4. Bastian
4
Bastian
M y dick is so fucking hard. I can’t remember the last time it was this fucking hard. Actually, that’s a lie: I totally can. It was the last time I saw my pretty girl before that bastard who calls himself our father sent her away. Three fucking years we had to wait to get her back. Three years of nothing but planning and strategizing. And blood—lots and lots of fucking blood.
Oh, that was the best part: ripping into the people who helped take her away, tearing off their fucking limbs with my bare hands and beating them bloody with them, laughing maniacally at their pleas for mercy. They were pathetic, but we don’t give mercy. A quick torture session is the nicest thing you will ever get from us, and none of them deserved that. But she’s here, she’s back! Hopefully, my twin hasn’t fucked it up.
“Bit harsh on her, weren’t you?”
I’m mean, I get it. We have people stored all over that dungeon and the south wing holds our most special revenge, but I think my brother was a bit overkill.
“She needed to be told,” he says, opening our bedroom door, the one right next to hers.
I push ahead, knocking him out the way, laughing as he mutters a curse, flinging myself onto our bed. “Yeah, Rian , but she didn’t need to be told like that. I swear, if you fuck up my chances of sticking my cock in her sugar sweet pussy, I’ll skin you alive.”
My poor dick throbs in my jeans at the mere mention. I grab it tight, giving it a squeeze, groaning in pure agony.
He tuts at my pain, and I narrow my eyes, watching him fix his suit, keeping everything in place like the controlling bastard he is. God fucking forbid he ever looks a mess; the only time he’s willing is when he’s drenched in blood, lost to the hunger for violence. Once he’s snapped out of it, he scrubs himself clean and fixes himself back up in a suit, looking like nothing ever happened.
“Not if I skin you alive first, little brother,” he promises, sending tingles down my spine, and I shudder.
“Don’t promise me a good time if you’re not going to follow through. And don’t call me little brother unless you want to do something about my throbbing dick,” I snap, baring my teeth. “Just because you’re happy to keep your five-inch wonder locked down doesn’t mean I am.”
Fucker knows I hate it when he calls me little brother. I’m one minute and nine seconds younger than him. Sixty-nine goddamn seconds, and the asshole never lets me forget it.
Dorian smirks, removing his tie, wrapping it tight around his fist in a way that has my cock jumping. I never do mind being his practice doll when he wants to try a different shibari position.
“It’s nine inches. You know that, as you made me let you measure it and then threw a fit when you found out it’s bigger than yours.”
He smirks smugly, taking off his jacket, folding it over neatly on his armchair. He’s obsessed with that chair; it’s where he reads his favourite book. I once spilled a drink on it, so he spilled my blood, slicing my hand.
“You may be longer, but I’m thicker. Don’t you forget that,” I hiss, gripping my cock tighter until my balls zing with pain.
“In the skull, of course. How could I possibly forget that?” He laughs quietly, unbuttoning his shirt.
I fly off the bed, storming over to wrap my hand around his throat. His head slams against the wall with such a force, the sound echoes in the room. His pale skin turns purple with the lack of oxygen, his breathing stopped by the force of my grip. My brother doesn’t struggle, doesn’t try to rip my hand off his neck. He simply smirks, relaxed in my hold.
“I swear, big brother ,” I snarl. “If you’ve fucked things up before she’s even been back one night, I will tear you apart.”
My nose presses against his, spittle flying at his face. I have not waited this long for him to fuck it all up. My patience isn’t like his; I’ve been tearing at the walls since she’s been gone, my broken mind shattering even more without her.
His tongue slowly draws out, licking the spit that hit the side of his mouth. He thrusts his hips against mine, grinding his hardening cock into me. I growl in his face, an animalistic sound, as his hands shoot up, twining into my hair. He yanks me close, fusing our lips together. I bite his bottom lip until I taste blood, grinding against him, my balls aching with need. His tongue flickers out, tasting like metal, forcing its way into my mouth. I release my hold on his neck, and he inhales my breath, sucking in a lungful until we’re breathing each other in as one.
I am not complete without him. His is my other half, the co-owner of our corrupted soul—being with each other is as natural as breathing. I moan into his mouth as he grabs my cock, twisting it painfully hard, giving me the pain I crave.
“I will say this once, little brother,” he whispers against my lips. “She had to be told like that. She needs to push against us, to not be so protected. I know what I’m doing. She’s not a delicate little princess locked in some castle. She’s a dark, chained angel who needs the darkness to thrive. We are her darkness, and we will consume her so thoroughly, she will never find the light again.”
He pops open the buttons of my jeans, pushing them halfway down my ass until my cock springs free. His nails dig into my sensitive flesh as he wraps his hand around it like it’s his own, and my head falls back in pure bliss.
“I think our little sister deserves a true welcome home, don’t you?”
He works his hand faster, a blade of a knife appearing in the other, cutting the seams of my top until it falls to the ground. He runs the edge of the blade over my chest that’s littered with tattoos and scars, pushing deep until blood trickles down. Beads of pre-cum glisten on the head of my cock, and he releases it, swiping his fingers through the whiteness, bringing it to his lips.
“What were you thinking?” I pant, licking my lips as he tastes my cum, humming in delight.
His silver-grey eyes sparkle with that unhinged joy we share, and I know straight away what the perfect homecoming will be for our little sister.
“I think the nightmare demons need to come out to play.” He grins wickedly, shredding his top, pushing me away.
I pant, adrenaline consuming my body, drowning my veins until all I can feel is the pulsing need of excitement that makes me come alive. He opens the chest at the end of our bed, producing masks and all our equipment.
“Fright night at Velka Manor has begun.”