Master of the Game

by Jane Kindred

  “You don’t understand the way they are,” said Silk. “Ruby likes it when Belphagor treats him like a piece of meat. Don’t you, my succulent plum?”

  Vasily didn’t answer as Anzhela tilted his head up to start on his left eye.

  “And apparently, they have some kind of a magic word Ruby’s supposed to say if he doesn’t.”

  “It’s not a magic word,” said Vasily.

  “Stop moving.” Anzhela placed his head firmly back in the position she required. It seemed everyone wanted to top him these days.

  “It’s a safe word,” he finished, careful not to turn his head.

  “Sounds like magic.”

  “It just means that if I don’t feel safe, I’m supposed to say it so he knows I’m not just—”

  “Being a petulant firespirit,” Silk finished. Vasily growled out a sigh. “So what’s the word?”

  “Seraphim.” His cheeks went a bit warm as he wondered if he should have told anyone else. Was that just supposed to be between the two of them?

  Anzhela shuddered. “Seraphim? That’s a horrible word. One of them came to The Cat when I was little. A member of the supernal family visited one of the girls, and they have Seraphim guards who follow them everywhere. The Seraphim are supposed to be celibate. They don’t reproduce sexually. But apparently, they can still have sex.” She shuddered again and set down her brush. “They have the most awful voices. Like someone’s banging around in your brain with a hammer. The Seraph wanted to entertain himself while his ward was occupied, but Masha told him no. He roared at her in that voice, but she stood her ground. It seems one of them set upon some poor girl a few years earlier, and he’d burned her pretty badly. They’re…extremely warm.”

  “Ruby can—”

  “Don’t,” Vasily growled, cutting Silk off. He didn’t want to think about what the Seraph had done, and he didn’t want to believe he had a Seraph in his ancestry, though of course it had to have been one of the three firespirits of the Second Choir—Seraph, Ophan, or Cherub. It was why the Fallen all had different dominant elements. They were the products of illicit mixed unions between the various choirs.

  Silk drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. “So if you say the word, Belphagor stops whatever he’s doing?”

  Vasily started to nod, but Anzhela had taken up her brush again, so he kept still. “That’s the idea. I’ve really only used it once.”

  “What was he doing?”

  “Silk!” Anzhela whirled and glared at him. “You don’t ask that. It’s none of our business.”

  “Sorry.” Silk rested his elbows on his knees with his chin in his hands, watching her thoughtfully as she painted a corner flourish. “I wonder if I should have…” He pressed his lips together as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud, but the unfinished sentence became fairly obvious when he spoke again. “Did Belphagor say whether he saw Phaleg?”

  Vasily tried to pretend to be keeping still for Anzhela, but Silk met his eyes in the mirror. Dammit. Belphagor was right. He was a terrible liar, even when he didn’t open his mouth.

  “What do you know?” Silk demanded.

  He wasn’t about to betray Belphagor’s confidence, but there was no point in lying, since he’d already given himself away. He let Anzhela turn him about to paint the other eye. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Did he tell Belphagor something about me?” Silk seemed to take Vasily’s silence as confirmation. “If he thinks he can defame me after he consented to everything we did!”

  “No one defamed anyone,” said Belphagor from the door. “We just had a little talk. He never said exactly what happened between you, but if you’d care to tell me yourself, I’d be happy to give you my ear in private.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” said Silk. “He got squeamish like a little angel bitch. Probably ran home to mama.”

  Vasily was glad the look on Belphagor’s face wasn’t directed at him.

  “All finished.” Anzhela broke the tension, turning Vasily toward Belphagor. “What do you think?”

  Belphagor’s dark eyes glinted with erotic menace. “Perfect.”

  It was hours yet before the Stone Horse would be hopping. Vasily reluctantly accompanied Belphagor back to the Brimstone. It was one thing to walk about Raqia like this at night, but parading about in broad daylight in eye paint wasn’t his idea of fun. Luckily, all it took was a judiciously timed spark of flame in his pupils to convince any demon who considered ridiculing him to hold his tongue.

  But Belphagor clearly had plans for him. As soon as the door to their room closed, he pressed Vasily back against it and began unbuckling Vasily’s belt.

