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He craves it.
He comes with Nur writhing against him, his solid cock shuddering against Arsene’s stomach, sparks bursting into an inferno.
Nur smirks when Arsene pushes past him out of the stifling tent. He tumbles into the cold night and yanks his boots on, heart pounding and stomach twisted into knots.
Worst is the complete, utter satisfaction emanating from the other end of the bond.
The hollow has exactly what he wants—a fool with no will to deny him.
He goes to the fire, too riled up to return to their tent once Nur leaves for his watch. But the fire isn’t abandoned, to his disappointment. A handful of humans look up when he enters the circle. Arsene tries to hide a wince. Their gazes are wary, as usual. Did they hear him and Nur? Is the nature of his agreement with the hollow obvious? It feels like it must be written all over his face.
The humans look away when he approaches, except Myra and her ever-present young companion. Arsene sits next to her reluctantly.
“Your friend has been an asset,” Myra tells him as a greeting.
Arsene bites his tongue on a sharp reply. “Good.”
“He doesn’t like digging latrines, though. We could do with more diggers. If you’d have a talk with him, I’d be much obliged.”
“I can’t make him do anything,” Arsene mutters.
Myra raises a brow. “No. Well, that much seems true. Maybe you need a different approach.”
Arsene stands abruptly. “I’m going to check the traps.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes,” he says shortly, turning on his heel. Pent up energy zips around his chest. Maybe she’s right.
He checks the traps, but they’re empty. His loose emotions spill over into frustration. Maybe he needs a different approachtoeverything. The humans. The hollow. The fear of loneliness that eats at him every day.
But as always, the solution remains out of reach. So why not give in to his darkest desires? Take what he wants from Nur.
Instead of going back to the tent, he follows the pull of the bond, nerves sizzling in anticipation. He approaches Nur silently as a hunter. The hollow doesn’t stand a chance. Arsene pins him to a tree before he can make a sound, muffling Nur’s yelp of surprise with his hand.
“Hush,” he snarls.
Even though he came once already tonight, his body hums with arousal at Nur’s closeness. It always does. The scent of him is intoxicating. Arsene breathes it in deeply and tries to pretend he’s not doing it, but Nur’s eyes go from wide with shock to knowing in short order. He relaxes, his ribcage rising and falling evenly under Arsene’s hand. Arsene just knows there’s a smirk behind his palm.
“I don’t know how you’re doing it,” he growls in Nur’s ear. “But I want you. And I’m sick of letting you be in charge of this agreement.”
Nur shudders. He peels Arsene’s hand away from his mouth. “So you think you should be in charge?”
“Iamin charge.”
Nur bares his teeth. “Prove it.”
He drags Nur’s wrists down and wraps one hand around them, the other hand going to the clasp of Nur’s pants. He tears them open, yanking the shirt free and tugging the waistband down Nur’s slim hips. In the moonlight his scars are silvery rivers over the landscape of his skin. Arsene goes to his knees before he can stop himself, his tongue tracing their path like he’s parched. Nur gasps and jerks.
His cock is a soft, dusky grey, thick and sheathed against his thigh. Silky dark hair surrounds its base, but below thathis balls are smooth and hairless. The sight of his tender skin exposed drives Arsene mad with desire. He presses his nose into the crease of Nur’s hip and tastes all the way down to the bare, velvety globes. Nur makes a cut-off noise. His balls jolt like they want to pull away. Arsene chases them, sucking them into his mouth one by one and relishing the sweet-spicy musk that suddenly surrounds him.
Nur whimpers.
He presses his smirk into Nur’s hip. “You like me in charge.”
“I only want your soul,” Nur snaps, but the dark tip of his cock glistens with arousal. Arsene bites the other hip, less gentle, leaving marks with his blunt teeth. He wants it to bruise. He wants to dig his fingers in and spread Nur apart and show him, fill him, claim him.
So he does.
