Page 84 of Feast of Sparks (Thornchapel 2)
“Fuck, that’s soft,” he says to himself.
“Are you going to make me fuck it?” I ask in dread and desire. “Are you going to make me fuck it in front of you?”
“Mmm,” Auden says. He sounds like someone looking at the menu of their favorite restaurant, in rapture merely seeing all the options laid out. “You know, I think I do want to see that sometime. See where you’ve been sticking that desperate cock when your hand isn’t enough.” Auden looks at the toy and then looks at me. “This is a cunt, Saint. You fuck it thinking of our little bride?”
I’m squirming underneath him now, too well pinned by his muscular thighs to move much, but able to catch the barest amount of friction against his—Jesus Christ, those are his bollocks. I’m rubbing myself against the seam of his Tom Ford trousers and getting to stroke myself against his bollocks. I think I understand now why Auden’s orgasmed so many times without actually being stroked or having sex—sometimes it feels too good and too dirty like this to stop.
Auden narrows his eyes at me. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes, I pretend it’s Poe.”
There’s a glint in Auden’s eyes when he says, “But this isn’t the only toy that you have, Saint. You have some other interesting things back behind those books. Plugs. Dildos. Do you fuck yourself with those too?”
“Fuck you,” I squeeze out, trying to rock my hips harder against him.
“How astute of you.” Auden grins. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
And then before I can truly process what’s happening—that I’m not going to be the one with his cock inside the toy—Auden’s already reached over to my bedside table and pulled my bottle of lube out of the drawer. He really did poke and prod everywhere in here. I hate that.
I love it too.
“Why did you need to see my room?” I ask in a hushed voice as he drizzles lube over the soft folds of the toy pussy. “Why did you need to see this?”
Auden looks up at me, and for a moment, the dirty hunger in his face recedes. It’s replaced by an expression that makes my throat hurt again.
“Because I need to see everything about you, St. Sebastian Martinez.”
“But why?” My voice is barely audible at this point, but I know he hears me, because he leans down and says against my mouth, “When you’re brave enough to guess, that’s when I’ll fuck you. And not a moment sooner.”
He pulls back enough for me to meet his eyes, and there’s something imploring in his stare, as if he wants me to be brave now, to guess now, and then he’ll reward me with everything.
But I can’t do it.
I can’t make the words come out. Because if I guess—if I say the words currently burning in my throat and he says no, if he says I’m wrong—then I’ll die. I just poof, smoke and ashes on my bed, like a vampire in the sun.
Auden seems to know the thoughts rolling through my mind, and his hazel eyes dim the slightest bit when he realizes I’m not going to give him what he wants.
His lips thin. “Very well,” he says. “Now, let’s see what this little thing feels like.” He drops his hand to his pants, unfastening himself with hypnotic deftness. Within seconds, he has his trousers gaping wide open and his naked shaft ready to fuck.
“Auden,” I say—well, not say. Whine. “You’re not really just going to leave me here, are you? I can’t—that’s not fair!”
His brow furrows as he looks down at me. Even with his heavy erection bobbing between us, he looks princely—or hell, maybe it’s partially because of the erection, like he’s some kind of sacred king in truth, with all his power and potency displayed.
“You said ‘yes, Sir’ to me,” he says. “You’re mine now. Your pleasure is mine. Your cock is mine, your seed is mine, every part of your body, including that pouty mouth and that piercing, is mine. If I say that you haven’t earned an orgasm yet, then you haven’t. If I say that you have to lay between my thighs and feel me fuck something that isn’t you, then you have to. If you don’t agree, then you know what words to say to me, but until then you’re just as much mine as Poe is, and I’m going to keep you. Understood?”
There can be no question now of how he wants me to answer. “Yes, Sir.”
He nods once, firmly, like I’m a pupil who’s finally accepted his correction. And without taking his eyes off mine, he presses the head of his cock to the toy pussy and begins to push inside. His thighs go taut on either side of my hips, his jaw works ever so slightly to the side as he pushes in past the tip and feels that first, welcoming squeeze.
“Jesus,” he mumbles. “Tight.”
“I know,” I say. Adrenaline is thrumming through me; along with my shame and my desperation to come, there’s the heady excitement that I’m witnessing my very own personal porno. The porno I would have paid any price for, which is one starring Auden Guest. With Auden Guest fucking himself while wearing a shirt with hand-stitched buttonholes, meeting my eyes as his own eyes go hooded with pleasure.
He gives the toy another inch, and then another and another, and soon he’s stroking all the way in, pressing in so deep that the flared lips of the fake pussy hug his root and I can see the jerky seize and release of his stomach muscles as he struggles to hold it together. “Christ, that’s good,” he says. “Fuck.”
With his sleeves rolled up, I can see the working of his forearm muscles as he slides the toy up and down his length, as he pulls out to the tip and then shoves it back down. And with his trousers parted wide, I can see the flexing of those lean hips and the bunching of his Adonis muscles right above his cock. I can feel the labor of his powerful thighs against my hips, and I can hear the scrabble and hiss of a bespoke leather brogue against my duvet as he strains against the pleasure he’s giving himself.
“I bet you have to fuck it loads and loads, don’t you?” he says. “I bet you have to fuck it every night two or three times just to be able to fall asleep. My new submissive has such a needy cock, doesn’t he? He has to come so much or else he starts hurting.”