  “Is my punishment starting already?” he managed to say with a relatively normal level of gruffness.

  Belphagor kissed his throat as he released the buckle and worked rapidly through the buttons. “No, sweet boy.” He freed Vasily’s swelling cock, wrapping it in his fist, and Vasily groaned. “Unless you consider having your cock swallowed to be punishment.” Belphagor dropped to his knees before Vasily could react, and his own knees nearly buckled as Belphagor’s mouth closed over the head. It was rare for him to be on the receiving end of this pleasure.

  He hooked his fingers around the casing on both sides of the door and clutched tight while Belphagor took him in with one fist squeezed around the shaft, his tongue extended and pressing flat against the sensitive flesh before he pushed himself deeper. Grasping the belt at Vasily’s hips, Belphagor held on for balance as he lifted his feet off the floor and crossed his legs at the ankles, and used his grip to drive Vasily into his throat, like he was doing vertical push-ups. The hard muscles of Belphagor’s arms and chest were doing the work of fucking himself with Vasily’s cock.

  The Brimstone was quiet in the early afternoon, and Vasily bit down on his lip to keep from making noise so he could savor the sound of Belphagor’s mouth on him—the light slap and pop as Belphagor pulled himself back, and the slick, sliding slip as he brought Vasily’s groin to his face, with just a hint of vocalization giving away the size of what he was taking in when Vasily pushed into the back of his throat.

  Vasily realized he was holding his breath. As soon as he breathed out, a loud groan escaped him and he couldn’t keep quiet any longer. He closed his eyes and pressed his shoulders to the door, hips loose in Belphagor’s grip, and let himself make all the noise he wanted.

  Belphagor got louder too, and more vigorous with his yanking motions, until Vasily couldn’t take another second. With a low growl that morphed into a drawn-out shout of “Da!” he spilled into him, taking extra care to make sure he tempered his element. Belphagor swallowed against him with an appreciative moan, and Vasily opened his eyes and watched while the spunk pulsed out of him and into Belphagor.

  With his feet once more on the floor, Belphagor pushed Vasily’s hips back toward the door and drew himself slowly off, as if he didn’t quite want to let the cock go. He held the shaft a moment longer and sucked the head once more for good measure before he finally released him. Vasily thought he might faint.

  “Damn, you taste good,” Belphagor murmured as he stood, running his hands up Vasily’s chest and around his neck to grip him beneath the jaw and draw him down for a kiss. He nipped lightly at Vasily’s bottom lip while Vasily tried to catch his breath, running his tongue over the swell. “Taste that. It’s like a smoky scotch.” Belphagor rubbed his thumbs over the spikes of the piercings on Vasily’s neck, making him shiver, before he slipped his hands away and took one of Vasily’s in his. “Come to bed. I had to sleep on stone last night. I want to take a nap with you.”

  This sounded like an excellent idea to Vasily, who felt he’d been sucked within an inch of his life. Not bothering to put his clothes back together, they curled up on the cot, Belphagor spooning Vasily with his arms wrapped around him. His pants still at his hips, he could feel Belphagor’s untended erection pressing against the exposed small of his back.

  “Don’t you want
to fuck me?” he asked sleepily.

  Belphagor responded with a playful thrust of his hips. “I always want to fuck you. I’m pretty sure you’ll let me do it later.”

  Chetvertaya

  Belphagor had to feel for his pocket watch in the nightstand drawer to find out how long they’d slept. A pale, charmed filament of aether inside the glass illuminated the face. It was past dinnertime. He’d really wanted to fuck Vasily, but that would have to wait. Belphagor had other plans for him tonight.

  He kissed the warm firespirit temple, and Vasily stirred. “Time to get moving, love.”

  “Moving?” The word was a charming growl. The coal-fire rumble in his voice was most prominent upon waking.

  “You’re on auction tonight, remember?”

  Vasily sat up as Belphagor rose to dress. “You’re really going to sell me.”

  “Your ass, to be precise, but yes.” Belphagor slid aside the little curtain to the recess in the wall that served as their wardrobe, and rummaged for a shirt. “You can, of course, invoke your right to tell me if you aren’t comfortable with the idea. And I will take your level of comfort under advisement.” He felt the warmth of irritation coming off Vasily from three feet away.

