a/n – I implore you to read this alone 🙂

——

Aiasthlyn

˚

He will not stop shining.

It is almost offensive how bright he is, how handsome he is. How his wide smile and vibrant eyes have made the venue fight to keep its meticulously laid shadows in place, how all eyes stray to him whether they wish to or not, because he is too alluring to allow for anything else.

He had not been so when I first arrived. He had been dulled and sullen, sunken into himself, which I suppose was a twisted match for my own state after a journey spent berating myself for my continual weakness.

Never mind the fact that I had known that I would pursue him from the moment he left, my inability to resist him was a failure I loathed to keep repeating until… I saw him.

My pisen made small by his disappointment— by the disappointment I had cast in him.

The sight of such a tragedy had gotten rid of the regret and the guilt, and that was long before he saw me and had glowed.

My eyes survey him now, refusing to leave him be while he speaks ardently with Wequie. The topic of discussion has long since eluded me, though I do listen with one ear, noting their rambles about modern-day trends, but that is all I can manage when he remains so wonderfully close.

I had meant to sit myself beside him and do nothing more, and to my credit, I had succeeded in that pursuit. But then Malcolm hesitantly shuffled himself closer and waited a minute more before he risked tucking himself against me. He was stiff throughout it, as if he suspected I would push him away, as if I still possessed the strength to.

I did not, so it was no surprise to me when my hand found itself settled over his thigh, fingers warming his supple flesh. In short order, his soon settled over mine, his fingers slipping between the spaces of my own.

Then, his legs lifted themselves and slotted into place over my lap, and I naturally slid into place around his waist to help him closer. It was little wonder then how, when he next shifted, I fixed him onto my lap, where he now sat, a perfect weight on my cock that was steadily testing my self-control.

It was him, of course, but also his attire.

Malcolm had not left the house so.

He had left in familiar clothing, not the tiny, fitted excuse of trousers that ended mid-thigh or the meshed top that teased me with an unencumbered view of his nipples.

I had only to look at the incubus at the start to know that he was to thank for the change, or to blame, seeing as it meant that it left me fighting aimlessly against my baser instincts.

If we were in his home, I would have already had two fingers stuffed in his hole, stroking moans out of him that would spill onto my tongue, but we were in an unfamiliar space, and despite its mood, Malcolm seemed truly intended to socialise, and I was not selfish or perverse enough to disturb that. Yet.

“Oh, Aias does not like that,” Malcolm suddenly declares as he turns to me, only to startle when he finds my gaze already fixed upon him.

He did that a lot as of late— the startling, but I did not understand what else I was supposed to look at.

“What is it that I do not like?” I ask while I shift my legs and bring him closer.

Malcolm ignites, his entire body flaring to life as his head snaps down bashfully. “Lemon in water,” he replies, quietly, and I grunt my affirmation, though I do not understand how that is what they’ve chosen to talk about in such a setting. “See?” He says to Wequie, who continues to stare at us like a starving feline.

“But it’s refreshing,” he manages to counter, and Malcolm shrugs.

“Aias treats it like blasphemy.”

They carry on, speaking about the most random of subjects that I try my best to follow, though I soon suffer the same fate of losing all my senses to the treasure seated in my lap.

Ythene, what was I doing?

I should be with Kalem, or learning more about him and his origins, starting with how he had ended up on this planet, not…

Not staring unblinkingly at Malcolm while my mind undressed him where my fingers could not, and my heart pursued the impossible task of seeking out the tune of his.

It was a lost cause, but that did not stop it from trying.

“Oh, here’s our chance!” Wequie perks up, forgetting their latest ramble as his stare remains focused on something across the room. “Let’s go.”

He is up in a heartbeat and so is Malcolm, the two of them locked into their impromptu mission.

“Oh, no,” Malcolm whispers when I try to follow. “I have to talk to that woman.” He glances over his shoulder and I spot the human women in lace Wequie is already strutting towards, but I do not know which he means or why it should stop me from going as well. “A bit of business, first, then fun, remember?” His gaze is imploring, even as he gently pushes me back down while he remains on his feet. “Stay here, please?”

