Playing With Fire (14 page)

Furn found a little tart. “No?”

“Oh. I like those…”

He bit back his chuckle. “Feed him from your mouth, Furn,” he said instead. Eager to satisfy his other hungers now that his stomach was fed.

Sartis’ eyes flashed up at him, playful. “Giving orders?”

“I am.” He’d never said he wouldn’t give orders. He was quite good at it.

Furn’s fingers slid along Sartis’ jaw, a bit of tart in the soft lips. Sartis took it, licked the juice from Furn’s mouth.

Wintras moaned, prick firming again at the sight. “Yes…”

Furn put a little bite in Sartis’ lips then turned the slender jaw, offering him Sartis’ mouth. Bending, he licked the crumbs from Sartis’ lips before closing their mouths together, taking the treat from the sweet mouth. Sartis gasped, lips parting, letting him in. Wintras lapped at the insides of Sartis’ mouth, watching the ice-blue eyes watch him. Soft and hot and it made him harder. He rubbed against Sartis.

A soft moan filled his mouth, Sartis leaning toward him. He half turned Sartis, cupping the pert ass and rubbing them together. The slender body melted against his, soft and warm and eager. It felt good, spurred on his need, made him want, not just
a
warm body, but
this
warm body.

Furn took the tray away, pulled the furs up around all of them, cocooning them in soft heat. He tugged the other boy to flank Sartis, to keep their warmth centered around the slender body. His own prick was leaking now, needy, wanting. They all moved, hands and mouths and shafts rubbing and touching. He touched Sartis, Furn, always knowing whose skin was beneath his fingertips, Sartis unbelievably soft, like living silk. Sartis’ mouth surrounded one of his nipples, Furn’s hand on his shaft, all of them moving and bucking.

Wintras found both their cocks, taking one in each hand and hefting, squeezing, feeling the heat and hardness of them beneath the velvet skin. Furn’s hips moved fast, pushing the heavier cock against his palm while Sartis rolled, languid. He moaned, the twin sensations making a sweet fire lick up along his spine.

Sartis’ teeth scraped, tongue sliding over the tip of his nipple, sensitizing it. He cried out, bucking, pushing up both boys. Furn gasped, hand moving faster, grip firm. Wintras pulled harder on the pricks in his own hands, thumbs sliding across both their slits, pushing in. Both bodies moved against him, twin cries filling the air.

They were beautiful in their need, faces wanton, a flush covering their skin, even Sartis’ pale silk a light rose. Furn lifted his face for a kiss, hand tugging his cock. He gave it, eager, body shuddering as he neared his climax. Furn spent first, heat spreading over his hand, a soft cry filling his mouth. He continued to tug, his own hips bucking as the sound and scent of Furn’s completion brought on his own. Sartis whimpered, gasped, body arching into his touch.

“Your turn,” he whispered, bending to kiss the swollen lips. Sartis purred into his kiss then rippled, seed pouring over his fingers, so hot. The sorcerer was magnificent in his pleasure, icy eyes hot, sightless for a long moment. Wintras slowed his hands, bringing both boys down slowly.

Sartis seemed to melt, cuddling into the furs, eyes closed. Furn stroked the dark hair, humming. “That’s right. Sleep.”

Wintras added his own touch, the tender feelings returning full force. He let them push the anger and fear and desire for revenge away and curled around Sartis, holding his arm out for Furn to join them. Together they cradled Sartis, the thin hands reaching to tangle in his hair. He smiled, cuddling in, comfortable and quiet.

He could sort out this whole Zujan/Sartis/firefaeries thing in the morning.

* * * *

The bar’cha were calling him.

He could hear them—crying and begging, threatening and hissing and promising. They needed him and they would wait forever, waiting until he couldn’t bear the noise or the room and then…

He slid from the bed, pulling the cloth from the door and staring out at the colors, the heat.

Come out.

We miss you.

We’re so hungry.

Please, love. Please, come out.

He whimpered and shook his head.

“Zujan! I mean Sartis. What are you doing?” Wintras called him from the bed.

“They…they want me…” He stroked the door.

“Furn and I want you. And we’ll keep you warm. We won’t try to eat you.”

He turned, blinking at Wintras’ open arms. “You look warm.”

“I am. Come back to bed.”

The bar’cha fussed, but he nodded, hurried over and pushed into those arms. So warm. So good. Wintras held him close.

“Those faeries are evil, Sartis. Stay away from them.”

