Aiasthlyn

˚

“I would not stay away for long,” Malcolm assures me, speaking the blasphemy while he pulls his clothing from their hanging hooks. “No more than two weeks.”

He glances at me, seeking approval, perhaps confirmation. When he does not find it, an unease enters his gaze.

“This will come about anyway,” he continues, arguing with himself. “We are bound to separate as the war grows more threatening, and more clans are needed to join our side. It just so happens that this falls at a time when I do need to be away from you.”

The words sting where they should not, the burn of them searing across my chest.

“Not need to,” Malcolm hurries to correct as though he senses my distress or sees it, but neither can be true while my glamour remains secure. “It is just… for the best, considering.”

He looks at me again, gaze hopeful. He means to appeal to the sensible part of my mind, but he does not know that it has grown small and timid since our coupling.

I do not speak. There is no reason to repeat myself.

Malcolm slumps, fear and a certain type of pleasure I understand all too well cresting in his dark gaze before he continues his incessant packing. “I already told Lincoln,” he whispers regretfully. “He’s spoken to Kalem about it, and he understands.”

I frown as irritation pierces me. I loved Kalem dearly and understood that he grew fearful at the mere prospect of being separated from the one who saved him, even if that someone was a decrepit sack of maggots, but I was not like him.

I did not fear being left alone, and I never grew anxious from it. The restlessness that arose in this situation with Malcolm was nothing more than annoyance at having my pisen try to leave my side without my explicit consent.

If he asked reasonably, then I would consider it.

“But Kalem aside, and Lincoln too, after all we have shared and done, I would prefer not to live with bloodlust when I am with you,” he mumbles, glancing at me from the space he has put between us. I have closed it on many occasions throughout this day alone, but at every junction that he has been able to, he has brought it back. “Wouldn’t you?”

He looks at me again, seeking. I offer him nothing, and he groans openly.

“I do not understand why you are saying no!” He whines as he braces his hands on the seams of his bag. “Do you want me to suffer?”

“Not like this,” I dismiss, taunt really, because while I did enjoy watching my pisen beg for pleasure and attention, this was far different. “I do not want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Then why?” He presses, staring straight at me, as brazen as he has become in my presence. “Is it because I did not ask?” I stiffen. “Is that it?”

Malcolm peers at me, trying to uncover the truth of it, but such truths are hidden behind walls even he can not penetrate. He acts as though he does.

“Pyro,” he whispers, voice gentle and imploring in a way that forces my heart to quicken its tune as I watch my pisen crawl to me. It is a temptation and a clear attempt to derail my wits. It is a success. “Can I please, please go away for a few days, before I most definitely return to you?” He asks, eyes wide and bewitching as he gazes up at me beneath his lashes, though the hue of them bleeds the closer he gets to me. “Please?”

I stare down at him, unmoving.

This was what I wanted, wasn’t it? Was that not why such rage and indignation simmered within me at the prospect of Malcolm leaving my side? Why I resisted it so avidly when we both knew it was not a habit to be maintained?

It had to be, but he had asked it kindly, and still, the upset within me had not relented.

Perhaps it was because we had barely begun our coupling. It was supposed to last for feens, his body made an offering to mine, and I did itch to remedy that, in ways that left me permanently tense. But if that were the case alone, would I not have used the days since then to have him? Only one had passed since the morning he awoke with this cursed bloodlust, but that was one that could have been well spent inside of him.

I had squandered them, living with idle hands and a simple mind that declared ‘Malcolm would not leave’.

Malcolm blinks up at me, waiting for my answer.

It should be yes because I did not want my pisen to suffer an ailment, least of all one that made him distance himself from me, and a number of days apart was doable. Except it was not. Not by any measure.

“No.”

Malcolm groans, but I ignore the cry as I stride past him and find his baggage. I empty it swiftly, ignoring his protests just as I do my internal shame.

The reason why did not matter. I did not want my pisen far from my side, and so he would not be.

“Do not ask again.”

˚

Disobedience was not a trait I had glimpsed in Malcolm when I was learning him, surveying my pisen before I even accepted that that was what he was.

