Page 53 of Vanish Into Light

It would have been so easy to think that it was all Beck’s doing, to think that he was a spectator, and nothing better than second-best.

But when she’d come for a second time; when he tumbled over with her, stomach in knots, the pleasure nearly enough to make him sick, Beck had petted his flank, while his hips still kicked spasmodically, and whispered low and velvet right in his ear: “Isn’t she beautiful? That’s for you – she came for you. There’s a good boy.”

He wasn’t entirely cognizant of lying down. Sleep closed over him like a thick, downy-soft quilt, complete and all-encompassing.

He dreamed. Formless dreams of soft colors, and indistinct sounds. Pleasant, cottony dreams.

Then he dreamed of Rose. Dreamed of being inside her again, that tight, gripping heat.

He shifted, and felt the sheets beneath his back; rolled his head and felt the give of the pillow, smelled the crisp, chemical scent of new material taken straight from the package. His cock was enveloped, was being worked, hot, and wet, and he wasn’t dreaming at all, he realized, as he shifted, and his foot touched warm – touched hot – skin.

He cracked his eyes open a slit, and through the blur of exhaustion he saw – Rose. Her face beside his on the pillow. She was watching him, her eyes open, clear, her pupils expanding by the moment; and then her gaze shifted down, and Lance rolled his head, and looked.

Beck lay between his spread legs, wings half-open, draped over his calves, his tail flicking back and forth like a cat’s. It was his mouth on Lance’s cock, lip curled neatly over his fangs, throat working as he took Lance all the way to the root, and swallowed around him.

Lance wasn’t prepared for the way his belly clenched; for the way his entire being narrowed down to Beck’s mouth, and the wink he shot Lance, when he glanced up through long, dark lashes.

“Shit.” He gripped the sheets until he thought he’d tear them, and fought not to thrust up into that perfect suction. “Christ, I’m gonna–”

Beck pulled off slowly, with an obscene slurp, and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. “Not yet.” He gripped Lance’s cock hard, squeezed around the base, and waited until Lance had nodded, and forced his head back down to the pillow, though he was breathing rough through gritted teeth.

Lightning flashed beyond the window, a bright blue glare that, for a moment, turned Beck to an ungodly marble statue of a man, of a demon, as he sat up on his knees, wings spread wide, sleek hair tumbling from his horns and falling to frame his cut-glass cheekbones and jaw. It highlighted the self-satisfied curl of his lip, that little smirk, as he moved to straddle Lance’s hips, stroking his cock in long, even pulls, the way made slick by his own saliva.

As the flash faded, it was all gilded lamplight pooling and sliding over lean-carved muscle, over a regal face, a strong throat that looked somehow delicate, in this moment, as Beck shifted up on his knees, angled Lance’s cock – and then sank down onto him in one slow press.

Lance couldn’t choke back the little cry that left him on that first breach. Beck was tight, impossibly tight; he thought he must be hurting him, but Beck let his head fall back and let out a low, deep, purring sound that could only be pleased, as he settled, Lance fully seated inside him. His cock jumped against his belly, drooling pre-come, and he gripped himself a moment, like he was having to stave off his own orgasm – the same way Lance was doing, every muscle in his body straining against release.

He’d never done this, not even with a woman, it was so – it was – he couldn’t–

Rose’s face appeared above his. She leaned down and kissed him, sweet and clinging.

Lance couldn’t respond, could pant against her mouth, as he drew slowly back from the edge of coming, regaining that bare shred of control.

She drew back, lower lip caught between her teeth, and petted over his chest, squeezing, playing with his nipples. “You’re okay,” she murmured, her other hand falling into her lap, fingers reaching between her legs. “Shh, that’s right.”

“Rose.” It was an effort to swallow. His skin prickled all over as sweat bloomed; he was winded just from the effort of holding back; he thought he felt fabric tear where he gripped the sheets. “It’s – he’s–”

“Look at me.” Beck’s voice had gone gravelly. “Lance, look at me.”

He did. Lightning flashed again, as Beck started to move. The sinuous flex of his spine started in his hips, a forward roll, and traveled all the way up, abs flexing, pecs throwing shadows, his nipples tight and the blue light catching the sheen of sweat on his skin. He danced like that, rocking forward, and back, grinding down onto Lance’s hips and tightening rhythmically on his cock with each pass, until Lance was nearly cross-eyed.

Then he lifted up, and dropped, the friction electric.

Lance couldn’t help himself; he gripped Beck’s strong, flexing thighs, the muscle like steel cable under his hands, and bucked up the next time Beck dropped, driving deeper, their skin meeting with an audible smack.

“Oh,” Beck said on a breathy laugh. “Oh,good boy. That’s right. Dance with me.”

The lightning strobed, faster, more frequent. Thunder rumbled over the mansion, punctuating the wet, desperate sounds of their mating. Rose hummed to herself; was touching herself as she watched. And Beck rode him; worked him mercilessly, rising and falling, shifting back, thrusting out his chest and changing the angle, until his mouth was open, and he was growling low in his throat on every drop, because Lance’s cock was hitting rightthere, and his cock was weeping, was bouncing as the tempo increased.

Lance slid his hands up his thighs and cupped his ass; reached to where he was parted, to where his cock disappeared inside him. Beck was a fallen angel, his tail lashing, biting his own lip until it bled, and that was Lance doing it do him; Lance reaching him so deep, making him moan.

Lance sat up, suddenly, though his head spun.

“Oh.” Beck’s rhythm hitched a moment; his hands – braced on Lance’s chest – slid up to grip his shoulders. His smile was breathless, his golden gaze glassy with pleasure. “Hello, lover.”

Lance kissed him. Savagely. And said, “Fold up your wings?”

“…excuse me?”

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