Page 15 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

“Keep going,” he said, sweaty and wrecked and somehow insatiable. “I can handle it.”

* * *

Devon was so beautiful when he broke.

Sebastien pressed him down into the bed, fucking into him with increasing fervor, enraptured by the way Devon was still clinging to him, clearly overstimulated and still begging for Sebastien to fuck him more, harder, deeper–

And Sariel, whose form was beginning to soften into the edges of the darkness that surrounded them, but whose hell-bright eyes were still fixed on them both, watching, wings flared as if sheltering them from a storm. Feeling his demon’s cock against his own…even the thought of it pushed Sebastien closer to his peak.

Devon’s body was hot as a furnace as Sebastien fucked him deeper, his own breathing ragged and sweat stinging his eyes, hair sticking to his face as he drove mindlessly toward his own release. He felt a scratch of a talon on his arm, Sariel trying to touch him, and when Sebastien came, his vision went white and the world trembled around them. For just a moment, he thought he saw what was really in the room, like a flash of lightning brightening a dark sky, an endless, vast void, but it wasn’t a room, not really, it was—a tunnel?—

The image faded as his pleasure ebbed, and when Sebastien blinked his eyes open, he was on top of Devon, panting harshly into his shoulder while his body shook through the last of his orgasm. Devon was still clinging to his shoulders, nails digging into the muscles there. Sebastien didn’t mind.

Devon’s face looked relaxed, the tight muscles of his jaw loosened and the furrow in his brow completely gone. He looked younger like this, and when Sebastien kissed his damp forehead, Devon slowly opened his eyes. They were soft, unfocused, and the way Devon drew him closer, not seeming to mind the mess or that Sebastien was still inside of him, told Sebastien that Devon had finally gone under.

He gently withdrew and sat up, glancing around. The room looked the same as it had before, endless and dark, but he noticed the bedding beneath them was no longer soft, and the shape of the bed itself was beginning to tremble at the edges as if it were trying to dissolve. Sariel, who was more a shape in the dark now than a corporeal figure, said in a soft hiss, “I would return, Host. My power dims. It takes much, to make myself a cock and use it. This is why you sleep when it is done.”

Sebastien gave a soft laugh and stood, stretching, and found his clothes were folded neatly at the end of the bed. He pulled them on, and reached out a hand to help Devon up. Devon swayed but didn’t try to dress, clearly wanting to kneel, and while Sebastien wanted that, he knew they’d have to leave this room first.

Sebastien readied himself and opened his mouth, and Sariel drew back inside of him to rest.

“What does that feel like?” Devon asked, drowsily, when Sariel once again dwelled within. The doors were open now, the light of the hallway softly beckoning, and Sebastien took Devon’s hand to lead him forth.

“Like swallowing smoke, I’d say,” Sebastien said, as the doors shut behind them. “Scented smoke, perhaps from a clove. It used to hurt, but as of late, it only feels…” He thought carefully how to phrase it, “full.”

“Ah. Like I was.” Devon smiled, which was always easier for him when he was under.

“Yes. Did you like that?” Sebastien glanced around the corner, making certain no one would see Devon. since he was naked. When he was certain the hallway was empty, he led Devon back to their rooms and straight into the bath.

“I did,” Devon said. “It was…a lot. I needed it, though. Thank you. Both of you,” he added.

“Of course. We will always take care of you, Beloved.” Sariel’s voice was weak, but the echo of it was there.

“I know you will.” Devon leaned on him heavily, then watched as Sebastien stripped once more and turned the taps on to fill the large, sunken bath with hot, steaming water. He sat on the edge, wincing only slightly when the water swirled around his feet, and Sebastien joined him there.

Together, they were quiet as the bath filled, the water just hot enough that it burned a little. The room filled with thick steam, so by the time Sebastien turned off the taps, it was warm enough to make them both sweat. The hot water was still a little uncomfortable, but after a few moments soaking in it, Sebastien found himself used to the temperature enough to go underwater and wet his hair.

Host, Sariel complained quietly, abandoning words for a series of hisses and clicks that Sebastien assumed meant don’t do that, I don’t like it.

The moment he resurfaced and sat on the bench, he found himself with a lapful of Devon. He smiled more when he was under and he was more affectionate, and Sebastien ran his hands up and down Devon’s back as he clung to Sebastien, face buried between his neck and shoulder.

“So that’s what it was like,” he said after a moment, pulling back to look at Sebastien. He was still relaxed, but his gaze was beginning to sharpen again. “When you took people to the room, for the knife.”

“No,” Sebastien said softly. “It was nothing like that.”

Devon shivered on top of him. “Do you miss it?”

“Do I miss what?” Sebastien blinked, breathing in the thick steam, enjoying the way Devon felt on his lap, naked and wet. “The knife? No. For as much as Sariel used to enjoy it, it was quite the…production. All the screaming, the useless begging. And no matter how much I bathed or how meticulously I cleaned up, blood is the very devil to get out from under your fingernails.”

Devon stared at him. “I don’t know why I just found all of that attractive.”

Sebastien gave him a sidelong smile. “Because you’re a mess, Devon.”

Devon huffed, but he kissed Sebastien and moved off his lap to grab the soap. “I don’t think I mean that. Or I do, but I don’t think I could have watched you. Even with him, my—Lord Chastain.”

“No, probably not. But it doesn’t matter, beloved. Your father is dead, though not by my hand and certainly he didn’t suffer enough, or for the right crime. I have far more enjoyable things to do in the dark room now than flay a man alive.”

“It’s hard to imagine you that way,” Devon said, and he was washing Sebastien with the soap instead of himself, so he must have been relaxed. Devon wasn’t much inclined toward service, even under. “Hurting someone and enjoying it, when you’re so careful not to do it to me.”

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