Page 24 of Wreaking Havoc (Demon Bound #1)

23

Sascha

C ompared to the chaos that had been Sascha’s life lately, the next few weeks were almost a dream.

Even with a new human roommate who jumped at every other noise.

There’d been a nagging fear in Sascha’s mind that they’d return to Maine and Kai would realize how small Sascha’s world was. Would realize that he was free to move on. To explore. To roam. He’d been stuck in one place for so long before this; how could he bear to settle down?

But if anything, Kai seemed delighted to stay put. He’d taken to… Well, Sascha could only describe it as nesting, like he and Sascha were newlyweds and Matteo their new baby.

Sascha hadn’t put much effort into making the Maine house a home during his two months in Seacliff—he’d made do with what was already there or the little Ivan had let him bring with him. It might not have been as impersonal as his New York apartment, but it was lacking a certain level of comfort.

Kai’s first act had been ordering Sascha to drive them into one of the bigger towns to buy better bedding—soft blankets and sheets with a thread count comparable to Kai’s age. He’d insisted they couldn’t order it online, that he’d needed to feel it all himself. Sascha had thought he was the one with expensive taste, but apparently it was nothing compared to a demon making a home for his mate. He supposed it was Kai’s human-world version of draping him in the finest furs of the demon realm or whatever.

Sascha had time before he was supposed to start officially working for his brother—the first real job of his life—but it was still Kai who deep cleaned and straightened and did away with the extra boxes in the attic.

Apparently Sascha didn’t need a maid service anymore—he had a house husband instead.

Kai liked to tuck Sascha under the new blankets on the couch, plop Matteo next to him (“for friendship bonding”), and turn on trash TV for the both of them while he made the house suitable. Although, he could never resist the pull for very long—Kai would hardly make it an hour before he was joining them, hoisting Sascha onto his lap and tucking the blankets around both of them.

Matteo, for all his twitchiness, was a decent housemate. He didn’t seem to mind the PDA (although Sascha didn’t miss the wistful looks he sent their way every now and again). And the little traumatized chick had endeared himself forever to Kai by knowing how to correctly use the coffee maker Sascha had been pointedly neglecting even since his first disastrous effort. Now Kai liked to have a brew going at all hours of the day and night.

He still sneered at human food though.

Like this morning.

Sascha and Matteo were having toaster waffles, as that was currently the extent of anyone in the home’s cooking abilities (although Kai claimed he would be learning any day now, once the TV taught him). Matteo had poured an ungodly amount of syrup on his plate, and Sascha was teasing him gently. “A secret sweet tooth, Matty?”

Matteo flushed, ducking his head into the oversize hoodie he wore pretty much every day.

Kai looked curiously at Matteo’s plate over his mug of coffee. “Is your waffle sauce sweet, then?”

“You’ve never had syrup?” Matteo asked, peering at him shyly from underneath his hood.

“He’s never had anything good,” Sascha told him, rolling his eyes. “Except coffee. But he drinks it black, so even that doesn’t count.”

“I’ve tasted sugar,” Kai insisted, almost haughty. But Sascha supposed that would have been impressive a billion years ago or however long it had been when Kai last roamed the earth.

“Syrup’s different,” Sascha said around a bite of waffle. “Maple-y.”

“Like the tree,” Kai mused.

“Exactly like the tree,” Sascha told him solemnly, gratified by Matteo’s quiet giggle.

“I’ll try it,” Kai declared, before tucking a pinky finger into the bottle’s small handle and upending it into his mouth, chugging half the bottle in one go.

He set it down a moment later, smacking his lips. “Passable,” he deemed. “It would be better hot.”

He went back to his coffee, ignoring Sascha’s horrified stare. Matteo’s giggles grew in volume until he was laughing for real, the loudest sound he’d made by far since coming to stay.

Out of nowhere, it hit Sascha like a freight train. This was working, the new life he and Kai were making together. A life where Sascha could be not only safe but happy.

He was happy, in a fierce, bright way he’d never experienced before. So much of his life before now had been spent just…passing time, engaging in whatever activity would cause the least boredom from one moment to the next, trying to walk the fine balance between entertaining himself and not pissing his family off.

But now he had a home, one that was truly his, one where he was free to explore all its corners without fear of retribution. He had a partner who accepted him just as he was, who considered Sascha’s faults nothing more than extra delicious seasoning on his soul. And he had maybe the beginning of friendship, with someone from whom Sascha didn’t need to hide any of his family’s baggage—Matteo got it, better than most ever could.

