Page 31 of Unholy

“If you bite me right now, I’ll come in my pants, I swear,” he warned.

Luke laughed, and Malachi dropped him onto the bed. The rest of the bedroom was a blur, his focus narrowed entirely to the man sprawled on the mattress below him. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and ripped it down the middle, ducking down and latching onto one flat, brown nipple, teasing it with teeth and tongue.

“Oh fuck, I want to taste you so bad,” he said, sucking and biting his way over to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment. “I want to coat my tongue with your blood. I want to drink it down, have your very essence inside me.”

“Malachi,” Luke groaned, shedding the remains of his shirt and tossing it away. Malachi loosened Luke’s jeans and tugged both them and his boxers down at once.

“Lube,” Malachi said gruffly, biting the top of Luke’s thigh hard enough to leave a bruise and draw a groan fromthe man himself. Fuck, he had to get a hold of himself before he hurt him.

“In the… bedside drawer,” he said, pointing at it.

“Get it,” Malachi ordered.

Luke rolled over, stretching out on the bed to open the drawer and reach inside it. While he was flat on his stomach, Malachi couldn’t resist the long, muscled plane of his back. He started at the base of his spine, mouthing his way up, leaving sucking kisses and biting nips as he went, dragging his tongue up the ridges of his spine and tasting salt and soap. When he reached his meaty shoulder, blanketing Luke’s body with his own, he bit down, needing something to anchor himself to. Luke moaned, fumbling the lube. It fell to the mattress as Malachi gentled his mouth, sucking instead of kneading with his teeth. He didn’t break the skin, fought the urge to flex his jaw and do exactly that, rocking his cock into the crevice of Luke’s ass.

Asnickbroke the silence, and Malachi raised his head to see Luke holding a pocket knife, the blade extended. He offered it back to Malachi.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly.

“Giving you permission.” His free hand curled behind him, tangling in Malachi’s hair. “I want you to.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, treasure.”

“You won’t. This knife is very sharp. I’ll barely feel it. Just keep it shallow so it doesn’t bleed much—or scar. I have enough scars.”

“You do,” Malachi said carefully, mindful of Luke’s self-consciousness. He loved every single one, though. They were proof that Luke was a survivor, that he was strong and resilient.

“I wouldn’t mind having one from you,” he saidtremulously, punching the breath from Malachi. “It wouldn’t hurt coming from you. It wouldn’t be a reminder of pain. It’d be… you.”

Malachi had never been in this position before, the one being tempted into doing something he knew he shouldn’t.

“No,” he decided. “I won’t be one of the demons who hurts you, not ever.”

Luke wriggled around until Malachi let him roll over. As soon as he had Malachi comfortably cradled between his legs, he drew the blade across his left pectoral.

“Luke!” Malachi protested as the copper scent of blood filled the air.

“Oh no, look at that, I’m bleeding,” Luke said lightly, setting the knife aside. Blood trickled from the wound, pooling in the crease down the center of his chest. He glanced down at it. “Possibly cut a little deeper than I meant to, but I’m in no danger of bleeding out.” He drew Malachi closer. “I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry I let them freak me out.”

Malachi kissed him, smearing blood between their chests, then dropped his head and lapped at the blood on his skin. It was like taking a dozen shots at once, swirling in his head and tingling through his body, warming his limbs. He moaned, sliding down Luke’s body to mouth at his erection, smearing red up his length and then sucking him down.

“Oh God,” Luke whined as Malachi found a punishing rhythm. His back arched, his legs parting as though pleading.

Malachi pushed his knees toward his bleeding chest and buried his face in the heart of him, lapping hungrily at his hole and spearing his tongue inside. Luke cried out, his thick thighs flexing under Malachi’s hands. He loved this,loved tasting Luke’s most intimate places. Places where no one else was allowed to go.

He slicked two fingers with a generous amount of lube and pressed both inside at once. Luke moaned long and low, canting his hips down to take more. Malachi raised his head to drink in the sight of him with his head thrown back in abandon. It was starting to look like a crime scene. Blood had trickled down the dip of his collar and past his neck to stain the pillow and sheet beneath him, framing his throat like a crimson necklace. Another line trickled down his stomach toward his navel. He leaned down and lapped it up, delighting in the delicious taste of skin and blood.

“Mal, please, please,” he murmured. “I’m ready, I want you.”

His eyes found Luke’s warm, honey brown ones. “Say that again,” he growled.

Luke’s breath caught. He licked his lips and said, “I want you. I want you so much. Please.” He reached for the lube and sat up, pouring some in his palm and wrapping his hand around Malachi’s cock.

Malachi groaned, running the flat of his tongue across the cut on Luke’s chest. Only a little blood welled to the surface again. It was slowing down. Good. Wrapping his arms around him, Malachi pushed him down. Luke didn’t move his arm, trapped between their bodies, and guided Malachi’s cock to his entrance. They both moaned as he pressed inside, past the first tight ring of muscle.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” Malachi breathed, slowly working himself deeper with each little thrust.

“Nng,” Luke moaned wordlessly.

---