Chapter 7

CHAPTER7

Myth wiped his brow and stopped in front of the door to the boarding house his mother lived in.

Kiara would be happy to see him. Probably.

More like, she’d be happy to see his money.

He couldn’t help the thought from flitting through his mind, but he sighed. There was no use in harping on it, not when he knew there was no one else to take care of his mother—and she definitely didn’t take care of herself.

He opened the door and headed up the stairs to his mother’s rooms, about to call out when he heard voices.

His blood froze in his veins, and he instantly went on the defensive. Who was here? Had the king managed to find her? One of those voices was decidedly male, though he couldn’t make out what was being said.

Those voices were definitely coming from her rooms, and not one of the neighbors’. Myth cursed under his breath and wished his mother lived in one of the rooms that faced the alley so he could more easily climb up the side of the building to check what was going on.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe his mother was entertaining a new friend.

Just in case, Myth fumbled for a smoke spell before he knocked on the door.

The voices inside stopped, and footsteps followed. The door opened up. Myth tensed, expecting the worst.

“Oh! There you are!” his mother exclaimed. “Do you know how long you’ve been gone? Without even letting me know where you were!”

That sounded like his mother, at least, and she looked normal as well. No king’s guards, then, or money-lenders coming to fetch their due. He looked her over, from her dark braids to her honey brown eyes and to her lean figure. There was no distress on her features, either. Everything seemed normal, and he started to relax despite Kiara’s nagging.

“I’m fine, Mother,” Myth said, cautiously entering her home when she stepped aside. He scanned his surroundings, trying to find the other speaker, and he froze when his eyes fell on Callan.

His heart skipped a beat. The last time he’d seen Callan, he’d been terrified enough to run. That strange twist of his body, those impossible pools of onyx as eyes… He still saw those eyes in his dreams, terrifying nightmares that warped into wet dreams that left him panting and wanting in the morning.

What the fuck was the mage doing at his home? How had he even found Myth’s mother?

“Hello again,” Callan said, smiling as he waved. “It’s so nice to see you again. Your mother’s been very helpful. And she sang your praises.”

Callan was sitting on one of the two stools in the room, pressed up against the far wall in the darkest corner. The small table between him and Myth’s mother had a very conspicuous little sack on it.

No wonder his mother had been “forthcoming,” if Callan had paid her.

“You should have told me you have such nice friends,” Kiara said. She must have noticed Myth’s gaze, because she quickly took the little bag and stuffed it into her skirt pocket. “And such handsome ones!”

Callan chuckled at that and leaned a little closer to her. “You do flatter me. I’m surprised there’s no husband in the picture, actually.”

Myth rolled his eyes, but a touch of jealousy pestered him as Callan laid it on thick for his mother. She was attractive enough, but Callan had been with him. He didn’t want to think about the mage going for Kiara as well. “Anyway,” he interrupted before Kiara could say anything, “what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Callan said in that too-smooth voice of his. “I simply missed seeing you.”

Myth’s mouth went dry at that, and he licked his lips, trying to calm his body down. Callan had sought him out because he’d missed him? No, that was ridiculous. But the pleasure he’d felt at Callan’s hands, the way they’d touched—even the way Callan had spoken to him and humiliated him—had all been something he couldn’t forget.

“We have things the other wants, after all.”

Disappointment ran through him at that. Of course. It was about the amulet. Myth wanted gold; Callan wanted the amulet. It should’ve been a simple trade, and yet…

Fucking amulet.

Kiara looked between the two of them, then reached into her pocket. “Raz, if there’s something he wants… Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to hear him out.” She gave him a pointed look.

All she cared about was the gold they could get out of Callan, probably, but she had no idea what she was dealing with.

“Excuse us a moment,” Myth said through clenched teeth to Callan, gesturing to his mother. “We need to have a word.”

