Forsaken Fae: The Complete Series, Books 1-3 (Last Vampire World)

by Steffan, R. A.

  “No,” he said carefully. “It’s not hard to understand. And... it isn’t that I necessarily object to playing that role for you tonight. But I won’t do it without having limits in place ahead of time—because I am not, in fact, either a kidnapper or a rapist. But I put a toe across the line of consent last time—pretty blatantly, in fact—which is why you’ll have to play by my rules now if we’re going to do this at all.”

  “I have no idea how to ask for things such as you describe,” Albigard said, with a hint of asperity.

  Len gave a slow nod. “Because for you, the goal is to feel like you have no say in what’s happening. Yeah, I get it. This may come as a shock to you, but you aren’t the first person in history to get off on dubious consent or consensual non-consent, O Mighty Fae.”

  Albigard scowled at him. “Hardly mighty while chained in iron and magicked to a wall.”

  Which... okay, point.

  After contemplating logistics for a few moments, Len let out a frustrated huff. “God. This is officially the weirdest night of my life, and these days, that’s really saying something. Let’s try it this way. First question—have you ever had sex before? Not counting what happened in the pocket realm the other day, I mean. Male, female, or other... oral, manual, penetrative—it doesn’t matter what kind.”

  Albigard gave him a flat stare. “Of course I have. Multiple times, when I was young. It was not to my taste and seemed more trouble than it was worth, particularly since I am unwilling to risk siring offspring. I eventually stopped bothering.”

  Len was surprised by the strong wave of relief that hit him, and barely managed to swallow the ‘oh, thank fuck’ that wanted to escape. Objectively, it shouldn’t have mattered whether the guy he’d tied up and jerked off without negotiating it first was a thousand-year-old virgin or a Fae gigolo with hundreds of notches on his bedpost. Somehow... it still did.

  “Right,” he managed. “Good. Okay. But I take it you never told any of your previous partners about the Forsaken? Or incorporated those fantasies into sex?”

  “Obviously not,” said the Fae, sounding mildly offended. “And this conversation is already growing extremely tiresome.”

  Len climbed to his feet and brushed the damp loam from the floor off his jeans, confident enough with the direction things were going now to at least slip partway into a role. He grasped Albigard’s chin in his fingers, tilting his head up as much as the magic binding him would allow.

  “Wow. So sorry if I’m boring you. Maybe try remembering which one of us is in charge during this conversation, and which one is chained in iron and stuck to the side of a tree before you mouth off again,” he suggested, keeping his tone pleasant.

  Albigard inhaled sharply.

  “But before we get any further into this,” Len went on, “how confident are you that a guard isn’t going to randomly portal into this cell to check on us tonight?”

  “No one will come until morning,” Albigard said. “The sense of isolation is part of the punishment.”

  Len couldn’t help it—he snorted. “Isolation? Guess they shouldn’t have put us in the same cell, in that case.”

  “No doubt trapping me in a cell with a nattering human was considered additional cruelty,” Albigard retorted, deadpan.

  Len swiped his thumb across the Fae’s full lower lip. “What did I just say about that smart mouth?” he asked.

  Albigard shivered minutely beneath the touch. “Forgive me.” He hesitated, and his voice fell to a low murmur. “But... there is something else.”

  “Tell me,” Len said.

  Again, that slight hesitation before speaking. “It is true that I... would not wish the guards to enter in the morning and find me... obviously debauched.”

  Len’s heart wrenched painfully—partly at the idea of Albigard worrying over his reputation being further tarnished in his people’s eyes when he was already basically a pariah; partly with a fresh burst of hot anger over the circumstances in which they were currently stuck.

  “I would never let that happen to you,” Len told him seriously. He stroked the Fae’s cheek. Lifted his chin a little higher. “Do you trust me?”

  The answer shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did. When Albigard gave a tiny nod, some of the pressure in Len’s chest eased.

  “Good,” he said, making an effort to get back into character. “Because we’ve already established that you’re my prisoner tonight. I’ve caught myself a sweet little princeling, and I don’t intend to share you with anyone. At least, not until you’re a lot better trained than you are right now.”

