Chapter 27 #3
Cursing under his breath, Whelan dismounted from Oria, dropped his satchel of supplies on the ground, and crossed the distance between them.
Madan held out his hand to stop him—the discomfort would subside soon enough, and the last thing they needed was to be perceived as weak before all of Ehrun’s dhemons.
He turned his face away and shut his eyes tight, sucking in deep breaths.
“Madan,” Whelan growled.
To his dismay, Brutis leaned closer to the dhemon and before Madan could say anything in protest, Whelan pulled him from the gray dragon’s back.
Madan grappled to hold onto something—anything—but was once again reminded that the pain shooting up his arm was due to his severe lack of a hand.
Before he knew what was happening, Whelan clutched him to his chest and tucked his face into the crook of Madan’s neck.
“Alhija,” Whelan murmured, then continued in the dhemon tongue, “stop pretending you’re fine all the time. Let me take care of you.”
Warmth fluttered through Madan’s chest. The sensation eased the pain in his arm a fraction, and he tucked his fingers into his partner’s black hair. He spoke in kind as he said, “I know what taking care of me means to you, my love.”
As though on cue, the dragons stretched their wings and took flight. They knew that one of two things would occur from his interaction, and they’d endured both enough times to know that they wanted no part of either.
A deep rumble rose from Whelan’s chest. “Is that such a problem?”
“Never.”
“Then, if nothing else,” Whelan growled, “let me help you forget the past.”
In the span of a few heartbeats, the pain in Madan’s arm became a strange juxtaposition to the rush of pleasure as Whelan reached between them to rub his cock. His trousers grew too tight at his mate’s touch, and he groaned deep in his throat. “Now is not the time.”
Warm breath caressed the shell of his ear as Whelan whispered, “Liar.”
“We need to be overseeing the camp…” The words faded as another roll of heat washed through him.
“Then go,” Whelan urged. “Go tell them what to do. You know how much I love it when you give commands.”
Madan inhaled the dhemon’s intoxicating scent. “You love to disobey.”
A smirk flashed Whelan’s sharp teeth as he pulled back to scan Madan’s face with a heady gaze. “You’re not wrong.”
“Go ensure they’re not going too far north,” Madan breathed.
“At once.” Whelan stroked his cock again.
If nothing else, Whelan had succeeded in distracting Madan long enough for the pain in his arm to subside. All he could focus on was the ache to bury himself deep in his mate.
Madan glanced past Whelan’s beautiful face. “Everyone can see us.”
“Let them watch.” With his free hand, Whelan grabbed Madan’s throat, his fingers and thumb redirecting the tilt of his face so he looked the dhemon straight on. The forcefulness behind it heated the inferno in Madan’s blood even more. “You are mine, Madan, and I don’t care who sees us together.”
Dhemon culture meant never shying away from showing physical affection in public.
Being raised amongst them had Madan inclined to grab Whelan by the horns, force him to his knees, and fuck his mouth right there in front of everyone.
He’d seen it done by others and had even had sex in a relatively public space in the past. Yet the last several years amongst vampires and the shame they placed upon not only displays of love or attraction, but his desire for men, had Madan hesitating more than he liked.
“I want you for myself,” he said after a beat.
Whelan’s smirk broadened. “One command I’ll oblige if it means I get you right now.”
“Wait—”
There would be no waiting. Before Madan could utter another word, Whelan crouched and slung him over his shoulder.
From his vantage point where he enjoyed the view of his mate’s ass, he watched as Whelan grabbed the bag he’d dropped from Oria’s back, then started forward.
Dhemons shuffled out of their way, watched them pass for a moment, before returning to their duties.
As he suspected, not one of them batted an eye—any who did merely muttered things about him being a vampire, to which Whelan responded with a growl.
Mere moments later, they entered an empty tent that Madan didn’t recognize. It certainly wasn’t theirs, and when Whelan set him back on his feet, it became obvious just how much smaller the tent was.
They’d invaded someone’s space and could be walked in on at any moment. There was something about the risk that had Madan’s cock throbbing and eager.
Whelan didn’t rise back to his full height after righting Madan.
Instead, he stayed right there on his knees before him, just as he’d wanted.
Without speaking, the dhemon unfastened his trousers and pulled free his hard length, wrapping his fingers around him and stroking from base to tip.
