His eyes met mine, defiant even now. “I should kill you for this.”
“You can try,” I whispered against his ear, nipping the lobe hard enough to make him jerk. “Later.”
I crashed my lips against his again, swallowing whatever words might have followed. This time there was no hesitation. His hands clutched at my shoulders, nails digging through the fabric of my tunic as I pressed him harder against the wall.
The kiss deepened, all teeth and tongue and desperate need. I bit his lower lip, drawing blood, and he groaned into my mouth — a sound that shot straight to my groin. My hand slid from his throat to his hair, tangling in the dark strands, pulling just hard enough to make him gasp.
“Tell me to stop,” I growled against his mouth, giving him one last chance to retreat.
His eyes, normally cold as winter steel, burned now. “I can’t.”
Those two words snapped something inside me. I yanked his head back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, and dragged my teeth along the sensitive skin there. He shuddered against me, a tremor running through his entire body.
“On your knees,” I commanded, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
“What?”
“I said, get on your knees.” A confidence I’d never felt before filled me, and I knew somehow he’d obey.
For a heartbeat, defiance flashed in his eyes — that familiar arrogance that had made me want to throttle him so many times before. But something else lurked beneath it now. Curiosity. Hunger.
“Make me,” he whispered.
I moved fast, one hand still tangled in his hair as I forced him down. He fought me — of course he did — but not with the strength I knew he possessed. His resistance was token, performative, even as his breath quickened and his pupils dilated further.
When his knees hit the dirt, I held him there, my grip on his hair unyielding. Blood from the earlier fight had dried on my knuckles, flaking off as I tightened my fist. The torch nearby cast dancing shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the swollen curve of his lips.
“Is this what you wanted all along?” I asked, my voice rough. “The mighty Septimus, on his knees for a demon in a filthy alley?”
His jaw clenched. “Fuck you.”
“Not yet,” I replied, thumb tracing his lower lip. “First, I want to see that mouth of yours put to better use than spewing hatred.”
I unlaced my breeches with my free hand, never breaking eye contact. His gaze dropped, then lifted again, something like shock mingling with the desire in his expression. The sight of Septimus with his sheer contempt for my kind kneeling before me sent a surge of dark satisfaction through my veins and a rush of heat to my cock. I felt myself harden further as I pulled it free, my hand running slowly up and down its length.
His eyes widened slightly. I saw a flicker of uncertainty pass over his face before it hardened into determination.
“Have you never seen one this big before?” I taunted, enjoying the way his throat worked as he swallowed. “Or is it that you’ve never seen a demon’s cock?”
“I’ve killed demons twice your size,” he replied, but his voice had lost its usual edge.
“But you’ve never tasted one, have you?” I tightened my grip in his hair, pulling his head back until his throat was exposed. “Open your mouth.”
For a moment I thought he might refuse, might fight back and end this madness. Instead, his lips parted, and the sight nearly undid me. I guided his head forward, pressing the tip of my cock against his lips.
“Take it,” I commanded.
He hesitated only a moment before opening wider, taking me into the wet heat of his mouth. I couldn’t suppress the groan that escaped me as his lips closed around me, his tongue pressing flat against the underside.
“That’s it,” I hissed, watching his eyes flutter closed. “Gods, look at you. My own slave on his knees.”
His eyes snapped open, glaring up at me with hatred even as he took me deeper. The contradiction was intoxicating — his mouth working eagerly while his eyes promised retribution. I thrust forward, feeling him gag and smiled.
His hands flew up to my thighs, fingers digging in like he might push me away, but instead they gripped hard, steadying himself as I pushed deeper into his throat. Each time he gagged, his throat constricted around me, pulling a groan from deep in my chest.
“That’s it,” I growled, both hands now tangled in his hair, controlling his movements. “Take all of it.”
A muffled sound of protest vibrated around my length, but he didn’t pull away. There was a gleam in his eyes now — defiance, yes, but also determination. Like everything else in his life, Septimus wouldn’t accept failure, even at this.
