Chapter 20 #2
“You knew you were being pursued, you fool. But you didn’t even look. What if I had been Shaw?” Yves growled.
“I knew it was you. I could feel you.”
Yves’s other hand pressed to Rowan’s hip.
His lips ghosted over the fevered skin of Rowan’s neck.
It was the closest thing to a kiss Rowan had had since their fight, and it sent a shiver down his spine.
He braced a hand against the wall to steady himself as Yves’s intoxicating touch clouded his thoughts, already overpowering all of his defiant intentions.
Yves removed Rowan’s eyepatch, allowing it to fall to the cobblestones before gripping his face again.
The act of removing the barrier between Rowan’s perception and the demon felt intimate, dangerous, like Yves wanted him to know his human side was not the one in control.
His ruby ring dug harder into Rowan’s skin, a sharp counterpoint of pain that only dropped him further into the haze instead of clearing it.
His breath came out harsh and loud in the silence after their words.
No one passed the mouth of the alley. No one watched them from the shadowed windows overhead. They were completely alone.
Yves’s other hand slipped down Rowan’s thigh, catching the hem of his skirt.
“Did you wear this for me?” Yves murmured. The light filtering in from either end of the alley darkened as the shadows coalesced into something closer to flesh.
Rowan pressed his lips together, not willing to admit that he had gone back to the Siren to change after seeing the Kraken in the harbor. Yves’s hand on Rowan’s face moved to grip his jaw as the other skimmed up his bare thigh beneath the skirt.
“Are you still angry with me, darling?” Yves asked coolly. Rowan barked an almost hysterical laugh in response. The notion was ridiculous. Of course he was. And so was Yves. Anger simmered between them as tangibly as the tentacles’ cold touch on his bare leg.
Yves’s breath huffed as his fingers found Rowan’s undergarments.
He swiftly dragged them down Rowan’s hips.
His thumb traced the edge of Rowan’s plump ass until he found the surprise Rowan had in store.
The base of the silver plug nestled between his cheeks.
Yves exhaled long and slow, as if to steady himself, but Rowan felt the other man’s clothed dick throb in response.
Without another word, Yves hitched Rowan’s skirt up his hips, exposing his ass to the open air. In the same breath, he released his throbbing length from the front of his trousers and pressed it between Rowan’s thighs. Rowan gasped, his hips twitching back.
“So fucking desperate for me.” Yves’s teeth caught the shell of Rowan’s ear, clicking against his earrings.
His thumb pressed on the plug, sending a jolt through Rowan’s nerves.
He tried to bite back a moan. One of the tentacles, just barely substantial enough to feel, coiled around his right leg, suckers puckering his bare skin and anchoring him in place.
Yves twisted the plug in a vicious motion, simultaneously pushing it deeper as the tip of a tentacle reached between Rowan’s legs and squeezed his balls. Rowan whimpered, pressing his forehead to the rough stones.
Rowan was a man who had always worked to overcome his own powerlessness. Yet with Yves he was truly powerless, unable to resist giving in to him utterly. His legs already trembled, arousal coursing like a drug through his veins.
It was disgusting how much he wanted this. How much he desired to be dominated by his demonic husband.
The tentacle quested up his crack, slicking his skin with its juices.
He gasped as the tip feathered his rim, then slipped in beside the smooth bulb of the plug.
With one last twist, Yves popped the plug free and Rowan moaned, clenching around the insubstantial tentacle tip as its juices dribbled out of his hole to wet Yves’s cock.
The silver plug hitting the cobblestones at their feet rang through the alleyway.
Rowan’s hips ground back again, desperate to be filled now that he found himself suddenly empty.
The tip of the tentacle ran around his rim again, and he tried to take it in, but Yves kicked his legs wider and forced his hips against the wall.
His aching and neglected cock pressed to the stones through his skirt, and he involuntarily rutted against it, desperate for any friction and already out of his mind with lust. Yves had barely even touched him yet.
So when he felt the press of Yves’s cock at his clenching entrance, his whimper was the most pathetic sound he’d ever made.
“Please.”
