Nightfall

by Joey W. Hill

  I'd like to feel how nice a shave you did for me. Rub your cheek on the bare part of my leg.

  He bent, did that, and scented her fragrance. Powder and perfume, but unmistakably arousal as well. He'd aroused her by eating from her hand. Suddenly he didn't feel like a pet at all, but a man whose submission turned her on tenfold. Her fingers slid through his hair, tugging, her nails scraping his nape.

  Return to the wall now.

  He pressed a kiss to her leg, earned a more reproving tug to his hair. Dix and Butch were both watching him, and Quinn was uncomfortably aware Butch's regard was laced with sexual fascination. While it was hard to determine what Dix was thinking, it wasn't disinterest, not by a long shot.

  "You do much wrestling, Quinn?" Butch asked, tearing off a piece of bread and taking a taste.

  "Yeah." At Selene's subtle prompting, he cleared his throat. "Yes sir. I wrestled in high school. On the ranch, there are all sorts of things that have to be wrestled down to the ground."

  "True enough. Later on, during after-dinner drinks, we'll tell you how we had to wrestle a bull to the ground bare-handed. Good thing those horns weren't wood or steel," he said wryly, "because he nearly skewered both of us, the bastard."

  Dix chuckled at that and Quinn managed a tentative smile in return.

  "You and Dix move over there." Butch nodded to the outdoor screened patio available beyond the open double doors of the dining room. The space was clear, no outdoor furniture. "Let's see which one of you can wrestle the other to the ground and hogtie him. Whoever wins, their Master or Mistress gets to decide the prize."

  Okay. Not the usual activity one did at dinner, but it wasn't something unknown to him, especially when Dix gave him a grin full of you-are-so-going-to-lose.

  The guy was way stronger, more experienced, but Quinn wasn't much for losing a fight either. He'd been the captain of his wrestling team. Dix had moved to a side cabinet, something that might normally hold fancy dishes, and pulled out a coil of rope. As he and Quinn moved onto the patio, he dropped it on the floor in between them. Then he took up a wrestling stance, facing Quinn.

  The way Butch was watching them made it clear this wasn't like a football game. Two tough cowboys pitting strength against one another at his command got him off. Quinn distracted himself from that disturbing thought by looking toward his Mistress. When she moistened her lips, her gaze sliding over him as if she could already see his muscles straining and tight, his cock hardened, making it clear he wasn't entirely detached from all the sexual innuendo saturating the air.

  Now the reason for the shorts was clear. It was like a gladiator contest, and the audience wanted to see as much of the contestants as possible. Quinn guessed he should be glad they weren't naked, with all sorts of vulnerable parts hanging out. Then he didn't have a lot of time to consider anything, because Dix lunged.

  Butch had maybe given him a tip, calling to mind all the reflexes and strength it took to handle stock and rodeo animals. The vampire version of a friendly wrestling match was up there with wresting a bull in truth. Dix gave him about half a second to pick up on the tone and intent, and then he started pushing Quinn's skills hard.

  From his tussle with Dix earlier, Quinn knew the other man was holding back some to make the contest more about skill than brute force. Quinn had plenty of the former and embraced the advantage. As they circled, grappled, rolled and broke apart multiple times, Quinn found himself actually getting into the spirit of the competition, trading insults and grunts of effort. They both started building up a sweat, so as they braced weight against each other, tried head locks, different holds and all sorts of efforts to bring one another down, they were handling slick muscle even harder to pin. They traded pins a couple of times, but both managed to wriggle loose. Dix was a damn sinewy bastard for sure, but Quinn was good at getting himself out of tight spots despite his larger size.

  Still, time told the real story, and he tired before the other guy, goddamn it. But somewhere along the way, he rebelled against the idea of being trapped against his will, restrained, and the fighting became dirtier, more desperate. That was when Dix's elbow slammed into his mouth, and Quinn punched him in the face, and it became a brawl, with them bouncing off the walls, floor and the low brick border around the patio. A screen tore out of the frame, and then Quinn found himself on his back in the grass, Dix on top, and that rope in his hands.

