Guilty as Sin (51 page)

feathery brush lit him up as if she
‟
d threaded a hot wire from his chest to his balls and

cock, his ass.

He
‟
d been starving for this, for them. His body raced ahead, exulting, while his

mind stumbled along after it, almost incoherent with joy and pleasure. He wanted to

sob aloud, tell them how much he—

He twisted his hands in Dax
‟
s hair, gave a vicious tug. “Godsdammit, stop.”

“Why?” Dax licked carefully around the flare of Michael
‟
s glans, bestowed a series

of tiny sucking nips. “You taste good. I
‟
ll even swallow.” His eyes danced. “Well, I
‟
ll

try.”

If he came now, he
‟
d never be able to get it up again, not enough to fuck Dax

brutally hard the way he needed to, the way he had to. Wasn
‟
t that the trick with

239

poison, the dose? Not too much, just enough to do the job right now. It didn
‟
t matter if

he died of it later.

“You—” He jabbed a finger at Dax. “Down. Hands and knees.” Then he reached

around to grab Lise
‟
s arm and pull her off.

Michael scooped up the little vial and ripped the cork out with his teeth. “Keep him

hard,” he ordered Lise, ignoring her irritated snort. “I don
‟
t care how.”

He poured a stream of golden scented oil over his fingers, knowing he should go

for the bare minimum, enough to let him in with significant pain but not lasting injury,

but overdoing it nonetheless. “Ass up,” he barked at Dax in an effort to compensate for

the weakness. “Spread your legs.”

Such a humiliating position, but Dax didn
‟
t look awkward or undignified or stupid.

Lise lay beside him, her face pressed to the curve of his neck, their hair tangled together,

silver and gold. Her hands were busy, stroking, patting, comforting everywhere she

could reach. She was murmuring nonsense into his pointed ear, stupid little love words.

Dax
‟
s furled wings cloaked his back from shoulders to knee, concealing his ass.

That would never do. Michael went to his knees on the quilt. “Move the fuckin
‟
wings.”

Years ago, he
‟
d worked the theater crowds with Tannio, even seen a show or two at

the Royal Opera House. This was like watching the stage curtains sweep slowly aside to

reveal visual treasures, the audience gasping in delight—and anticipation of the

pleasures in store.

Even for an Aetherii, Dax was huge, he had a big man
‟
s strong buttocks and thick

thighs. Muscle rippled beneath satiny golden skin as his tail flexed to some unknown

rhythm. Michael grabbed it with his dry hand, his heart thudding like a bronze gong in

his throat, his cock.

Dax twisted to glance back over his shoulder. “Ah, Michael,” he said, and smiled,

that open, devastating farm boy grin. Warm and silky, his tail lifted to slither up over

Michael
‟
s chest and around his neck, the tip coming to rest just over his pounding heart.

It was meant as a caress, he couldn
‟
t mistake it, Twister help him.

The cheeks of Dax
‟
s ass were cleft like a luscious fruit, smooth-skinned and

succulent, completely bare, not a single hair, not even a feather. The entrance to his

body winked slyly, small and pink and pursed, absurdly demure given how Michael

intended to ravage it. Even his balls were godsbedamn beautiful, drawn up high and

round and firm, the skin of his scrotum as tight as a drum head, all golden velvet.

And beyond…

Lise had taken Michael at his word. She was crooning something, her lips pressed

to Dax
‟
s biceps. Her hand slipped up and down Dax
‟
s shaft, fingers barely meeting

around his astonishing girth, working the soft skin over an erection so engorged, so full

and hard, it had to be painful.

As if she
‟
d read Michael
‟
s mind, she glanced up. Her slate-dark gaze said,
Don’t

hurt him
, more clearly than if she
‟
d spoken the words aloud.

240

Dax turned his head. “Do it,” he rumbled, as fierce as Michael had ever heard him.

“I want you to.”

“Then you
‟
re a fool, birdy.” Pushing into his own grip, Michael slicked his cock in a

luxurious slide, root to tip. He poured more oil on his fingers. “It
‟
s going to hurt like

hell.”

Dax shot him a blazing grin. “You
‟
ll make it good.” He tugged Lise down beneath

him. “C
‟
mere, chick.” He swooped on her mouth.

Michael thought he heard a mumbled, “Love you,” but he was busy clawing his

way back into the dark, inhaling the poison fumes of lust and self-hatred.

Except—gods help him—he was chasing a tattered mist, increasingly desperate, the

darkness he needed eluding him like a phantom, leaving only grief and yearning in its

wake.

“You think?” he snarled, lunging forward to spear a finger into that pucker, forcing

it inside all the way to the webbing, twisting and probing.

Dax grunted. He bucked, his tail flexing, the tip slapping against the featherpearl

over Michael
‟
s heart.

“Michael!” Lise said sharply.

“No,” panted Dax. “It
‟
s…not too bad.”

