Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso

by Kaitlin Maitland

  The desire to give her daughter more was the only thing that remained of the woman Demon had once known—a slip of a girl that had owned his loyalty. Before they’d come to America, before Boston, when the two of them had been trapped together in a villa in Rome. Selfish bitch that she was, at the center of her hard-core Dominatrix exterior, Seraphina de Medici loved her daughter.

  “Go find Malachi.” Seraph’s abrupt order wasn’t unexpected. “You have to convince him this is what’s best for Alisa.”

  He dipped his chin in the semblance of a bow, the most he had ever offered the woman after he’d watched her use a D/s bond to force a man to father a child against his will. Just to keep him from leaving her.

  * * * *

  Malachi was pummeling the punching bag when Demon slipped into his suite. His friend had changed into a battered pair of cutoff sweats. His broad chest was bare. It had been long years since Demon had seen Malachi lose himself to this kind of raw energy.

  The room off the main living area had been repurposed for sparring. Thin mats covered the floor of what had once been a large sitting room. A weight bench occupied one corner, a parallel bar another, and a weapons rack dominated the far wall.

  Sweat beaded on Malachi’s brow. It dampened his silky hair, making the dark strands curl around his nape. Demon absorbed the beauty of Malachi’s muscles moving beneath his sleek skin. There was an innate sensuality to the way Malachi carried himself. It saturated every facet of his life. Demon had always suspected it was the reason Seraph had been drawn to Malachi in the beginning.

  Malachi sidestepped and brought his knee up to the bag. The action drew his shorts taut against his groin. Physical exertion got the blood pumping all over the body, but it didn’t typically give Malachi a raging hard-on.

  Demon’s body responded to the sign of arousal. He welcomed the desire, enjoyed the feel of it snaking through his veins. He knew so many who believed a man had to deny arousal in order to be dominant. The fools thought it made them powerful to pretend to be unaffected. They were wrong.

  Nothing made Demon feel more powerful than embracing the consuming desire he felt for Malachi. He was never more dominant than when he brought his lover pleasure and accepted it in return. Their relationship had spanned more than a decade. Malachi was more than a friend, more than a lover; he was part of Demon’s soul.

  If it’s possible for a demon to have such a thing.

  Malachi grunted as he delivered a neat roundhouse kick to his inanimate opponent. “Still lurking?”

  Aggression made Malachi’s gaze glitter. Sexual awareness simmered beneath it, an intoxicating mixture Demon couldn’t pass up. He flipped his hair away from his face and looked for the perfect opening.

  When Malachi fell back to change his approach, Demon slipped sideways and placed himself between his lover and the punching bag. Malachi feinted left and struck out with flurry of right and left jabs.

  Demon’s personal style was open palm. It played on the strength of his hands and arms. He blocked Malachi’s advance and began the dance. They traded blows, the sound of their sparring echoing dully about the room. Demon tried to stomp Malachi’s bare feet with his thick boots, but his partner leaped lightly over the move and countered with a snap kick that Demon blocked with both hands.

  Something festered beneath the exercise, an intensity that made Demon uneasy. He hadn’t seen Malachi this conflicted since he’d first torn himself away from Seraph’s control.

  Malachi pushed harder, his hands moving faster, beyond the usual rhythm of their sparring. Demon had to reach for moves he never used in a casual sparring match. Skills he would never use against his lover. Survival instincts he’d spent a lifetime developing took over.

  The tempo increased, Demon’s body moving without conscious thought. All at once he leaped and spun quickly away. His choice should have ended the fight. Except Malachi followed as if he were in a blind rage.

  “Malachi!” Demon knew as soon as he spoke that his friend was deaf to anything but whatever darkness coursed through his body.

  Launching himself at Malachi, Demon locked his legs around his friend’s neck and used his momentum to take them both to the ground. It was like grappling with a bull, but Demon hung on.

  “Stop, Malachi. I don’t want to choke you out, but I will.”