  He bucked, snarled, raged, but in the end he was planted on his belly, rock-hard cock jammed beneath him, his arms pulled back behind him, knees bent so Dix could tie his wrists to his ankles. Quinn cursed him, struggled, but then Dix gave him a slap on the ass and backed off. Quinn's only satisfaction was seeing that Dix was breathing heavy as he was.

  "You're a strong son of a bitch," Dix offered. "Good fighter."

  "You made your point," Quinn gritted. "Untie me."

  "Not my call." Dix's gaze settled on him, his expression spawning a wealth of apprehension in Quinn's belly.

  No. No way in hell. His gaze snapped to Selene, and he found her and Butch in chairs they'd pulled over to the opening to the patio, a closer front-row seat to the action.

  Selene had that wooden, neutral expression. While he was sure--almost--that she wasn't thrilled to see him in this position with Butch present, it wasn't a position she wouldn't enjoy seeing him in herself, if it was the two of them alone. Hell he might even enjoy it then. But not this. This wasn't the way he was.

  He set his teeth, bit his lip perversely to keep him from speaking in his head, pleading with her. If she had anything to say, she'd say it. But her eyes never left him and he held that gaze, his jaw set. Fine. He wouldn't say a damn thing.

  He'd think of that butterfly in his hand, trusting him. The blue and yellow delicate colors, so easily crushed, but so strong despite its fragility. Able to endure, hold on through everything...

  She rose then. He was braced to feel ashamed as she came closer, that he'd lost, that he was bound like this by someone else in front of her, but then he registered her reaction. Her gaze was skimming over him with pure hunger, lingering on his muscles straining against his bonds. His cock, mashed as it was beneath him, got even thicker, responding to her. When she trailed her fingers over his rigid biceps, down to caress his ass, stroke his calves in their restrained position, he quivered. Catching the hem of the slick shorts, she pulled them away from his ass, exposing the curves as she traced them with sharp nails. Her other hand coiled in his hair, and she tightened her grip on his ass so she could slide a finger into the opening she'd told him to lube up.

  He bucked, gasping as she worked him. Fuck. Mistress...

  Anything I want, Quinn. Anything that gives me pleasure. Say it.

  Anything that gives you pleasure.

  Say it aloud.

  "Anything that gives you pleasure. God...no..." She was going to make him come, his body way more revved up by her watching their wrestling match than he'd expected.

  No. Your orgasm is Butch's call. But only for the moment.

  She rose then, standing over him, and he was staring at her feet in those killer stilettos.

  "In a few more years, my servant will kick Dix's ass, my lord."

  Butch chuckled. "We'll see in a few years, won't we?"

  He moved next to her, and Quinn knew he was staring down at him, could almost feel the heat of the man's gaze on his bare butt. "Go sit down, Selene."

  A direct order. Quinn glanced up to see her jaw flex, but she gave a short nod, returned to her chair. Butch's attention was moving over Quinn like he was considering his second meal of the night.

  "It's hard, sharing them the first time. On a normal night, I'd go for the straight hard fuck between him and Dix, have Dix take him right here, a prize for getting him hogtied. Nothing as scintillating as watching two men go at it the way they can, all rough and tumble. I'm not so much for the vampire games, all the setup some of the born ones do, like a fucking royal court performance."

  His lip curled, showing h
is disdain for that, but then he dropped to his heels and cupped Quinn's buttock, finger sliding to the seam, through the oil. "But he's a fine piece. I'm thinking I might take the pleasure for myself, then give Dix the leftovers."

  No. Hell no, not happening. But he didn't have any choice, did he? Still, when Butch shifted, pressing a knee into his shoulder, Quinn didn't think. He just bucked and used every ounce of strength to shove away from the vampire, managing to wrench his shoulder and pull one ankle binding tight enough he could immediately feel the dangerous constriction around the veins. He snarled at Butch like a wild animal and found his throat seized by the vampire, Dix sitting on him somewhere behind, holding him down.

  Panic and rage warred together. He'd kill himself and them before he'd let them take choices away from him. Goddamn...the haze of red took everything over and he was bellowing like a bull in truth, wrestling as much as he could, no matter the constriction over wrists, ankles, throat. He might be a third mark, but he was going to render himself unconscious.

  No, Selene. Can't do this...Selene...

  It was too late to have the thought, lost as it was amid a fierce struggle to resist their efforts to do things to him he couldn't permit, wouldn't permit. No way in hell.