He was a sweet soul with an alluring desperation to please, and an enticing will to be demeaned. Add to that his mind, frame and natural disposition, and it was a wonder that I had not claimed him sooner.

But disobedient… Disobedient, he was not, had never hinted to be. And yet, such disobedience is what boils the blood in my veins and lures my mind to its most carnal of wants.

I watch him from the windows, unblinking, for I can hardly trust my eyes and what they show me. Malcolm, at the trunk of his vehicle, filling it dutifully with items that he means to take with him, because despite my words and my warning, he still means to leave.

Obviously, this is not right, so I take myself closer. At the doors of his transporter, the image is the same, only now he moves from the trunk to one of the open back doors.

Pebbles grind to dust beneath my feet as I stride across the lot, and Malcolm straightens from his car, eyes wide and panicked, even though he surely knew he would not have gotten away with this.

“Aias,” he begins, hands rising as he backs himself away from me. “You said I could not ask again, so I just did not plan to…” he does not finish, likely seeing the fury his words stoke within my eyes. “Okay. I know you said no, but—”

“But?” I repeat, cutting him off. “There is no ‘but’, no excuse or reason. You. Are. Not. Leaving.”

He crumples, head bowing in discomfort as if it pains him to resist. “I have to.”

“No, you do not. Lincoln is grown, and is competent enough to see his tasks through on his own.”

“No, he’s not,” Malcolm argues pitifully. “He has got his talents, but diplomacy is not one of them. That is mine. He needs me.”

And what of what I need?…

I barely keep myself from speaking the words, though they rest on my tongue, an accusing curse.

I had never needed for anything, or anyone, and I did not need Malcolm. I did not. But… he was my pisen. I found him, claimed him, and why was it now that he was mine, he did not want me to keep him?

“The bloodlust,” he reminds, somehow reading my thoughts. He takes a step back as his fangs gleam in testification. “I can control it, but likely only for a time, and as it is, it is… bothersome, and I would rather return to you mended than stay with you broken.”

“You are not broken. Never say such a thing,” I snap, and he smiles that wonderful smile of his. I feel myself soften where I should not.

Malcolm sees it and does the same. “I do not want to leave— you know that I do not, but…” A sadness finds him and binds him to its post. “Much as I would love to, we both know I can not stay at your side forever.”

What his words do to me is more cruel than he will ever know.

They are airborne lacerations that find my soul and burn it in places only he can reach. Breathing becomes difficult, and though I hide it, the pain is like nothing I have ever felt before.

He spoke in the present, about this moment, in this realm, but in doing so, he reminds me of the one after it— the one I had forgotten existed since we came together in his bed. The one I had been all too eager to forget.

“No,” I deny, both him and the future that suddenly scares me in a way nothing ever has before because it presents me without him.

“Aias,” he breathes, sad, but he does not know what he mourns. His visions spare him that.

“No,” I repeat, not daring to hear it.

He was mine now, and yes, I had not yet formed his claiming collar or placed it upon him, but I would have done so by now if he were not so anxious to leave my side. I would have been thorough in my coupling, in my claim, and such discussions of parting would not matter. As it stood, we had done the job in half-measure, and time apart would return me the sense to stop myself before I bound him to me, but—

“No,” I state, voice like iron. “I can manage you.” Malcolm’s smile returns to spread wider, and it is not mocking, but neither is it accepting. “You do not believe me?”

“I do,” he says, but there is hesitation. When he notices that I spot it, he sighs. “You are very strong, but we have never pitted our strengths and never will. Even so, I have lived longer, and should this bloodlust come to a point where I am thinking unclearly and overpower you—”

I laugh, the sound mad to my own ears, but I can not help it.

There are far too many points of conflict being discussed, far too great a mania inside of me in this enraging situation of blood and honour, and such doubt from my own pisen only prods at it.

I try to remind myself through it that Malcolm did not know the true inner workings of a pisen and pyro relationship, that he had no knowledge that I would not have been able to claim him if I could not manage him, bloodlust be damned, but such thoughts get lost in the swell of hysteria inside me.

