“I… no. I don’t. I wouldn’t. You can’t…”
Ian pulled Geoffrey’s face closer. “Stop me,” he breathed. “All you have to do is say no.” He leaned forward and bit Geoffrey’s lower lip. “Walk away.” He unfastened his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was already mostly erect. “Or you can kneel and suck my cock like the degenerate lavender worm I know you are.”
There was no choice to make—no sooner had the words been spoken than Geoffrey fell to his knees and took the despised bronze dragon’s cock into his mouth. Not only was he letting a baby dragon rut between his lips, but he reveled in it. With tears running down his cheeks, his hair mussed beyond saving, and his knees numb and cold on the hexagonal tile floor, Geoffrey allowed the whelp to do as he pleased.
In those moments, his darkest, dirtiest fantasy came to life.
Propelled by his vile desire, he coaxed the bronze bastard with his tongue and lips, wanting his mouth to be flooded by the whelp’s spend. When it came—all hot cinnamon and orange and cedar smoke—Geoffrey greedily swallowed every drop. Then the whelp took his softened prick out of Geoffrey’s mouth and put it away. He looked perfectly composed, his bright hair still smooth and unruffled. Although he couldn’t see himself, Geoffrey knew what he would look like: a debauched mess. Ashamed, he looked down at the floor, staring at black hexagons surrounded by white ones, and a shiny pair of wingtips that Geoffrey saw his pathetic reflection in.
“There,” Ian said. “Better?” The words should have sounded derisive, but they didn’t. They were almost kind.
Geoffrey looked up again and saw that the sneer he’d expected Ian to wear wasn’t there. Instead, the Topaz looked curious and expectant. It was, somehow, worse than derision.
“No.” Geoffrey stood, grabbing onto the sink for support. He turned his back on the other dragon and set about trying to repair the damage done to his hair.
“Here.” The whelp offered him an ivory comb from the inner breast pocket of his jacket.
“You should leave,” Geoffrey told the man’s reflection. He wanted to ignore the comb, but his hair was a wreck, so he used the offering to make it right.
“It’s a public restroom and a free country,” the reflection replied. “Make me.”
Geoffrey whirled around, ready to do whatever he had to do to escape the bronze menace, but instead found himself grabbed and then shoved against a wall.
“You’ll have to be faster than that, old man.”
“Damn you!” Geoffrey tried, and failed, to push the other dragon away.
“Say no. One little word and I’ll leave. You won’t see me again until the next council meeting.”
Geoffrey panted. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. “And if I say yes?”
This is where it all ends,Geoffrey thought. This is where he steps back and laughs and tells me that he’ll make sure I’m brought up on indecency charges. Sargon will have to take over for me. Hopefully Father will let me help him. He’s not ready.
But instead of the denouement he’d expected, Geoffrey had received a kiss—soft and sweet like a summer breeze—on his astonished lips. “Come home with me. I’ll give you what you need.”
* * *
Cessation of movement brought Geoffrey out of his memories and into the stark reality of the present. Discreetly, he stretched and looked over at the omega. He appeared to be asleep. Geoffrey poked his calf with the shiny tip of his shoe. “We’re here.”
The omega’s eyes flew open. “Merde.”
Shit.
Yes, that just about covered it.
4
Matthieu
Dragons, Matthieu thought as he observed his escort struggle with the button of his seatbelt, weren’t much different from humans, if Geoffrey Drake was any example. During his days in the cloister, Matthieu had been taught that dragons were special and superior in every way—veritable gods who merely tolerated the existence of human disappointments like himself. Matthieu, however, had always had his doubts, and while Geoffrey did match the arrogant nature Matthieu had come to expect from a dragon, he confirmed Matthieu’s other doubts spectacularly.
Dragons, while physically attractive in their human guises, were petty, childish, and petulant creatures beneath their elegant facades. It made Matthieu wonder what his actual dragon “consort” would be like.
Probably an asshole.
Matthieu thought the odds were very good that would be the case.
The lair his dragon allegedly lived in, however, was another matter entirely. As Matthieu climbed out of the back of the limousine, he couldn’t help but gape in open wonder at the estate he’d been brought to. “Mon Dieu, this place is like Versailles. Onlyvulgaire.”
