Page 36 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

As if they both didn’t know Baz relished the pain just as much as the pleasure.

Baz was too under to speak, simply staring up at Emile with his tear-streaked, flushed face, panting softly, his tongue slightly swollen from the clamp. Emile finished with the wax and turned him over, setting the knife aside on the bedside table and not giving Baz any time to prepare before he removed the clamps from his nipples. Baz cried out after the first one came off, arching up, reaching toward Emile but not touching.

“Hold onto me,” Emile ordered, fingers hovering over the second clamp, his own hair disheveled and hanging in his face. “Keep your eyes open. I want you to see who is hurting you.”

Baz moaned again, fingers immediately going to Emile’s shoulders as he dug in tight to the muscles there. Emile removed the second clamp and Baz arched up, trying to press his face into Emile’s shoulder.

“Please, please,” he begged in Morrey—that word, Emile knew.

Emile shoved him down again. “Move up on the bed, Bazyli, we’re not done yet.”

Bazyli did, moving up so Emile could get to the clamps on his balls. “You’ll take this for me. If it hurts, I want to hear it, Bazyli.”

It definitely hurt—Baz wasn’t the type to exaggerate, if Emile didn’t earn a scream, he didn’t get one—but he was thrashing after Emile removed the first clamp, sobbing after the second. Emile watched him, edging into topspace as Baz grabbed at the bedding and said over and over, in Morrey and in their shared tongue, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Not quite yet, I don’t think.” Emile stood and tossed the clamps aside, reaching for the oil. “But you will be, very soon.”

Baz didn’t sound sorry when Emile finally slicked up his cock and pressed inside, but that was all right. Emile grabbed him by the throat as he fucked him, squeezing slightly as he set a punishing pace, driving Baz up the bed with every thrust.

There were times Emile could make it last, fucking Baz to the edge for both of them, then pulling back and watching him writhe about and curse, swearing at Emile, desperate and aching. This wasn’t one of those times. The buzz of topspace and the desire to make sure Baz knew he was Emile’s was too much, and he was on the edge of orgasm in what felt like seconds. He pulled out and knelt over Baz, and he didn’t even have to say a word for Baz to tip his head back, showing his throat as Emile stroked himself off and came all over him.

Emile dragged his fingers through the mess he’d made, letting his breathing go back to normal as Baz licked them clean. They were both quiet as Emile pinned his wrists to the bed, shifting so his thigh was pressed up against Baz’s hard cock. “Go on, get yourself off.”

Baz moved beneath him, wanton and eager, making soft little sounds of pleasure and pain as he ground his erection against Emile’s thigh.

Emile watched him, no less intense even though his dominance was much quieter now, and his emotions no longer so volatile. “The clamps still hurt, don’t they?”

Baz managed a nod, shivering, hair in his face as he rutted against Emile’s thigh. His wrists were warm in Emile’s grasp, and he was alive and lovely there, seeking his pleasure with the marks of Emile’s dominance worn proudly on his body, like a crown.

When Baz asked to come, he did so in Morrey, and Emile made him ask again in their shared language. It was halting and heavily accented, but understandable, and Emile said, “Yes, go on, you may,” and then kissed him a bit gentler this time, as Baz bucked hard and came against his thigh.

He was pliant, messy and thoroughly debauched when Emile pulled away. He was a mess too, more than usual, with his hair completely out of its queue and his pants unbuttoned, shirt sticking to his sweat-dampened skin. He stripped, then took the cuffs from Baz’s ankles and snapped his fingers, pointing to the floor.

Baz slid off the bed without a word, and he knelt. He pressed his forehead to the floor, which he almost never did, and was clearly a sign of how thoroughly Emile had put him in his place. He smiled, reached out, and gently tugged on Baz’s braid. “Good boy. Let’s have another bath, shall we?”

He didn’t even need to tell Baz to crawl. Baz did it, following him once more to the bathing room, silent as he made his way into the bathwater and, without prompting, into Emile’s lap.

Emile held him there, stroking a hand over his back, finally settled. “Now, you may apologize,” he murmured after a moment, turning to kiss Baz on the neck.

* * *

Baz almost laughed. He did smile, though, leaning into the kiss almost lazily. It was nice, to be allowed idleness, the excess of pleasure that came on the heels of pain. He’d never been truly under before Emile, and it still felt like an indulgence to let himself be so open.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, wrapping his arms around Emile’s neck. “I wasn’t thinking. I’ll do that, next time.”

“Next time, you’ll tell me first.” Emile had that slight crease between his brows, like he wasn’t quite certain Baz had learned his lesson after all.

“Yes. That requires thinking.” Baz kissed the furrow in Emile’s brow, and Emile made that amusing sound he always did when Baz was, as Adrien liked to put it, so sentimental I might be sick. That was all right. The gods knew they both needed it, in their own ways, despite the fact that Emile liked to pretend he wasn’t disgustingly sentimental even when he was drawing his initials on Baz’s back in wax. “You aren’t allowed that level of excitement again,” Emile said, working his fingers through Baz’s hair. He tugged every now and then, in a slow rhythm, and Baz draped himself over Emile like a contented housecat. “No abductions. No ransoms.”

“The next time someone tries, I’ll tell them,” Baz said. “But you were almost dashing, running to my rescue.”

“Almost?” Emile pulled Baz’s hair, tilting his head back so Baz had to meet his gaze. “Almost?”

“Well, Hex and I had already saved ourselves, so it ruined your dramatic entrance somewhat.”

“You’re right,” Emile said. “It did. Apologize for that, too, while we’re at it.”

Baz smiled. “I’m terribly sorry.”

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