I could keep him by my side, and would. He was mine, and that was all that mattered. Malcolm failed to see that.

A lesson was in order, one that had been promised since the first time he thought to defy me. It was only Malcolm’s misfortune that I must teach him discipline while my mind lacked it the most.

I have a hand on Malcolm before he even sees me move. His grey eyes widen, shocked and questioning, only now growing nervous as he senses what is to come, but it is too late.

I shove him into the open doorway of his vehicle and fill the space behind him. He tries to rise, but I have his hands pressed to his back with one of mine before he can get them under him.

“Aias,” he breathes, a shudder passing through him as his body already begins to give. His legs squirm for purchase, but I do not let him find it as I bring my free wrist to my mouth and tear the skin open with my teeth.

Malcolm stiffens for a moment, body like stone, before it comes alive and he strains against me like an oiled eel.

“Aias!” He snarls like an animal as he fights with all his might. “You can’t—”

I hover my hand above his back and watch from distant eyes as the blood dribbles onto it.

Malcolm screams my name, fangs gleaming longer than I have ever glimpsed them, while he strains beneath the confines of my body. He is not trying to escape now. He wants a taste—wants the blood.

It is denied to him, trickling down the indent of his spine instead, and for all his untested strength, he has no chance of besting me.

“I can manage you,” I repeat slowly, my voice no better than his. “But you have not learned that, and that is my fault alone.” I hook my bloodied fingers over his trousers while the others dig between his fingers. “I will remedy that here.”

The fabric tears when I drag it down.

Malcolm gasps, whimpering as I switch the hands that hold his so that my blood trickles between the grooves of his fingers. He keens, the sound tortured as my finger slips over his opening.

“Not wet this time,” I tsk, and though my disappointment is not true, I let him believe that it is. “Once together was enough for you?”

He shakes his head, I think. It is lost amongst his ceaseless writhing, but it is no matter. I wet my fingers with the slick already leaking from his hard cock before I sink the first inside.

“Ngh!” He gasps, hips twitching already.

“You were so excited before that you prepared in every way you could,” I muse while I work the finger in and out of his tight heat. “Now, you do not even bother.”

“No,” Malcolm whines, but I do not hear his protests as I drag my finger from him and slick another before pushing two inside. “Ahhh Gods!” He cries out, body bowing as pleasure and hunger begin to blur together. “Aias, ah— please. I-I’ll—”

“Spill?” I finish for him, and I can not help my laugh as I glance at the thick cock pressed against the leather between his legs. It’s already veined and swollen at the tip. “Yes, I know, Malcolm. It is all that you do well.”

The words could not be further from the truth, and he knows it, but even so, they burrow in and nudge against that corner of his mind that prayed to be abused, and he clenches around my fingers as pleasure erupts inside of him.

His cock strains and twitches, but while nothing more than the clear slick spills, his insides tremble, hole pulsing tellingly around my fingers. I ignore it, working them deeper and spreading them wide, ignoring his button inside.

I had made him spill tirelessly upon our first coupling. This was not about that.

This was a matter of discipline.

“A-Aias, please,” Malcolm begs, tearful now as the blood paints his back red. It is more than I have allowed myself to spare on any occasion, and in a setting like this, it should disgust me.

It does the very opposite instead.

Each time Malcolm shifts, prods a new line into his strong back, my blood pours into the space, shifting and breaking like a river’s paths until it is a mosaic.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, body nowhere near giving, but I hear panic in his voice, as though it finally dawns on him that he can not escape me. “I am sorry. I should not have— ohhh Gods!”

The third finger ruins him.

It forces him open for me, and not as sweetly as it had for his first time. I am rougher with him, impatient and angry, and he feels that in a way that leaves his cock bucking between his legs.

“Agh… I-I’m sorry…” he sobs, but never once does he ask me to stop. “Just let me have some,” he begs, delirious now. “A-A drop.”

“You shall have none,” I state as I slip my fingers from him, releasing him in the process. “If you do, you will never feel my touch again.”

Malcolm’s fingers freeze mere inches from his lips, the declaration reaching his ears just in time.

