AllFreeNovel
Share Us
PARTONE
ICARUS
ONE
This wasthe definition of fucked. And not in the good way. Not in the way Icarus liked to be fucked, and not in the well-fucked way he made sure his clients left his bed. Nope, this was just plain old five-minutes-from-being-dusted fucked.
A far cry from the good kind of fucked of five minutes ago when he’d been putting on a show for the online client who’d paid for a virtual solo session. Icarus had nestled his favorite plug in his ass, clamped the rose gold cage around his cock, and tightened the leather cuffs around his ankles and wrists, naked and spread for his client on the other end of the private live stream. With a remote in each hand, he’d been slowly ramping up the vibrating plug and tightening the cock cage, his and his client’s moans escalating together. And then his remotes had stopped working. The vibrating plug had died, and the cage had gone mad, clamping down and strangling his dick.
Not mad.
Hacked.
By the client—the warlock—formerly onscreen who had materialized in his room, yanked open the curtains, and replaced Icarus’s soft leather cuffs with silver-laced ones that kept Icarus bound and pliant. The warlock stood beside the bed, finger hovering over a different remote that he’d promised would ruin Icarus’s dick or destroy his ass for good if pressed. In either event—or both—it would cut off Icarus’s primary source of income.
Assuming he survived the next five minutes. There was a reason he was called Icarus, and it had nothing to do with his currently magenta hair.
Ignoring the shaft of sunlight that crept across the foot of his bed, ever closer to his foot, ever closer to dust, Icarus tried sexy pouting at the warlock who held his dick and ass at his mercy. “Is this any way to treat the guy who was putting on a bang-up show for you?” He eyed the tent at the front of his captor’s kilt. “Now that you’re here, I could put on an even better show. Suck that for you. Make you come so—”
“He’s not the one calling the shots.”
Icarus’s attention snapped toward the voice, toward the movement at the far end of the room. A tall, broad-shouldered white man dressed in a high-dollar suit stood in the bedroom doorway. Icarus sniffed. Human. He didn’t carry the rotting wood stench of dark magic like the warlock beside the bed, but that didn’t make the new visitor any less frightening. The bulging impressions of pistols under each arm, likely packing lead and silver bullets, wasn’t the scariest thing about him either. No, it was the cold, hard malevolence that swirled in his big brown eyes. Such a beautiful color, one only humans possessed, one Icarus loved seeing bright with cheer or dark with desire. This man’s eyes were dark, but the only desire swirling in them was for power—no matter how deadly and violent the path—and that frightened Icarus to his chilly core.
He deflected the only way he knew how. “I can suck your cock too. Let you call the shots. Or you can watch while I suck his.”
The stranger nodded, and hope flared, but only for a second before the warlock’s open palm smacked Icarus’s cheek with unchecked force.
“Ow!” Icarus howled as stinging, magic-laced pain seared across his face. He’d cradle his cheek if he could but had to settle for gritting his teeth, waiting for the worst of it to pass. Once he could see straight again, he whipped his gaze back to the human standing at the foot of his bed. “That was fucking shitty! Your warlock has my cock in a cage and could tear my ass apart with the vibrator still in there, and I’m this fucking close to being dust.” He wriggled his toes enough to put the little one in the sunlight, a spark catching and a tendril of smoke pluming in the air. He yanked it back into the narrowing shadow before it fully caught fire. “You didn’t have to fucking hit me.”
“And you don’t have to keep running your mouth. I’ll have him hit you again if you persist.” He eyed the encroaching sun. “You don’t have time to waste.”
Meaning he intended to let Icarus live.
Meaning Icarus needed to shut the fuck up.
He pressed his lips together.
“Good,” the human said. “Now, at last count, you were fifteen grand in debt to me.”
“To you?”
“By way of Paris Cirillo.”
Icarus hung his head back and groaned. Again, not in the good way. “Of course this is about that fool.”
“That fool is my son.”
Icarus gasped and righted his head. Seeing the truth of the statement on the big man’s face, he slammed shut his mouth again.
“You’re learning.” Paris’s father smiled, a wicked, cruel thing, as he circled the end of the bed and came to stand beside the warlock. “I don’t dispute your assessment, but the fact remains that you owe us, and I’m here to collect.”
“I don’t have anything. Not worth that.”
“On the contrary...” He trailed a hand up the inside of Icarus’s thigh, hitching the leg higher and wider, as much as the ankle cuff would allow. Demonstrating his power, given the circumstances. He dipped his hand into the crease of Icarus’s groin, fingers skirting the edge of the cage. “You have exactly what we need.”
Icarus gnashed his teeth, fighting a moan and his fangs, the natural reactions of his body as the cage clamped painfully around his cock. “I thought—”
“Not for me.” He removed his hand from Icarus’s groin and palmed the warlock’s straining cock. The magician moaned deep in his throat, and the sharp, salty scent of precome tinged the air. “My needs are well taken care of.”
