Master of the Game
Page 6
“Oh my Heavens, Belphagor.” Silk lifted the back of his hand to his forehead with a dramatic sigh. “Put me down for ten carats.”
“Ten carats?” The doubtful angel made a scoffing sound.
“Fifteen,” said an angel to his right. This one had the look of nobility from the Order of Principalities. But not military.
“Twenty,” Silk countered.
“Twenty-two.” This from a demon merchant Vasily had given a hand job before. It was quite an offer coming from one of the Fallen.
“Forty carats.” The voice behind him made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Vasily turned his head to see the tall, devilishly handsome demon with ash-colored hair and amber eyes standing in the entrance, dressed to the nines. Kezef. No way in hell was Vasily going to bend over for that psychopath.
Belphagor regarded him coolly. “You couldn’t handle him, Kezef.”
“I handled him just fine the last time I bought him.”
Belphagor pulled on the choke chain before Vasily could make a move or a sound. He must have telegraphed that he was going to go for the demon’s throat. “You’ve never bought him, you pompous bore. You paid to humiliate a boy half your size.”
“And you humiliate him for free. It’s marvelous. Forty carats.”
“Do I hear twenty-three?” Belphagor turned away from the demon as if he weren’t there.
“I just bid forty,” Kezef reminded him, casting an amused smile in Vasily’s direction that made his stomach sour.
“The bid is twenty-two. Do I heart twenty-three?”
“Twenty-three,” said the angel.
“Twenty-five,” Silk countered.
“Twenty-six.” The demon merchant gave Vasily a friendly nod.
Kezef folded his arms. “He was happy to take my money when I paid to humiliate him here at the Stone Horse.”
Belphagor went dangerously still. Vasily hadn’t told him about the night Kezef had come to the Horse while he was performing what Belphagor and Silk insisted on calling his “Geyser Special”. The ashen-haired demon had egged on the crowd to make Vasily strip while he jerked off, a subtle way to lessen the power Vasily wielded with his confidence in that particular skill, tossing a bag of facets at his feet with the rest of the donations so Vasily couldn’t refuse to give Kezef what he’d already paid for.
“Thirty carats,” said Silk, breaking the tension. The bidding continued, and any attempt Kezef made to increase it was ignored.
When it reached fifty, an absurd amount Vasily couldn’t possibly live up to, Belphagor put up his hand. “I’ll take the rest as silent bids while I relax with a drink. I didn’t anticipate such enthusiasm. Give your bids to Silk, if you would.”
Kezef still stood in the doorway as Belphagor led Vasily to a seat in the corner. He thought Belphagor wouldn’t humiliate him any further with Kezef looking on, but Belphagor jerked the chain when Vasily tried to sit next to him. “Kneel,” he snapped, his pupils swallowed up into the darkness of his eyes. Shit. He was angry about Kezef’s claim—which Vasily hadn’t refuted.
Vasily knelt at his feet, anger of his own boiling behind his eyes that Belphagor would let Kezef see him this way just to punish him for something he didn’t even have the details about. Not that it wasn’t Vasily’s fault he didn’t have them, but dammit. Kezef was gloating, and Belphagor was rewarding him.
When Vasily darted a glance in his direction, Kezef gave him a knowing smile that made him feel naked. “So, Prince of Tricks. Too afraid to go toe to toe with me, are you? Can’t take the gamble?”
“Try me any time at the wingcasting table,” Belphagor replied evenly. “But unless I’m mistaken, Silk’s boys are all booked for the evening. And any other evening you may venture in. Silk?”
“Indeed.” Silk made a flourish with his arm toward the door as if to usher Kezef out. “I’m afraid you’ll have to find your pleasure elsewhere.”
Kezef gave him a mock bow and nodded to Belphagor. “I’ll take you up on that offer. Count on it.”
When he’d gone, Vasily opened his mouth to explain, but Belphagor twisted the chain around his finger and pulled him back against the edge of the couch. “Don’t speak. I don’t want to know.”