My lips part, but nothing slips past them as Malcolm backs away, a plea rampant in his eyes until he pulls them from me and dashes away after Wequie. He checks twice to make sure I remain where I am until he reaches his target and adorns one of his prettiest smiles.

Dumbly, I stay where I am.

The list at this point was assuredly exorbitant, the one that showcased all the ways I had proved myself inept and nowhere near as selfless as my people thought me to be, but here it finds the space to grow.

To think, an entire civilisation could crumple should one, too-kind vampire look at me.

I stare after him, watching how he talks to the woman in black with a compelling mix of confidence and nervousness that I am sure is true, but well used to his advantage. Malcolm was brilliant like that.

They start with introductions, with Wequie leading the way, but when they find somewhere to sit and delve into a proper conversation, blood becomes the subject. Malcolm gains more confidence then, not so shy because he knows what he wants and how to get it, and when it is clear that he is flying as he was always intended to, Wequie parts himself from the group.

I expect him to find a partner or several in this establishment to entertain him while I watch over my pisen, but strangely, the incubus makes his way back to me.

“I was only meant to introduce them,” he explains the moment he is close enough for it. “He is fine.”

I frown at him beneath my glamour, but keep my tone plain. “I did not say that he was not.” I pause. “I did not say anything at all.”

Wequie’s already curled lips spread wider while his eyes glitter with mirth. “Of course.”

He drapes himself over the opposite end of the arched couch, crossing his legs to leave the shining plane of his oiled legs on full display. When I saw him last, he wore something far more formal with a loose tie, shiny shoes and tights, but now he wears heels, lace, and nothing more, but it suits him like everything seems to.

“It’s good to see you again,” he muses while he surveys me. “It would’ve been a shame if the last time was the only time.”

I stare at him, giving nothing away while I try to read him. 

It was usually all too easy to tell what a person was thinking or what they wanted, but Wequie was shrouded in an ever-churning field of chaos that proves to be its own camouflage.

He beams as if he is well aware of this before he shifts his gaze back to Malcolm. I do the same, glad to leave it there, but then, he chooses to speak.

“He didn’t think you were coming, you know,” he says, his tone disturbingly chipper. “He was pretty beat up about it.”

My chest tightens, but I share nothing beyond an emptied stare when I return it to him.

He does not meet it, still looking forward while he sits with his toothy smile. “I thought I’d have to spend the whole night cheering him up, but then you appeared and…” he leaves his thoughts to speak for themselves as he nods his head towards Malcolm.

I do not need to look to know, but I do so anyway.

He is still shining, somehow more so now that he is positioned directly beneath one of the venue’s golden lights. His smile is brilliant, his aura a shimmering specter, and it captures me in the very way it captures the woman he speaks to, and all else who seek out the angel in our midst.

He is a beacon, beautiful by design, and the mere implication that my presence could bring out such light is simply wrong.

“It’s not nice seeing him sad, is it?” Wequie’s voice threads into my ear as though it comes from my own mind. “Especially when it’s so easy to make him happy.”

My gaze snaps back to his, a threat burning in them that bypasses my glamour, but his are already waiting with a venom that opposes his now disturbing smile.

“But you showed up,” he muses as he blinks sweetly at me. “You made him happy, and now you know how to keep making him happy.”

Keep showing up

The words flood my mind, but I am not sure whether it is from my own volition or his. I knew the capability of incubi and thought myself properly equipped to fight them, but the longer I hold Wequie’s gaze, the more uncertain I become.

It hardly mattered though, because the sentiment was true whether it came from him or me— in order to make Malcolm happy and keep him so, all I had to do was be there.

That was it.
No more, and no less, because tragically, it was astonishingly easy to make Malcolm happy when it truly should not be.

He was a pisen, a creature to be treasured and adored, and the very purity of his spirit should lead him to demand equal greatness from those around him, but somehow, Malcolm demanded nothing.

Malcolm made do with so little and rejoiced where he was offered a morsel more.

Others would want treasures or assets, physical proof of devotion, and while my spirit has already begun aching to present the same to him, Malcolm made no signs of wanting such things. He took it where it came, but Malcolm only wanted company.

He did not want to be alone.

