He startled when Sila suddenly bit down, and made the mistake of jerking his head away, which only made the pain worse.
“Too loud,” he chided and then licked the wound, though he hadn’t broken skin. “You’ll have to do better than that, Kitten.” He dropped the hand with the knife, his hard front keeping Bay caught against the wall so he couldn’t follow where the weapon went.
“Wait,” Bay took a shaky breath, recalling what had happened the last time they’d done this. “Not my clothes. I need them.”
“Do you?”
“You can’t carry me out of here without us being seen the same way,” Bay said.
“Want to bet?”
“Sila, please.”
“You don’t get to make demands, Professor. That was the agreement.”
“We both know this was never really an agreement,” he shot back before he could help it. “That I never really had a choice but to accept your offer.”
Sila thought it over. “Didn’t you?”
Bay winced when he felt the blunt edge of the blade drag up the side of his right leg. It wasn’t the possibility of getting hurt that had him struggling—he’d welcome the pain—it was the idea of having to figure out how to leave here without getting arrested for public indecency that bothered him.
“I gave you the chance to make me go,” Sila argued. “You decided to keep me around.”
“I did that because at least this way I get something out of it.” Bay felt the mood darken and trembled. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
“Oh?” Sila rolled his hips and the full length of his cock rubbed against Bay’s ass suggestively. “It sounded a lot like you were saying letting you experience world shattering orgasms wasn’t enough.”
“No,” Bay shook his head, his cheek scrapping lightly against the brick from his efforts, “No, I only meant this way I can also get justice for my grandmother.”
“Justice,” Sila sneered. “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t give a damn about justice, Bay. If you did, you wouldn’t have poisoned August or Lan and you wouldn’t have been up on that bridge that day, ready to end your life while the people who’d driven her to death were still breathing.”
“I poisoned them for you.”
“Don’t make me laugh. You did it for you. Sure, I provided an excuse and gave you an opportunity, but that was your revenge. Don’t fret. I don’t mind. I wanted you to do it. The only thing that annoys me is that you didn’t take things all the way and kill them.”
This was not the direction Bay wanted them to go. This felt too scary, cut him too open. He was still hard, but if they kept going, he wouldn’t be for long. That familiar grief would take hold, followed swiftly by the numb state he’d been stuck in for the past two years.
The state he was only able to escape whenever he thought of Sila pinning him down and ravishing him like a demonic monster.
Like a Devil.
Bay needed the Devil right now. Needed to taunt and coax him out to play before the night was ruined for the both of them.
“Please,” he asked, making his voice meek, “not my clothes. It’s not a demand, it’s a request.”
Sila paused, and if he knew what Bay was really doing, he didn’t call him on it. “Requests can be ignored.”
“I know.” He held his breath while he waited for a verdict. Humiliation between himself and his bedpartner was one thing, letting others in on it…He couldn’t.
It felt like a million years later when the knife clicked back into its sheath and Sila tucked it into his front pocket. “All right, Kitten. But in return, you’re going to have to purr for me, long and hard.”
Sila’s hands wrapped around Bay’s front before he could reply. He unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down, slowly easing the charcoal material down until they were stuck around Bay’s knees.
Cool air licked at Bay’s skin and he squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for whatever the younger man planned next.
“Anyone could walk by and see, Professor,” Sila said quietly as he slipped his hand down the front of Bay’s black boxer briefs and cupped him.
He hissed and jerked, pressing back against Sila’s bulge, that large palm chasing after him, keeping its grip on his balls.
