Page 70 of Envious Of Fire
Kaleb swallows hard, heart slamming against his chest.
He keeps playing his violin, his notes growing firmer the more Markadian talks, evidence of his increasing heart rate, the increasing tension in his nerves, in his body, in his blood.
Markadian’s words are mere breath in Kaleb’s ear. “I won’t ask again. Forget I asked at all. I … I can’t say with confidence where my head was at. I’ve lost it, must’ve lost my head …”
Kaleb thinks of Raya’s face.
Raya’s smile.
“You have my permission.”
Markadian grows still behind Kaleb, his breath held.
Kaleb repeats himself. “You have … my permission.” Playing even still, the music flowing, he turns his head partway. “You can have a taste of me … if you want.”
Markadian still doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.
Did Kaleb offend him? Was it perhaps presumptuous to offer permission to a god?
Until: “I will be gentle,” Markadian whispers back, barely a breath. Kaleb feels the man’s cool lips on his shoulder, then the back of his neck, then the front. Kaleb closes his eyes.
And finally teeth.
Kaleb parts his lips for a gasp, then a sigh of unexpected relief. It surprises him, that the sensation of teeth sinking into his neck is not altogether as unpleasant as he expected. Until this moment, he didn’t realize there was a gentle way to bite.
Markadian’s hands explore Kaleb’s body as he sucks upon his neck. Fingers still massaging his ass cheek. Fingers sliding tothe front, across Kaleb’s abdomen, up to his chest, grazing his nipples, then down his side under his arm where it’s soft and sensitive. Kaleb only keeps playing the violin, despite his mind becoming more and more consumed by the teeth in his neck.
Then: “You taste so sweet,” moans Markadian, “so bitter.”
“Which is it?” asks Kaleb as he plays, out of breath. “Sweet or bitter?”
Markadian doesn’t answer. Kaleb’s palms sweat. His body, too. He wonders if, when Markadian isn’t speaking, he might imagine it’s Raya with her hands on his body, Raya worshiping him, Raya running fingertips over his skin.
Raya’s teeth in his neck.
“You’re excited,” whispers Markadian.
Then Kaleb feels the fingers wrapped around his cock.
He didn’t notice—the erection nor the fingers.
“An expected human reaction,” says Markadian, “with the blood rushing through you, rushing to all your ends. Will you allow me to relieve you of that pressure, too?”
Kaleb’s voice cracks when he responds, “Yes.”
Fingers around his cock are replaced by a mouth. Kaleb’s moans join the music of his violin as he experiences an entirely new rush of unexpected pleasure. There is no telling what note plays next, nor what power guides Kaleb’s hand. Each stroke of the bow on the violin is a stroke of Markadian’s mouth up and down his length.
Is this power, to bring a god to his knees? To invite a god’s mouth upon his cock? To play such music from the heavens while the gods and goddesses worship him?
Is it okay to feel so adored and coveted in this moment?
Is it wrong?
The melody picks up pace when Markadian does. It builds the closer Kaleb grows to feeling heaven. Much like rushing to the edge of this very stage, the inevitable rushes toward him ashis melody crescendos.
Raya watching him with wonder, listening to his song.
Raya on a bed next to him, eyes closed, lips pursed in the most alluring way as she listens, her full, plush lips.