When moisture beaded at the head, Whelan drew his tongue over it, red eyes glowing in through the dark up at him.
“Gods,” Madan groaned as the dhemon slipped his lips around his cock.
A responding moan vibrated against his length as Whelan sucked.
Madan gripped the black curling horn, his fingers finding the perfect space between the annuli, and thrust his hips forward.
The dhemon on his knees choked as Madan’s cock hit the back of his throat.
Still, he didn’t pull away—didn’t stop. In fact, it only made him moan again.
“Your mouth feels so fucking good.” Madan held the horn a little tighter, pumping his hips as his mate took every thick inch of him while eagerly stroking him with his tongue.
The heat in his veins built into an inferno as he worked, Whelan cupping and rubbing his balls.
Pleasure rolled through Madan with each thrust, and before he could say anything else, he tipped right over the edge.
As he gave one final thrust, body rigid, Whelan dragged his tongue along the underside of his cock as though to drain him of every last drop of cum that he swallowed.
Only when his lips slipped free did the dhemon even touch himself.
Madan watched with a mixture of eagerness and post-come exhaustion as Whelan unfastened his own trousers and stroked himself, never once taking his eyes off him.
Reaching into the satchel on the ground beside him, he pulled out a familiar bottle of oil.
Fuck…yes…
“Come over here, vampii,” Whelan said, applying the oil to his blue length, “so I can fuck that attitude right out of you.”
Madan didn’t need to be told twice. Unlike his partner, he obeyed the commands given to him.
He stepped forward and let Whelan yank his trousers down to his knees, then turn him around.
Sharp teeth nipped at the top of Madan’s thigh before the dhemon grabbed his hips and pulled him down to his knees on the tent floor.
Pressure, then a filling pleasure had Madan moaning as Whelan eased his cock into him.
“That’s it,” Whelan hissed in his ear, then leaned back so Madan was positioned over his lap.
With one arm, he pinned Madan against his chest so when he pumped his hips up, Madan wouldn’t move.
“It’s a shame you didn’t want anyone to watch.
” Thrust. “I would love them to see how much” —thrust— “pleasure” —thrust— “we give one another.”
Another moan escaped Madan as, inch by inch, he took more of Whelan.
“I suppose they can hear you well enough.” Reaching around with his free hand, the dhemon gripped Madan’s still-hard cock again. He stroked it in rhythm with his own hips.
“Fuck!” Madan’s head fell back against Whelan’s shoulder. “Harder…”
Whelan growled as he slammed his cock deep, then kissed him.
A saltiness lingered on the dhemon’s lips and tongue as he claimed Madan’s mouth.
It had that fire roaring through him again, reminding him precisely why he enjoyed succumbing to his mate’s will so often.
This was where he’d spend the rest of his days, given the chance—consumed by Whelan in whatever way he wished.
Adjusting his hold, Whelan wrapped his hand around Madan’s throat again and deepened the kiss as he pumped his hips hard. When he pulled away, he hummed in satisfaction. “You are everything to me.”
With a moan, Madan drew his fang along his mate’s perfect jaw.
There were no words he could summon that could explain the depth of his love for the dhemon, so instead he pushed his hips back to meet each thrust with vigor.
Whelan’s cock rubbed that perfect spot inside him, and combined with his hand working his own cock, he didn’t last long before he was climaxing again.
Hand slick with his cum, Whelan stroked him a few more times before refocusing his attention on thrusting hard and deep.
Madan eased himself up and down the dhemon’s length, pleasure still rolling through him as his mate barked a curse, his body tensing.
Whelan held him tight as he finished, cock pulsing.
“I love you,” Whelan whispered, once again tucking his face into the crook of Madan’s neck. “I love you more than I can say.”
Madan eased his mate’s cock from him and yanked his pants back up enough to turn and take Whelan’s face in his hands. There was an unspoken fear in the dhemon’s words—the fear of losing himself as Ehrun had. As Azriel had. “You are my world, Whelan, and soon, not even death can part us.”
A shadow flickered in Whelan’s glowing red eyes. “I would sooner drag myself from my cairn and crawl home to you than let death come between us.”
It was a promise, as they sat there on the precipice of war, that Madan knew his mate would keep at all costs.