me. A mix of a groan and a moan tore through his lips. He pressed his face into my neck to muffle it. The sound of him coming apart against me was pure sin.
I chased his lips for another kiss….
and then my eyes opened.
It took me a moment to return to Earth. I was in my room, on my bed, my hand still wrapped loosely around my softening cock, my release cooling on my bare stomach.
Fucking Hell. I just had a wet dream about my adopted brother!
The word brother made me recoil, bile rising in my throat. Dagon was not my brother. I mean, he was… or he used to be. Technically, he still was. I groaned out loud and cursed. He is not!
I didn’t know anything anymore. If I thought I was losing it before, this dream had just confirmed it beyond any reasonable doubt. It was as sure as the sky above us.
The images played in my mind again, unbidden and relentless.
My hand moved on its own, back to where it had been.
All I needed were a few strokes and the image of Dagon coming undone in my arms to send me over the edge.
I came a second time with a silent scream and Dagon's name burning on my lips. Softer this time. But no less wrecked.
This was the most intense orgasm I’d ever had, all because of a wet dream. Well, and that damn book. In what universe did I think it was a good idea to give him a taboo romance about a teacher and his university student sneaking out in public and role-playing?
I groaned again. How was I supposed to look him in the eye now, when my body had already betrayed me not once, but twice?
No. I was still dreaming. Yep, this all was a nightmare, albeit a devastatingly sexy one. Could a nightmare be sexy? I didn’t think so. But if it was just a dream, I wasn't sure how that would be any better either.
I checked the time, desperately trying to distract myself.
It was almost 8 am. I launched out of bed and ran to the shower.
I needed a quick one before the meeting.
Around 3 in the morning, Bren had woken me up by sneaking out of the game room.
I decided to return to my room and figured someone would wake me on time for the meeting. No such luck.
I was already late. I cursed as I hurriedly showered, dressed, and ran to the meeting room on the first floor, landing on specific tiles as I went. Of course, that did nothing for my rapidly rising panic.
My brothers were already in the room. Luckily, our father was not here yet.
The meeting room had one oval table in the middle, a desk in the corner, a big screen on the wall I had yet to see turned on, a whiteboard in another corner, and a cupboard next to it. That was it. We didn't use this room for anything besides family meetings and studying, back when we were younger.
Everyone looked like shit, except Wilder. My head was pounding. I didn’t even have time for coffee. Wilder and Bren were seated in the middle next to each other. Next to Bren sat Luc and Andras.
My eyes went to the one person in the room I both hated and missed like crazy.
The boy who used to be my brother until he wasn’t, and maybe never really was.
The person I wasn't sure I ever truly saw as a brother, if I was being honest with myself.
And who I really didn't want to see right now.
Not after what I'd done with his name on my lips less than half an hour ago.
Dagon was standing, leaning against the wall. His body was rigid, like he was going to detonate at any moment. When he looked up, my heart lurched, and I unclenched and clenched back my fists. My cheeks burned, and I prayed the ground would open and swallow me whole.
“Di, come here,” Wilder called out to me and pointed to the chair next to him.
I nodded, grateful for the distraction. My mind wandered to the possible reason for this meeting. Again. My leg started bouncing under the table.
I looked around at my brothers. We were all grown up now.
Bren and I were 25, Luc was 20, Dagon was 28, Andras was 29, and Wild was 32.
We all had stories, both outside and within this family.
But we knew one thing for certain: we were a family, no matter what.
So, I had no doubt we would go through whatever awaited us.
Together.
Just that one word was all the strength I had in that moment. I prayed to the universe it would be enough.
My thoughts scattered, jumping from one thing to another, refusing to settle.
In the end, they circled back to Dagon. They always did…
no matter how hard I tried otherwise. I couldn’t even look at him.
Every time I did, I remembered how he’d sucked my skin, in real life, not in my dream. The mark was still there.
Yes, I was late partly because I was busy staring at it in the mirror.
Stop thinking about it! All he did was follow the script. It didn’t mean anything.
I rubbed at my chest against the ache that settled there.
Everything that happened yesterday was all I could think about.
It was all-consuming, so much more than I ever believed I'd have with Dagon.
For fuck's sake, I had smiled like a lovesick fool in the mirror when I saw the mark.
Yet I knew, in Dagon's eyes, it had just been a game between brothers. A move to win.
We didn’t win, we lost. Still, I had two things to smile about.
First, playing on a team with Dagon again.
A glimpse of the before I thought I’d lost forever.
Second, a fading mark on my skin that would live forever in my mind.
Was I on a whole new level of messed up?
Probably, but I didn’t care. It was what it was.
I knew I shouldn't be feeling like this. It would unsettle many people and horrify Dagon if he could read my mind. But they didn't know our story or our past. They didn't know me, or the war waging in my mind and heart.
Last night was unforgettable. But I kept asking myself: did we lose, or did we somehow win?