They tremble where they hover. He trembles, restrained solely by the tether of my words that bind him like invisible chains.

I stand still as I watch him, not because I doubt that he will let hunger best him, but simply because there is nothing nearly as beautiful as watching him fight against his very nature to obey me.

Malcolm stares at his bloody fingers, eyes blood red and glowing, made burgundy by the underlying grey. It seems a tainted version of natural hunger, more carnal. It makes his efforts all the more enticing.

My Malcolm fights, still not daring to move as his fangs poke his bottom lip to draw out his own blood. Even so, he does not dare give himself a taste.

“Good,” I praise while I undo my trousers’ ribbons. “Very good, pisen.”

Malcolm’s fingers drift closer, as if tempted by the praise, but he is quick to wrench them away from himself. He forces them upon the leather beneath him, and grips them tight until they tear.

Heaving, he tries to contain himself, but blood and sex surround him from all ends, his very own torture chamber. Even so, he does not make any effort to escape. He keeps his stomach plastered to the leather, and his legs spread open from me.

My perfect offering.

My smile is wide and sinful as I pull myself out of my trousers with a hiss and stroke myself with the slick that has seeped through the front, never once parting my gaze from my pisen.

“Say if you want this to stop,” I tell him as I bring my cock to his opening. “Otherwise, do not move.”

I press inside, slow only for the tip of me, but the second his tight bud opens for me and lets me in, I sink the rest of the way inside in one smooth thrust.

“Agh!” Malcolm gasps, hands scrambling now for purchase while my body unwinds within the pleasure of his heat.

He is as tight as he was before, tighter because of what the blood does to him. It almost hurts. It is mostly heaven.

“Aias,” he whimpers, trying to crawl from me even as his hole convulses around my length and his cock drools between his legs. Still trying to leave me.

I grit my teeth, but swallow my rage as I set my hands upon his hips and take what is mine.

—————

Malcolm

˚

Aias pounds into me, hips snapping against mine without mercy or break.

“Ugh! Ah! Ngh!” I moan, trying to hold on, but he will not let me. Every time I do, he drags me back to him and drives deeper.

His cock rams against my prostate, forcing pleasure to swell before my eyes relentlessly. It has long passed overwhelming. It is all-consuming, and he strives for more.

He fucks into me, and I writhe beneath him, feeling another orgasm rising even though the one before has only just passed. I claw at the car, body straining, but Aias does not let me escape the pleasure of his cock, or taking it while I’m still covered in his blood.

“Look at you,” Aias coos cruelly, his tone a touch condescending. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

The sound that slips past my clenched teeth is feral, pained, but the only pain I feel is how good it feels to be forced to cum on his cock again.

Aias’ hands slide back to my waist, gripping it tight while he fucks into me. I see stars, jostled beneath him and spread open with nowhere to go and no option besides taking it until he is through with me, and he is nowhere near through with me.

Spittle escapes my teeth, drool sliding down my chin, and I’m not sure if it’s because of the blood pooled before me or the cock punishing my prostate.

It’s a gift. A fucking gift, and I do not dare take it for granted as he spreads me open and forces me to take it.

“Leaving,” Aias spits, and his hand falls over my ass hard.

“Ahh!” I scream, lurching forward, but the hand that wraps around my throat forces me back onto his cock.

“As though I was done with you,” he grits, his anger teeming again as his fingers tighten. Blood drips down my neck from them, and my hunger caves right where his cock punches into me. My eyes roll as I clench around him. “As though you do not need this.”

Forcing my hips down, Aias fucks into me from above, thrusting into my stomach and driving my cock against the harsh leather that’s wet with my cum and his. I can’t wait to lick it clean.

It’s too close— his blood, his desire, his anger. It surrounds me the same way sex and lust fog the car, bombarding my mind with all that is him and nothing else.

I strain for it, fangs exposed, but Aias keeps me reined in, trapped beneath him.

The car’s interior blurs, jostled by each cruel and perfect thrust of his cock that fits inside me even better than before. I thought our first time had been perfect— bliss— but this… this is everything.

