Iblis’ Affliction

by Nero Seal

  Plump lips stretched, approaching, and Talha’s whole entity concentrated on a white stripe of his teeth. They parted as if Slater wanted to consume him, and demanding words broke through. “Yes, Master, look at Slater.”

  The remains of Talha’s will hung on the flimsy bridge his leg provided. If Slater slapped his foot away, Talha would have given in without a second thought. But Slater never did. His long lashes trembled, unveiling crescents of his eyes, murky with the heavy fog of thoughtless passion. He gasped for air, dropping his weight forward, as an agonizing grimace wrenched his mouth to the side. Needy noises at the back of his throat morphed into guttural groans before Slater sucked a mouthful of air, then stopped breathing.

  Mirroring Slater’s reactions, Talha’s air passages blocked as he couldn’t divert his eyes from the reaper, drinking in the contortions of his face. The longer he watched, the more entranced, intoxicated, he became.

  His whole being was pure, pulsing heat. The room melted in front of his eyes, smudging the rich colors of his Persian carpets, as his focus followed a trajectory of a shimmering drop, skating down from Slater’s neck to his chest until it disappeared in his hollow belly button.

  Slater’s jaw dropped as a cry of desperation passed through the vent of his throat. Every cell freezing in attention, Talha watched Slater’s cock twitch, pulse, and spill creamy mess all over his foot.

  Time died.

  Fighting through the thickness of solidified air, Talha peered at the inflamed face, slack with pleasure, reddened eyes, and burning ears. It didn’t look like Slater could think anymore or even swallow, as the corner of his mouth oozed with saliva.

  Fighting the desire to wipe it off, Talha hauled his gaze down, ogling Slater’s glistening chest, still quivering stomach, jerking hips, and pulsing cock. Deflating, it leaked with the last drops of tepid fluid.

  Sticky… Talha’s toes twitched, brushing over the slick cockhead. Cringing inwardly, he tried to pull his foot away, but Slater’s grip tightened around his ankle. Using his foot as a brush, the reaper smeared his cum all over his abdomen.

  “Thank you, Master.” The low, liquid whisper rebounded in Talha’s ears.

  Enervated, Talha wrenched his focus away from Slater’s red, swollen cock and up to his dark lips.

  “Slater made a mess …” The reaper grinned, shedding off the red glow of euphoria. His expression became serious, greedy, yet, somehow, still uncertain. “Slater shall clean up.”

  Lifting Talha’s foot to his mouth, the reaper rubbed his face against the soft hair of his shin, nibbled at the side of his calf. As if in a trance, Talha watched the flat tongue press against the prominent bone of his ankle before sliding down to the heel.

  He stilled. His head was heavy, hot, and thoughtless, as the relentless tongue drifted up to his toes, the laps so delicate, they tickled and aroused at once.

  “Delicious, Master.” Slater’s breath chilled the wet skin of his sole, cleansing his mind.

  This was exactly how he felt. Eaten alive. Shame set his skin ablaze.

  Working on an impulse, he kicked Slater’s chest. Falling backward, the reaper disappeared behind the bed with a heavy THUD. Rubbing the impact point with his palm, Slater rose to his feet, a murderous grimace crossing his face.

  “Leave the room before I’m out of the shower,” Talha said, getting up. Avoiding looking at the reaper, he stumbled toward the bathroom, his erection hindering the tranquility of his gait. His hand flew up, hair-thin close to grab a handle, but froze, hesitating.

  If I leave now, I lose—he’ll think I’m running away again. It’ll only boost his ego and reaffirm his dominance. If I stay, he wins—this will be exactly what he wants. Me, fucking him senseless. Is there a way where I win, or do I lose no matter what? What happens if I do what he wants?

  Talha spun around.

  Slater stood where he’d left him. Half-naked, still rubbing his spotty chest, he wore a lopsided smirk. Devilish flames dancing in his eyes convinced Talha in his rightness—inwardly, Slater was jeering.

  Fuck it! He wants a master, and he’ll get it. After all, Ejder is right. It’s only as serious as I let it be. A growl broke from the depth of his chest as he took the first step toward the reaper. Gaze training on the mocking eyes, Talha cornered him step by step, wishing to erase that smirk off Slater’s face with his fists, then fuck his bloody mouth. Will he like it?