In another life, in another setting, if I were only here on my own accord, I would give it to him.

I would spend days on end at his side, how he wished to spend them, I would lavish him with the company he sought and more, create gifts and riches that did not exist because only those unimagined would be good enough, and I would only grow selfish when it came time to take care of him.

There would be none of my current hesitation or resistance. I would have already taken him in full, ten times over.

I would already be well acquainted with his body, have already made a nest for myself inside of him, but I did not come here by my own means… this was not another life but the one we lived, and… it was a sin to give Malcolm even a portion of the little he sought.

“Ah.” My gaze snaps back to the incubus still watching me unblinkingly. “That will be a problem.”

“What?” I snap as I test my glamour. It is still there, and yet Wequie gazes at me as if he sees through it.

“You are like him,” he determines with a growing frown. “You’re thinking about all sorts of things— the most likely future, what you can have, what’s best and possible, and—” he stops in favour of rolling his eyes. “You are the type to think of everything but what you want.” His lips twist to the side as he peers at me. “You’re not selfish.”

My lips part, confusion swirling in my mind.

Of course, I was not selfish.
I was a king, the Protector of my realm, a brother, a son, a—

“Malcolm needs someone selfish,” Wequie clarifies with both disappointment and hope. “He needs someone who will be selfish with him.”

I stare at him, and he stares back at me, but I can not find a single word to say.

I want to tell him that I am selfish when it comes to Malcolm, that I do not want to be, but that I already am. That it is for that very reason I can hardly sleep at night when I hold him because I should not be so close to him, that I should not even be here and yet I am, because Malcolm makes me selfish.

But the words stick on my tongue like the rest of my truths because to release any of it would be to choose Malcolm over my crown, over my realm, and its safety, and that, I am not selfish enough not to do.

“Hmm,” Wequie hums, the final note to our conversation before he looks away. Within the same moment, he abandons his frown and replaces it with an eager grin as Malcolm rushes back over. “How was it?” He asks with the utmost glee.

“Amazing!” Malcolm reports, beaming. “Better than amazing. She’s on board, she knows the risks, but she knows if she does not, we’ll find someone else, and she wants the money.”

“Money leads the human heart,” Wequie sighs, but he lifts a hand that Malcolm does not hesitate to smack. Despite the blatant assault, they both grin at one another good-naturedly before Malcolm looks to me.

His smile falters for the first time as his brows tug in. “Is everything okay?”

“He’s thirsty,” Wequie replies before I can. I meet his gaze and find his cunning eyes smiling back at me. “You should fetch him something as an apology for leaving him here with me.”

Malcolm perks up, the mere notion of doing such a thing seeming to excite him all over again, but he does not move as he gazes at me, seeking permission.

It is a cruel gift after Wequie’s words.

He needs someone who will be selfish with him.

I nod, and Malcolm glows, heat engulfing his face up to his ears, before he turns and disappears. The moment he is gone, I turn to the incubus and ensure that he sees me as I am.

“You will not repeat any of this to him,” I state, and it is not a request.

“You barely said a word,” he retorts, curiosity glittering in his eyes. “I did all the talking. You just glowered in the corner and looked absurdly hot.”

“Not a word,” I repeat as my magic simmers beneath my fingertips, and he stiffens.

“Okay…” he replies slowly, though he is frowning now, and I am glad for it. It was hard enough dealing with Malcolm’s intuition. I did not intend to put up with it from another. “Maybe you are selfish.”

I glare at him, and he grins, but before I can speak another word, Malcolm appears in the space before us with a thin, stalked glass filled with a cloudy white liquid.

“Here,” he says, holding it out proudly. “I think you will like it.”

Rangling in my ire from the incubus who had stirred it, I take the glass from my sweet pisen and whisper a thanks before I take a sip of the drink.

My eyes widen in surprise. They flick up, and Malcolm’s smile stretches wider. “It has lemongrass,” he says proudly. “I knew you’d like it.”

I was not familiar with the word ‘lemongrass’, but the flavour was familiar to a plant home, often used in teas, but this was a refreshing version of that. I drain the drink in seconds, all the while peering at my pisen who shifts readily in the space in front of me.