Sascha’s gaze caught on Kai, who was leaning against the counter, looking incredibly pleased with himself after his syrup stunt. Kai, who’d made a home for Sascha but had nothing of his own.

“We need to get you things,” he found himself saying.

Kai sipped his coffee. “What things?”

“Um…” Sascha didn’t know. He just suddenly felt like he needed Kai to have something in the house. Something all his own. Something that proved he belonged there—that the home belonged to them both. “What about clothes?”

Kai wore pretty much the same summoned outfit every single day.

“But you have plenty of clothes.” Kai’s eyes gleamed, and his voice lowered. “So many pretty clothes, zaychik.”

Sascha flushed, hoping Matteo wouldn’t notice. But he was not going to be distracted by Kai’s pervy thoughts. “Those are my clothes,” he pointed out. “What about you?”

Kai waved a hand. “We’re bonded. There’s no distinction. What’s yours is mine.”

That was all well and good, but Sascha couldn’t exactly see Kai fitting into Sascha’s newest pair of hot pants.

Although, it was an intriguing thought…

Eventually Kai agreed the house could use a few more decorations. On a mission now, Sascha took him into town after breakfast, leaving Matteo curled up on the couch. The main touristy shops were closed for the season, and there were only a few small knickknacks for sale in the grocery store and diner. But Kai seemed delighted anyway. Sascha had to forcibly steer him away from a lobster sticker with “What’s crackin’?” on it. Instead, Kai chose a remarkably ugly sailboat ornament and a small frame holding an embroidered lighthouse.

“You have terrible taste,” Sascha told him later, when they were walking along the trail on the cliffs.

“It was your idea,” Kai pointed out. He had a suspiciously self-satisfied grin on his face. “You wanted trinkets for your mate.”

Sascha narrowed his eyes. “Is that a demon thing? Did I accidentally stumble into some demon courting?”

“You’re not as skilled at it as I am.” Kai wrapped an arm around Sascha’s shoulders, tucking him close. “But you don’t need to be. Your sweetness is enough for me.”

“Gross.”

Kai was undeterred. He pulled Sascha closer to the cliffs. “Come stare at the ocean with me, sweet Sascha.”

Sascha settled against him, unable to keep the stupid smile off his face. “I love you,” he murmured. “Even with your terrible taste. I’m very…very happy, with you.”

Kai pressed a kiss against his head. “As I am with you. I have never known contentment such as this, zaychik.”

Sascha lay on his side on the bed, his hands propped over the bedside table, half his attention on the TV and half on his nails.

Seth had lent him some pale-pink polish to replace the extremely chipped blue mess he still had on, and Sascha was determined to get both hands done this time—no unexpected demonic interruptions to get in his way.

Except there was a demon in his bed, sliding his fingers up under the hem of Sascha’s ruffled sleep shorts where he’d sprawled his leg to the side. It was another silky set he’d ordered, one with a camisole top with thin straps, much too flimsy for the season. He’d felt a little ridiculous picking it out.

But then Kai had looked about ready to drop dead the first time Sascha had worn it, and Sascha had decided it was a fine purchase after all.

Sascha shot Kai a suspicious glance now, but his eyes were on the TV, intent on the boring reality show about blacksmiths he’d put on, his touch on Sascha’s skin an absent-minded petting.

They’d moved a TV into the bedroom in an effort to give Matteo some space from them, if he wanted. Sascha wasn’t sure he did want that—the poor kid seemed pretty reluctant to be left alone most times. But he most certainly didn’t want to see them engaging in their more illicit activities, so sometimes a little space was necessary.

And sometimes Kai apparently wanted to watch his weird blacksmith show, and Sascha wasn’t so cruel as to subject another person to that.

But speaking of.

“Hey,” Sascha said, spreading polish on his pinky. “Do you think Matteo is doing okay?”

The fingers on Sascha’s upper thigh paused for a brief moment, then started their circling again. “I think there’s someone out there he still fears,” Kai mused. “I think he jumps at every shadow.”

Sascha frowned down at his nails. He’d finished the left hand now. “So…no?”

Was Sascha not doing enough for him? They’d given him a place to stay, but should they be, like…talking about things? He’d been following Matteo’s lead, but maybe he should be pushing harder?