  Eyes leveling, Talha grabbed his arm and jerked the younger man to himself. Slater swallowed getting visibly nervous. The smugness, the domination—everything disappeared from his attitude, leaving only attention behind. Even his neck strained as he peered back. A shaky breath escaped his plump mouth and crushed against Talha’s lips. His skin flared with a renewed color, bringing to Talha’s attention the awakening, greedy glow in the depth of his glacial eyes.

  Talha’s breath caught up. The painful urge contracted his lungs when Slater’s chest brushed against his own as the younger man sucked another breath. Slater exhaled and the skin contact broke, leaving behind the chill of the sticky ointment.

  Talha’s vision darkened, turning murky, and a million needles pierced his skin, making him itch for another touch. His elbows changed the angle, and Talha found his face hovering over Slater’s. Inhaling a weird mix of cinnamon, vanilla, and menthol, he couldn’t help but ogle the full, soft lips.

  “Do it, Master. Unless you are scared.” The variable voice demanded, and something snapped in Talha’s brain, wiping off the remains of his self-control. Palm slamming against the reaper’s shoulder, Talha pushed him to the bed, face down.

  “Scared of whom? You?” The mattress dipped beneath his weight, he put his knee on the bed and slanted forward. His chest collided with the clammy back of the ripper, as his elbows dug into the mattress at either side of Slater’s head. “You are still too wet behind your ears to make me fear you.”

  “No, Master isn’t very smart to be scared of … me.” Slater’s voice quivered. “But of having me…”

  “Shut up, Reaper, if you want me to fuck you.” Talha inched his face right, and his lips skimmed over Slater’s hair. Reaching the ear, they stopped underneath, where a blue vein pulsed in the fast rhythm of Slater’s drumming heart. His skin smelled like menthol and camphor oil, the scent so pungent Talha could taste it in his mouth.

  What the hell am I doing? But the reply never formed, as the thought drowned in the raw, insane fervor. Sinking his teeth into the side of Slater’s throat, he snaked his hand to Slater’s trunks, then yanked them down.

  Kicking Slater’s legs apart with an impatient knee, he pushed down his own underwear, grabbed his cock, and guided it between Slater’s butt cheeks. His mouth parched when his red head nudged the hot, twitching hole, smearing it with precum. The creasy tissue of the sphincter stretched, and his blind head breached the opening with little resistance. Amazing heat and pressure engulfed him, pulsing around him, as he bucked his hips forward, slamming his length into the willing body.

  Slater gasped; his eyes wide open as his knuckles imitating the color of the white bed sheet crumpled in his fist. Arching back, he bumped his sweaty temple against Talha’s cheek, chasing for air with his opened mouth. Short, shallow panting broke out in a pulsing manner, signaling pain.

  Talha didn’t care. Pulling out, he banged in again. His hipbones collided with the soft roundness of Slater’s ass so hard that his balls, slamming against the taint, rung with the painful impact. Talha was sure that Slater’s ass would come out bruised after this night, but he didn’t want to think about anything except the slick, soft passage.

  The last time they had sex, Slater’s insides weren’t this slippery, but tight and resistant. Talha squinted down, half-expecting to see blood, but the rim of the pink hole oozed with a clear gel. Lube? When did he prepare himself? Was he hoping for it?

  “More, Master,” Slater moaned, as his slender body rounded in a perfect back-arch, every muscle taut. Talha’s mouth watered with the wish to trace the groove of
his spine with his tongue. At that moment, Slater reminded him of a Turkish bow—the most dangerous, most beautiful among the cold weapon. Supple, yet strong, Slater would look perfect with a bowstring connecting his neck and ankles.

  Talha considered grabbing a rope and turning his fantasy into reality, but the immediate need overpowered. His hips thrashed against Slater’s butt, as his fingers closed around the sinewy wrists, stabbing nails into the tender skin of the inner sides. The contractions of his hips so desperate, pleasure so intense, that Talha forgot how to breathe. When he remembered and snatched an almost painful intake of air, bright circles stained his vision, causing his head to spin.

