Page 36 of Natural-Born Cullers

Gray eased back a moment later, and a touch dragged down Jack’s side with it.

“I’d never hurt you.” Such a dark smile touched his lips as colour filtered back into Jack. “Not unless you ask me to.” A number of items lay at his side, and Gray picked up the water-based lube.

“But youhaveasked me to… right…?”

Jack groaned as Gray ran a distracted brush of finger at Jack’s inner thigh. Then he reached for a long, clear cylinder and lubed up the inside. Lube slicked Jack’s cock a moment later.

Jack jolted against the cold touch, but the sounds were adulterous: the slick of hand up and down his cock came so slowly, sometimes stopping to palm his head, all done so tenderly but with a sly intent to tease Jack through any shock ofnoplaying his cock. Gray played his own at the same time, at times working them together, and Jack became as transfixed as Gray.

Jack started to thicken, to groan against how his body reacted to Gray’s touch, doing what was natural, when Gray burned in other ways, only wanting…unnaturalplay.

Gray eased the cylinder down over Jack’s tip, and Jack stilled, breath held as it settled down his shaft. Two sleek black tubes ran over his thigh, and as Gray eased back, the flick of a dial came and—

Jack groaned, then dropped his head back to the bed and screwed his eyes shut as the milking machine kicked into life, gripped around his cock, and started to stroke. It made the milking painful with what he’d already taken, and he groaned and twisted against it for such a long time. Jack tried to refuse the pleasure, to somehow dislodge it. But there was no getting out of how his body reacted, to rush with a heat that wanted to drain. Jack growled and stretched against the milking, back arched, his cock straining for more despite trying to force himself to not take more and be forced into the land of dry heaving cocks.

But it was still… routine for Jack. Still… natural play, still…

Tick… fucking tock.

Gray needed unnatural.

Brushing a hand down the back of his own cock, he eased back and picked something up off the bed, and despite the milking at his cock, Jack went deathly still.

No.

Jack shook his head. His secondnocame so clear and mumbled against the gag.

And there it was.

Drip… fucking drop.

Break point.

About seven inches long, the bamboo strip he held looked like an odd mix between bamboo sprout and barbed wire. With just two knots, one towards the end, the other farther down the slim stem, spikes were shortened, but….

No.Jack started to shake his head as Gray dragged the end over Jack’s upper thigh, just slightly.

The spike broke skin, and Jack arched his back, echoes of knife-play playing havoc with his head, let alone his body. And more… his body cried how he just wanted… more.

Christ. His body rose up into Gray’s—and Gray lost himself in the heat for a moment, leaning down to lick at the gathering drip of blood. Then easing down on Jack, his cock rutting against Jack’s balls, the tug at Jack’s cock off the milking machine teasing his own—Gray kissed Jack.

They were back to sharing blood in the heated mix of tongue on tongue despite the gag in Jack’s mouth. Gray fucking loved every taste, how it mimicked, then owned how they always shared the same cigarette in the backdrop of stress, how Gray twisted that routine as he held Jack down by the wrists, body in a rough bump and grind on Jack that only drove madness into Gray’s body.

Jack groaned, choked a little—then he was all heat in the kiss, in the rush of being cut, tasting, feeling… living—full-on loving the shared blood and heat.

Gray grinned as he moved back between Jack’s legs. Jack followed his every move, and as Gray picked up a thin tube—eased the barbed bamboo inside the tube—Jack’s eyes went wide.

Drip… fucked-up drop.

The shake of head came again.

No.

Gray shivered into the control, how he controlled every reaction of Jack’s. Then he hitched up the speed on the milking machine, and Jack threw his head back, his groans deepening at the distraction. Jack knew it was a distraction, because as Gray slicked his ass with lube a moment later, he was back to shaking his head, pleading no.

That stunning… no.

Gray leaned down and licked at the blood running his thigh again—then the thin tube he held touched Jack’s most vulnerable access point. Jack’s grip on the cuffs strained as he tried to writhe away from Gray’s intent. Then Jack arched his back as Gray eased the tube inside him, bamboo knots in tow.

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