Hump Day Excerpt: Jane Kindred's Master of the Game
Hoooo boy, we don't know about where you are, but it's awfully hot here in New York City. So we thought it only fitting that this week's Hump Day Excerpt be hot, hot, hot. Consider yourself warned! Today we're taking a look at the very steamy, paranormal, M/M tale from Jane Kindred, Master of the Game. This RT Top Pick! tells the story of the demon Belphagor and Vasily, who just might be his match. Here they are, getting to know each other better. Smelling salts at the ready? Let's do this!
It was hours yet before the Stone Horse would be hopping. Vasily reluctantly accompanied Belphagor back to the Brimstone. It was one thing to walk about Raqia like this at night, but parading about in broad daylight in eye paint wasn’t his idea of fun. Luckily, all it took was a judiciously timed spark of flame in his pupils to convince any demon who considered ridiculing him to hold his tongue.
But Belphagor clearly had plans for him. As soon as the door to their room closed, he pressed Vasily back against it and began unbuckling Vasily’s belt.
“Is my punishment starting already?” he managed to say with a relatively normal level of gruffness.
Belphagor kissed his throat as he released the buckle and worked rapidly through the buttons. “No, sweet boy.” He freed Vasily’s swelling cock, wrapping it in his fist, and Vasily groaned. “Unless you consider having your cock swallowed to be punishment.” Belphagor dropped to his knees before Vasily could react, and his own knees nearly buckled as Belphagor’s mouth closed over the head. It was rare for him to be on the receiving end of this pleasure.
He hooked his fingers around the casing on both sides of the door and clutched tight while Belphagor took him in with one fist squeezed around the shaft, his tongue extended and pressing flat against the sensitive flesh before he pushed himself deeper. Grasping the belt at Vasily’s hips, Belphagor held on for balance as he lifted his feet off the floor and crossed his legs at the ankles, and used his grip to drive Vasily into his throat, like he was doing vertical push-ups. The hard muscles of Belphagor’s arms and chest were doing the work of fucking himself with Vasily’s cock.
The Brimstone was quiet in the early afternoon, and Vasily bit down on his lip to keep from making noise so he could savor the sound of Belphagor’s mouth on him—the light slap and pop as Belphagor pulled himself back, and the slick, sliding slip as he brought Vasily’s groin to his face, with just a hint of vocalization giving away the size of what he was taking in when Vasily pushed into the back of his throat.
Vasily realized he was holding his breath. As soon as he breathed out, a loud groan escaped him and he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He closed his eyes and pressed his shoulders to the door, hips loose in Belphagor’s grip, and let himself make all the noise he wanted.
Belphagor got louder too, and more vigorous with his yanking motions, until Vasily couldn’t take another second. With a low growl that morphed into a drawn-out shout of “Da!” he spilled into him, taking extra care to make sure he tempered his element. Belphagor swallowed against him with an appreciative moan, and Vasily opened his eyes and watched while the spunk pulsed out of him and into Belphagor.
With his feet once more on the floor, Belphagor pushed Vasily’s hips back toward the door and drew himself slowly off, as if he didn’t quite want to let the cock go. He held the shaft a moment longer and sucked the head once more for good measure before he finally released him. Vasily thought he might faint.
“Damn, you taste good,” Belphagor murmured as he stood, running his hands up Vasily’s chest and around his neck to grip him beneath the jaw and draw him down for a kiss. He nipped lightly at Vasily’s bottom lip while Vasily tried to catch his breath, running his tongue over the swell. “Taste that. It’s like a smoky scotch.” Belphagor rubbed his thumbs over the spikes of the piercings on Vasily’s neck, making him shiver, before he slipped his hands away and took one of Vasily’s in his. “Come to bed. I had to sleep on stone last night. I want to take a nap with you.”
This sounded like an excellent idea to Vasily, who felt he’d been sucked within an inch of his life. Not bothering to put his clothes back together, they curled up on the cot, Belphagor spooning Vasily with his arms wrapped around him. His pants still at his hips, he could feel Belphagor’s untended erection pressing against the exposed small of his back.
“Don’t you want to fuck me?” he asked sleepily.
Belphagor responded with a playful thrust of his hips. “I always want to fuck you. I’m pretty sure you’ll let me do it later.”