Kai tugged on the bottom hem of Sascha’s shorts, bringing him out of this thoughts. “Zaychik. I think he’s healing as best he’s able, because you’ve provided him a safe space to do so.”

Sascha turned away from his nails to cock a brow at Kai. “So what, you’re all wise now or something?”

Kai ignored the dig, humming thoughtfully. “You know, if he has enemies in need of vanquishing…”

“No,” Sascha said quickly. They were not getting involved in any more mob business, even for sweet Matteo.

“It wouldn’t have to be me. We have Nightmare’s pa—”

“No. Nuh-uh. I take it back—you’re severely lacking wisdom. You think that scared little chickadee can handle a deal with a demon?”

“Not like you handled it,” Kai told him, a new gleam in his eyes. His wandering fingers traveled up at the crease where Sascha’s thigh met his ass, stroking more deliberately. A pleased rumble left his chest. “You wear nothing underneath.”

Sascha fluttered his lashes. “I never do.” He arched into the touch, then remembered he was in the middle of something and shot Kai a glare. “I’m painting my nails, you know.”

“You lie like this on purpose.” Kai’s lower lip pushed into a pout. Possibly he’d been picking up bad habits from Sascha. “To entice me.”

Sascha laughed, setting down the bottle of polish. “It doesn’t take much to entice you.” Still, he propped his head on his unpolished hand, watching for what Kai would do next.

Kai had one hand down his own sleep shorts now, a much less scandalous pair he wore around the house. When he was actually sleeping, he chose to lie in the nude, but Sascha had insisted he have something to lounge in. Kai had seemed to think, initially, that now that the house was his home, he could parade around with his dick out whenever he wanted. Sascha had needed to pointedly remind him there was another person living there, one who didn’t want to see Kai’s demon cock every time he turned a corner.

Kai’s hand returned to Sascha’s skin, pushing his shorts up and to the side. Something slick teased at Sascha’s entrance.

“And my nails?” Sascha asked, trying to ignore the way his breath caught at the touch.

“Keep painting yourself, pretty Sascha,” Kai murmured. “I’ll be careful.”

“Arrogant,” Sascha huffed, blowing on his painted hand. But he hitched his leg further to the left, sighing with pleasure as Kai stroked his hole with his precum.

Sascha was destined to only ever have one hand painted, wasn’t he?

But he couldn’t complain, not when Kai’s thick finger nudged more insistently at his entrance, sliding in easily with the combination of the venom and the fact that they’d already fucked only that morning.

Sascha did his best to pretend to focus on his drying nails—stifling his little gasps and hitches of breath as best he could—while Kai opened him up with the intense focus he always brought to the task. Sascha knew if he looked over again, Kai would be staring, glowing eyes locked onto the fingers working inside his mate.

Which was all well and good. Because if he looked elsewhere, he’d realize Sascha was already hard and leaking, a damp spot forming on the front of his pretty silk shorts.

Maybe Kai already realized.

Sascha yelped as his lower half was suddenly lifted off the bed, only his shoulders remaining on the mattress, his legs still twisted to the left, toward his bedside table. Kai was kneeling upright on the bed now, holding Sascha’s bottom level to his now naked hips. His cock looked enormous, pulsing blue and purple, his viscous precum leaking from the tip.

Sascha’s shorts were bunched up and around to leave his ass bare. But the elastic digging into his skin wasn’t wholly unpleasant. Not with the way Kai was eyeing the sight. “You aren’t going to undress me?” Sascha asked coyly. Or as coyly as he could when he was being manhandled by a brute.

“No.” Kai fingered the soft fabric. “I like your pretty clothes.”

“You’re going to get them dirty.”

“Yes.” Kai smirked down at him, lining the head of his cock up with Sascha’s hole.

He pressed in slowly, always cautious and careful with Sascha’s size. But he still pushed all the air out of Sascha’s lungs with his girth, his ridges merciless as ever.

“You take me so well, zaychik,” Kai murmured, his talons digging into Sascha’s hips. “You always do.”

He didn’t wait after bottoming out, just began sliding Sascha over his dick again and again, his movements torturously slow and steady.

Sascha let his lower half be puppeteered like a rag doll, his whole focus on the immense feeling of fullness, the way his body shivered and trembled with the effort of keeping Kai inside.

He loved this so fucking much.

He loved every time Kai filled him, in whichever form he chose. Sascha had Kai’s demon cock when he wanted to be stuffed so full he couldn’t think, his human cock when he wanted to be fucked so hard he couldn’t think, and the occasional bout of tenderness when he wanted to be fucked so sweetly all he could do was think, God, I love this demon.