  “My level of comfort.”

  Having found the shirt he wanted, Belphagor leaned back out of the wardrobe, unbuttoning. “I do take your comfort into consideration, you know. Most of the time, I consider how best to impinge upon it.”

  Vasily’s eyes had a lovely spark to them. “You—” He’d gone red in the face with frustration, whatever word he’d been about to utter strangled in the heat of his throat.

  Belphagor opened his shirt wide to slip it off his shoulders, revealing the tattooed cross that marked him in the world of Man as a king of thieves. Vasily’s eyes were always drawn to it. Anyone’s were, really. It was impressive. “I, what?”

  “You just love playing games, don’t you? It doesn’t matter what I think, so why should I tell you?”

  Belphagor licked the corner of his mouth. “I can still taste your come. Are you really going to get into a snit about the games I play after the head I gave you?”

  Vasily rose, looking like he might punch him. Belphagor loved that look. “Is that why you did it? So you could throw it back in my face and manipulate me later?”

  He dropped the shirt to the ground and picked up the other, the black silk with dyed lace cuffs, and slipped it on. “My dear boy, if I had thrown it back in your face, you’d be positively sticky with it. It would have ruined your eye paint. You’re quite prolific.” He smiled at Vasily’s look of outrage as he buttoned up. “Incidentally, if you don’t want to admit to enjoying my games, you should probably put your cock away after I’ve been sucking on it. It seems to be very interested in this conversation.”

  Vasily’s cheeks flamed almost as convincingly as his eyes as he tucked his erection into his pants and buttoned up over the uncomfortably obvious tumescence. “Fuck,” he hissed, wrestling with his belt. “Sometimes I just want to knock you on your ass.”

  Belphagor perched his boot on the vanity chair to lace up. “I know you do.” He dropped the laced boot to the ground and lifted the other. “And it makes me want to hogtie you and fuck you until you lose your mind.”

  Finished lacing, he crossed to where Vasily stood, letting him see that even though he towered over Belphagor and outweighed him by a good forty pounds, Belphagor still had the upper hand. Vasily was flushed at his words and trying not to show it. “Kneel, sweet boy. You need to calm down.”

  Twin fires warred inside the burly frame: an overwhelming furnace of sheer fury urging Vasily to disobey, and the heat of desire reducing him to Belphagor’s helpless puppet, which he so clearly relished. He knelt, his eyes practically dripping magma.

  Belphagor cupped his cheek. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are when you’re like this? I swear, one of these days I’m just going to burn up in your radiance.” He stepped closer, his crotch at Vasily’s level. “I’m half-tempted to make you suck me, but with the way you go at it, your eyes will water, and Anzhela did such a lovely job. The heat of your arousal is already melting the paint a bit.” Vasily breathed deeply but didn’t respond. “Your comfort and my enjoyment of compromising it aside, if the idea of my selling you is too upsetting because of any past experiences—”

  “No,” Vasily cut in abruptly. “Nyet, ser.”

  The reason things had gotten so messed up between them in the first place was because Belphagor had failed to see he’d pushed Vasily too far, and Vasily had failed to tell him. He’d been afraid the tone of things tonight might be too much like that other occasion.

  Belphagor rubbed his thumb over Vasily’s bottom lip, trying to rein in his desire to forget the whole thing and just have him now, and for the rest of the night, until they were both aching. “But you promise you’d say the word if it was.”

  “I promise. Ya obeshchayu.”

  “Sweet boy. I think we may be getting the hang of this thing.”

  As they crossed the streets of Raqia, Vasily wore his velvet frock coat with the collar turned up to hide the fact that Belphagor had looped a light chain around his neck. Belphagor had permitted him the high collar while they were out on the street.

  “How else am I to pass you off to the highest bidder if I don’t have you on a lead?” he’d explained when Vasily protested. “With your size compared to mine, no one would believe I own you outright—unless I have you service me on command. Would you prefer that?”

  Sullenly, and insanely aroused, Vasily had growled after a moment’s hesitation too long that he would not.