While Belphagor drank a glass of absinthe, Silk made the rounds collecting bids, and finally approached Belphagor. “The high bid is eighty carats.” Vasily would have gaped if the chain hadn’t been held so taut. “Gaspard’s—the merchant. But I have to tell you honestly, I don’t think he can afford it. I think he felt pressured and let things get out of hand.”
Belphagor twirled the ring at the end of the chain around his finger. “And what was your highest bid?”
Silk grinned sheepishly. “Seventy-nine. I figured it was coming out of your pocket.”
“But you didn’t want to go over eighty.” Belphagor sounded amused.
“It’s not that. Ruby’s more than worth it. I just realized Gaspard wasn’t going to stop, and I didn’t want to destroy him. He’s been a good customer.”
Belphagor stroked Vasily’s throat absently. “Tell him he’s been outbid, but I’m gifting him twenty minutes. And if Vasily doesn’t do a good job, you have my permission to take him down to the dungeon and cane him and send him back upstairs naked on all fours. But if the merchant leaves satisfied, the boy’s yours for the rest of the evening to do with as you like—though, in that case, no marks. I plan to give him some myself when we get home, and I prefer a fresh canvas.”
“Very good,” said Silk with a little bow.
Belphagor handed the chain to him. “Stand, boy.” Prickling with humiliation and arousal—which was further humiliating—Vasily stood, refusing to look at Belphagor.
“Unless you want him to crawl,” Belphagor suggested.
Silk seemed to ponder it, reeling Vasily to him link by link. “Ruby looks angry enough to torch the room if I push him any further right now. I’ll keep him on his feet. He’s more impressive that way.”
Gaspard seemed a bit put out that he’d been outbid, but he agreed to the gift graciously and took Vasily into a private room, where he asked for nothing more than what Vasily had given him before, though he wanted to hold the chain while Vasily did it.
“If this was all you were going to ask for, you offered far too much,” Vasily advised him as he stroked the demon vigorously.
“I got carried away,” Gaspard admitted with a groan as he came.
“Easy to do with Belphagor involved.”
The merchant leaned back on the bed, catching his breath. “Does he always treat you like that?”
“Not in public.”
“You shouldn’t be his slave.”
“I’m not his slave, I’m—” He couldn’t say “his boy”, because he wasn’t. Not yet.
“Demons owning demons. It’s not bad enough the angels think they can treat us like chattel, we have to sell our own.” Gaspard sighed and put himself back together. “If you ever want to get away from that master of yours—”
“He’s not my master.”
The demon shrugged and handed him a twenty-carat pouch.
“You don’t have to pay.”
“It’s what I originally offered. And he shouldn’t have the right to sell you. This is yours.”
Silk came in when Gaspard had gone, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “I thought about telling Belphagor you’d been a very bad boy for the merchant so I could redden your ass in the dungeon, but I can’t resist showing off my prize for a bit. Perhaps I’ll take you to the dungeon later.” He waved his hand impatiently at the chain hanging from Vasily’s neck, snapping his fingers several times in a somewhat idle gesture that epitomized his style of dominance. “Well, come on, get up and hand me your leash.”
Vasily stood and approached him but folded his arms.
Silk laughed low in his throat. “Oh, is that how we’re going to be? I thought I’d never get to play with this Ruby. I can already tell this is going to be the best seventy-nine carats of B
elphagor’s I’ve ever spent.” He hooked his finger through the loop at the end of the chain and snapped it lightly like the reins on a horse as he addressed him like one in a patronizing, sing-song voice. “Come on, boy.”
With barely controlled seething, Vasily let Silk lead him out into the parlor, every eye on him but Belphagor’s. The rent boy Belphagor was shamelessly flirting with looked up and winked at Vasily. Dammit. Khai.
The dusty cocoa skin, contrasted with angelic golden curls and jade-green eyes, made him undeniably desirable. Khai, short for Mikhail, was an angel’s bastard. Not that all demons weren’t descended from the same sorts of illicit unions, but Khai was a single generation from the Host, which made him highly sought after among Fallen and Host alike—the Host because he was a novelty who looked something like them, and the Fallen because despite their status, many of them accepted the prevailing wisdom that the Host were superior. Which was bullshit. Regardless, Khai was stunning.
