Page 127 of Envious Of Fire
The chief remains unsatisfied. “I don’t believe you.”
“You won’t have to. Soon, even this room won’t be safe for me and Kyle to stand in. See for yourself.” He nods at the nearest window. “Dawn’s already on us.”
The chief frowns, peers at his watch, then stands and headsto the window. Indeed, the sky is glowing a deep blue, signaling the end of the longest night of their lives.
Why doesn’t anyone feel relief?
“Either they’re toying with us, wearing down our patience, or planning something bigger,” says Drake, dropping onto the pew with a sigh. “It’s not necessarily bad they didn’t come … but it’s definitely not good.”
28.
The Tiny Spider.
—·—
Kaleb’s back is pressed to the bed.
Above, a beautiful chandelier hangs, glass shards refracting across the walls in tiny rainbows and shimmers of light.
Markadian is on all fours over Kaleb, down at his waist, his tongue lapping up and down the length of Kaleb’s cock.
Kaleb’s fingers curl into the bed sheets.
He holds back from coming.
Markadian seems to prefer Kaleb never comes, desiring to make the moment last forever, as if their fun is always fleeting and if he dares let it end, it won’t come back. Kaleb is forced to endure. Hours. Gripping bed sheets. Gritting teeth. Staring up at chandeliers, or out at an empty auditorium, or straight ahead at a blank wall, thinking of anything to hold back his orgasm.
His heart is in a perpetual state of racing. Feeling heavy in his chest, yet charged at every hour of the day, anticipating a release that isn’t allowed to come.
It isn’t even about the music anymore.
Kaleb wonders if it ever was.
Markadian doesn’t even bother with an attempt at creating illusionary clothes for Kaleb anymore, either.
He wonders if everyone in this place is naked.
The violin was just a pretense for the two of them to unite. Playing in the banquet hall in front of the directors a few nights ago was the last time he touched a violin. Markadian only saw a handsome face, the violin being just an intriguing facet to theforbidden fruit he wanted desperately to bite.
It doesn’t matter to Kaleb. If this is the price for living longer, for living better, for the ease and comfort of privilege and luxury, he can bear it. Is it really such a punishment to be desired? To be the center of someone’s deepest craving? Someone as powerful and influential and admirable as Lord Markadian?
“Open your eyes.”
Kaleb opens them, realizes he might have looked too tense. “Markadian,” he greets him. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing at all.” Markadian smiles. “Your Lord is pleased. You taste perfect.”
“I did everything you asked,” says Kaleb. “Washed every inch of me, scrubbed my body in the shower, shaved in places. I want to make you happy.”
Markadian gives his cock another lick. “But are you?”
Kaleb props himself up with his elbows, looking down his body at Markadian. “Am I what?”
“Happy.”
Markadian does this often. He asks questions. Pointed ones. They feel like tests. Kaleb hasn’t forgotten Raya’s warnings. He wears them like an invisible armor of his own, never allowing himself to become complacent, to take any of this for granted.
He is also learning to play the game. He offers Markadian a sensitive smile, tilts his head, softens his voice. “What could I possibly not be happy about? You’ve been so generous with me.”