  He could feel the reason return to his friend. The fight went out of Malachi’s body. Demon immediately removed his legs from his partner’s neck and rolled away. He propped his back against the wall and waited for the adrenaline rush to subside.

  Malachi sat up, looking stricken. “I’m sorry.”

  Before Demon could accept the apology, his partner rolled to his knees. Malachi pressed his face to the floor in a position of subservience Demon hadn’t demanded from him since the early days.

  Unease rippled up Demon’s spine. The balance of power in his relationship with Malachi was a delicate thing. At his core Malachi was a submissive. He had a strong sense of individuality that had always presented itself as an independent streak. It made him a delightful challenge to any Dom. In the past it had also made him a target for those like Seraph—Doms who would rather break a sub’s spirit in lieu of cultivating a true D/s bond.

  Since helping Malachi leave the abusive relationship he’d shared with Seraph, Demon had spent years helping his partner develop that independent streak into a dominant one, one that would protect him from Seraph’s cruelty. Demon was a strong Dom. He wasn’t intimidated by a strong submissive. Instead, he was a man who understood that the power in a D/s relationship was held by the submissive. Between the two of them, Malachi was powerful if only because Demon would do anything for him.

  Demon gained his feet and approached his partner’s humbled form. Instead of touching Malachi’s shoulder to indicate that he should rise, Demon crouched down and stroked the softness of his lover’s hair. “What happened tonight?”

  MALACHI KNEW WHAT he needed to bring his life back into balance, but his pride balked at the idea of begging for the whip. It was a war constantly waged between the two halves of his personality. Fortunately the familiar balm of Demon’s baritone had taken the choice out of Malachi’s hands. He would tell Demon what had happened, and his Dom would decide if punishment was required or not.

  “The woman we helped that night in the street was in the Underground tonight.” Malachi didn’t lift his head as he explained Selena’s predicament. It felt so good to have Demon’s hand stroking his hair. They weren’t an affectionate pair, but sometimes Malachi craved the contact.

  “I want to be sure I have this correctly.” Demon placed two fingers beneath Malachi’s chin and forced him meet his gaze. “You stumbled across a woman who is just discovering some of her own submissive qualities. You took her to the training room and went through what probably amounted to an introductory session with her.”

  Malachi’s mouth watered at the memory of Selena’s soft, feminine scent. He recalled how her body had responded so sweetly to his touch, the sleekness of her pussy, and the way she’d come despite her doubts. His body caught fire, lust gripping his balls in a vise that was going to drive him mad.

  “You’ve done nothing wrong, Malachi,” Demon murmured.

  Didn’t his lover understand that Malachi had betrayed him? “I masturbated in the shower.”

  When Malachi would have pulled away, Demon held him still. “I told you before I left that I didn’t want you to deny yourself. Ten days is a long time when you’re stuck in an environment like this one that constantly exposes you to stimuli.”

  “I can’t get her out of my head.” Malachi wanted so badly for Demon to understand. It wasn’t what had happened. It was the determination of his mind to savor every detail of the encounter and embellish. “I don’t like women. They can’t be trusted.”

  “Bullshit.” Demon stood abruptly. “Seraph can’t be trusted. And between the two of us, I’m not sure she’s even human. My money is on cyborg.”

  Malachi ima
gined Seraph dragging herself along Terminator-style even after he’d managed to run her over with his motorcycle. “No way. Troll.”

  “At least we don’t have a shortage of swords capable of slaying the beast.” A grin played at the corner of Demon’s impassive mouth.

  Malachi gazed at the dark face shadowed by silky hair. The smile utterly transformed Demon. Turned him from badass to friend and reminded Malachi why he loved him completely. The two of them had a bond that had been forged during the years they’d spent harboring each other from Seraph’s twisted desires.

  I wonder what Selena would think of Demon?

  A vivid image of the blonde goddess matching her pride to Demon’s strength of purpose took Malachi’s breath away. He thought of her sweetness, her secret desire to submit, and the way she would feel when Demon told Malachi to spread her legs and sink his cock into her hot pussy. The three of them would light the world on fire together.

  “What’s going through that head of yours, Malachi?”

