Ashes of the Day (4 page)

“Please, Conrad,” he begged again. Not waiting for an answer, and ignoring the fingers that tightened on his scalp, he hurriedly freed Conrad’s erection so that his next words were delivered on a soft breath of air, cool enough to shiver the hot flesh. “Let me have this.” He followed up with a swipe of his tongue along the length of the shaft, pleased with the shuddered groan Conrad gave. Then he ran his open mouth along the trail his tongue had forged. Soft lips, backed by a hint of fang, pulled another strangled plea from Conrad’s lips.

“Damian.”

Desire. Indecision. Hesitation. Need. Damian hid a smile as he drank in the many nuances. He was winning this battle. Tonight was his. And soon Conrad would be his too—if only for the moment. “Just say yes,” he urged as he stripped Conrad’s pants down a little more, slid eager hands around his hips to cup his ass and urge him closer. “Give in to me.” He needed this tonight. Needed it especially in light of all the unsettling conversations they’d had today. If Conrad was already regretting his decision to confide in him, if he was going to view Damian as a weakness as well as a strength, and, above all else, if Conrad was
really
intent on giving Damian’s private quarters to Georgia, then Damian needed some assurance that they were both vulnerable and at each other’s mercy. “You know you want this as much as I do.”

Conrad shook his head. “More.” His voice was harsh with need. “I want it more.”

Did he?
A bolt of pure lust shot through Damian. The throbbing of his own cock belied Conrad’s words, but he was not in the mood to stop and argue over such things. He could not keep the triumphant smile from curving his lips as he looked up at Conrad and grinned. “
Bueno
.” Then he opened his mouth and took Conrad in, all the way to the back of his throat.

Conrad groaned aloud as Damian took him in his mouth. Wet heat turned constricting as Damian swallowed. Conrad had to widen his stance and lock his knees to keep from falling. Damian pulled back. His wicked tongue curled enticingly around Conrad’s length and flicked teasingly over the crown. He plunged down again, his mouth engulfing Conrad once more.

Conrad’s hands clutched at Damian, one tightening on his hair, one curving on his shoulder, as he fought the urge to hold Damian flush against his groin and thrust, plunging deeper into that luscious, hot mouth…

It was the ruined flesh of Damian’s back and shoulder, clearly discernible to Conrad’s fingertips—even beneath the thin fabric of his robe—that stopped him. He’d lost control once. He could never afford a second misstep. It might kill them both.

Conrad had had countless lovers over the centuries—many of whom he’d been fond of, several of whom he’d dearly loved. Not one of the others had ever challenged him or shaken his control to the extent Damian did.

Was he a masochist that he should crave Damian’s touch so much, even though it was a constant reminder of his own weakness? Was he a sadist that he should continue to indulge himself, despite the danger he was placing them both in? Or was he simply too selfish to resist?

Once, Conrad had been arrogant enough to believe he could control his base nature. He’d been sure the vile beast that roamed the darker corridors of his soul would never hurt those he loved. He’d believed he would always be able to protect Damian, no matter what, even as he surrendered to him completely.

How wrong he had been.

It had taken almost killing Damian for Conrad to learn, to his horror, that his control was an illusion. He wasn’t nearly as strong as he’d thought. And that was then, when his strength had been at its peak. Now? Yes, it was definitely selfishness that compelled him to risk it now, which is why he needed to put an end to it.

“Damian, stop,” Conrad ordered, though his entire body shook with the effort. “That’s enough.”

Damian paused and glanced up at him, his expression crestfallen, for all of a moment. Then a stubborn frown furrowed that aristocratic brow. His dark eyes flashed. “No, it’s not.”

“
Caro
…” Conrad hated the shaky timbre of his voice, turning what should have been an order, or at least a warning for Damian to do as he was told, into something too closely resembling a plea. Even his voice betrayed him, robbing his words of their authority.

“No.” Damian tightened his grasp on Conrad’s hips. “It’s not nearly enough.” Then he opened his mouth and took Conrad to the back of his throat once again.

Shudders wracked Conrad’s frame. He groaned in protest as Damian swallowed him down, groaned even louder when he pulled off slowly, the edges of his fangs scraping lightly along Conrad’s length, their venom a potent tease.

