Page 36 of Astaroth
The hot push of Aster’s cock burned through Briar’s body. He bore down against discomfort. Opened for him on an easy, shuddering breath, and whimpered at the resistance—the weighty drag of Aster’s heavy cock. Briar was still swollen and sensitive, still raw and loose from a night spent soaked in desire. Aster left his channel bruised. Made every thrust feel too deep, too important. Briar’s slack mouth quivered. He splayed his palms on Aster’s chest, avoiding the bandage tapedto his stomach, and rode him in a quick, hard, beating rhythm, chasing an orgasm. Looking down at Aster, long lashed with blown pupils, and feeling the duke’s strong grip on his waist, guiding every fast pitch of his lower-half, made a terrible, noisy cacophony erupt in his chest.
"Harder," Briar begged.
He almost fell forward, taken off-guard by a bite of pleasure spearing through his groin. Aster seized him. Grunted and locked him an iron grip, thrusting up into his limp body. Briar’s gaze dulled. He let his vision slip and ebb, blurring as Aster pistoned into him, splitting his lithe frame, forcing himself deep,deeper. Cock nudged against prostate once, twice, and Briar spurted, gasping and yelping, taken off-guard by the sudden flood of blinding pleasure. He roped across Aster’s stomach, painting him, and Aster moaned, driving deep into the clench of Briar’s body until they were flush and inseparable. Aster’s face screwed into a blissfully pained expression. He filled Briar until the gush leaked, beading and dripping where Briar was still stretched full. Briar’s jaw dropped open. He took short, soft breaths, panting as Aster pushed harder, grinding his pelvis against Briar's stretched rim. Saliva strung from his slack mouth. His cloudy vision danced and spun.
Aster leaned up to kiss him, licking at drool and spit, and reached between them, tugging Briar’s spent cock. "Slip yourself down my throat.”
Briar blushed horribly but did as he was told. He pulled himself off of Aster, crawled over his chest, knees bracketing his shoulders, and fit his messy cock into Aster’s mouth. Felt tongue lap. Throat convulse. Felt the strong grip of Aster’s hands around the back of his thighs and tried not to cry at the electric heat coursing down his spine. He buckled forward, cupping Aster’s shaved head, and slid himself over the Demon King's talented tongue, thrusting deep again, into warm, spasmingthroat, skimming blunt teeth, back again, enjoying the searing curl of Aster’s wicked tongue on his slit. Two fingers breached his tender entrance, pushing come back inside, plugging him, and Briar cried out like a wounded animal, crowding into Aster’s mouth until the duke choked. Aster probed him hard and fast, fucking him with his hand while he milked him with his mouth, and Briar couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Everything was gone. Carnal, uncoordinated pleasure encased him, whipping through his body like a bolt of lightning. He couldn't spill again, couldn't get hard, but he still tightened and twitched, clamping down on Aster's knuckles and smearing a splatter of clear semen on his tongue.
The wet glide of Aster’s messy mouth along his thigh brought Briar Wright back to reality. The rake of curled fingers, scraping along his channel, catching cruelly on his rim, popping free, made Briar wince and blink, staring intently at Aster’s headboard.
“Dream of this in Olympia.” Aster’s voice was sex-soaked and raw as he spoke in the hollow beneath his hipbone.
Briar caught his breath. He thought he might pass out, but the world righted itself.
“You’ll go to him smelling like me, if nothing else,” Aster added.
“Petty,” Briar murmured, climbing off his chest and perching on the side of the bed.
“And you’re beautiful,” he whispered, rising to press a kiss against Briar’s shoulder. “I could spend a lifetime in this bedroom with you. I could spend an eternity with you, period.”
Briar swallowed the itch in his throat. “I will come back.”
When Aster didn’t speak, Briar glanced at him.
“Iwill,” Briar assured, meeting the Great Duke’s steady gaze. “My life is mine, Astaroth. You must allow me the chance to define my own fate. Make my own choice. Break my own bond.”
“Forgive me for my instinct,” he said.
“To hoard me?”
“To protect you.”
Briar opened his mouth to speak, but a featherlight rap on Aster’s bedroom door rang through the room like a church bell.
“Pardon. . .” Luca’s voice poured through the thick wood. “I’m afraid Michael is on the porch again.”
Aster rested his cheek on Briar’s shoulder, minding his bandaged clippings. He idly stroked his side, counting ribs. “You’re not owned, but I do love you, Briar Wright. In a way, I think you may very well own me.”
Something swollen and heavy seemed to burst in Briar’s chest. His heart became a soaring, unfamiliar thing, spilling with a blissful sorrow he had never experienced before. Love came at such an unexpected time, slivering his skin like a strike from Michael’s sword. Strange, to have loved someone, revered him, sought him out with every intention of instilling pride in someone who, in the end, shredded his resolve and inflicted a torturous pain Briar could not seem to crawl out from under.
Yet love still cracked through the cement around his flighty heart. Love—this love, Aster’s love—gilded every fissure Michael left inside him. For once, love was not a mountainous thing to climb. It was not something to prove, or hold captive, or use as bait. It just. . .was. In the simplest and most complicated way.
“Luca, tell him,” Briar croaked, clearing his throat. “Tell him to wait. I’ll be there in a moment.”
Aster shifted closer. His breath coasted the top rung of Briar’s bandage.
“You would move to disarm me before I face my greatest fear,” Briar hissed. He pawed at one leaky eye and huffed out a breath, pulse beating wildly. “How dare you say such a thing.”
The room thickened. Aster’s hand slipped away. “Would you prefer I lie to you?”
“Look me in the eye,” he said, turning to stare at the handsome, fierce duke curled around him. The top of his wings peeked over his shoulders, shadowing his chest. “Never brandish a weapon while my back is turned.”
“My love is no weapon,” Aster bit out. He leaned forward, cupping Briar’s jaw with one hand. His thumb followed the jutting path of his cheekbone, and he clucked his tongue, gray eyes soft and radiant in the threadbare shadow. “I did not want attachment,” he confessed, chewing at the last word. “I avoided it like the plague. Did everything I could to stay an island. But I’ve found myself upended by you. Your mind is a cavernous, beautiful thing, and you carry courage in your heart like I’ve never seen before. You’re the fucking best of us, Briar. You’re brilliant, and fierce, and kind, and I might be an orphan, but I prayed for you.” He paused, sucking in a coarse breath. “The High Court did not deserve you.Ido not deserve you.” His grip tightened. He gave Briar’s face the smallest shake, touching the pad of his thumb to the corner of Briar’s watery eye. “But I love you. Deeply, illicitly, I love you.”
Each word plucked Briar’s heartstrings like a claw on a harp. He stared at Aster. At his beautiful, carved face, and the tender, rich depth of emotion pooling behind his eyes. At a Great Duke of Hell, powerful and ancient, naked beside him, still shiny and scented like their coupling.
“You love me.” Briar spoke accidentally, repeating a thought that kept rising, fluttering.