When I finish, he does not ask to take the glass from me and set it down on the low table before our arched couch. He shifts again, eager, ecstatic, and trying his best to hide the bulge pressing against his thin shorts.

“Thank you, pisen,” I whisper, and Malcolm shudders as if I have just bathed him in honey. “Come here.”

I spread my legs, the gesture obscene even in this place, but I want him back in my arms, his weight back on my cock. Malcolm, however, either does not understand or misinterprets my invitation because he slots himself back into the space beside me.

His grey eyes meet mine once he’s settled, still buzzing with his excitement, but there is a silent longing there that is the only thing that soothes the offence at him choosing to sit anywhere other than where he should have.

My hands find his waist and grip them tight as I lift him back onto my lap, though this time, I leave him facing the rest of the room. I bring his back to rest against my chest and lean back with him. 

Malcolm pants as I slide my hands over his hips and between his thighs to drag him further back, until my straining cock is nuzzled right against his firm ass.

“I want you here,” I whisper against his neck as I thrust up against him.

Malcolm moans softly as he pushes back, grinding against me until I am forced to return the sound. I mouth his neck while I rub his open thighs. He shudders against me, and I murmur my approval before I pat his cock. “Good… pisen.”

He whimpers, legs shaking where they bracket mine, but he keeps them open. My lips twitch, and I can not hide my pleasure as my glamour vibrates beneath his skin. I want to wrap it around him too, to cover him with my magic, but I do not want to hide him, not like this.

I keep him close instead, nuzzling his neck, and Malcolm melts against me. Greedy, I palm his cock, only just stopping myself from slipping my fingers beneath his tiny shorts.

Soon, but not yet.

“You secured your means for blood?” I hazard while I breathe him in. He smells like a fresh rain spell.

His head bobs against me, but it’s a while before he can find his words. “Um, yes. She will work with us.” He swallows thickly while his head drops to watch how my hands slide over his thighs. “I-It will make things far easier in the future.”

I nod, though I’m barely paying attention, and then paying none at all when he fists his hands and forces them to either side of us to restrain himself.

My heart hammers within my chest, its tune loud and telling, but my glamour quiets it, leaving my untamed desire a secret.

“Gods, I’m about to buss,” Wequie moans, and it is enough to break us both out of our daze. I glance at him and find the incubus shamelessly palming himself through his clothing. “That was a warning ‘cause we didn’t go over safewords, but keep going and I’ll be there.”

“Wequie, we are not doing safewords or anything that requires them with you,” Malcolm chides though his tone somehow remains gentle and understanding.

The incubus pouts, jutting his lip out and everything before he sighs heavily and slithers upright. “I guess that is my cue. I’ll go jerk off in a corner or watch you from someone’s cock.”

I blink slowly, sure I have not heard that entirely right, but he is already sauntering away, heels clicking in his wake.

“Incubi,” Malcolm chuckles in way of explanation when it is only the two of us left in this corner of the establishment’s debaunchery.

I loved nothing more than when I had Malcolm to myself, but as he twists himself to peek at me from under his lashes, I suddenly wish the incubi had stayed, if only so that I had a reason to control myself.

Malcolm licks at his lips, teasing me with that pink tongue, before he parts his lips. He hesitates, gnawing on the bottom one for a moment, but then spits it out. “I am done with the work part of things. That was it.”

I raise a brow. “Is that so?”

He nods quickly, eyes twinkling with hope as he peers at me. “Yes. There is nothing left to do, but…” he swallows, skin heating to my eyes once more.

“But…” I encourage as I lift my hips and grind my cock up against him.

Those plump lips part to free a soft moan, and my soul suddenly strains beneath my skin to take advantage of him right here. 

I always pictured having him in the safety of a space familiar to him, alone, but would it be so terrible to sink my cock into him in a place like this?

“I thought we were here to ‘be’,” I whisper against his cheek. “Is that not what you wanted?”

“I w-want whatever you want,” he whispers when he is able, and his stormy eyes are already clouding with lust. “Anything you want.”

My fingers tighten around his cock while I try to rein myself in. “You give me too much power over you, Malcolm.”

I should not tell him that, for the chance that he might take it away, but I could not leave it unsaid when he looked at me with such open devotion.

