Page 72 of Blinding Light

His body was ablaze, eyes itching with burn. It was hard to see clearly.

“Whatever will happen, remember you’re mine,” Moargan rasped, and it nearly felt too much. Cyprian’s lips closed around the thick crown of the Imperial’s dick and he sucked the precum into his mouth, moaning when he was welcomed by more of the sticky liquid. It tasted divine.

Moargan brushed a hand through his hair and sighed in contentment as he watched him moving up and down Moargan’s shaft.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Make it nice and slick. Take as much of me as you can.”

Cyprian took him deeper until he gagged, then pulled off and licked his way around the shaft and head, before diving in again. He loved Moargan’s flavour and the texture of his erection.

“We’re here,” Vandor stated.

Cyprian jolted, having forgotten about the audience, although they technically couldn’t see them with the large opaque window in place.

Moargan pressed his head down. “Not yet. Finish what you started. Show me who you belong to.”

Cyprian reached out to fondle Moargan’s balls, gently playing with them in his palm while he put his mouth back onto Moargan’s cock.

Vaguely he registered that the car had stopped, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now. Now, everything was about making Moargan come. Moargan grunted and his hold on Cyprian’s hair tightened.

“Keep it inside your mouth, lover,” he rumbled. And then he came with a hoarse grunt, his entire body shuddering as he emptied himself in Cyprian’s mouth.

“Show me,” he growled, and he pulled Cyprian back onto his lap. “Show me how you swallow.”

Cyprian opened his mouth, showing the white, sticky substance of Moargan’s come, before swallowing it down. Moargan’s gaze fixated on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed, before he flicked his amethyst eyes to the corners of Cyprian’s mouth, to where Cyprian’s tongue was swiping away the remainder.

Moargan grabbed Cyprian for a lewd kiss, humming when he tasted himself on his lover’s tongue. His thumb brushed Cyprian’s lips, making Cyprian shiver.

“Fucking perfect.” Then he slapped Cyprian’s ass. “Now, let’s go. See who’s out there for you, littleaeon.”

19

Nothing about this place reminded him of his dreams. Of his interpretation of what his family’s home would be like.

A butterfly roof, a stone skeleton, large bay windows…

This place was run down. The entire neighborhood was. The streets were littered with empty food bags and bottles, with homeless people.

With misery.

“Are we in that same northern neighborhood as I ended up in the other day?”

Moargan nodded as he laced his hand through Cyprian’s, pulling him in close. Behind them, Vandor and another Luminary guard followed in silence. “We are. Zephyr only has one slum since we prefer isolating our low class in one, designated area.”

“Ouch. That seems—cold.”

“Maybe.” Moargan led the way over the pavement, where groups of people were dotted around, openly eyeing them in curiosity. “But at least we know where our most troubled population is. It makes it easier to manage them.”

They reached a crossway. On the corner of each street stood more Luminary guards. Cyprian was surprised to see so many. How many people signed up for the Luminary? He remembered Enzo, Archer’s friend, mentioning that enrolling in the Luminary gave his family better housing. As they passed them, he couldn’t help but be fascinated by their stoic presence. They just stood there, like a wooden doll. Anarmed, wooden doll, that was. On their belt, they carried a variety of spike-shaped items he didn’t want to know more about. “Is that how you control the people here? By scaring them with soldiers?”

“Absolutely.” Moargan pulled on his hand and suddenly they stood in front of the entrance of a council estate. “And because there’s a murderer out there. Now, come on.”

Vandor opened the door for them and they went inside.

“Here it is,aeon. Second floor.”

From the outside, the building looked old and crumbled. But inside the place was even worse. As they climbed the stairs—the elevator was out of service—Cyprian squinted, pressing his fingers against his nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Who knows? Burned food, filthy apartments, dead bodies?”

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