I try to meet him, try to rock my hips back, but my body has become Aias’, and he’s not ready to let it go.

His cock is perfect, reaching deep inside me after stuffing me full, over and over again. I relish every inch, every thrust, every damned second.

“Cumming,” I hear myself whisper, breath hitching as pleasure shudders through me, warning me of what’s about to happen again. “Aias. I-I’m—”

He leans in close, answering my call and flooding my world with the scent of him, his sweat, sex and blood.

“You think that I do not know?” He asks, voice deranged. Fear shivers through me, but he casts it out with another truth. “You think that I can not feel your hole clenching around me, desperate for more even though you already have it all.” He groans against me, hips never relenting, and I sob as he kisses my cheek. “Malcolm, I know. So stop wasting your breath and make me do the same.”

A piece of my mind shatters before he even shoves my face into the leather and rises from me. He drags me back out of the car until my feet touch the ground— I had not realised how far he’d forced me inside— and it doesn’t matter that I can’t hold myself up. None of it matters cause Aias is fucking his pisen, and it will not stop until he says so.

I cum.

Groaning, sobbing and blubbering as though I’ve been electrocuted, I cum. I claw at the car, tremble and cry out for the Gods, and all the while, Aias keeps pounding into me.

“Salacious,” he whispers amongst words I do not understand. “Grossly indecent.” His fingers press bruises into my hips. “What do they call them in your realm? Ah yes— a loose slut.”

Shame furls within me, but it hardly rivals the warmth that pools inside before I try to spread my legs further apart.

Aias groans, tilting his hips back to watch. “Realms,” he curses, hips slowing for a moment as he stares at where his cock slips from my hole and fills my rim. “Suck it.”

I am burning alive and shaking, still cumming in places, and it only worsens as he nudges his tip in and out of my rim, stretching it and leaving me in a state of bliss.

A hand falls to my ass again, harder than before, and it takes many gruelling seconds where I just cum on his cock head before I find the strength to clench my hole around it.

I see stars, and they burst before my eyes as Aias spreads me open and squeezes my abused flesh.

“Suck it until I spill.”

I think I’m in heaven.

I never thought it existed, never dared to hope, but I know it is real and that I am in it, because this. is. heaven.

Twitching and surrounded by the blood that mocks me, I suck Aias’ cock with my hole, clenching and unclenching, tilting my hips where I can to invite it deeper before I lead it back out.

“Just so…” He praises, slurred. “Do it just so, Malcolm.”

I obey, can not imagine doing anything else, while I lead him slowly, so slowly to the edge he’s already thrown me over so many times.

When it comes, building gradually, Aias’ breaths pick up, his hips hitch with effort to remain still and then—

“Shun…shun… Dear Ythene, aghh!” He moans, long and low as his cock spills into me, filling me right at the rim, and at this angle, it all pours inside. “Blessed Light!” Aias curses as I keep sucking him with my hole, and he keeps cumming. “Take it. Take it all.”

I do, whining as he floods my insides. There’s so much that I start to feel full. Aias makes sure that I am as he sinks his cock inside, still cumming, still filling me with it until my legs are trembling beneath his and the world is a haze of red and greens that I can not decipher.

When it’s over, cum trickles down my legs the same way blood does my neck, but I can not think of having either as I lie a grateful pisen beneath my pyro.

“Fuck,” Aias breathes from somewhere in the clouds before he slips from me. Cum gushes out, pouring with nothing to plug it, and he lets it, to my disappointment. “Do not move.”

As if I would dare.

He palms my ass, watching my hole empty itself until it stops. He grunts and drags me out of the car.

I fall to my knees, body limp and yet soaring. I turn to him, mouth already opening.

“No,” he says, laughing as he does, and where it hurts, my cock grows harder. “Clean up your mess, pisen.”

He turns me back to the car, to all the cum dripping out of it.

“But do not dare to taste my blood.”

My stoned heart drops, pitfalling only to rise again as I slink forward. I want both, want them so bad that I start shaking once more, but Aias said no blood, and his threat is still large in my mind.