“Just give in,” Damian urged again, in between slicking his fingers with spit. “You said you wanted it, didn’t you?”

Conrad’s jaw clenched. “I know. It’s not…” The rest of his words were lost, swallowed up by another helpless groan as Damian took him in his mouth again, as Damian’s clever fingers slid tantalizingly up and down the crease of Conrad’s ass.

Conrad was pretty sure he’d lost the battle, even before the tip of one finger gently breached his entrance. Molten heat flowed through his veins. He closed his eyes and put all his efforts into keeping the beast in check while he reveled in the pleasure Damian seemed so intent on providing.

With his eyes closed, all those sensations seemed suddenly so much clearer, sharper, so much more immediate. So much more irresistible. Stimuli he’d successfully ignored nearly swamped his senses now. Like the velvety softness of Damian’s tongue, the wet suction as his mouth engulfed Conrad yet again. Or the smell of Damian’s arousal. The whisper of silk as he shifted his legs apart. The barely audible brush of skin on skin…

It was the last that caused Conrad’s eyes to open. The sight of Damian stroking his own erection, his cock flushed and hard between his legs, the tip glistening, wet with precome, was an irresistible erotic lure. It brought the beast roaring to the front of Conrad’s mind. “Don’t touch that,” he snarled. “That’s mine.”

Damian’s breathing stalled. His eyes went black. They gleamed like liquid metal as he sat back on his knees and stared at Conrad. His hand faltered. Time froze.

“Mine,” Conrad growled again. He would have that cock—and so much more. He would have everything Damian had to offer. “All of you. Mine.”

Damian’s eyes squeezed shut. His chest heaved, each breath a stuttering gasp. His hand, however, stayed clenched around his dripping cock.

Conrad’s nostrils flared. He wanted to taste that dewy liquid, wanted to feel its hot weight paint his tongue. “Let it go, Damian. Now.”

A thin whimper broke from Damian’s lips as he snatched his hand away. Both hands fisted on his thighs, he stared mutely up at Conrad, wordlessly waiting.

That eager look in Damian’s eyes—Conrad’s cock ached in response to it, demanding attention. He needed Damian’s mouth on him. Now. He needed his hands on him. He wanted to reach for Damian and pull him close, to kiss him ’til neither of them could breathe, but he didn’t. He was afraid to move a muscle. Afraid the slightest shift might send him over the edge.

Above all else, he needed to keep the beast in check—
had to
keep the beast in check—couldn’t risk losing control. Not ever again. “Suck me,” he ordered. And it was definitely an order, for he was far too desperate to beg. “Finish what you’ve started.”
Quickly,
amore
. Before I lose my mind
.

Another strangled whimper as Damian sprang into action. Eyes alight, he took Conrad in his mouth again, sucking deep and fast, his fingers digging into Conrad’s flesh, the edge of his teeth just teasing along the length of Conrad’s erection.

Conrad gasped. “That’s it. Deeper. Take it all.” And Damian did. He reared back and then plunged deep again. A tiny twist as he tugged at Conrad’s sac. Just a sliver of pain, administered at just the right time and in all the right places. Fire raced along Conrad’s nerves and sent him tumbling over the edge.

Conrad’s back arched as powerful spasms rocked him and he shot his seed into Damian’s willing mouth. By the time Damian pulled away, gasping for breath, Conrad was already reaching for him, hauling him to his feet and stealing his breath away again with a savage kiss.

Damian clung to Conrad’s shoulders until Conrad brushed his hands away. “Need you naked,” Conrad muttered as he nipped at Damian’s lower lip. He continued to ply Damian with kisses even as he stripped him of his robe and flung the garment away.

For once, Damian didn’t object—either to Conrad’s careless treatment of his garments or to the fact he was now naked, his body completely exposed to Conrad’s gaze. Perhaps he was too aroused himself, too consumed with lust to care how Conrad would react to the sight of his scars. Or maybe he wisely sensed that this was no time to engage Conrad in conversation—especially not on that subject.

It had been ego that had led Conrad to allow Damian to wear his mark, to be tattooed with his crest. It had been pride in his own supposedly invincible power, a challenge he’d issued to the world: touch him and die.