  He said the last part lightly, figuring Albigard could take it as either a teasing jab or a genuine threat, if that was the kind of thing that got him going.

  “Now,” he went on, “tell me what you think is going to happen next. What do you expect me to do to you, now that you’re my prisoner?”

  Another tremor went through the lithe body kneeling helpless at Len’s feet. “The elders tell us... that the Forsaken are depraved. Anyone they catch and spirit away is bound magically and used for their pleasure, without mercy or consideration.”

  “And you like that idea?” Len pressed.

  “I—” Albigard cut himself off.

  Len tightened his grip on the Fae’s jaw. “Answer the question, princeling.”

  A faint pause. “Yes.” It was barely a whisper.

  “You expect to be sodomized by your captors? Or... what’s that Latin word?” He wracked his brain. “Um... not fellatio. The other one. Irrumatio?”

  Albigard let out an unsteady breath that did unfortunate and unavoidable things to Len’s dick, despite the complete and utter inappropriateness of the situation. If he somehow made it out of this mess alive, it was pretty clear Len was going to need to give Nigellus a call, because he was going straight to Hell for the amount of enjoyment he was getting from that breathy little noise of helpless want.

  There were still a couple of things to address, but the Fae’s reaction was so obviously a positive one that Len indulged himself by sliding his thumb past that lush lower lip, over teeth that seemed just a little sharper than a human’s would be.

  “I suppose that would be one way to keep you from mouthing off,” he observed clinically, stroking the pad of his thumb over Albigard’s tongue, sliding deeper before pulling out.

  Albigard licked his lips. “My original assessment of you was correct after all,” he said unsteadily. “You truly are depraved.”

  “Oh you sweet, sweet innocent,” Len told him wryly, amused despite himself. “You have no idea.” He slid his hand away from Albigard’s jaw in favor of twining their fingers together against the wall. “Now... this is my final rule. I don’t expect you to understand it or agree with its necessity. I just expect you to follow it. If you need to slow down or take a break from what’s happening for any reason, you say ‘yellow.’ If you want to stop, you say ‘red.’ It’s based on traffic lights, understand?”

  “What an utterly bizarre request,” Albigard said, sounding a bit more like himself.

  “Humor me,” Len retorted. “Lastly, if you need to slow down but you can’t speak, squeeze my hand twice. Preferably not hard enough to any break bones.” He squeezed the Fae’s hand twice in quick succession to demonstrate. “If you need to stop, squeeze three times.”

  The light was getting dim enough at the bottom of the hollow tree trunk that it was difficult to make out Albigard’s expression, but Len could imagine the epic eye-roll clearly enough.

  “That’s the rule,” he stated firmly. “Yellow, red. Two squeezes, three squeezes. I won’t judge you for using the signal, and we can always start again afterward if you want. But I will stop whatever I’m doing. Instantly. Other than that, you can curse me, order me, beg me... it won’t matter. None of it will change the fact that you’re my sweet little captive princeling and I can use you however I want until you break.” He crouched in front of the Fae and slid a confident hand along his inner thigh. “So, no
w that’s out of the way, how the hell do I get into these hot leather pants you’re wearing?”

  Evidently, he’d managed to render Albigard at least temporarily speechless, because no instructions or backtalk were forthcoming. Fortunately—since he was going to have to do the trousers up again at some point, possibly in the dark—the closure consisted of five buttons, rather than anything more complicated like laces. Albigard’s cock twitched hard beneath Len’s touch, and Len’s dick throbbed insistently in sympathy.

  “You really think I will beg so easily?” Albigard managed, rallying a bit as Len freed him from the tight leather trousers.

  “Oh, I absolutely guarantee it,” Len told him, managing to quash any overt reaction to the revelation that the Fae had been walking around commando all day... because holy shit. He was definitely Hell-bound. Maybe if Len asked him politely, Nigellus could arrange for a nice, private balcony overlooking his personal lake of fire.

  Despite hours stuck in a hopelessly uncomfortable position, Albigard was every bit as hard as he had been that night in the pocket realm—and Len wasn’t lagging far behind him in that department.

