Page 70 of Lord of Ruin (The Age of Blood #2)

“I know you will.” Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle that had nearly rolled to the edge of the bed, willing the budding claws away, concentrating till there was nothing but blunt human fingertips.

His much-needed control, hanging by a thread.

He drizzled the contents between Samuel’s cheeks, rubbing his thumb against the tight ring of muscle before slipping in. “Relax, if you can,” he said, as his fingertip slipped in. “It’ll make this easier.”

Samuel let out a whine, but mustered his incredible self-control, laying there panting as Isaac carefully eased one finger in, getting him gradually used to the intrusion before adding another, stopping only to add more of the slick liquid before he began to scissor him open.

“Look at you,” Isaac said, as he twisted his fingers to find that sweet spot that had Samuel wailing, “begging for my cock like a whore.”

“Please, please, please,” Samuel babbled, as Isaac added a third finger. “I’m ready, I promise, just—”

Isaac pulled his hand out, leaving Samuel whimpering with the sudden emptiness. It wasn’t as thorough of a prepping as Isaac would have liked, ideally, but Samuel wanted this to hurt a bit.

“Impatient slut,” Isaac said, as he lined up the tip of the glass phallus with Samuel’s loosened hole. “You want it so badly, then fine.” He pressed in with no warning, sinking inch by inch until he bottomed out.

Samuel buried his face into the sheets as Isaac held himself still, letting Samuel get used to the weight of a cock inside him. But Samuel didn’t want that, shifting as he tried to fuck himself on Isaac’s strap, startling a genuine laugh out of the man.

“You’ll really spread your legs for anyone, won’t you?

” Isaac asked, giving in to Samuel’s demand as he rocked his hips in gentle waves, in and out, slow and steady.

Not quite the rough fucking that Samuel was clearly desperate for, but a slow tease, driving Samuel mad.

“You don’t care who uses you so long as you get fucked, so cock hungry that you let a beast like me ruin you. ”

“Isaac,” Samuel snarled, even as he pressed back into Isaac’s motions, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

A tendril of magic slithered up his back, the old familiar chill of Samuel’s gift worming his way into his chest. It was a weak attempt, one that Samuel likely hadn’t even meant. All that practice they had done had paid off, letting him shrug it off without too much discomfort.

“Are you sure,” he asked, slowing down as Samuel turned to glance over his shoulder. “I have no illusions of what I am, and I thought you wanted the worst of me.”

“I do.” Samuel sighed. “But you’re not a monster. You’re a… marvel.”

“Samuel,” Isaac breathed, lips pressed to Samuel’s shoulder, fangs he did not ask for slipping out and grazing the skin.

They weren’t quite sharp enough to draw blood, but the press of them left stark red lines on Samuel’s body.

His delicate skin, so easy to blush, easy to bruise, easy to wound. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But I want you to,” Samuel gasped out, and, blood and steel, was that the wrong thing to say.

Pulling out roughly, Isaac flipped Samuel around, slamming his back onto the bed and knocking his breath out of his lungs. He reached over Samuel’s head, grabbing a pillow to slide under the small of his back.

“I told you that I don’t care about my comfort,” Samuel grumbled out, and Isaac bit back a smile.

He wanted to be hurt, but Isaac cared about him too much to do this the wrong way. He doubted Samuel was in the right headspace to hear that, so he lowered his voice to a low rumble, growling out, “It’s not about your comfort, but mine. Making the angle easier for this.”

He ran his hand along the still slick strap, drawing Samuel’s attention to it.

It wasn’t a lie, not exactly—both parts of it were true, and Samuel accepted the pillow under his spine without any more fuss.

It didn’t take much more to wrestle him into position, pulled to the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide, his hole still open and loose, and his lovely, thick cock untouched and leaking onto his stomach.

Samuel was such a pretty picture, debauched and nearly ruined, and Isaac felt his pulse kick between his legs, his dick throbbing in time with his own heartbeat.

Samuel was looking up at him with such need that Isaac put all thoughts of his own control aside as he sank the strap back into Samuel in one, smooth, fast motion.

Samuel keened as the strap stretched him, his body yielding to invasion as Isaac pounded. The pressure of the harness against Isaac’s swollen length was nearly enough to make him see stars, but he grit his teeth against the onslaught of pleasure, determined to make sure that Samuel came first.