Callan nodded genially, but there was a small smirk curving onto his lips. Damn it. He’d probably eavesdrop on every word with his magic, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kiara looked like she was ready to protest, but Myth pulled her back outside of the door and pulled it shut. He lowered his voice as he chided her, “Mother, weren’t you the one who taught me that opening the door for strangers could be dangerous?”

“Yes, but I also taught you we have to seize any opportunity we can!” she hissed back. She glanced at the closed door.

“The king is looking for you,” Myth said, conveniently cutting out the part where that was his own fault. “And a noble shows up on your door? He’s a mage, Mother! You could’ve been seriously hurt. You still could be. Dangerous people look for me sometimes. You know you shouldn’t tell them you’re related to me, let alone that you’re my mother.” He paused, then tried to appeal to her vanity. “It’s not like they’d guess you’re my mother. You look too young.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “Raz, sweetheart, I know how to take care of myself. I’ve managed to avoid detection for all these years. And I doubt his majesty wants anything to do with me now. What I do know is that you have a very attractive, very rich man in the room there who clearly wants to fuck you. If you don’t want his money, I’ll take it.”

His mother had always been rather mercenary and a bit careless when it came to her gambling, and she relied on Myth to clean up her messes, but this was the first time she’d more or less suggested he sell himself for a bit of gold. It hurt more than he’d thought it would, and for a moment, he was silent. Lore already thought he was a whore; he had made that clear, even if he hadn’t meant to hurt Myth’s feelings. Would it really matter if Myth did fuck Callan for a bit of gold?

Then he shook himself off. Those were thoughts for a different time. “The king is looking for us. He knows I’m your son. You need to go into hiding, not welcome everyone who comes to your door. I need to make myself scarce.”

“Take off again, then.” She made a disgusted sound, sending guilt racing through him. “Like you always do. I thought I raised a good boy who cared for his mother, but you’d rather gallivant off and keep everything to yourself than take care of me.” Then she adjusted her shirt and pushed her bosom up a bit. “I think he’d be willing to take me, too. Did you see all those rings he wears? I bet I could get a token out of him. I managed to get the king to give me one, after all, and I doubt this man is more cautious than Eoghan was.”

No. Not just no, but fuck no. He wasn’t going to let her try to seduce Callan—and it was definitely just because Callan was dangerous. “I’ll handle him,” Myth said. “You take care of yourself, Mother. Not everyone can be seduced or bribed.”

He felt a little sick wondering just what she’d been up to in his absence. Had she been offering herself up to pay for her trips to the gambling halls? Damn it. He really should’ve just accepted that hundred and fifty gold from Izar and been done with it. He really was a weak-willed fool.

“All right. Have fun then. I’ll find somewhere else to be for tonight. If you leave before I return, make sure to leave the gold in the usual place.” Kiara reached into her pocket and pulled out the small bag, smiling at it. “This should definitely be enough for tonight’s entertainment, at least.”

“Mother, that looks like more than enough for one night. Make sure to save some…” He trailed off. He was just wasting his breath. She wasn’t going to save money any more than he was going to be home when she returned in the morning, likely drunk and penniless once more. “All right. Be careful.”

She waved him off, placed the bag into her pocket once more, and headed down the hall to the exit.

Myth itched to follow her and keep her out of trouble, but there was a much more immediate problem.

After another deep breath, he stepped back into his mother’s rooms.

Callan hadn’t moved at all, still sitting against the corner. His eyes were closed, and a slight smile twitched on his lips.

“Your mother is a very interesting woman,” Callan said, voice thick with amusement. “I honestly didn’t expect her to be quite so…”

“So what?” Myth asked, bristling as he practically dared Callan to criticize his mother. How much had he heard? He’d probably eavesdropped with his magic, and there hadn’t been a damn thing Myth could do about that.

Callan opened his eyes, which seemed even darker than usual. “So very wanting. I see where you get it from.”