Silk dragged Vasily over to the bar and stepped away from him to murmur something to the bartender. After a glance and a grin in Vasily’s direction, the bartender began clearing off the bar.
“Take your shirt off,” said Silk with an air of annoyance. You look like you’re sweltering. What is it with that collar?”
“It’s from the world of Man,” Vasily said defensively, though Belphagor had dressed him, and he’d thought the garment foolish when he’d first put it on. He pulled the sweater over his head.
Silk slapped the polished wood countertop. “Hop up.”
“Hop up?”
“Which word did you not understand?” Silk was enjoying this way too damned much. Vasily hoisted himself onto the bar, and Silk had to let go of the chain. “On your back.”
He blinked at Silk, letting him see the building flame in his pupils, before he obeyed. Lying flat with his arms at his sides, he jumped when the bartender poured a shot of spirits into his navel, his lower abs hollowing automatically to form a well as his breath drew in. “Drinks are on Ruby,” Silk called out, and then dipped his head to the bar and sucked the liquor from his skin. When Vasily moved his hand to his abdomen involuntarily at the sensation, Silk grabbed both his wrists and stretched Vasily’s arms above his head on the bar. “Don’t make me tie you down, my lovely plum,” he murmured. “I’ll be tempted to tie other parts of you down.” The chill of spirits struck his navel once more. Silk turned to the crowd. “Don’t be shy. He doesn’t bite without my say-so.”
After a moment, the first taker approached—angel or demon, it was hard to tell without lifting his head off the bar, which Silk prevented by holding the chain taut in the other direction—and Vasily held his breath while the patron sucked from his hollowed abs. Silk led the room in a cheer, and the bartender poured again.
“Hold the chain,” ordered Silk. He pulled it tighter beneath Vasily’s jaw and put it into his hands. While another patron drank from his abs, Silk kissed him playfully. “You can say that word to me if you need to,” he whispered. “Your magic word with Belphagor.” He paused as Vasily glanced up at him. “Or is that personal? Do we need a different one just for us?”
Vasily wasn’t sure, but the liquid pouring onto him made it difficult to concentrate. And Silk noticed.
“Well, well,” he said loudly. “Ruby seems to be enjoying his role. We should give that thing some air.”
He moved down the bar to undo Vasily’s belt and his pants, and Vasily gasped as Silk’s hand dipped into his shorts and ran down the shaft of his cock. He wanted to tell him to stop. This wasn’t the same as his “Geyser Special”. He had no control, and he felt exposed. But he doubted even the word would have stopped Silk now. He had Vasily’s cock in his fist, and he yanked down the shorts with the other.
“Couldn’t you just eat him up?” Silk remarked, and then his tongue strafed the head, and Vasily jolted and moaned. “I think we’ll just leave that there.” Silk rolled the pants down below his balls and moved away from the bar. A steady stream of patrons was now drinking the shots from his belly, their heads as they bent over him brushing his cock. Petrified, Vasily stared at the ceiling, frozen between the thrilling sensations and utter mortification.
One of the patrons took his time, licking at the little well of alcohol and making Vasily squirm, and finally running his tongue up Vasily’s abs in a line toward his chest until he was close to his face. “Do you want me to stop him?” the patron murmured at his ear. Belphagor.
Vasily had closed his eyes, and he opened them in surprise.
“I was going to let him have free rein with you for the evening, but I think he’s getting carried away.”
Vasily swallowed against the chain. “Maybe a bit.”
Belphagor gave him a small nod. “I’ll speak to him.” As he straightened, Vasily saw Khai behind him. Belphagor slung an arm around him and kissed him on the neck while yet another patron drank a shot from Vasily’s navel. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry to talk to Silk after all. Vasily knew the flirtation with Khai was part of Belphagor’s act. But he was going for being a complete dick to Vasily, it seemed. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sound of Belphagor making out with the sexy demon. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Belphagor’s hand slip down Khai’s pants.
