Page 29 of Blades and Bone

“You are…” The word became a groan as Brodie adjusted the setting. “Do you want me to come?” he snarled.

“Do you want to come?”

Hamish glared at him.

“You know what to say.” He fiddled with the remote.

“Ugh…fuck.”

“You’d better get on with it before I become too bored. I once made someone come four times with this.” He seemed far too proud of himself.

“Did you make him clean up the mess?”

“Every drop with his tongue.”

There was nothing Hamish could do to stop the bead of cum from leaking from the tip. He was not licking his own cum off the floor. God, that thought didn’t help either. What the fuck was wrong with him? Panic flittered through him like a drunk butterfly crashing into everything and failing to find a way out. There, the glass. He made it to the bedside table as it dripped off the tip and landed in his empty wineglass.

“Good boy. That was impressive. I’ll reward you for that.” He tapped the remote.

The orgasm tore through him. He gasped and lifted onto his toes as he came. If Brodie hadn’t lifted the glass, he’d have painted the headboard; instead, his cum splashed into the glass.

He took several breaths. The toy pulsed inside him, keeping him on edge.

Brodie lifted an eyebrow.

“Fuck you.” He growled, though it was far more breathy and desperate than he’d been aiming for.

“Only when you have learned how to clean up your mess.”

“What?” He didn’t want to fuck Brodie. He wanted Brodie to rip out the toy, fold him up like a resort chaise, and rearrange his insides without remorse.

“At some point, you need to stop and think about what you are doing and saying. Your dick is leaking again…how long until you need to come? You can feel it building again, can’t you? How much can you pack away? Will you mistime it and spill on the floor?”

Hamish rocked forward so the drop could land safely in the glass. “I hate you, and if it wasn’t for the fucking treaty, I’d kill you in your sleep.”

“Or you could say sorry.”

Hamish stalked over to the bed and realized that he needed to pick up the dildos and gag with his mouth. Fine. The faster he moved, the sooner this would be over.

“Careful not to bite too hard. I don’t want fang punctures in my toys.”

Hamish snarled. But picked up the gag gently and walked over to the shelf, dick bouncing in front of him. He was far too aware of it, and the way the slit felt when pre-cum slipped out. He dropped the gag on the wrong shelf, standing just in time for the drop to hit the bedside table.

Brodie winced. “Messy and the wrong shelf.”

“I know.”

Brodie stared at him. “Then fix it.”

“You have to be fucking joking?”

Brodie picked up the remote but didn’t press anything. “Do I look like the kind of vampire that makes jokes while torturing people?”

Hamish swallowed. “No. Because you are a psychopath.”

“I think we have established that I’m not, but you appear to be a very bratty masochist. Which is rather fun for me.”

He wanted to argue that Brodie was full of shit. That he wasn’t enjoying this and that he wasn’t a masochist…but then why hadn’t he just apologized? He snatched up the gag, his fang hooking over the strap a little awkwardly, and bent lower to drop it on the correct shelf.