Myth couldn’t help but shudder. He stayed by the doorway instead of moving deeper inside the room despite the sudden urge to go to Callan and show him exactly what he wanted—which was Callan’s lips, his body, even those terrible words accusing him of wanting to be a pet or worse. Maybe especially those words…

“How did you find her? How did you even know she was my mother?” he asked, trying to keep his voice flat but finding that it trembled just a little. From fear, he told himself, not from anything else.

“I asked somebody very rich and powerful,” Callan answered. He stood up and moved smoothly from the shadows over to Myth. “It’s interesting, though. He didn’t mention how ruthless your mother was. She must have had him very fooled.”

“She isn’t…” Okay, she was ruthless, and there was no point in lying about it—especially not to Callan, who seemed to have the dark mage act down. “What do you want? Whatever you paid her for, I didn’t consent to it,” he said, trying to swallow down his bile. It was one thing for him to fuck Callan of his own volition; it was another entirely to do it because his mother had arranged it for profit.

Myth was not a fucking prostitute.

But according to Lore, he was easy enough, and he didn’t even need gold to bed someone. Maybe that was worse.

“Hmm? She wanted gold, and I gave it to her. The only thing I exchanged for it…” Callan laughed again. “I doubt she’ll miss it.”

“What did you take from her?” Myth asked, his voice fierce. “She doesn’t have much to give away. Did you touch her?”

That same jealousy stabbed at him. If Callan had touched his mother…

“It’s interesting how you keep coming back to her.” Callan ran his hand—the one missing a few rings—over Myth’s jaw, ignoring the questions. “You could disappear so easily. She wouldn’t be able to find you. You would be free of her. You’d be free of all the worries, all the obligations.”

Myth found himself leaning into the touch, pressing his cheek against Callan’s hand before he caught himself. Damn it. He wasn’t going to be distracted so easily. “She’s my mother,” he snapped, grabbing Callan’s wrist. “And I didn’t tell you you could touch me. I don’t care what she told you. I’m not yours, not for tonight, not for anything.”

Callan sighed and backed off, somehow making even that movement look like a graceful slide. “Very well. In which case, shall we go back to the real matter at hand? We’ve established that you don’t want that amulet, and I do. Yet you can’t give it to me, and I can’t take it. I’m afraid I won’t—” Callan grimaced, “I can’t leave you alone until that matter is resolved.”

“There’s nothing to resolve. I’m stuck with the fucking thing,” Myth muttered, unsure of whether he was annoyed because of the change in subject or because Callan had stopped touching him. “So I don’t know what you expect me to do.”

“Quite the conundrum.” Callan peered down at his rings and buffed one of them. “I suppose we’ll need to research how to remove the amulet’s magic. So it stops overtaking your will. I’m fairly decent at magic myself, if you need help with that.”

“I don’t want you to have it though,” Myth said, realizing that the words were true even as he said them. There was just something about Callan… But then, maybe it was just the amulet exerting its stupid will over him.

“What do you want with me, then?” Callan asked, finally looking him in the eye again. “I only ask because you’re not very subtle, but I try not to give people what they don’t want.”

A shudder ran through him. “Nothing,” he said, but his voice was hoarse as he forced the word out. “I don’t want anything from you.”

But he did. He wanted another night with Callan, of feeling indescribable pleasure he hadn’t even known was possible. He wanted to surrender, just as he wanted to balk at the words that somehow aroused him even as they repulsed him.

He would never be Callan’s pet, but…

“Liar, liar,” Callan said, before placing his hand over Myth’s eyes. “Do you want to try again? If you tell the truth, I’ll give it to you, free of charge.”

“Give what to me?” Myth asked, his voice strangled as he fought to get the words out. But he knew what Callan meant.

Or did he?

The next time Callan spoke, his breath brushed against Myth’s lips. “Should we start with sex? I’ll drag you down to the floor, stretch you out, tie your wrists to the table legs and fuck you until you scream so loud the neighbors will complain.”

Fuck.

Myth hated how badly he wanted that, wanted Callan to do that to him. The mage was dangerous. Wealthy. Arrogant.

