Chapter 14 #2
Mal had put down the soup and was inspecting Clayton’s arm.
Then he set the pie on the counter so he could pull back the sleeve of the robe.
His thumb stroked Clayton’s wrist softly as he examined him.
Clayton froze, and his vision went hazy and soft-focused.
Mal frowned as he took in the extent of the damage to Clayton’s arm.
Without asking, he pulled open Clayton’s robe and smoothed his fingers across the dozen or so spell patches plastering his torso.
“You—you—” Clayton sputtered, face going hot and skin likely turning splotchy and red from anger.
“You seem to be in good hands here, Clayton,” Grampy said, placing down the pie he’d been trying to offer.
“Take care of our boy, Mal. He’s had a rough day.
Don’t worry about the kids. Eira and I will get them in bed.
” Grampy gave Mal a friendly pat on the shoulder and squeezed past him, leaving Clayton half-naked and alone with a near stranger.
“How bad is it?” Mal asked softly.
His eyes were solid black, and it made him seem less expressive, so it was difficult to guess what he was thinking or feeling. Was he sad? Did he feel bad that Clayton had gotten hurt?
“It’s… pretty bad. You should feel terrible,” Clayton whispered. The feather-light touches on his chest were incredibly distracting.
Mal turned his attention from Clayton’s chest to his face and reached up to trace the spell patch on his cheek. Clayton winced because it was covering a deep gash, and his heart raced from the pain. There was another brief flare of light in the black depths of Mal’s eyes.
Mal’s eyebrows went up, and he pulled his hand away.
“It’s okay. It didn’t hurt,” Clayton lied. It had hurt, but pain was such a non-event in his life that, unless it involved a missing limb or a squirting artery, he didn’t get upset by it.
When he had ample sources of magical healing available, what was a little bit of damage in the grand scheme of things?
“Didn’t it?” Mal asked. There was an odd tone to his voice, and Clayton was too busy trying to figure out what it meant to realize Mal was lifting him onto the counter until he’d already done it. “Where else are you hurt?”
“My leg…” Why was Clayton allowing this to continue? Was Mal really interested in Clayton’s injuries? Or was he so concerned about perverts in Clayton’s kitchen that he’d decided to be the biggest one ever to scare all other potential ones away?
Something about that line of thinking didn’t make sense, but horny Clayton wasn’t the smartest version of himself.
While pain didn’t upset him anymore, it had started to do other, more interesting things as he got older.
The more Mal touched Clayton’s injuries, the faster the blood in his body relocated to his dick.
Mal kneeled down and pried Clayton’s thighs apart. The thin silk of his robe did nothing to disguise the raging hard-on Clayton was sporting, and shame colored his face further when Mal snorted. Clayton tried to cover himself, but Mal stopped his hands.
“No. I need to see everything.” There was a rough quality to Mal’s voice, and it echoed inhumanly. A thrill of lust shot through Clayton and Mal’s eyes flashed with light once more.
Clayton’s hands braced on either side of him as he allowed Mal to expose him fully. His robe was little more than an accessory at this point, and Clayton briefly wondered how he’d gone from yelling to DTF so quickly.
“This is what you were trying to cover?” Mal’s mouth was so close, Clayton could feel his hot breath ghost against his cock. “What a waste of energy. There’s almost nothing to see.”
Mal’s humiliating words had Clayton so hard it hurt. He whined and bucked his hips up to get Mal to touch him. Mal’s eyes flared brighter this time, and the effect lasted longer. As it faded, the man groaned like he was eating a five-star meal.
“I see no point in touching that,” Mal scoffed with a smile. “And I don’t think you need to either.” Mal gestured, and Clayton’s hands were stuck fast to the counter.
“Wha-what?” Clayton was dumb from lust, and the man had barely touched him. He should feel disgust and anger from the awful things Mal was saying, but instead, Clayton felt like his dick was about to erupt without any stimulation at all.
Mal breathed hard on Clayton’s dick, not touching it but leaving a tingling sense of essence behind that made Clayton’s need to come skyrocket.
When nothing happened, he whined loudly and then stopped himself. What if someone came in right now? What if they saw Clayton being humiliated by some asshole monster he’d done nothing but complain about for the past six weeks?
Oh gods… just the thought had him ready to burst, and when Mal pressed his face against Clayton’s leg and allowed him to feel the sharp, needle-point teeth against his skin, Clayton knew he was going to come, and that was embarrassingly fast even for him.
