Page 22 of Hell's Secret Omega

He nods eagerly. He’d say anything to get Mezor’s cock inside him right now. “I understand.”

Mezor snarls. He withdraws, and Cyrus whimpers. Except he’s pushing back Cyrus’s legs, exposing his dripping hole. And finally,finally, that thick, perfect cock enters him. Ecstasy blooms. He shouts. The fire explodes into an inferno and he convulses around that perfect fullness as all the air leaves his lungs. Mezor begins to fuck him, long, driving thrusts that make him claw and howl.

“Scream for me,” Mezor snarls, pumping into him mercilessly.

“Yes,” Cyrus wails, unable to form any other words. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Even that word leaves him, and there’s nothing left but wordless joy and unimaginable pleasure.

Chapter 14

MEZOR

Cyrus’s heatrises in one long wave. To Mezor’s delight, he becomes louder and louder, finally reaching an ecstatic state at the very peak where all his delicious noises fade away to nothing but whimpers and twitches. This, somehow, makes Mezor’s primus preen more than all the previous noises combined.I fucked him into that state.

Cyrus is resplendent in heat. Mezor can’t tear his eyes away. He’s soft-limbed, his eyes glazed, clinging. All he does is whimper as Mezor pumps his hole with endless come. Inside his hole, Mezor’s cock pulses with the rhythm of the heartbeat surrounding him.

It’s perfection. It’s madness.

It’s beyond anything he’s ever felt in his long, long life.

He would knot Cyrus now, if they were mates. Instead he stuffs his proto-knot inside and maneuvers Cyrus’s limp form to lie atop him in the cradle of his legs, only half conscious. Every shift makes Cyrus’s eyes roll back and his body convulse weakly. He’s lost to his heat, totally unaware of anything else. Strange emotions flow over Mezor as he strokes Cyrus’s flushed face. An urge to comfort. To protect. He’s no naif, inexperienced in matters of body and soul. But the power of his urges stuns him.

As the wave subsides Cyrus falls into an incomplete state of sleep, rousing occasionally to squeeze and squirm until Mezor fucks him into satisfaction again. His eyes are grateful, but he says nothing exceptyesandmore. It must be overwhelming for him. This is his first heat experienced as it should be—with a primus to take care of his needs.

It’s beyond infuriating to picture Cyrus hiding in some crack in the Court as he suffers through this alone. Unable to feel safe. He practically melts any time Mezor tells him he’s good, worthy, and beautiful, and it gives Mezor the indescribable—treacherous—urge to lavish more praise on him. No vergis should have to be deprived of that.

His neediness hints at deeper fear, though. Cyrus has borne the entire burden of his nature alone. Not just his heats. He truly believed Mezor would hurt him for being a vergis—or worse.

Mezor knows what it’s like to be alone, but Cyrus is isolated in a different way. The very fact that a vergis could be born out of the Hellspring into this corrupted world is cruel.

His arms tighten around Cyrus, who sighs in his sleep and nestles closer.

This Cyrus is soft and pliant, so different from the prickly creature Mezor first met. But both sides of him are real: a flame needs to burn to survive when the world wants to extinguish it. Heat may make Cyrus sweet, yet deep down Mezor knows he’s been lured close enough to the flame to get scorched.

What does it make him, that he wants to feel more?

Cyrus’s heatrises to a second peak, then gentles. At the height of the King’s rule, when the Court was full to bursting with demon soldiers, Cyrus’s delighted cries would have drawnhollows and other demons to investigate. But this room is out of the way and the Court is busy with other concerns. Mezor can fuck him into wailing ecstasy without a single care for who might hear.

He’d gladly tear any intruders apart. He has enough coherent thought left to be relieved there aren’t any.

Sanity seems to return little by little. Eventually Cyrus is ready to be off his cock. The next time Mezor fucks him through a wave his squirming becomes tinged with discomfort, and his face screws up with an emotion that’s not strictly pleasure. With a pang of regret Mezor eases out of him when Cyrus has come. Cool air breezes over his wet length. He’s still hard, his cock ready to service. But he’s not concerned.

Cyrus will still need him until his heat fades completely.

To his surprise, instead of detaching, Cyrus slides down his body, still wordless. He nuzzles the base of Mezor’s cock and his eyes flutter closed. He doesn’t do anything else, hot breath gusting over Mezor’s swollen sac.Come-drunk. A vergis will want his primus’s come any way he can get it. If his hole is sore, his instincts must be shouting at him to drink from the source.

“Taste it,” Mezor prompts, fighting back the raw desire that urges him to take hold and guide Cyrus’s mouth where it belongs.

Those silver eyes blink up at him.

Ah.A hint of Cyrus’s previous fire glimmers in their depths. For some reason that more than anything makes Mezor’s chest pull tight with desire.

Then Cyrus’s mouth descends on his cock and all rational thought leaves him.

He roars as Cyrus sucks the seed out of him with ferocity. His come bursts across that lashing tongue and Cyrus shudders, drinking it down. Hands squeeze and pull his length, his balls, the faint prick of claws startling another pulse out of him.

He drags the little demon up his chest and pulls him tight with a snarl. Cyrus squirms against him. Mezor canfeelhis amusement.

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