  The image in his mind was so rich with possibilities that he answered without thinking. “I just wondered what you two would think of each other. You never mentioned her after that night, but I know you were as curious as I was.”

  DEMON’S FIRST REACTION was to tell Malachi he was wishing they’d never come to her aid that night in the street. In fourteen years Demon had never seen Malachi so taken with a woman. Not ten minutes ago he’d been practically begging Demon to drive her out of his mind with a whip. Now he was imagining a threesome?

  Arousal licked its way across Demon’s body like living flame. He hadn’t fucked a woman in years. Not because he didn’t enjoy them, but because his relationship with Malachi was more important than sating personal desires he could easily push into the background.

  An idea began to take shape in Demon’s mind, an experiment that had his cock swelling to a point just below pain. He let his grip on Malachi’s chin grow rougher, pinching the flesh until he saw the question in his lover’s eyes. “Go and shower. Meet me in that training room in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Six

  The Underground was silent when Malachi used his key to enter the training room. The first pale light of dawn had already kissed the visages of the archangels outlined in their stained glass windows. He locked the door behind him before turning to see Demon standing like a shadow beside the table where Selena had lain a few hours ago. He wore nothing but his jeans against the room’s chilly air. Malachi drank in the sight of Demon’s tightly packed abdominal muscles, two deep grooves flowing from his hips until they disappeared at his waistband.

  “Can you still smell her scent in this room?” Demon asked.

  Malachi approached his lover slowly, refusing to give in to his eagerness. “I can.”

  The corner of Demon’s mouth tilted upward. “I can as well.”

  The morning coolness seeped into Malachi’s bare feet, chilling him through the loose cotton pants he’d thrown on after his shower. He stopped beside the table, waiting to see what would come next. Demon was right. Despite the musty scent that always lingered within the stone walls, Malachi could smell Selena’s distinctive feminine perfume. The scent mingled with the heavier musk of Demon’s skin to create a blend that gave Malachi decadent thoughts of the three of them together.

  “I need you naked, Malachi.” Demon’s soft baritone stroked like silk across Malachi’s senses. “Mount the table facedown.”

  He shimmied the drawstring pants down his legs, and they pooled around his bare feet. Malachi stepped free and turned to the table. Demon had adjusted it into a strange position. It was lowered as far as it could go until Malachi could have straddled it with his feet planted firmly on the ground and his knees bent.

  Anticipation curled through his gut as Malachi mounted the table. A panel had been removed from the center to allow his genitals to hang free. Hang didn’t really apply, however, since his cock had already started to harden the moment he’d climbed onto the table. He wondered idly if Selena had experienced the same mingling of anticipation and desire when she’d been there earlier.

  A sense of rightness settled like a warm blanket over Malachi’s nerves when his belly made contact with the leather. No matter what Demon intended, Malachi trusted him to take them both to a point where pleasure and pain met fulfillment.

  “Are you thinking about her?” Demon’s voice was a whisper, but Malachi was so focused he’d have heard that tone in a crowded room.

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t stop. Paint a detailed picture in your mind and hold on to it.” Demon’s calloused palm slid a familiar path over Malachi’s shoulder blades, tracing the pale scars left by Seraph’s beatings as they continued down his spine toward his ass. “Her scent, her softness, everything you can remember. Even her smile.”

  Sassy, sexy, reckless, and wild—Selena invaded Malachi’s memory and staked a claim on his mind. He saw the perfect bow of her lips and the arrogant curve of her eyebrows as she worked so hard to pretend she didn’t care.

  A hand gripped his swollen shaft beneath the table. He clenched his fists around the webbed handles as Selena had done only hours before. He knew it wasn’t her beneath the table. The powerfully skilled hand belonged to Demon, but in Malachi’s waking dream it was Selena who stroked him from balls to tip.

  His cock was bathed in warmth and wetness as sleek and sexy as a woman’s willing pussy. A groan slipped out before he could bite it back.

  “Don’t stifle your sounds of pleasure, Malachi,” Demon whispered. “She wants to hear you. Show her how much you want to be inside her.”

