Silver in the Dark #3
He dragged his hand up his own torso, his fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair covering his chest, his eyes never leaving mine. He was a portrait of ancient, untouchable power, standing half-naked under the spotlight, deliberately pushing me to the brink of madness.
He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling the elastic down just an inch—enough to show the dark, coarse hair trailing down from his navel, enough to hint at the staggering thickness of the base of his cock—before snapping the fabric back into place.
The friction of my own jeans was agonizing, a constant, abrasive reminder of how desperately I needed to be touched.
“You look like you're going to shatter right there in that chair,” Draco murmured, his voice dropping into that dark, velvet purr that vibrated right through my bones. “You look like a starving animal.”
“I am,” I gasped, the admission tearing out of me. “Draco, please. I'll do anything.”
“Anything,” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He dropped his hands from his waist. The cruel, beautiful smile vanished, replaced by a sudden, terrifying intensity.
He crossed the distance between us in two long strides. He didn't stop at the edge of my space this time. He stepped right between my spread legs, his bare, muscular thighs pressing against my clothed knees. The sheer, overwhelming heat of him rolled off his skin in waves.
Before I could even take a breath, his hand shot out. His long fingers tangled violently in my hair, his grip absolute and unyielding. He yanked my head back, exposing the line of my throat, forcing me to look up into his pitch-black eyes.
“Open,” he commanded.
I opened my mouth instantly.
Draco leaned over me, his face hovering inches from mine. He gathered another mouthful of saliva and spat directly into my open, waiting mouth.
I swallowed it convulsively. Draco didn't give me a second to recover.
He smashed his mouth down onto mine, a brutal, punishing kiss that tasted of his spit and my absolute surrender.
His tongue swept past my teeth, claiming the space with a ruthless, sweeping rhythm.
He kissed me like he was consuming me, his grip in my hair keeping me perfectly anchored for his assault.
When he finally pulled back, my lips were bruised and slick, my lungs burning for air.
“Taste me,” Draco growled, his hand shifting from my hair to the back of my neck. He pushed my head forward, burying my face directly into his broad, hairy chest.
I opened my mouth and pressed my tongue against his pale skin, tasting the salt. I licked a broad, wet stripe up his sternum, my tongue dragging through the dense pelt, feeling the hard, ancient muscle shifting beneath the surface.
“Yeah, Nico,” Draco breathed, his fingers tightening on my neck. “Worship it. Show me how desperate you are.”
I turned my head, pressing my face into his chest, my teeth grazing his hard, dark nipple. I sucked it into my mouth, biting down lightly, and Draco let out a harsh, ragged hiss, his hips jerking forward to bump against my chin.
“Good,” he rasped, his other hand coming up to grip my shoulder. “But you can do better.”
He took a half-step back and raised his right arm, exposing the deep, heavily furred hollow of his armpit.
“Here,” Draco ordered, his voice thick with a dark, degrading heat. “Taste it all.”
He shoved my face forward, burying my nose and mouth directly into his armpit.
I didn't hesitate. I opened my mouth and lapped at the coarse, dark hair. It was damp with his sweat, tasting heavily of salt and pure, dominant male. I swirled my tongue deep into the hollow, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin, making loud, wet, desperate sounds.
Draco groaned. He pressed closer, forcing his pit deeper against my face, his fingers tangling in my hair to hold me exactly where he wanted me.
“Fucking beautiful,” he sneered, his chest heaving above me.
I whimpered against his skin, my tongue working frantically, entirely consumed by the taste and smell of him.
I was completely unmade by the degradation, my cock throbbing painfully against the zipper of my jeans, entirely desperate for the monster who was forcing me to worship every inch of his hairy, powerful body.
Draco’s fingers tightened violently in my hair, pulling my face away from the musky, damp hollow of his armpit. I gasped, a wet string of saliva connecting my lips to his dark hair for a split second before it snapped.
“Enough,” Draco said. “You've tasted me. Now I want to see exactly what I'm breaking.”
His hands moved to the collar of my shirt, gripping the thin cotton, and with a sudden, terrifying flex of his ancient strength, he ripped it straight down the middle.
The sound of tearing fabric was deafening.
Buttons popped and scattered across the stone floor like hail.
He yanked the ruined halves down my arms, pinning my wrists to the wooden armrests of the chair as he stripped the fabric away completely.