  His bristled chin scratched over Slater’s shoulder-blades, leaving red scrape-burns behind. The reaper squirmed when his tongue lapped over the scattering of red insect-stings, making Talha want to tease him more, testing the limits of his sensitivity. The minty taste chilled his tongue, but he kept licking Slater’s disturbed skin as his cock lurched deeper and deeper into Slater’s core. The reaper convulsed beneath him, his arms trembled in the cage of Talha’s hands, and the prolonged cry vibrated in his chest, resounding in the place where Talha’s lips glided over his back.

  “Slower, slower…” Slater’s eyes watered. The red spots popping on his neck crawled to his face, speckling his cheeks. The reaper tried to wrench his hand out of Talha’s grip a second before his words choked in a bubbling cry. The contortions, coming from the depth of his ass, took over his body as he turned into a shaking mess. His forehead bumped against the mattress, fingers curled-tight around the linens, as his saliva pooled on the sheet beneath his cheek.

  Talha hissed; his vision zooming out on Slater’s face as the sinful body kept milking his cock with painful spasms of his inner muscles. Every thrust slower than the previous one as Talha fought with the tense, resisting body, thinking that he had never met anyone this sensitive in his life. Watching Slater’s face distort in a powerful orgasm, he crushed Slater’s wrists in his palms, releasing the burning pressure that seized his organs since the moment the reaper came to his bed. Jolting through his core, the powerful discharge extracted a groan out of his lungs, wiping his vision clean. His balls contorted, as his cock emptied itself into Slater’s body.

  Everything stopped existing, as the glow of euphoria blazed through him. Scalding his insides, it settled small tremors in his every muscle. His elbows gave in, and he collapsed on Slater’s back. Separated by a thin layer of perspiration, Talha didn’t feel repulsed but satisfied as his head rang with emptiness.

  Lungs burning, he rolled to his side and onto his back, blinking with unseeing eyes. His heart so violent in his chest that it threatened to burst any moment. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, feeling the blood returning to his head with small prickling.

  “That was hot, Master!” Slater leered. “Let’s do it again.”

  Even with his eyes closed, Talha felt Slater’s face hovering over him. Hand against Slater’s chest, Talha locked out his elbow, setting a bigger distance between them. “If you have energy left, go bring clean sheets.”

  “But…”

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  “No, Master…”

  PRESENT

  TALHA FLINCHED AS SOMEONE touched his shoulder. He hadn’t heard the door being opened when Dinçer entered the room. The tide of memories ebbed, leaving his face tingling with heat as he snatched his gaze away from Slater.

  “You aren’t supposed to be here; it’s a resuscitation unit,” Talha said. “Step out.”

  More people fell into the picture as he looked over Dinçer’s shoulder. Two bodyguards and Ejder. Eyes glowing with hatred, he hovered in the doorway, never looking away from Slater. His lips paled as he muttered something under his breath.

  Stepping toward him, Talha shielded the wounded man with his chest, bringing his brother’s attention to himself. “Ejder?”

  “What the fuck, Abi? You even put him in the hospital? After everything he did? Shoot him now!”

  Talha sighed and closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. He wasn’t ready to deal with Ejder’s outrage. Not now. That was exactly why he’d needed Dinçer to come alone.

  “You look good too, Kardeşim. It’s nice to see you. Now, please, wait outside.” Giving his brother a light cheek pat, Talha U-turned Ejder and urged him out of the room. The soles of Ejder’s shoes squeaked against the floor as he pushed back.

  “I’m not leaving. What’s wrong with you? Is a concussion clouding your judgment? Do you even know what he did?” Wriggling out of Talha’s grip, Ejder snarled, his eyes full of hostility.

  “Watch what you say, Kardeşim. I might be your brother, but I’m still your Reis.” Talha said calmly. “If you aren’t happy with how things are, go home to Mardin. Now, please, leave the room. Whatever you have to say, it has to wait until we are home. Alone.” Losing his interest in his brother, Talha faced his friend. “Dinçer, did you bring my clothes?”

  Ejder’s face blanched as he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind his back.

  “He’s worried about you. We all are. This whole thing was hard on him. At first, we didn’t even know if you were among the dead. So many bodies were disfigured beyond recognition.” Dinçer allowed himself to remark, placing a garment bag over the back of the chair. “And instead of letting him know in person that you are okay, you are guarding this… dog.”