  Malachi thrust against the table, his cock sliding slowly through Demon’s tight grip. Another stroke and the rounded tip of his penis pressed into something that was not a hand. It was tight and wet with suction that made his senses reel.

  The rational portion of his brain knew it had to be a synthetic pussy of some kind. A toy kept for training purposes. The part of him lured into a beautiful dream at Demon’s urging was perfectly happy to pretend the embrace was really Selena’s hot little cunt wrapped around his dick.

  Malachi couldn’t remember the last time he’d fucked a woman. His body reveled in the novel sensation. The way the tight sleeve clung and stretched around him, welcoming him in and then protesting his withdrawal. Here and now he could set aside his fears because it was all an illusion. Here he was safe. He began to thrust in earnest, a quick rhythm that had him spiraling toward release.

  “No, Malachi. Don’t come just yet.” Demon’s hand clamped around his testicles to help him stave off the climax hovering out of his reach.

  Demon released Malachi’s balls, and they hung hot and heavy against the apparatus clamped over his cock. The table rocked, the coolness of a leather restraint a shock to the warm skin of his lower back.

  Malachi’s eyes snapped open as a second strap bit into his shoulders. It forced him down flat. Adrenaline surged through his system. The table shivered as he launched himself up, only to be held fast by the restraints. Darkness curled the edges of his vision, the sound of his blood pumping furiously through his veins a dull roar in his ears.

  “Relax, Malachi.”

  The timbre of his lover’s voice was a familiar sound in the madness. He clung to it like an anchor, reminding himself over and over again that Demon had spent ten years proving he was not Seraph.

  DEMON KNEW HE was pushing the boundaries of their bond. He had never used restraints on Malachi. They were Seraph’s stock-in-trade. She had been especially fond of contorting Malachi’s big body into painful positions only to force him to hold them for hours. In all her years spent trying to break her favorite toy, she’d sought only one thing—him screaming a safe word, proving she’d outmatched him. It had never happened.

  That wasn’t what Demon desired. He smoothed his hands across Malachi’s bulging shoulder muscles, pinned to the table beneath the bite of a thick strap. The leather wouldn’t cut into the flesh. It wasn’t designed to harm.<
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  Arousal heightened Demon’s senses, making him utterly aware of the man who was struggling so valiantly with his fight-or-flight instinct. The sharpness of his breathing and the scent of his sweat tangled with Demon’s own. The goal was to achieve pleasure for them both.

  Demon continued to stroke his lover, kneading the tension from Malachi’s back and haunches until relaxation stole over his large frame and his breathing returned to normal.

  Demon visualized the scene he wanted to paint in his mind, forcing his own desire into submission as it rose like a tidal wave. He had only the vaguest memory of Malachi’s mysterious woman. How much more intense would this be if the siren herself were in this room with them?

  “I’d enjoy seeing you restrained like this with your cock buried in her pussy, Malachi.” Heat suffused the satin skin beneath Demon’s palms, and he knew his lover had left panic behind for anticipation. “Would you like that?”

  Malachi shuddered. “Yes.”

  “Is your cock hard?” Demon didn’t have to ask. The tension in Malachi’s ass said he was having a hell of time keeping still with the synthetic pussy locked onto his shaft.

  “Yes.” The muscles across his back rippled. “I want to fuck it. I want to fuck her.”

  “Patience, Malachi.” The response was a relief. Demon had spent years teaching Malachi it was natural to have desires. Expressing needs didn’t deserve punishment. If Demon wanted an automaton, he’d fuck a blow-up doll. It was Malachi’s vibrant, sensual nature that made him the man Demon admired.

  He reached for the flogger he’d laid within reach. He’d purposely set it outside Malachi’s sight. Now Demon curled his hand around the molded handle and gave his palm a few light tickles with the soft leather.

  The sound made Malachi flinch. He gripped the edges of the table until it creaked as he trembled and tried to regain control. His shoulders bulged against the strap though he didn’t speak a word.