Yves’s grip tightened on his jaw, the ruby cutting deeper.
A drop of blood trickled down his chin to his throat.
Last time, it had been Yves with blood on his skin.
How many times would they make each other bleed until they could forgive each other?
How many times would he let himself be fucked lovelessly against a wall before he clawed back some modicum of self-respect?
He didn’t want to go back to the way it was before.
Simply rivals who fucked because they were intrigued by each other.
No room around their obsessive lust for soft feelings.
Yet despite it all, he still believed Yves would not hurt him. Not in a way that was unwelcome, at least.
An agonized moan ripped from his throat as Yves penetrated him suddenly. The stretch of his massive cock burning from Rowan’s rim to the deepest reaches of his body. Rowan’s legs threatened to give out from under him, but Yves kept him pinned.
Pleasure climbed up his spine beside the pain, even as Yves pulled back and pounded into him again and again, not giving him even a moment of reprieve.
Yves’s hips snapped with reckless abandon, the slick juices of the tentacle squelching with every stroke and running down Rowan’s thighs.
His cock rutted against the wall, and in the back of his already fucked out mind, he was grateful the fabric of his skirt shielded him from being rubbed raw on the rough stones.
Rowan whimpered as the fabric chafed his sensitive skin, and Yves growled in response, the aggression in his thrusts redoubling.
Mercy and gentleness had no place in this alleyway.
Pleasure and pain ripped through Rowan’s veins like fire.
His hole stretched and soaked with tentacle fluid, insides clenching around Yves’s inhuman girth.
Something else coiled just beneath the euphoria.
He trusted Yves completely, but there was no love in this act, no promise of tenderness after the brutality was done.
Rowan supposed he only had himself to blame for falling in love with a man who was only half human, and had fucked him into a stupor the first time they met.
But even back then Yves had kissed and held him.
Now his anger was sour on Rowan’s tongue.
Doubt seized Rowan by the throat just as Yves had back in the hallway aboard the Siren.
What if they couldn’t find their way back to normal?
What if no matter how many times they took their anger out on each other like this, Yves’s limited ability to love had run its course the moment Rowan placed that ring back in his hand?
Rowan reached up to grab Yves’s wrist, to gain some semblance of tenderness between them, but Yves snatched it away, instead forcing Rowan’s bleeding cheek against the cold stones with a hand on the side of his head.
Rowan moaned, his hips bucking back to take Yves’s pounding.
Body moving of its own accord despite the way his heart dropped.
What did it say about Rowan that he so willingly gave in to Yves’s carnal desires even when he knew this would happen? What did it say about him that he’d fallen in love with a man like this?
Voices from the street cut through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind.
Hot shame flooded Rowan’s body, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t act in the face of danger—he froze.
Yves must have heard it too, but he didn’t stop.
The voices came closer, and Rowan squeezed his lips together against the moans that tried to force their way up his throat, silently begging whomever it was to realize they’d forgotten something, or discover they were going the wrong way, and turn back before they passed the mouth of the alley.
“So I said to him…” The voices, accompanied by the susurration of boots dragging tiredly on the cobbles, grew closer.
Rowan’s cheek was pressed tight to the stones, face turned toward the three men who now crossed the mouth of the alley and stopped.
Yves’s body contracted against Rowan’s back, teeth latching onto the space between his shoulder and neck hard enough that they could’ve drawn blood.
Like a possessive wolf guarding its kill, still buried deep inside.
“What the fu—”
Before Rowan could stop him, Yves’s pistol had cleared its holster, aimed, and fired without so much as a glance toward the intruders. The bullet cracked into the corner of the building over their heads, and they fled with a shout, boots pounding down the street.
Rowan had never known Yves to miss. It must’ve been on purpose, a warning shot. Or else he was too distracted by his length buried in Rowan’s insides, slowly taking him apart.
The next brutal thrust had Rowan’s cheek scraping against the stones, and his vision burst into stars at the edges.
He cried out, half pain and half drowning bliss.
Fire roared through his body, and all at once it broke over him, milky ropes of cum splattering the inside of his skirt and dribbling down the wall.