In other words, Callan was exactly the type of person Myth usually hated, but here they were, and Myth wanted nothing more than to be forced down to the floor and taken so brutally he couldn’t keep his mouth closed.

Instead of arguing, he pushed Callan’s hand away from his eyes and grabbed the back of Callan’s head and forced it closer, roughly pressing their lips together. He pulled away with a gasp after a moment of a deep, demanding kiss, asking, “Did she pay you for this?”

It surprised him just how much the thought hurt.

Callan snorted in amusement. “No. I took something else for the money I gave her. She won’t remember it though, it was so insignificant.” He rubbed a thumb over Myth’s lower lip, coming close to pushing the digit into Myth’s mouth.

Myth licked it, unable to help himself, coming away with the taste of salt on his tongue from Callan’s skin—salt, and something more, something he couldn’t place. He didn’t like it, but he didn’t have much time to think about it because Callan was pushing his thumb deeper into his mouth, and Myth was moaning, and…

Gods, it felt so good.

“Suck, pet,” Callan murmured.

Don’t call me pet, Myth wanted to say, but that would’ve meant pulling away, and he didn’t want to pull away. He wanted this—no, needed this—after the day he’d had, and he had to somehow get Lore’s words out of his head.

His mother’s, too, even though this was probably exactly what she’d wanted, in hopes that Myth would rob Callan blind. If only she knew he’d done that already, well, she’d know Myth wouldn’t be able to pull the same trick twice.

Callan stroked Myth’s curls while his thumb pushed down on Myth’s tongue. “Good boy. It’s easier like this, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Myth simply luxuriated in the feeling. It felt good, so good, but the words that came with the sensations… He could deal with pet, but he couldn’t deal with the good boy. He bit down on Callan’s thumb, hard.

Callan snarled and withdrew his hand. “Is this what you want, then?” he growled, tightening his fingers in Myth’s hair sharply. “You want to pretend this isn’t you?”

“It isn’t me,” Myth said, panting. “I’m not your pet. I’m not your good boy.” He was a slut, a whore, damn near a prostitute, it seemed… but he wasn’t either of those things. “Don’t treat me like that just because you’re some wealthy asshole noble mage.”

Myth hissed in pain as Callan used his hold on his hair and pulled hard. He struggled against Callan, grappling with his arm and kicking his shin.

Callan only laughed and shifted them around, tossing Myth further into the room. Myth stumbled backward. He regained his footing—or he thought he did, only somehow he tripped over something and was falling to the floor.

Before his head could thud against the hard wood, Callan’s hand—that was his hand, right?—gripped the back of Myth’s head, buffeting his fall. The impact still knocked the air from his lungs.

Myth blinked and tried to catch his breath. Callan was over him, around him, blocking out the light from the window and filling everything.

“What—” What are you? he wanted to ask, but Callan had brought their lips together again.

“Should I force you?” Callan asked darkly against his mouth. “Make you choke on my cock, the way you want to?”

Myth shuddered beneath him, the thought of it enough to make his dick start to stir. What was wrong with him? He’d never had thoughts like this before…

All right, that wasn’t entirely true.

He had, but they’d been so perverse and unwelcome that he’d chased them away.

“Fuck you,” he wheezed against Callan’s mouth. “Get out.”

Terror gripped him that Callan would somehow do just that, and he reached one weak hand up to press against the back of the mage’s neck.

Callan chuckled, like he knew exactly what Myth was thinking, and kissed him. HIs tongue wormed its way inside Myth’s mouth, colder than it should have been, longer than a normal tongue, but Myth sucked on it and ignored everything that felt unnatural.

Like how Callan had one hand around Myth’s wrists, pinning them above his head, and another hand underneath Myth’s shirt, but something else was keeping Myths’ ankles firmly pressed to the floor.

He didn’t know what to make of it. His instincts screamed danger at him, yet he only kissed Callan harder. That tongue was intrusive, but it was welcome somehow, and it shouldn’t have been.

Gods, he wanted Callan to fuck him.

