Seduced By The Son Of A Succubus (m/m paranormal)

Seduced By The Son Of A Succubus

by Violet Jessamy

Copyright 2012 Violet Jessamy

Kindle Edition

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~*~

“This,” Milo said, “is the worst idea ever.”

“It’s a great idea,” Thomas insisted. “This is going to be awesome!”

“Yeah.” Milo rolled his eyes, stopping in the middle of the long stairs they were going down. “Super awesome. Especially the part where they tear me apart when they find out who I am.”

“There’s no reason they would figure it out,” Thomas insisted. “Your dad…”

Milo hissed a warning, and Thomas fell silent. They were already courting disaster by walking into this place. There was no need to announce things that might get them killed right upon entering.

A woman clad provocatively in red came walking up the stairs, followed by a man wearing black. Milo and Thomas, remaining silent, stepped aside to make room for them to pass.

The man flung out his hand as he passed, brushing it against Milo’s in a gesture that he knew to be deliberate, however accidental it might have looked. He shivered at the touch of cold skin. Unsettling cold blue eyes studied him for a moment, displaying unveiled interest, before the man moved on.

Milo let out the breath he’d been holding once the couple had vanished from sight.

Vampires.

His dad would
kill
him.

“All I’ve heard,” Thomas picked up the conversation when they got going once more, “is that sleeping with one of them is supposed to be amazing.”

“It is,” Milo affirmed. “If they manage to keep themselves from sucking too much blood and killing you. Then it’s not so amazing.”

Thomas’ expression was priceless.

“Wait, you’ve done this before? How the hell do you know that?”

Once more, Milo rolled his eyes at his friend.

“No,” he said, “I obviously haven’t done this before. But I hear things from my dad and his colleagues.”

“It’s safe,” Thomas insisted again. “They know killing a human gets them into more trouble than it’s worth. They aren’t stupid.”

“Accidents happen,” Milo replied, but despite his words he followed Thomas through the door at the foot of the stairs.

Club music assaulted their ears. The place was huge, and packed. Everywhere Milo looked, bodies moved rhythmically to the beat. The air smelled of blood and sweat, but for some reason, the effect was intoxicating rather than nauseating. The dancing strobe lights gave the scene an air of utter chaos.

“Wow,” Thomas said, his voice barely audible above the blood-pumping music. When he moved to have a closer look, Milo followed his friend, resigned. He didn’t want to be here, but he knew Thomas would manage to get himself into trouble if he wasn’t.

When he spotted Rogue in the middle of the dance floor, everything seemed to freeze.

Milo couldn’t breathe. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt like the floor had been pulled out from underneath him.

Dark eyes. Long legs. Lithe body.

Oh god.

He was certain his heart was being pulled out of his chest. It was an utterly sickening feeling.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, shouting into Milo’s ear.

Milo finally managed to tear his gaze away from the man who had broken his heart so thoroughly. He avoided Thomas’ questioning look and tried to remember how to breathe.

“It’s nothing,” he lied. “Let’s go find something to drink.”

“Kay,” Thomas said, but gave him yet another thorough look. “But you look like you just saw a ghost.”

While Thomas ordered drinks, Milo found a wall to lean against. He pressed his palms to the cool surface, closed his eyes and tried to calm down.

He had only been six years old, but he remembered the scene in details when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen had stood in the kitchen, offering his father some sort of deal. It had been before the H.O.S.T. had established any sort of control over the local demon population. He hadn’t understood the details of it all, and he hadn’t understood his dad’s suddenly rigid posture, terseness of speech and the way his nails kept digging into the flesh of his palms. Milo had been too young for a succubus to have any sort of effect on him.

And that, probably, had been the reason why his father had felt it acceptable to leave him with the young boy the lady had brought with her.

“We’ll be off to headquarters,” he had said, kneeling before Milo. “The H.O.S.T. needs whatever help they can get these days. You two just stay put. You’ll be safe here.”

Milo had inspected the other little boy from head to toe, skeptically. Even back then, at such a young age, Rogue had been beautiful. In fact, the image of the boy with the haunting eyes and porcelain face was one he had never quite managed to dismiss.

“What is he?” he had demanded to know, the routine of his father’s work already coloring his thinking. “A vampire? Does he have much power? Will he try to hurt me?”

“No, he won’t,” his dad had assured him. “He isn’t a vampire, no, and he is far too young to have any power. To be honest with you, I don’t really know what he is.”

His father had frowned then, and risked a glimpse in the direction of the kitchen.

“His mother won’t tell me much. I don’t know who his father is, and I’ve never heard of a pregnant suc-“

He had caught himself then, blinked, and wiped at his face, where small pearls of sweat were beginning to show.

“Anyway. You two can be friends.”

What am I supposed to do with him, dad?”

“Show him your racing cars,” his dad had suggested. “Everybody likes racing cars.”

That had marked the first, but by no means the only time the succubus had worked with Milo’s father and the rest of the demon hunters. Milo and Rogue had become well-acquainted and gotten along well, even though the other boy was strange.

Rogue’s eyes would darken from pale grey to pitch black whenever he was feeling strong emotion. He didn’t know the names of any action figures Milo owned. He hated cocoa and would only drink black coffee, and once, he sliced one of Milo’s metal toy cars open with his fingernails just to see what was inside. But what baffled Milo the most was that the other boy didn’t even seem to be aware he was different.

