Page 84 of Scion of Chaos

He pauses, his gaze filling with abject wonder. He leans toward me, and for a second I think he’s about to fall to his knees, but he straightens and grins, his eyes lighting up from within. “You are perfect, aren’t you?”

“Bite your tongue,” I say. “This chaos beast considers the idea ofperfectto be an insult.” I point at myself with one thumb and smirk at him.

“Noted.” He shakes his head as he returns to his task. It takes another minute before the considerably secure laces are loosened enough for his kilt to slide down his hips. I bite my lip as it drops a couple inches, snagging on the bulky muscles of his Adonis belt.

“You could just lift it, couldn’t you?” I ask, then swallow because my mouth has gone dry with anticipation.

He frowns and looks like he’s second-guessing himself. “Should’ve taken off my boots too, I guess.” He lifts one booted foot, the leather buckles on it as complicated as the ones on mine.

“I mean, you can still take it off without removing your boots, unlike me.” I glance down where my black jeans are tucked into my boots.

He hooks his thumbs into the top and pushes, his eyes fixed on me. The act of this huge man stripping is more erotic than it has any right to be, and I think I have some idea why men like a strip tease so much. He’s all hard, flexing, golden muscles, every bit as god-like as the majestic images on his mural. He finally gets the kilt down his knees and remains bent over as he steps out of it, planting both his feet carefully in front and rising to his full height once more. He unfolds slowly, and my pulse thrums all the way down to my core as he’s revealed in all his glory.

I swallow again, indulging myself by perusing what he’s showing me, but I take my sweet time. Unlike Asterius, whose scars were evident, Chrysaor is absolutely flawless. His tan thighs flex as if my gaze makes him tense, and when I shift it higher, I can’t help but exhale a small, surprised gasp.

“Was that good or bad?” he murmurs.

I can’t answer, because I’m too fascinated. His cock is erect, which was the biggest reason he had a challenging time getting his kilt off. Not only is he huge, though, he’s shaped like someone took his shaft and twisted it. It’s actually not that different than the image of the tower I saw in the little glass globe Vesh stole from me, with its dual staircases twisting around the outside. Only Chrysaor’s cock has a shining black ladder of barbells winding all the way around through the ridge that coils around his shaft. At the very tip is a hoop that lays against the tip, only it doesn’t look attached to his flesh. It looks like it’s linked to a rod that goesinside his cock.

“Come here, I need to see this up close.” I wave him toward me. He hesitates, and I look up at his face. The worry I see there makes me laugh. “It’s good. I’m fucking fascinated. Can I touch?”

“Only if I get to touch you too.”

“In a minute,” I say, too distracted by the work of art he just revealed to say more.

He chuckles and closes the distance between us, his enormous dick somehow remaining completely stationary and rigid as he moves.

“I hope I don’t regret showing you,” he says when I reach for him. I give him a wry look.

“You made a big deal out of showing me. You must have expected I would want to know all there is to know about it. But for the record, I fuckinglovethis.”

With the tip of one finger, I gently trace the center of the winding, laddered ridge that coils around his cock. He lets out a shudder and flexes his fists at his sides.

“Good?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow and smirking at him.

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

“What’s this?” I ask, peering up at him as I toy with the hoop at the end.

“It’s a sound rod. Or a penis plug. It’s what I wanted to show you. What you did to Ty was sounding, and I love it, which is why I’m mad I didn’t think of it for him.”

What I did to Ty was a strange stroke of inspiration and completely unexpected, but he asked me for it, so who was I to deny him pleasure? Staring at Chrysaor’s jewelry gives me another surge of inspiration. I want to make him come. I want to wear him like I wore the others. To taste him like I tasted the others. What the fuck is happening to me?

“You know, I honestly never thought of myself as kinky, but you guys are opening up my mind. This is fucking bonkers. Does it feel good when you fuck? Or is it more for my pleasure?”

“A little of both. The plug has to come out first, though. It’s more for my fun and it might hurt you if it’s still in when I’m inside you.”

“Like when you jerk off,” I say.

His cheeks darken. “I didn’t know when I’d get to be with you. I didn’t want to spend another day frustrated.”

“Show me how you do it.”

He spits in his palm and wraps his hand around his cock while I sit back. When he strokes himself, he moves his hand in a twisting motion, like his palm is threaded and his cock is an actual screw. His cockhead swells with each stroke, the opening widening just a little and showing more of the void glass shaft that fills it.

I remember what I did to Typhon that made him roar, and I reach out. “Can I?” I ask, hooking my index finger through the hoop at the end of the rod.

When I touch it, my intention sparks against the glass, and Chrysaor pauses his stroking to let out a moan.

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