He grabbed Samuel’s cock, the sudden touch on his length causing him to buck and writhe. Isaac didn’t relent, continuing to fuck Samuel as he jacked him off, the dual-fronted attack causing Samuel’s back to arch as he spilled between them, his seed hot and thick, spurting in ribbons up his chest.

“Fuck,” Isaac groaned, sinking the strap all the way in, even as Samuel squirmed with oversensitivity. He couldn’t bring himself to care, though, as he fell forward, burying his face in the space between Samuel’s neck and shoulder, fangs suddenly descending and slicing through flesh.

Blood flowed across his tongue at the same moment his release hit, power rushing through him in a coil of pleasure that was unlike anything he had ever known, curling in his gut as his transformation rolled over him, bones snapping and reforming, claws shredding into the bed as his wings tore through his back.

With the last dregs of his self-control, he ripped his head back with a howl before he could harm Samuel further, his cock pulsing as his cunt clenched, an exquisite agony that left him trembling.

And Samuel looked up at him like he was something beautiful, soft fingers coming up to trace at the hideous maw that his face had become—dagger-like teeth in a distended jaw, his proboscis-like tongue pressing into the holes he had made.

Samuel only moaned at the intrusion, his spent cock twitching in vain attempt to get hard once more.

A depravity that Isaac could never understand, even as he wanted to take Samuel again and again, until they were nothing more than shuddering beasts, fully spent and shattered.

“You,” Samuel breathed, “will never scare me.” He dragged his thumb against Isaac’s lower lip, pressed it against a fang until a single drop spilled. “No matter what happens, I will aways love you.”

Isaac leaned in, pressed his forehead against Samuel’s, not bothering to hide the tears that fell from his eyes. They were truly made for each other, and no matter what happened next, as long as Samuel never abandoned him, Isaac knew that he could face it.

Isaac was the first to the meeting room, a strong aroma of coffee overwhelming the pot of tea he had brought down from his room moments before, just for the others.

They probably wouldn’t touch the coffee, claiming it was too strong and too bitter, but that was fine.

He didn’t want to admit that tea did nothing for him anymore, the once delicious blends tasting like nothingness on his tongue, the caffeine too weak to have any effect on his mind or mood.

His body was evolving in ways that frightened him, food and drink like dust in his mouth, only the strongest flavors and most potent drinks having any effect.

He drank deeply from his mug, grateful that he at least had this left, even if he wasn’t sure how much longer it would last.

Anton and the others bustled into the room as Isaac filled his second cup, though the mood dropped significantly when they saw the look on Isaac’s face. He didn’t bother trying to school his expression into something softer—he was angry, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

Anton shed his coat, setting in on his usual stool. “Is Samuel still here?”

“He’s resting,” Isaac replied, glancing up at the ceiling.

They had stayed up nearly all night fucking and plotting, whispering their ideas and plans in-between desperate rounds of sex as they burned themselves into each other.

A stronger consummation and binding than any official claiming or ceremony could be.

But Samuel was so exhausted by the end of it that Isaac figured he’d let the man rest—sleep was yet another thing his body needed less and less of.

“Far enough,” Maia said, with a shudder. “I cannot imagine spending as much time with the Eternal Bastard as he does.”

Alaric inclined his head in agreement, already pouring the tea for the others. “He’s a surprisingly good sort, for an Aberforth.”

Isaac didn’t point out Samuel wasn’t an Aberforth, not truly, not in any way that mattered. Or that just weeks ago they had been just as suspicious of him. It was a fragile sort of trust, one that still felt so tenuous, a candle that could be snuffed out with the slightest misstep.

But he would take that sliver of trust they had extended him and solidify it, laying out the information that Samuel had brought to him, the threat that this Mel posed, and the plans the King had for more of her kind.

“We need to act fast,” he finished, looking over the rest of them. “I propose we launch the attack on the Blood Treasury as soon as possible, if only to keep the King from making more vampires.”

“We’ll need a little time,” Maia said, “just to warn as many as we can, keep them off the streets in the immediate aftermath.”

Isaac inclined his head to her. She was right—they needed to do whatever they could to prevent collateral damage. It was something he would not have thought of, before, but he was glad that there was someone to rein in his most dramatic impulses. “How long?”

“A day or two should suffice,” Maia said. “But I’ll need to work quick.”

Isaac swallowed hard. “The day after tomorrow, then?”

Anton grinned, getting to his feet. “The day after tomorrow.”