Kai took advantage of Sascha’s limp complacency, dragging him halfway down the bed, presumably so Sascha’s head didn’t bump the headboard.

I’m going to get nail polish on the sheets , Sascha thought dazedly. Or maybe his nails were dry already. Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck knew anything except the feel of Kai’s cock inside him, the pulsing of his ridges and the harsh edge to his breaths the only sign he was nearly as affected as Sascha.

Kai straightened Sascha’s hips, turning him fully onto his back, his shoulders pressed firmly into the mattress. He pushed forward, folding Sascha in half, his smoky scent surrounding him.

Sascha moaned at the new angle, heat swirling in his belly and shooting down his spine. He let his body go limp, giving in to the helplessness of the position. It didn’t matter if he was helpless. Kai had him.

Kai always had him.

“My mate,” Kai growled, his eyes roaming over every inch of Sascha now. He gave a quick snap of his hips, eyes blazing when Sascha keened.

It was too much already. Sascha grasped his own cock, thumbing at the head. He needed to come, needed to release some of this pressure.

“Yes, zaychik,” Kai murmured, thrusting his hips again. “Touch yourself for me.”

Kai kept moving steadily, the heat in Sascha’s core building and building until Sascha was arching back with a scream, coming all over his own stomach, all the way up to his chest.

Kai rumbled his approval, fucking Sascha through his orgasm, dragging those ridges back and forth all over Sascha’s hidden places.

Sascha whined, oversensitive and wrecked already. But Kai was relentless.

He was going to make Sascha come a second time, wasn’t he?

Sascha gave in to it, his body going lax again, secure in Kai’s hold.

Except for Sascha’s traitorous dick, which was already twitching, trying to rally for their unrelenting mate.

When Sascha came for the second time, it was with Kai’s hand wrapped around his cock, his strokes as slow and methodical as the push of his hips. Sascha twitched and moaned, his legs shaking with the force of it. Kai growled, beyond words now, picking up his rhythm until Sascha was filling with a familiar heat, his spasming muscles milking Kai for all he was worth.

They sprawled out on the bed, Sascha a pile of useless jelly. Kai lay on his side next to him, nuzzling in close. He picked up Sascha’s left hand. “No smudges,” he reported, immense satisfaction in his voice.

Sascha made some sort of gurgling sound of agreement. Kai’s other hand was tracing over the skin of Sascha’s thigh. Not tantalizing, not anymore. More proprietary. Comforting.

Sascha had his eyes closed. He was under the impression Kai was watching his show again until Kai spoke suddenly, “I’ve never understood the human concept of love.”

Well, then.

Sascha opened his eyes, trying to get his wayward brain cells to focus. Kai was staring at Sascha’s chest with a deep frown. “When I was summoned, all those times…I saw humans hurt those they claimed to love, if it helped to grow their power.”

Sascha thought of his father, his brothers, his mother. “It can be…complicated.”

“The love you have for your brothers isn’t complicated,” Kai insisted. “It’s pure.”

Sascha considered that. It was true there were complicated feelings surrounding that love—their upbringing, the ways they’d hurt one another, intentional or not—but he supposed the love itself was pure. Sascha was never going to screw his brothers over, for power or for anything else.

“As is the love you have for me,” Kai told him smugly.

Sascha narrowed his eyes. “Cocky.”

“You’re my mate,” Kai said, suddenly insistent. “The bondmate of my soul. It is beyond words. Beyond human love.”

“Sometimes words are nice.” Sascha shrugged, too relaxed and well fucked to get worked up. “I like them. The words.”

“You do?” Kai asked with surprise. And then he smiled, as if that was all he’d needed—to know Sascha liked something. “Then I love you, my sweet Sascha,” he crooned. “Better and more deeply than any human could.”

Sascha almost wanted to tease him, to make another remark about Kai’s arrogance. But he couldn’t. It was true—Sascha had never felt so cared for, so understood, protected against the cruelty of the world by the strength of Kai’s body and the warmth of his soul. He’d never met a human man who could have made him feel this way.

“I know you do,” he said simply.

Kai grinned at him, then gathered Sascha into his lap, facing the TV again. “Now come, watch how the swords are made.”

So Sascha did. It was silly and a little boring, and he’d never in his life loved anything more.