How vain his boast had proved to be. How so much worse than useless in that it had led to his almost destroying the very thing he loved. Perhaps someday he would be forced to discuss the matter at length. But surely tonight was not that time.

Still kissing Damian, Conrad walked him backward until they reached the couch. “Bend over,” he ordered, pointing to one of the couch’s arms. “Legs apart.”

Damian’s face was a stark mask of need. He inhaled sharply, eyes shuttering closed for an instant, then he quickly did as he’d been told.

Conrad went to his knees behind Damian and took hold of his buttocks, spreading his cheeks, growling in appreciation at the sight that met his eyes. Damian’s puckered hole clenched and unclenched in obvious need. The warm scent of Damian’s flesh bathed Conrad’s senses as he leaned in and laved the sensitive area with his tongue, teasing, exploring, sating his own desire even as he stoked Damian’s higher.

“Conrad, please,” Damian finally begged, voice breaking, arms shaking either with the strain of holding his position, or of resisting the need to take his stiff, dripping cock in hand.

Without a word, Conrad rose to his feet. Quickly grabbing Damian by the waist, he half-lifted him, turning him around and then pushing him down again, to sit on the arm of the couch. Then he fell back to his knees this time between Damian’s spread legs. Damian sucked in another quick breath as Conrad took him in his mouth, sucking hard and fast, using all the same tricks Damian had so recently employed on him.

“Conrad.” His breathing harsh, Damian reached a shaking hand to Conrad’s head, shaking fingers combing through his hair. “
Mi amor
.”

Conrad shuddered in pleasure. And then those fingers tightened on his scalp. Memories erupted. A thick black tide that threatened to choke him, that threatened to sicken him. He tossed his head, desperate to free himself. There were some things he could not bear—not even after all this time, not even for Damian’s sake. Vile thoughts filled his head, heinous recollections that would never fully disappear, never truly die, never leave him in peace. He clamped his hands over Damian’s and pinned them to the couch on either side of Damian’s hips. “Leave them there,” he instructed, though he kept his own hands where they were, covering Damian’s, just in case he decided to ignore Conrad and move them anyway.

Glancing up, Conrad met Damian’s startled gaze with a small smile. “Let’s see how well you do with no hands.” He ran his tongue along the underside of Damian’s cock then licked his own lips. “Fuck my mouth.”

Damian’s eyes shimmered with sudden heat and yet he hesitated, his expression doubtful. Conrad arched an eyebrow and glanced meaningfully at Damian’s erection. “That is, unless you’re content to stay in this condition.” Another stroke of the tongue up his length. Another swipe across the weeping crown. “I confess I’m quite content with the sight of you just as you are. Don’t feel you need move on my account.”

Damian’s mouth tightened as he took up the challenge and contracted his hips, thrusting upward into Conrad’s waiting mouth.

“Yes.” Conrad smiled up at him, purring his approval when Damian pulled out. “That was much better. Do it again. Deeper this time. Feed me all of it.”

Shudders wracked Damian’s body. Whimpers spilled from his lips as he complied, rocking upward again and again—fast, increasingly erratic strokes that ended when he gave a garbled cry and stiffened suddenly, pumping his release down Conrad’s throat.

Afterwards, while Damian slumped on the couch and gasped for breath, Conrad rose to his feet and fastened his pants. One look at the weariness on Damian’s face, in the set of his shoulders, and Conrad knew he would not be going anywhere under his own power—not for a little while yet. So he lifted him into his arms, cradling him as though he were a child, and carried him into the bedroom.

Conrad deposited Damian on the bed. Then he hurriedly removed his own clothes and joined him there. He pulled the cool sheets up around them both, taking Damian into his arms and holding him close. By rights, he should be feeling peaceful right now, blissfully content. He wasn’t. Damian had pushed him to the edge of his control again tonight. That was not a comfortable place to have been. “Don’t try that again,” he warned, adding, when Damian gazed questioningly at him, “You push me too far. How many times must I say it?”

Damian’s lips curved upwards in a sleepy smile. “It was worth it though, wasn’t it?”