Yep. Opening my eyes was a great idea. Possibly the best idea I’ve ever had.
He twists his head slightly. Increases the suction. Pulls a throb from my swollen cock.
I bite back my groan. Fuck, he feels good. Too good. The former king has definitely sucked cock before.
But he needs more than just my raw lust to feed properly. I don’t want this to be for nothing. Although,now I know it’s not too bad, doing this again might not be so unbearable. Which is a thought I’m going to need to examine later, in the privacy of my bedroom, with the door firmly shut.
I shake my head and force myself to concentrate. Feed Dis. That’s what I’m doing. This might be the best blow job of my life, but this still isn’t recreational or casual. It’s necessary. It’s practical. It’s revenge, technically, even if it’s not quite the kind I planned.
With that thought in mind, I summon my rage. I force myself to remember the smoke filling my lungs. The raw panic of not being able to breathe. The cold, heavy weight of my rapidly approaching death. The sheer and utter helplessness of it all.
Dismay coils cold in my belly. It strangles my arousal, and my cock starts to soften.
Cursing under my breath, I focus back on my anger. Let it build, hot and righteous.
All my suffering was because Dis needed a distraction. My flat, my safe place, my first ever real home, reduced to ash and smoke because he needed to draw Hex away. I was just collateral damage. Barely worth a second thought.
And look at him now. Trapped in my circle. On his knees for me. Blowing me.
Glee and euphoria tingle along my spine. My cock gets even harder. Talk about satisfaction.
I didn’t plan for this to be a humiliation. I genuinely only wanted to feed Dis and this seemed like the best way of getting it done. Practical. Efficient. Transactional.
But now... now I’m thinking about two birds, one stone, and all that. I did summon him to make him pay, after all. I may not be ruthless enough to let him starve,but I still want justice. I still want him to understand what he did, what he took from me.
And this is perfect. He is a proud man.
My lips twitch. “Good boy,” I purr.
Dis growls. It reverberates around my cock. The lights flicker. Ice sheets over the floor, spreading out from the circle in every direction, layering over the frost that was already there.
Oh fuck.
He is angry, that’s for sure. But there is more, so much more, layers I wasn’t expecting. He is drinking the pleasure he is giving me. Taking my rage. Accepting everything I am giving him, all the emotion and sensation I’m pouring into this moment. Our emotions are connected, and apparently it has created a two-way road, a feedback loop of sensation and feeling that I did not prepare for.
Because I justfelthis fury at being called a good boy. And I alsofelthow much he liked it.
My eyes roll back. My hips jerk and my entire body shudders as I cum hard. Sparks ignite behind my eyelids. Ecstasy soars through me, curls my toes, and I swear it sends static through my hair. Sparks ignite behind my eyelids.
I stumble back, away from the scalding intensity, while shoving my dick back into my pants with shaking hands. Everything is too much. Far, far too much. I can’t handle this. Can’t handle the connection, the feeling of his emotions tangled up with mine, can’t handle how real and immediate and overwhelming all of it is.
I stand a few feet away, lungs heaving, trying to remember how to be a person.
Dis flows to his feet with all the casual grace of a predator who has just eaten well and knows it.
His sapphire eyes are sparkling. Satisfied. He stares at me and very purposefully licks his lips. Long, lingering, thorough licks.
My spent cock twitches and a whimper dies in my throat.
“You taste good, Little Witch,” he rumbles.
A shiver dances over my skin. Damn, that is so sexy. Why is that so sexy? It shouldn’t be sexy. Nothing about this situation should be sexy.
My mouth opens. I need a witty comeback. A truly devastating one. A withering comeback worthy of the record books. Something that reclaims my dignity and my power and my sense of self.
Fuck. Why is my mind utterly blank? Why are there only a few stray thoughts rattling around in the empty space where my brain used to be? Oh god, it’s too much. It’s the hot guy effect plus just having my brain sucked out of my dick. I’ll be lucky if I can form a coherent sentence, let alone anything with a scathing burn.
“I… you… I…”