“Maybe,” is what he whispers when he replies, “but—” he pulls from me, and my fingers tighten until he smiles softly at me, “I’m not leaving.”

My chest eases, the pressure relenting enough for me to loosen my grip.

Malcolm widens his smile as he carefully pushes himself up onto his feet for the sole purpose of turning around. He gazes down at me, wearing scraps for clothes. He is a dream come to life that I can barely appreciate before he is climbing back on top of me.

“But…” he whispers again as he slides one leg over me and then the next so that he is straddling me on his knees. I suck in a breath, and he releases his as he settles himself back over my cock with a happy sigh, “…you make me want to.”

“Malcolm,” I whisper, and it is a warning, curse and plea all in one as he slides his fingers into my hair and over my scalp.

My eyes grow heavy, but not enough to deny me my view of him.

He gazes down at me, smile soft and yet so desperate as he rocks himself over my cock. “…I would give you anything.”

A fire burns within my lungs, blazing through my systems as I gaze up at him. My pisen.

“I wish you would just take it,” he whimpers as he grinds his cock against my stomach, desperate and aching. “I wish you would just take me.”

My hands settle on his hips to help him while I gaze up at him. My mouth remains shut, but in my mind, I tell him that I want to, that I want nothing more, but I had already said that enough times not to risk it now.

Malcolm still frowns as if he wanted to hear it anyway. A hint of a pout slips upon his lips, but then he glances down at himself and the two of us, at the abstract shape made in the space between us, at his straining cock and mine, and his pert nipples that escape his top. And he blushes deeply.

“Embarrassed, even in a setting like this?” I ask as I watch him burn.

Malcolm remains quiet, but there is a wet spot forming against his shorts. I smile as I slide my palm over it and squeeze tightly until he whimpers for me, buckling enough to rest his head on mine.

“Is this why you faced me? You did not want to see how others might look at you when you are like this?”

He nods but then shakes his head, unsure, and how decadent uncertainty was on a creature like this.

“You do not know, pisen?” I ask, and he shudders against me, eyes falling shut long before I abandon his weeping cock to slide my palms around his waist and over his ass. They dig into the ample mounds of flesh and spread him open until he moans. “They can still see you.”

“Aias,” he whines, hips jutting forward to provide his cock with friction.

“Should I let them see more?” I whisper as I palm his cheeks, spreading, tugging and kneading them until he is shuddering in my arms. “Should we show them how much your greedy hole can take?”

Malcolm cries out as he spills, and then there really are people looking at us, at him.

It surprises me how much I like it, how much I crave it as others watch him release in my lap, because of me. My glamour vibrates around me, but I do not let it hide us as Malcolm travels through his orgasm, wringing out each second until he slumps against me, spent, but I am not finished.

I find his cock and fist it until he is sobbing in my arms, and my fingers are drenched in his cum, then I tug down his shorts enough to shove a finger inside.

Malcolm bows and keens, crying out and filling the entire room with the sound.

I stare up at him, my Malcolm, and I do not dare breathe until his wet eyes find mine again. He clings to my shoulders, tears welling in his eyes, and I memorise the painting he makes before I wreck him.

I slip the digit out and slide another in, shoving it deep and finding the button inside of him that makes my pisen’s eyes roll. He moans again, and I lick the sound from his throat as I work him open.

“They’re watching,” I whisper against his neck. “They’re all seeing what you are.”

“Ngh! Ah!” Malcolm moans as he trembles, struggling to keep himself upright, but I wrap my free arm around his waist so he has nowhere to go while I work two fingers inside. “Aias! Ah— f-fuckkk!”

“Do not make me do all the work,” I growl as I bite his neck. “Show them how good you are.”

Malcolm does not hesitate, and he does not let embarrassment slow him.
He fists my shoulders and works his hips back, fucking himself on my fingers until he is crying and teasing my cock with the press of his.

“Blessed Light…” I groan as I watch him work, watch him lose himself to the pleasure.

Malcolm rides my fingers while he stares down at me through slitted eyes. They’re warm and seeking and when I do not shutter my own longing, a happy smile spreads across his lips.

