Page 28

28

MERCER

Mercer was doing this.

His heart pounded and his stomach had knots in it and the religious-raised teenager in him had determined that his soul was descending to hell with each wrap of the cord around Rahil’s wrist, but he was doing this, goddammit. Rahil had been begging for it for weeks, yearning for it, making his adorable noises and expressions and his ridiculous flirtations, and if they were going to be together—the thought still sent a giddy flutter through Mercer—then what was the reason to deny Rahil any longer?

Rahil had spent the evening giving Mercer the world, and for that, Mercer was going to give it back to him. No dark pasts, no guilt or trauma, nothing between them but affection and ecstasy. Besides, Mercer didn’t need to hear that Rahil had realized he knew Leah’s murderer; that they’d been friends once, or perhaps enemies. That they were living carefree out in the world or that they’d been killed years ago. He could hear it all later, mourn afresh later, but right now was a glimmer of joy and peace for just the two of them.

Rahil all but swayed against his chest as Mercer took hold of his other arm, tucking them both behind Rahil’s head as he wrapped Leah’s trap cords in spirals up and over. Maybe she hadn’t built this system with bondage in mind, but he thought she’d be impressed with his use.

If Leah was looking down on him from heaven, then Mercer hoped she had popcorn for this. However it turned out, it was sure going to be a show.

Mercer let the extra length of the cords tighten until they drew taut, leaving Rahil’s feet still on the ground but not giving him any extra space to move. He could dangle from the ceiling later. They had all night, and Mercer was going to make the most of it.

Rahil gave an experimental twist, which only served to trap him onto the tips of his toes. He smirked, his eyes alight with curiosity. “Do I get a safe word, babe?”

“Boss,” Mercer said.

Rahil deflated just a little, though he seemed to be doing his best to mask it. “Do I get a safe word, boss ?”

Mercer snorted. The knots in his stomach eased as he took hold of Rahil’s chin. “Honey, boss is your safe word.”

“Ah, so in order to escape your pleasure I have to submit myself to your corporate authority. Crafty.”

“You think you’re here for pleasure ?” Mercer cocked a brow. “This is a work shed. I’m doing work.”

As he spoke, he opened one of the long bench drawers, its sensual contents separated between crafting examples and the new creations he was in the process of perfecting: dildos and other inserts, muzzles and metal collars, a bit of leatherwork he’d been experimenting on and a dozen other pieces that clipped, tightened, and pressed. From Rahil’s angle, he knew all but the edges of the largest toys would be hidden, so he took his time, repositioning each into the perfect display before glancing back up at Rahil. Finally, he lifted the whole drawer, letting Rahil see inside it just for a moment as he carried it to the closer bench.

Rahil’s eyes grew so wide from the single glimpse that Mercer couldn’t help the quirk that came into his lips. With each stride he felt a little more confident. Even if he wasn’t positive what he was doing, if it had an effect on Rahil, then it was perfect.

“Your work is torture ,” Rahil concluded, absolutely confirming all of Mercer’s suspicions.

“Is it, now?” He hummed and pulled out the little box with one of his most recent creations tucked away inside the velvet. He pulled it free, concealing it in his palm as he turned back toward Rahil.

Rahil leaned toward him, mouth open and fangs extended. “You know I could bring you pleasure instead, if you let me.” As Mercer lifted a hand to Rahil’s jawline, he provided evidence for his point by running his lips, then his tongue, along the side of Mercer’s hand, but as he dared to try pricking the skin, Mercer twisted his fingers, pressing his thumb to the side of Rahil’s fang to wedge his mouth open.

“Perhaps torturing you is what brings me pleasure.” He pushed his thumb farther in. Rahil’s lips were soft, his tongue moist, and Mercer tried not to think too hard about what those properties might be useful for in a future context. For now, his focus had to be on Rahil, because if it wasn’t, Mercer was unsure where exactly it would end up: in the gutter of shame or, worse, turned off entirely. “Besides, I thought you liked a little pain… If it was in the right hole.”

Rahil’s throat bobbed, and his long lashes fluttered like the mere thought was about to make him come. “Mhm.”

“Open,” Mercer commanded.

Rahil resisted just a little, forcing Mercer to press down on his tongue to make him display the full length of his fangs.

Mercer retrieved the pair of custom fang caps he’d molded the day of Kat’s poisoning, and pressed them onto Rahil’s fangs. These ones wouldn’t prevent a bite in and of themselves, their tips still pointed and hollowed to allow for the distribution of venom, but the little chains that hung from their backs were just the right length to hook to Rahil’s lower canines. Once the whole contraption was locked into place, Rahil moved his jaw experimentally. He blinked each time the chain kept him from opening it wide enough to bite.

“Fuck,” he finally muttered, the metal in his mouth glinting.

While he couldn’t wrap his mouth around Mercer’s wrist, much less his neck, there was still just enough room for Mercer to slip the tip of his finger in. He pressed it experimentally against the needlepoint of the cap, pushing up past the flicker of pain until the venom he knew would be pooling just inside the metal casing released beneath his skin. It rushed like a tiny orgasm through the pad of his finger, tingling up his wrist and along his arm.

