Page 83 of Devil May Lie

Revered by some.

Tolerated by others.

A necessary evil, all would say.

But wanted?

The Butcher was wanted, and Berga just so happened to be the Butcher, but if the title was stripped away, no one would hold on to him.

No one would need him.

Was this his chance? Was it real?

Berga lifted long enough to wrap his arms around Madden’s neck, pulling him back down with him so their faces hovered close together as the Mad King took him. “Call me whatever you want,” he breathed against his lips, “boyfriend, lover, it doesn’t matter.”

“What matters then?” Madden asked, and it was clear from the way his voice tightened that he was close.

“Become obsessed with me, Mad King,” Berga said, exposing himself in a way, making himself vulnerable. “Prove it’s as you say. That you want me, no matter how dirty or filthy I can be. Prove you’ll never leave, and I will never hurt you. No matter what becomes of us in the future. If we decide to end this, or—”

“Enough.” Madden kissed him, roughly, his tongue flicking into his mouth in the same harsh claiming motion of his hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me start by proving just how much I like you dirty. How sexy I find you when you’re covered in spunk and my load is leaking from your hole.”

He bit down on Berga’s bottom lip, not bothering to be gentle.

A burst of copper hit his tongue, but before he could panic that there was blood on him, Madden pressed inside of him and pumped his fist and then he was falling.

The orgasm rocked through Berga, making him forget all about the bit of blood as his vision winked in and out and he screamed Madden’s name, writhing on the bed. He tightened around that intruding cock and felt the moment the Mad King joined him, a rush of warmth exploding against his insides.

He lost track of time, had no clue how long they stayed like that, spasming in each others arms, but suddenly Madden was lifting and pulling away. Berga made a sound of protest, opening his eyes to frown up at him.

Madden merely chuckled, settling back on his haunches. Then he trailed two of his fingers through the mess Berga had made on his chest and brought them to his mouth. He sucked on them, that smile never wavering. “You taste fantastic, baby. Like sexy sin. Tell me, Berga. Tell me we’ve settled it between us. Swear that from now on, no one else gets this taste but me.”

Berga found himself nodding before he’d even fully processed the command, already so eager to agree with the way Madden was looking at him.

Like he was precious.

Like he was coveted.

“Only you,” he whispered, and when he held out his arms and Madden immediately fell back into them, he felt that last prickle of uneasiness dissipate within him.

* * *

“This is going to sound crazy,” Berga’s voice cut through the mostly dark. The two of them had cleaned up and gotten ready for bed and were now lying side by side. “But do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

Madden laughed next to him and then rolled over, tossing an arm around Berga’s waist. He didn’t pull him in or try to cuddle, merely left it there so there was some contact and otherwise kept to his side of the bed. “You’re funny, Butcher.”

“What’s your aversion to shirts anyway?” He’d always been somewhat curious.

“They make me feel stuffy.”

“That’s it?”

He seemed to consider it more thoroughly and then said, “My mom is really strict with us at home. She’s on the High Council and runs Odell Holdings, while my dad works on the board at Void Tech. Appearances have always been super important to them, and when we were younger, Rebecca and I weren’t allowed to dress however we liked. It was always a three-piece suit and tie.”

“You look good in a suit,” Berga stated.

“I look good in everything.”

“How modest.”

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