“I try.” He sighed, happy and warm, held.

“I would have thought it was easy—they hurt you, make you cold.” Wintras fingers slid along his skin.

“They talk to me. They lie. They make promises.”

“But if you know they lie, why do you believe their promises?”

“They…they are the oldest thing I know. Like family. They get inside me…” He didn’t know how to explain it.

“I want to be inside you,” Wintras murmured, one hand sliding down to his bottom.

He blinked up. “I haven’t ever…”

“Has Zujan ever?” The long fingers moved along his crease, the touch light and teasing.

“No. They wouldn’t let anyone inside. Never. Only them.” He pressed closer, shivering, rubbing.

“I want to be inside you,” Wintras repeated, midnight eyes looking into his own as the very tip of one finger slid into him. He squeezed, the sensation foreign, interesting. Wintras moaned softly. “Oh…yes.” The finger wiggled and pulled away before nudging him again.

“I…I feel you…” His heart was pounding furiously.

“I hope so.” Wintras smiled at him, finger pushing in a little and then a little more.

“I…” He couldn’t catch his breath, didn’t know what to do.

Wintras brought their mouths together, lips sliding over his as that finger moved slowly in and out of him. The kiss distracted him, relaxed him, the action familiar and warm. Wintras’ tongue teased along his, sliding, twisting, dancing, the finger inside him an echo. He forgot to be frightened, arms sliding around the warm shoulders, body moving. Wintras hummed into his mouth, making the kiss vibrate between them. Giggling and moaning, he looked into midnight blue eyes, fascinated.

A second finger teased around the edges of where the first disappeared inside him and something slick slid from the top of his crease down his body to coat his skin, those fingers. He squeaked, but the oil eased the way, the touch setting a fire within him. Those eyes held his, heated and dark and that second finger pushed, pushed, entering him, stretching him.

“Oh… Hot.” He swallowed, thighs parting.

“So hot.” In and in and then suddenly pleasure so sharp it was almost pain. Oh. He jerked, eyes rolling, energy spiking within him.

“Yeah,” whispered Wintras, bringing their mouths together once more as those fingers pushed inside him again.

He cried out, searching for those dark eyes, half-panicked, half-lost in sensation. They were there for him, watching him, holding him as that bright spark lit along his spine again and again, Wintras’ fingers so undeniable inside him.

“I… I… Help me. Please. ”

“Shh… I have you, Sartis.”

Wintras’ fingers parted inside him, stretching him. He gasped, hips moving instinctively. Wintras moaned and more oil slid over his skin, Wintras’ fingers sliding easier. His skin tingled, his body aching, alive.

“Now, I know where your fire comes from. So hot inside.”

He smiled, unexpectedly pleased, leaning into Wintras’ warmth. He couldn’t believe it when Wintras pushed another finger into him. How could three of those long fingers fit inside him? And yet, they did, stretching him to fit. Wintras’ blue eyes never stopped watching him.

“Full…” His body didn’t know what to do, where to move.

“Not quite yet.” Wintras smiled, fingers sliding in and out, finding that place again, the one that made everything flare uncontrollably inside him. His cry was torn from him, fingers tightening. Wintras licked at his lips, nose sliding on his skin. The touch so deep inside him was slow and careful, Wintras’ free hand pushing between them and teasing across the tip of his prick.

Seed poured from him, drawn up by that touch.

“Oh. Sartis… Your face.” Wintras looked as if he were about to cry.

“I…” He ducked his head, hiding in his hair, shivering. He was little and pale and scared, his light taken by the bar’cha.

“Oh, please don’t hide from me. I want to see your face. You were transformed. So…I don’t know how to say it.”

He blinked up. “Not ugly?”

“Ugly? You? No! Never. But especially not right now.” Wintras’ fingers slid over his face, smelling like his come, like his musk. He moaned, face following the touches.

“So soft,” murmured Wintras, gaze following the gentle fingers.

“Oh…” His eyes closed and he melted, groaning low. Lips followed fingers as Wintras rolled him onto his back. He went easily, moaning at the warmth of the furs behind him, the body above him.

“I want you,” Wintras told him, hands sliding on his body.

“You do?” He shivered, moved.

“Uh-huh. And you’re all open and ready for me.” One long finger teased along his crack again.

“Will you hurt me?”

Wintras shook his head and then stopped. “Maybe just for a moment at the very first.”

He distantly remembered Zujan telling someone that, and meaning it, so he nodded. “Will you stop if I ask?”