  “This belongs to me,” Len said, pumping the Fae’s cock slowly. “Just like the rest of you.”

  Albigard made a low noise in his throat—one that Len would have bet money he hadn’t intended to let slip free. Keeping his grip light as he jerked Albigard with confident movements, Len gauged his captive’s breathing and tension carefully. Edging another person was a challenge at the best of times—even more so when the recipient was likely to be on a hair trigger. Not to mention, magically chained to a wall.

  Len let go the instant Albigard’s desperate panting ratcheted up. He clambered to his feet, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly once he was upright. Unlike the Fae, he was not going commando... which necessitated a bit more awkward rearranging of clothing before he could pull his dick out.

  “What are you going to do to me?” Albigard asked, sounding halfway undone already.

  “Anything I feel like,” Len told him. “I thought that part was fairly obvious.” He positioned himself in front of Albigard, standing obnoxiously close, and reached out his left hand to tangle with Albigard’s right one. “And right now, I feel like fucking your mouth until I come. But first, remind me what you’re going to do if you need to stop. Show me now.”

  Three hesitant squeezes tightened around Len’s fingers.

  “That’s right,” Len said. “Has anyone ever taken your mouth before?”

  “Not... like this.” The words sounded dazed.

  “Good,” Len replied. He brushed the tip of his cock over Albigard’s lower lip, as he’d done with his thumb earlier. “Open up for me, princeling. And just so you know, if you try to resist, you’ll be punished. If I feel so much as a hint of teeth, you’ll be punished. If you’re bad at sucking cock, you’ll be punished. And if you’re good at it? Well... I may decide to punish you anyway, just for the hell of it. But I promise you’ll come so hard by the time I’m finished with you that you’ll thank me for every moment.”

  Albigard’s lips parted on a gasp, and Len pushed in—well aware that this was likely to be an embarrassingly short interlude on his part, because Jesus fucking Christ.

  Despite his tough talk, Len kept his thrusts slow and shallow—trying not to be stupidly charmed by the fact that Albigard was, in fact, fairly bad at giving head. As soon as the Fae started making little unintentional noises in the back of his throat, though, Len was pretty much gone, regardless.

  He kept the presence of mind to squeeze the Fae’s hand when he started getting close. “I’m about to come in your mouth,” he warned, a bit unsteadily, managing to hold back the rising pressure long enough for Albigard to process that and safeword out of the situation if he wanted to.

  Apparently he didn’t want to.

  Len squeezed his eyes shut as his balls drew up, pleasure cresting hard and fast as he spilled across Albigard’s tongue. He had to brace some of his weight on their joined hands for a second or two as his balance wavered, euphoria washing through his body along with the wave of endorphins. After a final shudder, he pulled out, cupping his free hand under Albigard’s chin.

  “Swallow,” he commanded. And in any kind of sane situation, that would have been firmly on the ‘discuss beforehand’ list. However, it was by far the best option when it came to making it less obvious to the guards that he’d enthusiastically defiled his Fae cellmate overnight. Albigard’s throat bobbed beneath his touch. Once... twice.

  Len let him go and sat down heavily beside him. “Well, that was a passable job for a first time, I suppose. Give me, uh, forty-five minutes or so, and you can try to do better. Guess we can address your punishment in the meantime, huh?”

  “I will not beg you.” From the tone, Albigard actually believed that.

  It was kind of cute, to be honest.

  “Yes you will,” Len told him—and took him by the cock, pushing him right to the edge again before leaving him hanging there.

  If Len had to guess, it took a little more than half an hour of that treatment before Albigard broke.

  “P-please,” he said in a shaky voice, when Len took his hand away for the dozenth time.

  “No,” Len replied calmly. “I did warn you that you’d beg me. I didn’t say begging would actually get you anywhere,” he added, and left him to cool down for a few minutes before starting all over again.

  By that time, Len had recovered enough for another round with Albigard’s mouth. Unsurprisingly, the Fae’s second attempt at sucking cock showed a remarkable increase in enthusiasm, if not in skill. Len rewarded him afterward by lowering himself onto his elbows and swallowing the Fae’s straining erection until he choked on it—partly because he was starting to feel a bit lightheaded after his second orgasm over the course of an hour, and partly because it was now almost completely dark inside the cell, making all of this way more challenging than it had been when he could see what he was doing.