“What’s H.O.S.T. stand for?” Rogue had demanded to know when they had been nine.

“Human-Outsider Security Taskforce,” Milo had rattled off.

“What’s an outsider?”

“It’s a new word for demon.”

“What’s a demon?”

“You are.”

“Am not,” Rogue had protested.

“Are too!”

“Am
not
!”

Milo had backed off when Rogue’s eyes had gone dark and he had looked to be near crying. He had not brought it up again.

“Drink up!”

Thomas’ voice forced Milo back to reality. Reflexively, his fingers closed around the tall neon green glass his friend was holding out. He didn’t even try to figure out what it was before downing the liquid. It burned all the way down his throat.

“Holy shit,” Thomas yelled next to him, and pointed. “Are you seeing this?”

Milo looked up above the crowd, where a girl that looked to be barely legal was dancing on a pedestal. Milo understood right away why she had captured his friend’s attention. Her body was utterly perfect. She had curves in all the right places, and lustrous, smooth skin that begged to be touched. Long golden hair whipped through the air with every beat.

Milo forced himself to look past it all. His father had taught him to notice the small details, like the girl’s movements being just a little too smooth, her arms sometimes twisting as though she’d forgotten that she was supposed to have joints there.

“Dude,” he said in warning, turning his head, “that’s a…”

Thomas was gone.

Milo cursed and stepped onto the dancefloor, guessing the direction Thomas would have taken. He scanned the dancing crowd for a sign of his friend.

Suddenly, the near-darkness and the strobe lights were disorienting. The music pulsated through him and made him unsteady on his feet. Milo stopped, closed his eyes for just a moment to try and shake off the feeling. Maybe the alcohol he’d just downed was messing with him already.

He blinked his eyes open again just to find himself staring straight at Rogue again.

The other man was still some twenty feet away, surrounded by the wildly dancing crowd. He was flirting, had one hand in another man’s hair, which caused Milo’s heart to throb painfully. He couldn’t help but remember when Rogue had buried his hands in
Milo’s
hair, how good it had felt…

Rogue turned, and then his eyes met Milo’s straight on.

The other man seemed as shell-shocked by the sudden encounter as Milo was. He went still, the expression draining from his face.

Unwelcome memories flooded Milo. He couldn’t seem to stench the flow of images and sensations of what had been. The taste of Rogue’s skin. The feeling of ice cold lips on his own. The overflowing desire that had filled him.

The last time he had seen Rogue had been six years ago. His father had made a mistake - even though they were in their late teens now, he had assumed Rogue was still too young for his powers to be dangerous to Milo.

He remembered drowning in those dark eyes. He remembered a clumsy first kiss that had evolved into something vastly more powerful. Now, he was certain that Rogue hadn’t understood what was happening any more than he had, back then. His dad hadn’t seen it that way though, when he had ripped them apart just in time to prevent Rogue from sucking the breath out of Milo’s lungs for good.

And even though he should have been terrified, all Milo had felt was a desperate longing. Even now, he still dreamed of those dark eyes every once in a while and woke drenched in sweat and throbbing with desire.

Milo turned and ran. Blindly, he barreled through the crowd, found an exit from the dancefloor, made for the closest bathroom.

Running cold water over his wrists did little to cool the fire in his veins, but it helped him regain control of himself. His feelings nearly overwhelmed him.

Milo shuddered and splashed water into his face. He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror - flushed skin, dilated pupils, lips that were starting to swell because he had been biting and chewing them without even realizing it. He was a pathetic sight.

It had been so long. He hadn’t even known what had happened to Rogue after the H.O.S.T. had more or less established control of the demon population, whether he had fled like some, or been killed during the uprisings, like others. His father had refused to answer his questions. Milo had been left to struggle with his feelings all by himself. He still hadn’t sorted it all out.

He sighed, turned away from his mirror image, and stopped an inch short of colliding with Rogue.

Oh god.

“Hey,” Rogue said, very softly. His voice was deep, smoky, brushed past Milo like a dark breeze. Sparkling black eyes captured Milo’s.

Milo tried to reply, and found that he could not. The maddening desire that had filled him six years ago was back with a vengeance. It was utterly addicting, flooding him, pumping through his veins, heightening his senses. His body was getting a fix of its drug of choice after a long and painful period of withdrawal.

Then Rogue reached out, brushed the side of Milo’s face with one cool fingertip, and the pathetic remainder of Milo’s self-control fizzled away. He lunged forward and desperately pressed his lips to Rogue’s.

It was like being caught in a small-scale explosion, followed by the exhilarating relief of finally quenching that constant, painful longing. He felt the other man’s arms wrapping around him, felt that taut body pressing into his own. Wild lust filled him and made him weak. He pressed himself as close to Rogue as physically possible, clung to the other man, lips locked, demanding more and more. His entire body was begging. He relished the feeling of having Rogue so solidly against him.

Those hands he’d been dreaming of for years buried themselves in his hair, and Milo lost track of his surroundings. His world consisted of Rogue and nothing else at all. It was close to being an out-of-body experience.

His cock grew hard in seconds. Suddenly, Milo couldn’t seem to draw another breath, so strong was the excitement he felt. He was a split second away from shutting off his brain entirely and give himself over to his passion when he noticed the small tugging sensation in his belly and the strange burning in his lungs that he had only felt once before.