I start at the edge of the seat, licking all his cum up in long, precise lines, whining gratefully as I do. My cock bucks between my legs, but I ignore it as I show my pyro how good I can be.

The sides are the easiest, but the inside, where my cum pools amongst spots of his blood, my mind frays.

Fangs aching, I glance back at Aias. He stands sentry at my back, his large cock heavy in his hand.

I want it back.

Licking my lips, I force myself back to my task and rise on shaking limbs. I tremble as I lap my cum up between blood lines, skull pounding as I avoid the treat so close that Aias denies me.

It takes forever, and it’s torture and glory all at once, but the moment I’m finished, I’m put on my side and rewarded with his cock again.

I ruin my hard work immediately.

“Ohh,” Aias half coos-half chuckles as he watches me now beneath him, cock spurting against the inside. “That is a pretty sight.”

My skin flames and I cry out as Aias slides a hand around my cock, stroking it loosely.

“Such a beautiful mess you are, Malcolm,” he whispers with pity. “You see it now, don’t you? How you truly work— what you need, and what I alone can give to you?”

I nod, delirious and lost to the perfect fit of his cock as it bullies my prostate.

“Tell me.”

“I-I see-see, Pyro,” I whimper, and he groans his approval.

“But you will leave and act as though you don’t.”

I shake my head furiously, unable to imagine such a thing— I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“You will,” he denies me, and my body revolts against that, but then he is fucking me rough and deep, and I forget how to make sense of anything as the world blacks out.

It fades with everything that is not Aias and the pleasure he drowns me in. I sink into it and do not surface, not until an invisible thread drags the shattered pieces of me back together.

When it’s whole again, the first thing I notice is that I am empty, gaping and lying on my back. The second is that Aias stands above me, stroking his cock.

I stare at him, at the muscles that strain beneath his skin, at the blood that lines his arms and the glimmer of magic that warbles over him, flashing glimpses of fury and anger and want beneath.

It is a gem I treasure as I push my hips back and wait.

“Realms,” he curses, and then he’s cumming all over me.

It is as much as he had filled me with before, and I offer my tongue just in time to catch a dollop while he coats the rest of me with his cum, claiming me. I do not touch myself, don’t move as I lie on his happy canvas, delirious and ready for more, but Aias doesn’t offer me more.

Instead, Aias stumbles back, and sweeps the hair from his face. He wears a frown and a glare above it while he dresses himself, neither of which softens as he picks me up. He is gentle with me, but that is all that is gentle as he walks us back inside.

I blink hard, trying to clear the haze of pleasure to think so that I understand why he is so angry.

It is slow going, too slow, for by the time my memory does bring sense to me, he’s already resting me within my stoned bath. I remember then his words— his denial, and it is a pitfall in my stomach.

I shake my head, dread and horror building, but he ignores me.

“You will go,” he says with mock calm. He’s too tense for it to be real, the air far too charged. “That is your punishment.”

My heart drops. “Ai—”

“I have decided it,” he snaps, and his eyes flood with opulent gold as he turns to me. “Just as you did.”

Guilt and regret muffle me, but it is too late. I had only wanted the best for us both by insisting that I leave, but as he had shown me very clearly, no matter what bloodlust tried to demand of me, Aias’ hold on my soul was far stronger.

I was his— his pisen. My body attested to that, just as it knew that he was my pyro. We should not be apart. The thought of it now made me almost nauseous when before it only troubled me, but it is too late.

Aias is too angry to change his mind now, and whether or not either of us wants it now, I am leaving.

——————————

Aiasthlyn Kethlana…

He turned that man every way but loose, well actually, he did that too lmfaoooooooo

Thoughts???????

Thoughts on the smut??? On Aias showing us all he can do and fuck me… Malcolm you lucky son of a bitch.

When he said ‘that’s a pretty sight’ lawddddddddd TAKE ME NOWWWWWWWWWWWWW

I hope you enjoyed the smut, I really really do! Vote and comment if you did! 

Next up is OMEGA, but catch sneak peeks of Chapters beforehand on my Patreon/website!

Until next time,

Byeeeeeeeeeee Humansssssssss