Callan broke the kiss, and Myth whined at the separation.

“Somebody once told me I shouldn’t simply give people what they want.” Callan traced Myth’s lips with his hand—and that was definitely his hand, with all those rings. “It might not be good for them. Maybe we should focus on what you need instead.”

“I need you to fuck me,” Myth said, still breathless. “Gods.” He lifted his hips from the floor as much as he could, but somehow, his ankles were still bound to the floor and he couldn’t move much at all. That shouldn’t have gotten his cock twitching as hard as it did.

Lore’s words echoed in his mind, about how he shouldn’t trust a near-stranger to tie him up.

No. Forget Lore.

Callan chuckled again and tapped Myth’s jaw. “No, that’s what you want.” His dark eyes twinkled with mirth. “I don’t think I should give it to you. It would be so wrong. But maybe If you beg nicely, I’ll let you suck my cock.”

“I don’t want to suck your cock,” Myth said, but he still felt the phantom tongue in his mouth, the thumb—he’d sucked so greedily on those. No wonder Callan’s mind had gone to cocksucking. But Myth’s ass was empty, and that was what he wanted to be filled. “I want your fucking cock in my ass,” he tried to demand, even though he felt a little thrill because he knew Callan was going to deny him.

“No.” Callan dragged one nail down Myth’s neck. “Beg to suck my cock. Beg for the privilege, beg to suck all of me down.” His mouth quirked at the corners. “Or I can leave you here, completely unsatisfied. If that’s what you want.”

No. Gods, no, he didn’t want that. But the idea of begging… All of this was so wrong, so why was he so hard in his trousers? Lore would never let him hear the end of it if he knew, which was why Myth just wasn’t going to tell him—and it hurt a little because he’d always felt he could tell his best friend anything.

But Lore would never understand this.

“P-please,” he said hoarsely. “Fuck my mouth, you arrogant fucker.”

Callan laughed, but he sat up too, moving to straddle Myth’s shoulders. He used both hands to undo the ties on his trousers, pulling out his glorious, hard cock.

Myth didn’t test his arms to see if he was free to move them. He didn’t want to know the answer to that.

Callan stroked himself. Fuck, his cock was large. Myth hadn’t seen it properly the last time.

His mouth watered, and Myth swallowed hard. He squirmed a little, wanting to change his mind, but at the same time… The idea of taking that monster into his mouth was so fucking arousing.

Callan did nothing, and Myth stared up at him, expecting, until he realized what Callan was waiting for.

The mage was waiting for him to beg.

Fuck, Myth didn’t know if his pride could handle this.

“Fuck my mouth,” he mumbled, watching, transfixed, as Callan’s fingers ran up and down his own cock.

“That doesn’t sound like begging,” Callan chastised. He covered the head of his cock with his hand and massaged it, groaning as he did. “Maybe I should simply spend over your face and let you lick yourself clean.”

“You’re a sadistic asshole,” Myth whined, hating that he sounded so pathetic even to his own ears. But he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Please. Please let me suck your cock, Callan.”

Fuck, even Callan’s cruel smile sent a jolt of arousal through him.

“Good pet,” Callan said, and he finally brought his cock to Myth’s lips. The bastard didn’t give it to him immediately though, simply rubbing it all over and leaving stickiness behind.

Good pet. Great, it was the worst of both phrases, yet it left him throbbing, aching for more. He wanted Callan’s cock more than he’d ever wanted anything before.

No, he needed it.

“Callan,” he groaned, opening his mouth wide and leaning up to lick at the tip of his cock.

“You look so pretty like this,” Callan murmured. He pushed some of Myth’s hair out of his face. “You’ll look even better choking on my cock.”

Then he finally pushed his cock past Myth’s lips.

Myth didn’t fight him. He closed his mouth around Callan’s cock, sucking hard. He wanted this to be as torturous for Callan as it was for him, and he let his teeth graze the hard flesh in his mouth.