“Master,” he whispers, almost silently, but I hear it. His cheeks flame, and he works his hips faster. “Wanted… to call you… master.”

My body ignites and chills, a confusing mix of emotions erupting inside of me as I stare up at him.

Master, in his world, was not a word used right. It was what they tried to make me call them, what they trained Kalem to call them. It brought back a myriad of terrible memories and anger, but when Malcolm said it…

It was so close… so terribly close to what every pisen called their other half.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpers as he slows himself. “I tried not to,” he huffs, cheeks burning, tears welling again, but not from pleasure. “To not want this with you, but you just…” he stops himself with a deep breath.

“What?” I ask, chasing the answer even knowing I should not.

Malcolm shakes his head and closes his eyes, still now and panting as he fights against his tears.

I sit up with him, and press my head to his, connecting us here as though we are not already joint, souls bound. “What, pisen?”

“You’ll leave,” he whimpers, and my heart shatters within my chest.

“I will not,” I promise, freeing my fingers from inside him to hold him closer. “I can not.” Malcolm clings to me, clawing at my skin until it almost tears. “Tell me, pisen… please.”

He sobs, but he answers me because he is everything good in this world and the next. “You…y-you feel like home.”

I close my eyes like his, and breathe in deeply.

Behind them, tears fill my own eyes, but I am too weak to free them like him, to even let them see the light of day. I stay as I am, not breathing, not moving, only clinging to my pisen the way he clings to me.

“Don’t leave,” he begs, voice breaking, and I hold him tighter.

My glamour wobbles around me, and I stop fighting it as I wrap him and me in my magic to keep all sound and witnesses away as I give him yet another part of me.

“Pyro,” I whisper against him.

Malcolm stiffens. “W-What?”

“Pyro, not Master.” Regret and guilt will find me soon enough, but I do not let that stop me because I am every bit as selfish as Wequie thinks I am not. “Call me, pyro, as I call you pisen.”

Malcolm shifts back to look at me, and if I had not already chained my heart to him, the way he looks at me certainly would.

“…Pyro?” he whispers tentatively, hopeful, and as he says it, a pocket of my magic slices itself from me to go to him, never to return.

It wraps around him, a thin veiling glamour that would mark him as my pisen to any with eyes to see, to protect him, keep him, and also hide our secret, for while I would hear pyro, others in this realm would hear master.

“Yes,” I whisper as my heart floods, filling itself with joy I do not deserve as Malcolm’s wobbling lips begin to lift. “Say it for me again, pisen.”

“Pyro,” he breathes, and I mould my lips to his, kissing into his mouth and wetting it myself. He whines into my lips and wraps his arms around me, hugging me tighter.

“Good… Good pisen,” I praise, and he trembles from head to toe.

“Pyro,” he moans, and I have barely the sense to keep breathing as I turn him and lay him down on the plush couch.

Malcolm wraps his legs around me and does not let go as he claws at my back as if he is trying to crawl inside of me. His hands from my bottom and force me against him, rocking us tightly in the same motion I would soon use to drive my cock into him.

“You have to,” he whines against my mouth as he breaks from our kiss to let me breathe. I allow myself a single gasp before I take his mouth again. “Aias… you have to.”

“I will,” I groan. We both know I will, but I just want him like this now.

“You will?” Malcolm asks, breaking again to look at me, and as I glare at him, he at least looks apologetic. “Sorry, but…” he fights his smile and fails, “you will?”

“Until you can not keep me out,” I vow as I shove his shorts down along with mine so that I can grind my cock against his hole, wetting it with my slick. His eyes bulge, and he moans as he spreads himself open, wanting more. “But not here, pisen.”

“Home?” He asks quickly. “When it’s just you and me? When we’re alone, r-right?”

“Yes,” I promise as I draw close to kiss over his brows. He closes his eyes, and I kiss those too. “I can’t… not here and not tonight.” A whine crawls up his throat to strangle my heart. “I can not like this. I have to be gentle, and I am not… tonight I am…”

Ravenous is the word that comes to mind as I draw back to watch the way my twitching cock nudges against his hole. If I were to press in just a little, I would be able to shove inside, but then I would not stop, and Malcolm deserved better than lustful rutting.