  “What I’d like you to do tonight,” said Belphagor as they walked through the chill autumn air, “is to maintain the level of resentment that leash is currently engendering. The appearance of resentment, I mean. I would never ask you to have a particular feeling. Your feelings are your own. If you do indeed continue in this level of quiet seething against me all night, I’ll be extremely gratified. But even if you’re heartily enjoying yourself, I must insist you behave as if you are not. Can you manage that?”

  Vasily glared at him in the dark, knowing his pupils would be glowing. “Can I manage to act as if you’re treating me with utter contempt because it makes your cock stiff? I think I can.”

  Belphagor briefly pressed his arm. “Good boy.” They walked on, and after a moment, Belphagor spoke again. “Do you want me to tell you the game?”

  “Sorry?”

  “After the Fletchery, you said you would have gladly done as I asked if I’d told you what I was doing, that it was my arrogant secrecy that hurt you. I thought perhaps I should tell you the details of my plan tonight.”

  Vasily moved a little closer to him. “That’s all right, Beli,” he said gruffly. “I trust you.”

  “Careful,” said Belphagor softly. “You keep being wonderful and I may have to take you straight back home and fuck you senseless.”

  Once inside the Stone Horse, however, Belphagor’s demeanor changed. Silk approached, the gracious host, in a cream tailored suit in his namesake fabric, admiring Vasily’s coat.

  “Isn’t he just delicious?” Silk ran his hands over the lapels with a little shiver.

  “Take the coat,” said Belphagor. “He won’t be needing it.”

  Vasily tensed as Silk slipped it off him. Belphagor liked to fuck with him over the coat because he’d earned it whoring for Duke Elyon. Despite how he’d gotten it, it was the only nice thing Vasily had ever owned, and it meant something to him. He couldn’t count the number of times Belphagor had threatened to keep it for himself (as absurdly as it hung on him) or soil it with spunk.

  Underneath, Belphagor had dressed him in the high-necked sweater in deep maroon and the steel-gray cargo pants he’d bought for Vasily in Moscow. The sweater fit him snugly; he’d filled out even more since that first trip to the world of Man. Around the high collar, the chain hugged his throat, the loose end hanging to his waist.


  Belphagor hooked his thumb through the hoop at the bottom and yanked. “Come,” he ordered. Instinctively, Vasily balked, and found himself yelping as the chain tightened and snapped against his throat, though Belphagor loosened the slack just as swiftly. Vasily’s hands went to his neck to grab the chain, but the look Belphagor gave him made him pause. “It’s called a ‘choke chain’,” he explained. “Designed for dogs in the world of Man. If you obey, you’ll experience no discomfort. If you resist, you’ll gag yourself repeatedly. Frankly, I can think of better things to gag you with.” He pulled lightly on the end to remind Vasily of the chain’s swift action. “And if you don’t get your hands away from it this instant, I’ll make you come to heel for the rest of the evening on your hands and knees.”

  Everyone was watching them now, couples engaged in negotiation on the couches about the room turning to ogle him.

  Silk, with the velvet coat over his arm, lowered his hand to his crotch to adjust an obvious erection with a little hum of pleasure. “You have my utmost admiration, Belphagor. I cannot wait to see how this is going to play out.”

  “Come,” said Belphagor, his hand at the ready on the end of the chain. Vasily dropped his hands to his side and fell into step beside him, almost blinded by the heat in his eyes. Belphagor led him to the center of the room and turned him about. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with my firespirit.”

  “I thought he was Silk’s firespirit,” one of the rent boys piped up.

  “I lent him to Silk for a bit after I’d tired of his attitude. But he belongs to me. And tonight he needs to be reminded of that. What am I bid for his favors?”

  “His favors?” The rent boy’s angelic patron looked dubious. “He looks like he’s ready to burn off any appendage that comes near him.” Nervous laughter rounded the room.

  “He’ll do as I say.” Belphagor yanked on the chain. “Won’t you, boy.”

  Vasily’s teeth ground together as he bit back the answer he wanted to give. As usual, Belphagor was taking this too damned far. But he’d agreed. He could either say “Seraphim” or suck it up. “Yes, sir,” he managed to growl in the back of his throat.