Page 7 of Meant to Burn

My lips part, and I shudder as I realize what I’ve done.

Begging and pleading when I should be forcing him from my mind.

But I can’t help it anymore, I can’t seem to stop craving him.

I think I understand why addicts are considered to be ill.

I definitely feel sick right now. Needing someone this much has to be an ailment, right?

My hand shifts up, then down, and I moan.

My eyes are still closed, and it’s like a montage of images behind my eyelids.

Memories of him owning me, taking me apart, and putting me back together.

The sight of his mouth wrapped around my length, taking me to the back of his throat.

I’ve never felt anything like it, and my hand doesn’t even begin to do it justice.

It was so warm and oh so wet. And the taste of his cum on my tongue?

I’m still savoring it even though it’s long gone.

I can still remember the weight of his body on top of me, pinning me to the tile as I looked up at him with my mouth wide open and tongue out, waiting for my reward.

And it sure felt like one. Like I had been such a good boy for him that he couldn’t help but give himself over to me.

And I wanted him so badly. Oh, God, I can’t even explain how much I needed him. The way I still do.

My hand shuttles up and down on my length quickly, and I tighten my fist, hissing. Pleasure skates down my spine as the images in my mind’s eye shift, turning into something even more forbidden. Something searing hot that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to handle the temperature of.

I’m suddenly bound to the altar at the abandoned chapel ruins, Azriel between my thighs.

I’m spread open for him, knees pushed toward my chest, utterly vulnerable.

His cock is slotted at my entrance, and when he pushes in, it’s not pain I feel.

No, it’s so much worse. It’s blinding pleasure instead.

He hits something inside of me that makes me see black, and I throw my head back and moan his name.

I think it slips from my lips too as my hand quickens, and I feel my impending orgasm rush forward, pushing to the surface. It’s right there—all I need to do is reach out and take it.

His mouth hovers over mine as his hand rests next to my head, and he shifts his hips, then pushes forward.

My body jolts, shifting on the altar, and I tremble like a leaf.

My cock is primed, set to explode, and his eyes are intense as they focus on my own.

Ashen wings shift above us, and suddenly I’m being hidden from the outside world.

From God’s gaze. I feel cocooned in his arms, safer than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

For the first time ever, nothing and no one exists.

Azriel sits back on his haunches, pushing my knees into my chest, drilling into me harder and faster, and my lips part as I let out garbled sounds and curses I didn’t know I was capable of uttering.

Without warning, he grabs my legs and spreads them wide, looking down at my cock with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

I’m leaking, making a mess of myself, and he groans at the sight.

“Touch your pretty cock, Elijah,” Azriel demands. “I want to see it explode.”

And I do, wrapping a hand around myself and tugging roughly, quickly.

He wraps a hand around my throat and squeezes tightly, but it only heightens the pleasure.

Just as I’m about to come, he lets go of my throat and lowers his lips to mine.

His tongue shoves into my mouth, and I suck on it as my spine tingles and my balls draw up.

The groan he lets out has my hand’s movements becoming jerky, and my ass clenches.

Cum shoots out of my cock, and Azriel’s hips stutter.

It’s the look on his face as he comes, the one I’ve already witnessed in real life, that triggers my orgasm.

I explode—there’s no other way to describe it.

Cum erupts out of me, and I open my mouth on a silent scream, trying to hold back.

My throat is raw from the effort to not cry out in pleasure, but there’s one thing I just can’t hold back.

“ Azriel .” His name falls from my lips, completely unbidden. A plea, a promise, a guttural sound that precedes my undoing.

I’m shaking violently, water sloshing as my back arches, and I ride out the wave crashing over me and taking me under. I can barely breathe, and I just lie there in shock, panting, as I come down from the high. It’s never felt like this before, and I’m convinced it’s because I was imagining him .

I shake my head and drain the tub, rinsing myself, then stepping out.

Making quick work of drying myself, I swipe a hand over the fogged-up mirror to look at myself.

Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and hair askew.

I look like an absolute mess, yet I can’t be bothered.

What stops me in my tracks and makes me purse my lips is the sight of the flame sigil carved into my flesh.

The one marring the skin on my chest. It’s been there since that fateful night at the chapel.

Since he owned me, took me for himself. When I first saw it, I freaked out.

Well, that’s the understatement of the year.

I got on my knees and prayed for hours, hoping that the proof of my defilement would disappear. But no such luck.

Now, the sight does something to me, and while I wish I was disgusted, instead I feel wanted. Claimed in a way I never thought I could be. It’s wrong, and I know it. So I shake my head, trying to get the sinful thoughts out of my head, and open the door.

My room is cold as I dry off and put boxer briefs on, throwing my towel on the floor and climbing into bed.

My bottom lip trembles as I stare up at the ceiling, and I feel hot tears tracking down my cheeks.

But I feel light years away, completely detached from my body as I apologize to God over and over.

This isn’t me.

This can’t be me.

I have to fix this somehow.