Malcolm stares down at us too, watching with eyes that glow as my cock nudges at his opening, wetting it. He looks wonderful wet.

“You are so beautiful,” I murmur as I look at him.

His eyes dart to mine, and his lips part, but then his gaze grows dazed, distant.

I stiffen, forgetting all about my lust as panic arrests me, but then a drowsy smile is pulling at his lips and his eyes focus on mine again. “You will,” he says, and this time, it is not a question.

It takes only a thought to understand.

I drape myself back over him, bringing us close as I stare into his eyes, chasing the vision for myself. “You saw it?” Malcolm nods, smile growing wider as he drags me closer. “Tell me.”

“Us, in water,” he whispers, voice reverent as if he is telling a tale and not our future.

“Water?” I check, and he nods quickly.

“Like a river,” he replies innocently while my heart lurches.

I did not even allow myself to think of Malcolm near a river, let alone in one with me.

“What else?” I ask, suddenly desperate to know.

Malcolm grins at me before something devilish warms his gaze. “You want to know?”

I frown despite the dark pleasure that sifts through me. “Pisen…”

“Pyro…” he replies.

“Shun,” I curse and then moan as his hand slides between us to wrap around my length. I hiss and thrust into it, groaning when I slip through his tight fist and nudge against his hole. “Tell me.”

“I was on my back, on the bank,” he pants while he strokes me, eyes locked on mine, “just like this.”

“Mhmm,” I hum. Of course he would be. I would need to see him take my cock.

“You… you were in the water, or your legs were, and—” my cock nudges his hole, and he whimpers, “you are so rough.”

“How rough?”

“Made me cum on it,” he moans, body trembling, “I kept… cumming on your cock.”

“Malcolm,” I groan as I thrust faster, pounding into his slippery fist.

“You would not stop,” he whimpers as he peers up at me, “and you kept dragging me back to you.”

“You were trying to get away?”

“No. Never,” he vows, hearts in his eyes. “It just wasn’t enough.”

I curse and find his lips, licking and biting into them until he leaves his mouth open for me to do whatever I wish with, which is… terrible, because then I am sucking on his tongue and stealing his saliva just to slide it back into his mouth.

“Malcolm,” I chant his name. “Pisen,” I can not stop.

“Please,” he whines, and it is all I need.

I spill, groaning loud and long as I do, hips stuttering into his tight fist as I paint his hole with my cum. Malcolm moans and follows suit, spilling all over himself yet again, and I can not look away even as my vision whitens.

My hips do not slow until I am empty, but I do not let myself slump, not yet. I am not done.

Malcolm releases me and holds himself open, already ready, and shaking with anticipation.

I swipe my fingers through the mess I’ve made of him and groan as I push it inside. He whimpers, eyes rolling as he takes it.

“Pyro,” he whimpers, and I shove the rest in, suddenly too hasty to take my time as I usually would.

I shove all my seed inside of him, pushing it in and watching as he comes undone. I paint his insides with my release, driving it as deep as I can and Malcolm, my sweet Malcolm, spills again when it is all inside.

While he pants, shuddering as he comes down, I cover him with my body, keeping two of my fingers stuffed inside, and I kiss him softly until he is crying again.

“Next time, I will not need my fingers,” I promise, and he smiles so brightly at me, I forget about the shadows.

What I do not tell him is the one thing I know I should.

You feel like home too.

–—————

…they’re crawling up the ladder of my favourites ahhhhh

Thoughts?????

Thoughts on the talk with Wequie??? MAlcolm being adorable??? The smutt???

I was super on the fence about the smut here even though I knew it had to happen. Before I wrote the chapter, I was like, isn’t this too soon, but I can’t police my characters, especially the needy slutty ones.

What I will say, these two are dirty and sexy, but they keep having the most emotional smut it fucks with me, especially from Aias’ POV cause we see everything he hides ughhhh

Wequie is suchhhh a real one I love him to death, and love seeing him talk to Aias

But that’s all for now! I hope yall enjoyed! Like and comment if you do, and get all sneak peeks on patreon or my website for the Gold Tier!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeee Humansssssssssss