  Then suddenly they were off him, standing back, and he was wheezing, everything hurting and throbbing where the rope was cutting off circulation and his breathing.

  A knife sliced through the ropes, Dix pulling them free. As soon as Quinn could orient himself, he shoved him away, did it himself. Pulling the shorts back in place, he stumbled to his feet and braced himself for battle, fists clenched, eyes wild.

  It took him a few blinks to realize no one was close enough to fight. With his head still whirling, he registered Butch leaning against the patio wall, testing his thumb against the wicked-looking knife he'd used to cut the bonds. Selene sat straight and still in the chair, her gaze not on Quinn at all, but on the distant horizon as if she wished she was somewhere else entirely. It was that which brought Quinn back to himself, made his heart drop.

  Fuck, he'd failed. Hadn't he? Proven he couldn't do it. Yet as he tried to imagine a hundred ways to make it better, he couldn't bring himself to think of doing that. She was right. Butch was right. He'd made the wrong choice. Yet he wanted to go to his knees, beg her forgiveness. He couldn't be without her, yet he couldn't...do that.

  "It's a learning process. Fortunately, maybe, you're in a position to give him that. In forty, fifty years he'll find the peace with it that Dix did, but he definitely doesn't have it now."

  Butch had angled himself to speak directly to Selene, as if Quinn wasn't even there. He didn't seem the least bit perturbed, a small boon all in all. Quinn struggled to get his mind around that, the indicator that maybe he hadn't screwed up as bad as he'd thought. At least overall. He wished Selene would look at him or say something.

  "You're right," Butch told her. "If the Region Masters rule against you, it's best for his sake that he stays here. I'll do as you ask. As long as he agrees to the discretion that will keep him alive."

  His gaze returned to Quinn, though Butch continued to address his Mistress. "If the ruling is in your favor, it's a good thing this is where you want to stay for some time. Your servant will need the time to wrap his head around his role. Before someone strikes it from his shoulders."

  "Perhaps it's just the approach that needs the work, not the servant."

  Quinn lifted his head to see Selene's eyes on him. Butch lifted a brow, though he looked amused, not offended. "Do tell."

  "You break a horse gradually, introducing the saddle and bit as part of a more rewarding activity. Correct?"

  "More or less."

  She nodded. "If you will permit me, I think I can offer you a display you'll enjoy, while proving my servant has the wherewithal to manage this. As you said, it's a learning process, and why shouldn't we enjoy the pleasures of watching him learn?"

  "Indeed." Butch made a courteous gesture, took a seat again. "What did you have in mind?"

  "I will order my servant to make me come with his mouth while your servant brings him to climax with his."

  Butch's eyes got a speculative light. "Works for me. I choose the position and restraints."

  When she inclined her head, Butch turned to his servant. "Dix, if you'll adjust his position accordingly?"

  As Dix approached, Quinn braced himself. Selene held up a hand, bringing Dix to a halt. She rose, moving back toward Quinn.

  I'm sorry, Mistress.

  Nothing to be sorry for, cowboy. Not a thing. When she reached him, she put her hand on his face, looked up into his eyes. That petite, lovely thing who inspired such protective feelings from him had tapped into a part of himself that had brought him the most personal and sexual fulfillment in a long time. When he looked into her eyes, despite their surroundings, he felt all those things, as well as more shame. She was right here, standing before him, and he'd failed her.

  Did I tell you that you failed me, Quinn? She arched a brow, and any vulnerability he'd sensed earlier was gone, replaced by pure, cool Mistress. "Answer me."

  "No."

  Then you didn't. "I'm hot and wet, watching you two big strong men wrestle, and now I'm going to command you down on your back so I can straddle your face and order you to service my pussy. Butch is commanding Dix down onto his knees to take your cock in his mouth, to do his best to make you come before I do. But I know my servant values my pleasure more than his own. Doesn't he?"

  He held her gaze. Nodded. I'm not sure I can let him...do that.

  That's why he's going to tie your arms and legs, so your only focus, your only choice, is to give me pleasure, Quinn. Now kneel.

