Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“Just a little,” agrees Drake in a tiny voice. “Mostly wanting you to try out being a blood boy. I think you’ll like it.”
“You’re not helping,” Kyle throws over a shoulder, causing Drake to shrug and resume picking at his nails, then returns to Elias. “I didn’t mean to disrespect what we have.”
Elias closes his eyes.
Kyle feels a flicker of calm inside Elias that pierces through the stubborn nothingness. Then another flicker. Then a splash of something warm and happy, like love, compassion, empathy.
It’s confusing. “Babe?” Kyle tries again.
“Maybe he needs a trial run,” suggests Drake.
Kyle sighs. “Please, stop making this worse.”
“I don’t think I am.” Drake rises with grace from the floor, comes up to the foot of the stairs. Elias’s eyes are on him, wary. “Wanna know how it feels? To be a blood boy? Have you ever had any teeth in you other than Kyle’s? I’m gentle.”
“Drake,” warns Kyle.
Until he feels an unmistakable drumming of passion within Elias—a cautious, complicated, but certain desire in him—that causes his body to stay rooted to the spot, watching Drake with wary frustration, his jaw tight, his muscles stiff. Drake seems to sense whatever it is that Kyle does, because he reads it as an invitation. He takes Elias’s hand, studies it, then brings it to his lips, where he gives it a soft, experimental peck. Elias does not appear to object. Then Drake moves to the wrist. And then the forearm, up and up. Elias’s eyes are glued to him every second, his face nearly angry, eyebrows tugged together, his lips pursed. Drake does not look away from Elias as the trail of gentle kisses lead up his arm, up to his shoulder, then toward his neck.
That’s when Drake stops and peers at Kyle.
As if asking Kyle for permission, rather than Elias himself.
Or perhaps he knows he already has Elias’s permission.
It surprises them all when Kyle takes Elias’s other hand.
Elias’s eyes flash as he stares at his boyfriend, parts his lips, lets out a short, jagged breath.
Kyle places a kiss on the fingertips, then takes hold of his boyfriend’s arm with both hands, lifting it, then slowly draws a line of kisses up his forearm, across his bicep, reaches the other side of Elias’s neck.
Elias doesn’t move. Doesn’t protest. Every cell of his body vibrates with anticipation. But within him is a battle of what he should or shouldn’t allow, should or shouldn’t give in to.
Kyle brings his teeth to Elias’s neck. Drake does the same.
Kyle doesn’t need to see Drake to know when his teeth sink in. He feels it through Elias’s all-telling body and heart, how it gives away Elias’s secret thrill, the way he craves being objectified, being used, being turned into just a piece of meat, at the whim of others’ desires.
Kyle and Drake’s secret pleasure in tasting becomes Elias’s in being tasted.
Elias is against the wall by the stairs suddenly, sandwiched by Kyle and Drake, being bitten on either side of his neck. His eyes have rocked back as his breaths come shorter and quicker. His lips hang open, forgotten. Chasing an instinct, Kyle drags a hand down Elias’s firm, tensed body, down the material of his tight ribbed tank top, then his fingers curl under the crotch of Elias’s jeans, cupping his fast-hardening dick.
When he hears his man’s sighs turn vocal, he knows he’s struck gold and starts massaging him.
Then Kyle feels Drake’s fingers slide over his own, joining him in cupping Elias’s crotch. The two meet eyes across the landscape of Elias. “Is there enough for both of us?” asks Drake coyly, coming off the neck. “I think so,” agrees Kyle tentatively. The clear omission of asking Elias his own opinion only aids in exciting him more; he’s just a toy for Kyle and Drake to enjoy, and any pleasure he feels is entirely at their discretion.
Their fingers curl tighter over Elias’s crotch, rubbing him deeper, squeezing him and massaging him. Elias’s dick grows harder, flexing against their hands, desperate to come out.
As if coordinated, Drake and Kyle move their teeth to a new spot somewhere on either shoulder. Elias groans, hisses out some word no one understands, then another, as two sets of teeth sink in again. Soon, it isn’t just biting, but a combination of the men licking, biting, and sucking, over and over, and they aren’t always synchronized. Elias’s heart jumps each time a bite comes unexpectedly. Then he’s soothed by the lick of a tongue. Back and forth and back again, flames of Elias’s arousal burn and swell without end, an orchestra he can’t control, conducted by the unpredictable lips and teeth of Kyle and Drake.
Then his words take shape. “We can’t … We have to …” He doesn’t want it to stop. But obligation is starting to fight its way forward. “We can’t do this right now. We have to—”