“I see you two are enjoying yourselves.” Silk had returned from wherever he’d been wandering, his voice amused.
“Indeed,” said Belphagor. “Are you?”
Silk seemed to recognize the challenge in it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I sold you the boy’s ass for the evening, but you’re not using it.”
“I think I’m putting him to good use.”
“If I wanted everyone in the Stone Horse to have a turn with him, I’d have simply bent him over a chair and invited them to line up.”
Vasily started as Belphagor tugged the chain out of his hands and prompted him to a sitting position. A trickle of spirits dripped into his groin. He tensed at the look on Belphagor’s face. Dammit, he wouldn’t dare.
“I’d like to see you fuck him.” Color rose up Silk’s face and Belphagor smirked with amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re shy about fucking him after everything else we did to him last night. Believe me, the boy will be happy to take it. He’ll do what I tell him to, and like it.”
Silk was still quiet, and Vasily was getting a bad feeling. The look on Silk’s face wasn’t anything he’d seen before. He started to say something, but Belphagor tugged the chain, forcing him to jump down off the bar to avoid the choke action Belphagor had demonstrated before.
He pushed Vasily toward Silk. “Let’s go. I want to see you fuck him.”
“Why don’t you fuck him?” Silk shoved Vasily back, and he stumbled into Belphagor and nearly toppled him. “Or sell him to someone else if that’s all you want.”
Belphagor let go of the chain. “Look, Silk, I didn’t—”
“Better yet, Belphagor, go fuck yourself.” Silk turned on his heel, and Belphagor gaped after him. Vasily quietly buttoned his pants and fastened his belt.
After a moment of inaction, Belphagor turned to him, his expression scornful. “I’m disappointed in you, boy.” He grabbed the chain once more and jerked it hard. “Get your coat.”
Vasily forgot Silk’s odd behavior, livid that Belphagor would play at pinning the evening’s failure on him. He went to the coatroom and found the coat, coming back to see Belphagor and Khai lip-locked by the door. He pulled on the coat and went out past them. Fuck Belphagor. He wasn’t going to be the butt of Belphagor’s scheme this evening any longer.
Belphagor fell into step beside him after following him out into the street. “You’re angry with me.”
Vasily turned and glared at him. “Angry? Why would I be angry? You’ve only been a complete ass all night. And what the hell was all that about with Khai?”
“I’m a little confused, Vasya. You agreed to trust me on this. You didn’t use your safe word. Yet now we’re back where we were before.”
Belphagor seemed to consider it. “I see. Well, it’s true this evening didn’t go precisely as planned. And for that I’m sorry. I’ll have to consider what the penalty will be.” That sounded promising. “But is there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Tell you?”
“About Kezef.”
Vasily blanched. He’d forgotten all about Kezef. “It’s not what you think.”
“Never mind what I think or don’t think. Trust requires communication. And it seems you’ve withheld something from me. Again. So out with it.”
Vasily sighed. Belphagor had a point. “I didn’t tell you because it was just Kezef trying to make himself more important than he is. He came to the Horse the night you set up the raid at The Cat. I was entertaining a crowd, and he threw in his facets and told me to strip. I couldn’t very well say no with the whole crowd cheering, so I acted like it was no big deal and did it. And then he came up to me after and said he knew he could get me to do anything, and I told him to go fuck himself. That’s it.”
Belphagor’s eyes were menacing in the flicker of lanterns hanging from the awning of the shop they were passing. “I don’t like him messing with you. If he so much as utters another word to you, I want to hear about it, no matter how insignificant you think it is. Do you understand me?”
Vasily debated being offended only for an instant. That Belphagor wanted to treat him like property when it came to this… It actually made him feel a bit tingly. “Da, ser.”
Belphagor brushed his fingers over the back of Vasily’s hand. “Good boy. When we get home, we’ll atone.”
Pyataya
The sight of Vasily tied sitting up against the head of the cot with his wrists shackled to a hook in the wall above his head, and his knees raised to display him in all his naked firespirit glory, was more than enough to make up for the disaster of an evening at the Stone Horse.