Wintras groaned softly but nodded. Furn’s fingers slid over him, face nuzzling his shoulder. “If you want him to stop he can take me instead.”

He smiled over at Furn, kissing. “Good morning.”

Furn smiled, stroked his hair. “Good morning.”

Wintras pushed his legs open and settled between them, skin so warm, hot to the touch. His eyes were dragged from Furn, Wintras capturing his attention. The dark blue eyes gazed at him, hot and possessive. Wintras pressed a familiar pot of oil into his hands. “Make me slick.”

He dipped his fingers in the oil, wetting them then reached down, stroking the heavy cock, petting the soft skin. Wintras moaned, the sound soft, low and needy. “Sartis. Want you.”

He slid his fingers over the tip of the hard cock, sliding over the wet heat. Another moan was his reward, Wintras’ eyes lost in pleasure. Oh, that was pretty. He kept touching, stroking, looking for more. Wintras’ hips moved, pushing the hot shaft into his hand. Furn’s hand joined his, both of them stroking, touching.

Wintras gasped and moaned and finally pulled away from their touches. “Inside you. I want to be inside you.”

He had almost hoped Wintras would forget. Almost. Furn helped him relax, legs spread and Wintras settled close, guiding the long prick to his entrance. He took a deep breath, watching. Wintras’ cock pushed, those dark eyes turning to him as the thick heat breached him.

Oh, big. So big. He blinked, gasping, trying to decide whether to pull away. Wintras continued to move, pushing in and pushing in and pushing in. He moaned, stretching, eyes wide. “Full…”

“So tight,” murmured Wintras in reply. Finally Wintras was still, cock buried deep inside him. It burned, the stretch a dull ache, a pressure beyond anything he’d imagined.

“I have to move,” murmured Wintras, bending to lick at his lips, at the inside of his mouth.

He gasped, reaching up, trembling fingers tangling in the gold hair. Wintras made a purring noise and the thick heat inside him moved, sliding almost all the way out before slowly pushing back in again. The breath pushed out of him, legs moving restlessly, the burn easing into a heat.

Wintras continued to lap at his lips, to rub their noses together. The thick shaft slid across that place inside him, sparking his entire body. He was making little noises, the pressure inside him pushing them right out.

“Hot. Tight.” Wintras’ eyes were so dark, the words whispers.

“Yes. Yes, hot…” He twisted, hips bucking, heat building inside him, hotter even than the bar’cha. Wintras nodded and moaned, moving with him, hardness pushing into that spot over and over again.

“I…I…” He turned to Furn, breath catching in his chest. “I feel.”

Furn nodded. “Yes. Yes, feel.”

Wintras moved faster. “Hot. So hot inside you.”

The room spun, the sound of moans and heartbeats stunning him, amazing.

“Take his cock, Furn,” moaned Wintras, hips moving hard and fast.

Furn ducked down, sucking him into tight heat, tongue moving over his flesh and he cried out, bucking, need pouring from him. Wintras shouted as his body went tight around the heat inside him, jerking and then filling him with even more heat. Oh. Oh, so much. So big. So hot. Furn’s mouth slid away and Wintras collapsed onto him, body covering him. He closed his eyes, panting, holding on.

Wintras licked lazily at his skin. “Mmm…I’ve been inside you now, Sartis.”

“They will be angry at you now.” He cuddled, enjoying the touches.

“Who?” Wintras seemed genuinely baffled.

“The bar’cha. They want me.”

“They can’t have you—you’re mine.”

“Yours?” He blinked up, surprised.

Wintras nodded, gathering him close. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Oh.” He smiled. He had always belonged to someone. Belonging to Wintras was warm and soft, good.

He glanced toward the door. The bar’cha couldn’t have him back.

Chapter Nine

Wintras lay in bed, idly stroking Zujan’s skin. Sartis’ skin. Or whoever the sorcerer really was. He didn’t quite understand it, how Zujan could be some sort of being made by the firefaeries who took over Sartis. Because Sartis was Zujan and Zujan was Sartis, but more.

It was going to give him a headache. And so were his zigzagging emotions.

Though to be honest, it was getting harder and harder to feel anything but need and want and…love for the pale boy in his arms. Oh, he still considered Sartis to be his, but it wasn’t a master/slave thing anymore. No it was a possessive, no one else can touch or have Sartis unless he allowed it, thing. Wintras had never felt that way about anyone. And especially not someone he hated as much as he had hated Zujan.