Such a tight, soft tunnel, lined with smooth muscle, the strength of it crushing his

finger. Michael leaned in, laid his cheek against cool, silky feathers and shoved in

another. This time, Dax groaned and the horrible dark thing that lived inside Michael

lifted its head and capered with glee. Yes, yes! Ruthlessly, he stretched and prodded.

Where…? Ah, there!

Dax threw his head back and bellowed.

Michael stroked, applying steady pressure. “Not so very different after all, are we?”

He gave a rusty chuckle. “Not where it matters.”

“Rip…the fucking…Veil.” Under him, Dax writhed, strong as a bull
vran
.

Now, now! While the dark tide still roared inside him. He pulled free, the other

man
‟
s flesh clinging to his fingers, as if reluctant to let him go.

Gripping Dax
‟
s hip, he steadied his shaft with one hand and slid the head down

over that intriguing cleft. His shudder of pleasure echoed Dax
‟
s. Ah gods, nerve-rich

skin, slippery and warm, such a gut-wrenching tease for both of them.

“Lise.” His head was spinning, rational thought lost in the instinctive desire to

thrust and fuck, all his attention focused on the demanding weight between his legs.

“Take care…of him.”

He wasn
‟
t sure if he meant now or forever, but it didn
‟
t matter. Peripherally, he was

aware she was speaking, the words lost in the drumming of his pulse. Warning,

promises, retribution—he couldn
‟
t care, not when she scrambled to her knees, reaching

for Dax
‟
s cock. Dax reared up to tuck her under his wing, groaning.

241

The rise of the other man
‟
s hips, as if in supplication, urged him forward. Setting

his cock against the small, reddened opening, he thrust. The ring of muscle closed

behind his glans, holding him firmly. Dax grunted and pressed his face against Lise
‟
s

hip, the only part of her he could reach. Her arm was flexing, pumping his cock, his

wing curled around her back.

The heat, the constriction was incredible. Dax
‟
s ass spasmed as his body tried to

expel the intruder. Gods, it was insanely good, with a dark, cruel edge that ramped

Michael
‟
s arousal up to an excruciating level. The moment he hilted, he was going to

come and he couldn
‟
t, he mustn
‟
t, because this was all he would ever have and he had

to make it last. He drew his hips back, his ass already flexed for the rough, agonizing

shove that would drive him home, and as a by-product, ensure the Aetherii never again

spoke his name without hatred and contempt.

Dax made a pained noise, a sound so small it was almost lost beneath the thunder

of the blood in Michael
‟
s ears. He couldn
‟
t be sure what it was—not a whimper or a

cry—an indrawn breath perhaps. He knew he hadn
‟
t been meant to hear it. Regardless,

it was the difference between night and day. The world swung and dipped, his body

rebelling before his mind had a chance to catch up with it. Abruptly, Dax
‟
s pain became

his, more than he could bear.

He jerked backward before he thought, pulling out with a complete lack of finesse.

Dax flinched, swearing under his breath. The Aetherii twisted around. “What? What
‟
s

wrong?”

“Forget it.” Michael ducked his head, wiping his hands on a corner of the quilt.

Weak, spineless— It didn
‟
t matter what he called himself, he couldn
‟
t damn well do it,

not this way. The darkness slipped away, leaving him exposed without his armor, pale

and quivering like a newly hatched insect—and, he thought with a kind of gallows

humor, even as a bug, he didn
‟
t think he was quite sane.

The breeze rustled through the candlewoods. A
highhunter
called from a nearby

mountaintop, harsh and high. Lise
‟
s thoughtful gaze was a palpable presence. To fill the

silence, Michael said the first thing that came into his head. “Maybe another day.”

When he made as if to rise, Dax
‟
s tail tightened, and for the first time, it dawned on

Michael it was snugged around his neck, lethal as a noose. He froze, an icy ball of

tension warring with the sick feeling in his gut.

“Idiot,” growled Dax, rolling over. “Like hell. Get down here.” Big hands grabbed

his wrists and pulled, tumbling him down onto the Aetherii
‟
s chest.

Gold-flecked green eyes stared into his, Dax
‟
s breath warm against his jaw. “Fuck

me this way.” Smooth brawny thighs spread to accommodate Michael
‟
s hips. “Face-to-

face.” He got a gentle shake. “It
‟
s no sacrifice. I
want
you to, all right?”

Twister
‟
s balls, the man was incredible.

“Forget it, I lost the mood,” Michael said curtly, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks.

“What were you trying to do?” said Lise suddenly. “Make us hate you?”

Michael turned his head away.

242

“That
‟
s not possible.” Dax
‟
s voice was a rich rumble, very slow and sure. “I don
‟
t

know why you won
‟
t believe it.”

Lise stroked Michael
‟
s hair. “You need proof, we know that.” A firm hand cupped