  Talha grimaced as acrid guilt surged into his system. “I know; I was there. I’ll explain everything once we are home. Please, calm him down and send Miraç here.”

  With a nod, Dinçer strode toward the door. Before leaving the room, he glanced over his shoulder. “Talha… I’m glad you are fine.”

  Alone again, Talha rubbed his chest. The air seemed to clot in there, it felt so tight. Even after he’d changed into his own clothes, relief didn’t come. A heavy, unsolved issue weighted his shoulders as his eyes kept drifting to Slater.

  The low hissing of the medical ventilator grew louder as he approached the bed; his gaze finding Slater. Usually fluid and erratic, the reaper lay motionless as if all the flames had abandoned Iblīs’ mortal shell. A part of Talha craved to touch his hand, but he quickly crushed his desire in his balled fist. There was no reason for physical touch, as Slater wasn’t his anymore. The thought was hard to swallow and landed heavily in the pit of his stomach, but he still processed it getting used to the idea.

  He was eager to bend down and brush his lips across the corner of Slater’s mouth, where the tape held the tube in place. To plant a last kiss across the cold, still mouth, but he refrained, needing to get his emotions out of the way or killing Slater would be impossible.

  Swallowing against the lumps of his throat, he whispered, “Next time we meet, one of us dies. If you can—run because this is as much as I can do for you. Farewell, Slater.”

  “Reis…” Miraç cleared his throat and closed the door. “Did you ask for me?”

  “Yes.” Talha straightened up. Still looking at Slater, he said, “Keep him heavily sedated, put him in a coma, or tie him down if you can. Once he’s awake, he will cause a lot of trouble. I‘ll leave guards, but nothing can really stop him. Maybe only a bullet in his head. Should I leave you a gun?”

  Miraç snorted.

  “It’s a hospital, Reis. We don’t harm people here, we cure them. Keep your guards at home.” He smiled; the corners of his eyes cracked with laughter lines as he quoted the Quran. “‘My mercy embraces all things.’ Even Iblīs. We will be fine; cancel the contract.”

  “As you wish…”

  “What are you going to do with him?” Miraç’s serious eyes fixed on him.

  “Kill him…” Talha gulped down a sudden flood of sour saliva. Losing control over his facial muscles, he winced. “I have to kill him. There is no cure for a mad dog but a bullet.”

  Miraç didn’t reply. Talha faced him. The lenses of thin glasses flared with green, reflecting the light. The doctor stepped toward the bed.

/>   “Why don’t you pray tonight? A good prayer will bring peace to your mind.”

  A wry smile twisted Talha’s mouth. “No prayer can grant me what I want.”

  “‘But they plan, and Allah plans. And Allah is the best of planners.’” He quoted the Quran again. “Pray tonight, Talha, and don’t worry about him. There is a reason why he was created. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “Oh, I know why he was created. To become my downfall.” Talha slapped the doctor’s shoulder, moving to the doors. “I’ll send someone to collect him soon. Don’t let him escape, and don’t disclose his identity to anyone. Also…”

  “Reis?”

  “Don’t tell anyone about Camilla’s body parts. Keep them secure. I need to think about how to clean this mess.”

  “Don’t worry, Reis. Go home, rest well, and don’t forget your medicine.”

  THE ROAD TO THE MANSION stretched time in reality. Sticky and heavy, the silence condensed the atmosphere, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Concentrating on the road, Dinçer kept silent, but Ejder’s palpable anger pressed on Talha’s nerves. He opened the window, letting in street sounds and fresh air. Leaning toward the gushes of air, he closed his eyes.

  The mere thought of entering the mansion cramped his stomach, reminding him of the diabolic feast Slater had cooked for him.

  So much blood… Was it removed? Could it even be removed?

  “What should I expect in the mansion?” he asked, without opening his eyes.

  “Lots of people. Some from the Hale family, some ours. Police, too. Those who were worried and those who want to know what happened,” Dinçer replied.

  “Haven’t you told them?” Talha cracked one eye open, hoping for a negative answer. If Dinçer had managed to avoid unnecessary information circulation, it would be so much easier for him to clear the mess.