  Her hands slid up his chest, up to his shoulders, and began to exert pressure. He tried to block Dix out of his line of sight and, as he sank before her, it was possible. When he was kneeling, staring up at her, at the rise of her breasts, the pursing of her lips, the vibrant blue of her eyes, he could get lost in all those things, in all that she was to him. He barely registered her easing him down to the ground, directing him to his back.

  Curling her small hands around his wrists, she eased his arms up and over his head, caressing his throat, his mouth, chest and nipples as his wrists were bound. Dix tied them to one of the three poles embedded into the patio concrete, poles whose purpose Quinn had wondered about and cursed the couple times he'd slammed into them during their match. Selene straddled his abdomen so he couldn't see Dix anymore, though he felt his hands spreading his legs, the ropes tightening around his ankles. Then she started moving forward, gathering up the edges of her short skirt so the garters were fully revealed, and he scented her aroused pussy under the lacy scrap of panties. God, she was beautiful. He was aware of Dix's hands on his shorts, taking them down, and he tensed, but then his Mistress was straddling his shoulders.

  "You have one choice, Quinn." She stared down at him, one simple knee bend away from straddling his face, bringing that delectable pussy to his mouth. "What is that choice?"

  "To give my Mistress pleasure." His voice was hoarse.

  She didn't remove her panties, simply sank down on his face, bringing her pussy up close and personal, but holding it just a lick away. She kept it there as he felt Dix's hands close on his thighs. He bucked a bit, but then Dix's mouth closed over his cock, which didn't give a damn that it was a male mouth on it, though feeling the scratch of his evening shadow against his pelvis was disconcerting. Quinn was just glad he didn't have to see the guy doing it. Selene stayed that tantalizing distance away, her blue eyes focused on his face like a raptor's.

  Please, Mistress. He swallowed back a groan as Dix wrested a strong spasm out of his cock. Fuck, he was going to come in the guy's mouth before she brought her pussy any closer. Maybe that was what she intended. He licked his lips, stared at it, inhaled. Focused. Not until he gave her pleasure.

  Finally, blissfully, she brought it down and covered his face with the light fabric of her dress. He went on t
he attack, already too revved up to take it slow, but he found her soaked through. His Mistress was highly aroused by all this, and that made something click in his brain. He didn't give a damn if he was being sucked off by man, woman or a Hoover vacuum hose. This was the payoff. Her arousal, her desire.

  Her pleasure. That's what she'd said, right? He licked, sucked, bit her through the silky fabric. She ground against his face, cut off his breathing, rubbed herself over his jaw, nose, cheeks, mouth, marking him with her scent while she hummed in her throat and he felt her thighs tighten against his head, clamping and holding him there in an excruciating heaven.

  Dix, goddamn him, had brought his hands into it. He'd cupped Quinn's ass to lever him up deeper and his thumb was pushing into Quinn's anus, playing there. Fuck fuck fuck...

  His Mistress was coming first, damn it all. There was no other option he'd entertain. She was arched back, the straps of her dress falling off her shoulders, the curves of her breast quivering, Butch probably watching it all.

  That would have distracted and angered him, but his Mistress took care of that as well. Suddenly Quinn could see through her eyes and he found Butch's attention wasn't on Selene at all. Sucking off Quinn had put Dix on all fours. Butch had pulled his servant's shorts out of his way and was slamming into his ass like a jackhammer, was working him hard. Seeing the set of Butch's mouth, the vibrant lust in his gray eyes, feeling the spasmodic clamp of Dix's fingers into Quinn's thighs, trying to hold on to his own orgasm for his Master, shouldn't have turned him on, but the overload of stimulation was too much for Quinn.

  Mistress...

  She started to come then. Though her consent was almost incoherent, it was enough for him. He exploded in Dix's hard-pulling mouth, driven by the force of her climax, gushing against his mouth and lips. He plucked at her clit and swirled his tongue over her labia, making sure he gave her the full measure of it even as his brain fragmented.

  He heard Butch come, Dix falling right after. His come splattered against Quinn's thighs, his shins. He didn't care. It was all about Selene, as if this whole thing had been engineered by her, because her mind was open, her unfiltered pleasure swamping him, making it okay. Making it all work. This was a front-row view of what it was supposed to be, what serving a vampire meant. The knowledge he'd seen in Dix's eyes was starting to have a nascent reflection in his own.