Page 35 of Burning Ice
His erection didn’t fade. Nor did Kylix’s. He was hungry for his little ghost, and soon he’d have him just the way he wanted. Of that he was sure. Kylix Zephyranth always got what he wanted.
Finally, Mirel pushed away the plate. He’d finished nearly everything.
“Good boy.” Pressing two fingers under Mirel’s jaw, he lifted his face. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”
“T-thank you,” Mirel breathed. He looked as affected as Kylix did from being so close.
“Next time you’re hungry, you ask me for food, understand?”
“Y-yes.”
Kylix hummed in satisfaction. He reached out a hand and traced the lines of Mirel’s opened shirt. He lowered, shoulders braced between Mirel’s knees, steadying him against the chair before running his hand down over exposed, pale skin to his clothed cock.
“You’re hard for me, Mirel. Want me to make you feel good like I did before when you were in the bath?”
The sound that broke from Mirel was half gasp, half word, too ruined to choose a side.
“I still want to know more about you. And you’re going to tell me more.” The words warmed the air as he climbed onto the mattress on his knees. “You’re going to beg me while you do it.”
A flinch, anger or need. Maybe both.
“Don’t move. I decide how this goes.” He bent close enough that his exhale touched Mirel’s lips. “If you speak, you speak truth. If you lie, I’ll know it.” His tone softened to mockery. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”
Mirel’s answer was a silent shake of the head.
Kylix leaned in and took the mouth he’d come to love so much. Their lips brushed, slow first, then with a growl he dove deep enough to swallow Mirel’s surprised gasp. His tongue traced the seam of Mirel’s lips, demanding entrance before sliding in. He licked at the taste of him and nipped the lower lip until a low moan escaped. The sound made him press closer, his teeth catching again, tongue chasing the tremor he caused. When he finally pulled back, a slick thread connected their mouths, and Mirel’s lashes were wet, breath ragged, mouth parted in shock.
“We go at my pace,” Kylix said. “And I ask while I take. Speak if you can. Show me if you can’t.”
He dragged his palm down the line of Mirel’s ribs, felt the tension jump beneath flesh like a trapped bird, then lower, brushing knuckles along his stomach, over the fine muscle that quivered under touch. Mirel made a broken sound, half gasp, half stammer, like words caught behind teeth, and his exhale hitched.
“Y-you,” he started. No other words came.
“You don’t even know how good you look like this, do you?” Kylix let his fingers dip below the waistband of Mirel’s underwear, just enough to make Mirel gasp. “Patience.”
Mirel’s breath obeyed.
Kylix’s mouth curved. “Good. I take orders all day. Now it’s your turn.” His hand lingered low, thumb tracing the quiver at the edge of flesh. “Why the graveyard? Why that forsaken place?”
“Mama.” A pause. “C-close. Can’t go in, but close enough.”
“You lived there on purpose? Among the stones? Of course you did.” Realization hit him. Celia Fandi, Cyprian and Mirel’s mother, lived inside the Hospital of the Living Dead.
Mirel hesitated, eyes flicking to the floor. “Yes,” he said finally. “And Geron. Protection.”
“The old man?”
“Y-yes.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“In the c-city. I was a-alone.” Mirel coughed. “S-safe with him.”
“The illusion of safety, that is. So you met Geron in Zephyr, and he took you back to the graveyard.”
“Yes.”
“Did you live with him?”
