Page 7 of Devil May Lie

Madden hadn’t been aware that his aversion to bodily fluids meant all bodily fluids. He’d actually been under the impression the guy simply didn’t like to get blood on him. If he’d had to guess, it would have been because blood was a bitch to get out of clothing, but now…

Wait. That wasn’t the most important thing at the moment.

“Excuse me?” Madden quirked a brow. “How exactly are you envisioning this going, Butcher? Because I’m a top.”

“Switch it up for the night.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Trust me. In a minute, it won’t matter how you get it so long as you do.”

“If that’s the case, then I can say the same back to you,” Madden countered.

“I’ll care,” he insisted. “The bottom has to be lubed up, and that means more fluids leaking everywhere and potentially contaminating the environment. Hard no.”

“Something’s hard, but it isn’t that.” Madden grabbed onto Berga’s sheathed dick, not bothering to be gentle. Annoyance was prickling at the lust he was feeling as the drug flooded his system, drowning out rationality. All of the reasons for him not to do this—and not to harm a member of the Satellite—went out the window.

Clearly Berga wasn’t in his right state of mind either, because he barely resisted when Madden spun him around and shoved his face down into the middle cushion of the couch. The man was big, but Madden was a bit bigger, and more importantly…

A lot stronger.

He held him down with a hand at the back of his neck while the other slipped between his cheeks and felt for his puckered entrance. The second his middle finger pressed against it, Madden felt his balls tighten, his vision momentarily winking out as need coursed through him.

“You don’t want messy lube?” Madden asked, barely recognizing the low, gravelly sound of his own voice. “Fine. Then we’ll go without.” He stroked himself again, coating his fingers in precome before returning them to that tight entrance.

The first one was a struggle to get in, both of them cursing as he worked it into Berga’s resisting body. He felt around once he’d fully inserted it, then pulled out and pressed in two at once.

“It burns,” Berga growled, trying to turn. The taut muscles of his back and shoulders were as tightly strung as his hole, and he shook some, almost as though his entire being was vibrating.

“Give it a second.” If not for the guy’s aversion to blood, Madden wouldn’t even be bothering with this step. It was his fault they were in this mess in the first place. Tearing through him, making it hurt, was what Berga deserved.

And yet…

“I’ve always prided myself on being a good lover,” Madden said, and even he couldn’t tell if that was an excuse or not. He added a third finger, the grip around his digits still too tight for his cock to fit in comfortably, but at least he’d worked him open somewhat.

It was going to have to do, because even though he’d successfully kept Berga down until this point, it was clear the Butcher was growing more irritated and could soon break free.

Madden pulled his fingers away and took his cock, lining himself up with the Butcher’s virgin entrance, rubbing himself against that spot until they were both moaning and a gush of precome slipped out of his slit to wet the area.

“You drugged me,” he held Berga still when the man started to struggle and attempted to straighten off the couch.

Actions.

Consequences.

This might not be so bad after all. He’d never tasted Brumal before, too keen on keeping the peace. It was twisted, but he also kind of liked the idea of taking it from someone who’d never had it from behind, especially if that someone was as pretty and deadly as Berga Obsidian.

Juxtapositions. He’d always been such a sucker for those.

Madden folded himself over Berga’s back so he could reach his ear, no longer able to contain himself as he gave in to the overwhelming lust. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

The Butcher's scream as he tore through him with his cock was almost loud enough to drown out the pounding of his heart racing in his own ears.

Almost.

Chapter 2:

Madden wasn’t exactly Berga’s type. They were about the same height, though Madden had a more polished appearance than he did. He was fit, but not bulky, with short hair that changed from burgundy to deep purple depending on the lighting. He was fierce on the racetracks yet poised in an office setting. A dual nature he could flip between with ease.

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