But he didn’t. He was just left there at the edge, mind growing more stupid and desperate as Mal nipped and licked his way up Clayton’s thigh, wanting to come, fighting futilely to get his hands free so he could touch himself, but knowing deep down that even if he was able to get free, Mal had done something to Clayton to keep him mind shatteringly aroused but unable to come.
It was like Mal had reached deep inside Clayton and pulled out his deepest desires and his greatest fear. That someone would find out what he wanted and then give it to him.
Clayton knew he didn’t deserve to be treated this way, but oh, how he wanted it. Late at night, when no one could see, he would look at the raunchiest, most degrading porn he could find and jerk himself shamefully until having the most mind-shattering orgasm he could achieve.
He knew he could never have it in real life. Not with the type of respectable job and life he had. He couldn’t let someone do such things to him.
Except right now, Mal was doing it, and Clayton had never wanted to come more in his life.
“Please, please, please…” Clayton was sobbing now, not even sure what he was begging for, release or permanent denial.
Mal stared up at him, eyes glowing brightly, and dug his teeth deeply into Clayton’s inner thigh.
He ran his hands up and down Clayton’s legs, making appreciative sounds as if he was greedily feeding after being starved for too long.
Clayton saw stars, and his denied orgasm was so close he felt like he was having dozens of mini-ones even though nothing was coming out of his dick.
It was somehow worse and better than the orgasms he was able to give himself alone and shamefully in the dark.
Clayton was floating, caught in the in-between place of release and denial, and he barely noticed when Mal tore his teeth roughly from Clayton’s leg and licked blood off his lips. The pain was beautiful and perfect and made Clayton cry.
Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he smelled blood as Mal lapped at them. When Mal plundered his mouth, the ecstasy and agony reached a crescendo. Mal pulled away, and Clayton realized Mal was jerking himself off, spilling an enormous amount of cum onto Clayton’s straining, neglected cock.
Clayton panted as Mal growled and panted his way through what seemed to be an amazing orgasm. Humiliation rolled through Clayton when he realized that Mal had no intention of letting Clayton come as well. He whimpered softly and moaned as he grew so aroused that he thought he would pass out.
Mal watched his face in satisfaction for a long moment before holding out both hands and lowering them bit by bit. As they lowered, Clayton’s tension lessened, and he drifted back from the edge.
Painstakingly, glacially, Clayton came down from the pain, humiliation, and ecstasy. His cock softened, but it felt raw and sensitive even though nothing had touched it. Fuck, why did he like that so much?
As the lust fog faded, Clayton’s mind came back online, and he realized what he’d just done. What they’d just done.
“How…” Clayton croaked through a dry throat. “How did you know?”
Mal fetched him a glass of water and handed it to him. “It’s what I do.”
Clayton gave him a pained laugh. “You come uninvited to people’s homes, drag out their darkest fantasies, and help them play them out in their kitchen?”
“No. That’s new,” Mal admitted. He held out a hand over the mess he’d made on Clayton’s dick, and the air shimmered as he cleaned him. Clayton didn’t feel a thing. Mal hadn’t touched Clayton’s dick once during the entire scene, and he’d never felt more alive. What the actual fuck?
“It was fun, though. I’ll be happy to do it again any time you want.” Mal gave Clayton an infuriating grin.
“Why would I want to do that again? You didn’t ask for my permission, and you didn’t even have the decency to reciprocate,” Clayton huffed and folded his arms across his chest.
Mal leaned in close and growled in his ear. “You didn’t want me to.”
Clayton blushed, and his breath grew shallow. Why was his heart fluttering? This was outrageous. This was unbearable. This was… so humiliating.
Bloody hell, he was getting hard again.
Clayton wrapped his robe around himself, hopped off the counter, and gave Mal a shove. “Out, out, get out of my house!”
Mal stayed put and gave a rich chuckle that touched something deep inside Clayton. “Are you sure that’s what you really want?”
He grabbed Clayton by the hips, and Clayton felt magic tingle throughout his body as Mal flooded him with his essence.
All of Clayton’s aches, pains, and injuries faded away as Mal healed them.
All save one. The final bite Mal had given to his thigh was still there, and now that it didn’t have competition for Clayton’s attention, it was front, center, and unignorable.
So fucking hot.
“I hate you,” Clayton hissed before shoving through the door to the kitchen and storming out.
Mal’s arrogant laughter followed him as he went.