  His gag reflex protested as Albigard’s hips flexed helplessly, and Len forced himself down another inch or two anyway. Out of practice, he chided, as Albigard let out a tortured groan and spilled down his throat. Len swallowed around the heavy girth, drawing a violent, full-body shudder and another pulse of come from his overwrought captive. When Albigard finally stopped bucking and started to soften, Len licked him clean and pulled away, levering himself into a sitting position with a grunt.

  “Well,” he said, voice a bit hoarse from his iffy attempt at deep-throating, “that was officially the most fucked-up scene I’ve ever participated in, and this is going to be the lamest attempt at aftercare in the history of BDSM. I totally made you beg, though.”

  He softened the wry words by running the backs of his fingers over Albigard’s cheek in the dark, gratified when the Fae turned his face to press into the contact like a cat.

  “It was a request,” Albigard murmured sleepily. “A polite one. That’s all.”

  “You keep telling yourself that, princeling.” Len felt his way to Albigard’s spent dick and gently tucked him away, doing up the buttons on the tight leather pants with care. Next, he put his own clothing to rights, and felt around for the water gourd on the ground nearby. “Drink,” he ordered. “And eat. Otherwise you’ll end up with a hell of a sex hangover in a few hours due to dehydration and low blood sugar.”

  It was awkward in the dark, but Len managed to help Albigard swallow a few sips of water without spilling too much. He found the bread and tore off a few bites for him, then followed it up with a few more sips of water. When he was done, Len drank some of the addictively amazing Fae water as well.

  The temperature had taken a noticeable dip as night closed in, so he retrieved the rough woolen blanket from the ground. After shuffling back to Albigard, he arranged himself against the Fae’s side as best he could, given his companion’s awkward position against the wall. Len flipped the blanket over both of them, drawing it up to Albigard’s chest to provide
at least a bit of warmth.

  The Fae hung lax in his magical bondage, wrung out by a combination of emotional exhaustion and the aftermath of a crashing orgasm. His head lolled sideways a couple of inches, his temple coming to rest against the top of Len’s wilting fauxhawk. Len leaned into him in turn, feeling pretty thoroughly wrung out himself. Despite everything... despite what the morning would bring... it wasn’t difficult to fall asleep.

  TWENTY-ONE

  LEN AWOKE abruptly some time later in the dark. An unseen something skittered across the back of his hand, which had fallen from his lap to rest on the ground. He jerked upright with a gasp, in response to the feeling of numerous tiny legs scurrying up his bare arm. Swiping at himself furiously, he stumbled to his feet in the impenetrable nighttime blackness, cursing.

  “Wha—?” Albigard slurred, startled from sleep by the sudden movement.

  Len batted at his clothing and skin, suppressing a shudder as his hands dislodged several of the... things. “There’s something in here with us. Insects, or spiders, or—”

  “Oh,” said the Fae, with all the irritation of someone who’d been awakened from a perfectly good post-orgasmic coma, only to discover that he was still chained to a wall and facing probable execution. “The night scuttles are here. I’d forgotten.”

  “Are they on you?” Len asked, feeling nausea rise as he contemplated Albigard, unable to move as tiny creatures crawled over him.

  “Probably,” Albigard replied. “Please tell me you heeded my instructions and saved some of the bread.”

  “Yeah,” Len said, still brushing his hands obsessively over his jeans to discourage anything from crawling up his legs. “There’s about half of it left. What does that have to do with—”

  “Find it and toss it across to the other side of the cell,” Albigard interrupted. “Most of them will follow the food, and we’ll only get a few stragglers, if any.”

  Len forced down his low-key panicking long enough to feel around with his foot and find the paper-wrapped remnants of the loaf of bread. He picked it up and had to swallow an undignified yelp of horror when the surface moved beneath his touch, crawling with night scuttles. He threw it away more out of instinct than because Albigard had told him to, but the crinkle of paper hitting the far side of the tree trunk confirmed his aim had at least been true.