The cool air of the dungeon hit my overheated skin, making me shiver violently.
But he wasn't done. He reached for the waistband of my jeans. The metal button gave way under his thumb. He gripped the denim and my sweat-soaked underwear in one massive hand and dragged them down my thighs, shoving them past my knees until they pooled uselessly around my ankles.
My cock sprang free, dark red, weeping, and jumping frantically against my stomach. I was completely bare, pinned to the antique chair, fully exposed to the hungry, black expanse of his eyes.
Draco stepped back, his chest heaving, taking in the sight of me. He looked at my flushed chest, my trembling thighs, and the desperate, leaking mess of my erection. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.
“You run so hot, Nico,” he murmured, turning away from me. He walked to the low shelving against the wall and opened a small, polished silver bucket I hadn't noticed before. The clinking sound of ice echoed in the room. “Let's see how you handle the cold.”
He walked back, holding a large, jagged shard of ice between his long fingers. The contrast between his pale, hairy chest and the gleaming, freezing crystal was mesmerizing.
“Lean back,” he commanded.
I pressed my spine against the hard wood, my chest arching forward instinctively, offering myself up to him.
Draco pressed the ice directly to the center of my chest.
The shock of the freezing cold against my burning skin drew a high-pitched scream out of me. Draco’s hand was heavy over the ice, dragging it slowly, deliberately down my sternum. The melting water trailed over my skin, a freezing river that pooled in my navel.
“Draco—fuck—” I gasped, my hips bucking wildly, trying to escape the cold and chase the pressure of his hand all at once.
“Stay still,” he ordered, moving the ice back up. He dragged it over my left pectoral, circling the sensitive, aching nub of my nipple.
I whined, my hands gripping the armrests so tightly my fingers went numb.
He pressed the ice directly against the nipple, holding it there.
The cold was agonizing, turning the flesh into a hard, aching pebble.
He held it until I was sobbing, my head thrashing against the back of the chair, and then he moved to the right, repeating the torture.
The freezing water dripped down my ribs, soaking into the wood of the chair. My entire torso was slick, shivering, covered in goosebumps, while my cock throbbed with a desperate, boiling heat.
Draco tossed the half-melted shard of ice aside. It shattered on the floor.
“You look delicious,” Draco growled, his eyes tracking the freezing water running down my stomach. “Like a feast.”
He dropped to his knees right between my spread legs. He leaned in, his face hovering over my freezing, wet skin.
He opened his mouth and dragged his tongue right up the center of my chest, lapping up the ice water.
His tongue was a brand, a shocking, searing heat against my cold skin.
I cried out, my back bowing off the chair as he tasted me.
He licked me like he was starving, like I was the only sustenance he had seen in centuries.
He swirled his tongue around my navel, drinking the pooled water, his coarse beard scratching deliciously against my shivering stomach.
“Yes,” I sobbed, my fingers tangling in the thick hair of his head, unable to keep my hands on the armrests any longer. “Draco, please.”
He moved higher, his mouth closing over my right nipple. The skin was still freezing, aching from the ice, and the sudden, wet heat of his mouth was an absolute overload.
He devoured me. He moved from my chest to my ribs, his tongue lashing over my skin, tasting the sweat, the fear, and the freezing water. He kissed his way down my stomach, his hot breath ghosting over the heavy, weeping head of my cock, making me jerk frantically in the chair.
“You taste like mine,” Draco murmured against my skin, his hand wrapping around my thigh to hold me open. “And I'm going to consume every single part of you.”
Draco pulled back, his dark eyes gleaming with a terrifying, ancient hunger. He didn't rise all the way. He stayed crouched between my spread legs and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his black boxer briefs.
With one smooth motion, he pushed the fabric down his thighs and stepped out of them.
He was completely bare now, a towering, terrifying monument of pale skin and thick, dark hair. His cock sprang free, heavy and jutting aggressively against his stomach. It was staggeringly thick, heavily veined, and weeping a thick bead of pre-come from the blunt, flared head.
But he didn't demand my mouth yet. He leaned back in, his face hovering right over my aching, neglected erection.
“Look at this,” Draco murmured, his hot breath ghosting over my weeping slit. “So desperate.”
He darted his tongue out and dragged it right over the sensitive head of my cock.