God that was so nice—so incredibly, impossibly nice that part of Mercer wanted to melt against Rahil, let him prick every last inch of skin. The little knot in his gut urged him forward, though. He withdrew his finger from Rahil’s mouth and wiped the drop of blood from his fingertip onto his own lip, just to see what it would do to Rahil.

The vampire whimpered, watching him with the kind of pleading look that made him more puppy-dog than predator. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

“Not yet,” Mercer said. “Torture first.”

“Why must you hurt me so?” complained he who had the perfectly accessible safe word.

Love, perhaps , Mercer thought, but the way that settled like a thousand butterflies in his stomach made him only shrug. “You’re a bit hard to commit violence against when all the places I want to intrude on are covered. An artist needs a proper canvas, and this...” He traced a finger across the fabric of Rahil’s shirt, down his chest—not thinking about how close they were to touching, how his skin would be pressed against Rahil’s in moments, Rahil’s body a plaything in his hands, soft and vulnerable for him. Rahil’s pleasure was Mercer’s responsibility right now. He didn’t need to be focusing on his own wants, or to let those wants turn to fears.

Next time, perhaps he’d feel more open to it. When they both knew the game better. When they were sure of this. Then he could appreciate Rahil’s gorgeous figure and give himself over to as much venom as Rahil could safely offer. For now, there was more than enough pleasure just in knowing he was providing what Rahil had been begging for during the last month.

And Rahil seemed to be eating up the stoic performance that Mercer was putting on, the distance only making him squirm all the more.

Slowly, like he was drawing a gem from a husk of rock, Mercer tugged free the buttons down the front of Rahil’s shirt, forcing himself not to be distracted by the beauty beneath, not the gentle rows of Rahil’s ribs nor the dip of his navel, not even the smooth circle of his dark nipples. He didn’t wonder if they’d taste like Leah’s—like salt and tension—or whether he could trace them later, as Rahil fell asleep.

Rahil’s pants came free like the garment had been waiting for that moment, a little moan escaping Rahil as his hard dick pressed out from a distressing lack of underwear. That was a conversation for later, though. Now, Mercer took in the small but strong line of Rahil’s dick, a well-kept cascade of hair around it. Of course he was clean and prepped for this; this was what Rahil did , after all—have impromptu sex in stranger’s sheds.

Except he’d told Mercer that he wasn’t a stranger but a love. The man he wanted to keep calling babe. His one and only true darling.

And Mercer was going to trust that, despite the fear that came with it.

Slipping Rahil out of his pants was easy when he was held so aloft by the cords, and Mercer took a step back after, giving himself thirty seconds to admire Rahil, if only for the way Rahil preened and flushed beneath the attention.

He was beautiful like this—his arms bound behind his head and pieces of hair around his face escaping his braid, his unbuttoned shirt hanging off his shoulders, the long edges framing his dick. In so many ways, he was different from Leah, and yet there was something similar too, in the lean, knobby build of his frame and the way he held himself between so many different emotions at once, both confident and insecure, passionate and restrained, genius and ignorant. Mercer wanted to see more of him, know more of him, to mark every similarity and difference, not because Rahil and Leah needed to be compared, but because they both deserved an eternity in Mercer’s heart.

Mercer took another step back, before turning toward his box of toys. “What should we try first, then?”

“You could just fuck me,” Rahil suggested.

“Oh no.” Mercer clicked his tongue against the front of his teeth. “You’d like that far too much.” Meticulously, he lifted out a pair of small nipple clips, their polished strings of weights sparkling with a glitter coating and interspersed gemstones.

Rahil fidgeted and his fang tips gleamed as he bit into his lower lip.

Mercer lifted a brow and tucked the clips conspicuously into his front pocket. He withdrew a leather blindfold next, swirls of metal and delicate lace ornamenting its black surface, turning it from a functional piece to a work of art, then a few different cock rings that seemed about Rahil’s size, cautious to choose ones that wouldn’t hurt too much to be applied while Rahil was already hard. Dangling the blindfold around his own neck by the loose straps, he returned to stand in front of Rahil.

“What, no more terrible flirting?” he asked. “Have I finally gagged the great seducer?”

Rahil met his gaze with such soft longing that it took Mercer’s breath away. “Perhaps I was asking for something I never expected I’d actually receive.” One side of his mouth quirked into a lopsided grin, and the hair dangling around his face slid against the metal of his fang-muzzle. “It seems your touch leaves me speechless, torturer.”

With the backs of his fingers and the side of his thumb, Mercer pushed Rahil’s fallen locks to the side, and gently, his heart thudding against his rib cage at a thousand miles a minute, he whispered, “ You leave me speechless, babe.”

“Ah, fuck.” Rahil looked like he was going to melt right out of his bindings. “Do your worst,” he pleaded. “Please. Goddammit, whatever you’ve got for me, I want it, Merc.”

“Very well, then.” And he had never been more glad that he’d waited this long, nor that he’d finally let himself cave. “I have you, Rahil. And I’m going to make you feel like you never have before.”