* * *
Belphagor had to feel for his pocket watch in the nightstand drawer to find out how long they’d slept. A pale, charmed filament of aether inside the glass illuminated the face. It was past dinnertime. He’d really wanted to fuck Vasily, but that would have to wait. Belphagor had other plans for him tonight.
He kissed the warm firespirit temple, and Vasily stirred. “Time to get moving, love.”
“Moving?” The word was a charming growl. The coal-fire rumble in his voice was most prominent upon waking.
“You’re on auction tonight, remember?”
Vasily sat up as Belphagor rose to dress. “You’re really going to sell me.”
“Your ass, to be precise, but yes.” Belphagor slid aside the little curtain to the recess in the wall that served as their wardrobe, and rummaged for a shirt. “You can, of course, invoke your right to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with the idea. And I will take your level of comfort under advisement.” He felt the warmth of irritation coming off Vasily from three feet away.
“My level of comfort.”
Having found the shirt he wanted, Belphagor leaned back out of the wardrobe, unbuttoning. “I do take your comfort into consideration, you know. Most of the time, I consider how best to impinge upon it.”
Vasily’s eyes had a lovely spark to them. “You—” He’d gone red in the face with frustration, whatever word he’d been about to utter strangled in the heat of his throat.
Belphagor opened his shirt wide to slip it off his shoulders, revealing the tattooed cross that marked him in the world of Man as a king of thieves. Vasily’s eyes were always drawn to it. Anyone’s were, really. It was impressive. “I, what?”
“You just love playing games, don’t you? It doesn’t matter what I think, so why should I tell you?”
Belphagor licked the corner of his mouth. “I can still taste your come. Are you really going to get into a snit about the games I play after the head I gave you?”
Vasily rose, looking like he might punch him. Belphagor loved that look. “Is that why you did it? So you could throw it back in my face and manipulate me later?”
He dropped the shirt to the ground and picked up the other, the black silk with dyed lace cuffs, and slipped it on. “My dear boy, if I had thrown it back in your face, you’d be positively sticky with it. It would have ruined your eye paint. You’re quite prolific.” He smiled at Vasily’s look of outrage as he buttoned up. “Incidentally, if you don’t want to admit to enjoying my games, you should probably put your cock away after I’ve been sucking on it. It seems to be very interested in this conversation.”
Vasily’s cheeks flamed almost as convincingly as his eyes as he tucked his erection into his pants and buttoned up over the uncomfortably obvious tumescence. “Fuck,” he hissed, wrestling with his belt. “Sometimes I just want to knock you on your ass.”
Belphagor perched his boot on the vanity chair to lace up. “I know you do.” He dropped the laced boot to the ground and lifted the other. “And it makes me want to hogtie you and fuck you until you lose your mind.”
Finished lacing, he crossed to where Vasily stood, letting him see that even though he towered over Belphagor and outweighed him by a good forty pounds, Belphagor still had the upper hand. Vasily was flushed at his words and trying not to show it. “Kneel, sweet boy. You need to calm down.”
Twin fires warred inside the burly frame: an overwhelming furnace of sheer fury urging Vasily to disobey, and the heat of desire reducing him to Belphagor’s helpless puppet, which he so clearly relished. He knelt, his eyes practically dripping magma.
Belphagor cupped his cheek. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you’re like this? I swear, one of these days I’m just going to burn up in your radiance.” He stepped closer, his crotch at Vasily’s level. “I’m half-tempted to make you suck me, but with the way you go at it, your eyes will water, and Anzhela did such a lovely job. The heat of your arousal is already melting the paint a bit.” Vasily breathed deeply but didn’t respond. “Your comfort and my enjoyment of compromising it aside, if the idea of my selling you is too upsetting because of any past experiences—”
“No,” Vasily cut in abruptly. “Nyet, ser.”
The reason things had gotten so messed up between them in the first place was because Belphagor had failed to see he’d pushed Vasily too far, and Vasily had failed to tell him. He’d been afraid the tone of things tonight might be too much like that other occasion.
Belphagor rubbed his thumb over Vasily’s bottom lip, trying to rein in his desire to forget the whole thing and just have him now, and for the rest of the night, until they were both aching. “But you promise you’d say the word if it was.”
“I promise. Ya obeshchayu.”
“Sweet boy. I think we may be getting the hang of this thing.”