Callan hissed at the sensation, but there was no other indication that he might have been in pain. “Beautiful pet,” Callan said, rubbing Myth’s stretched-wide lips. “How much of me can you take? More than last time. Do you want me all the way inside you?”

It hadn’t been all the way in the last time? Myth shuddered, torn between desire and a little bit of trepidation. He knew Callan was big, but Myth had thought he’d taken all of it. Down his throat, though… That would be trickier.

He wanted to try.

In response, he lifted his head, taking more of Callan into his mouth until that thick head was pressing against the back of his throat. He gagged, faltering a little, but he’d never let a little gag reflex get in the way of giving a good blowjob before—and he wasn’t going to start now.

Even if Callan was by far the biggest he’d ever tried to take.

Myth moaned as he did his best to suck and lick that cock. His nose was pressed up against Callan’s pubic hairs, so that the only thing Myth could see or smell or taste was Callan.

And that should have been everything, right? That was all of Callan’s cock inside him, but he felt something go even deeper down his throat, cold and intense. It didn’t rob him of his breath, and he wasn’t afraid of choking, but it was still so much.

“More,” Callan growled, thrusting forward a little. “Give me more of you.”

Myth wasn’t sure he had anything more to give. His throat worked around Callan’s cock, and he ran his tongue against the thick veins and ridges of it as he sucked him in as deeply as he could.

He opened his eyes for a moment, staring up at Callan, and there was something about him that was strange. The entire room had fallen into darkness, and it was hard to make out Callan’s features.

The lack of air must have been making his vision hazy.

Myth tried to lift his legs, but they were still glued to the floor. His arms didn’t move either.

All of this should have been terrifying. Callan could easily kill him here, just with his cock.

Yet the terror had fallen away, and the only thing left was that intense spike of arousal, the heady feeling he got every time he leaped into danger—

A sense of, finally, somebody trying to hold on to him.

The tears in his eyes were from nearly choking, he was sure of it.

He pulled back as much as he could, resting the back of his head against the hard, rough wooden floor beneath him. He tried to catch his breath, but Callan followed, pushing in deeper, more insistently.

He gagged, his throat continuing to convulse around Callan’s cock, but there always seemed to be so much of it.

It was going all the way into him, spreading its cold down his throat, through his chest, his stomach, filling him in a way nothing ever had.

And Myth himself was so hard, despite the lack of friction to his own cock.

“Not all of me. Not yet,” Callan growled. “But soon. I’ll lay you bare for me, and you’ll have no secrets from me at all. I’ll know every last inch of you. You won’t be able to take a single step without my shadow hounding you.”

Myth should’ve been frightened, but all he could bring himself to care about was the sensation of that cock in his mouth, his throat, so deep he couldn’t put words to its length. Yesyesyes, his mind chanted, wanting exactly what Callan was threatening.

Why had it taken him so long to realize he wanted someone to know him like that, to chase him like that?

Fuck.

He sucked harder, dragging his teeth more deeply, trying to bring Callan some of the same odd discomfort he was feeling. He needed to breathe soon; he was getting light-headed. But he couldn’t lift his arms to push at Callan’s thighs and force him back. Were his limbs that weak? Or was magic holding him down?

Callan’s thrusts picked up speed, his cock drove even deeper into Myth, until a flood of cold gushed into Myth.

Myth swallowed as quickly as he could, not even caring anymore how strange it all was, how cum didn’t taste like this, how it should have been warm. The cold raced through him as he sucked to draw out every last drop.

Something began massaging Myth’s cock. He closed his eyes so he didn’t have to think about how Callan’s hands were running through Myth’s hair, or maybe they were holding down his wrists, but either way it was a cool hand on his cock that massaged him expertly, all while he was still drinking down Callan’s seed.

Pleasure built up at the base of his spine, and he tilted his head back. He sucked hard at Callan’s cockhead as his body started to tremble from the force of the pleasure. All he wanted, all he needed…

“Good boy,” Callan whispered.

Myth cried out, a strangled sound, and shot all over the hand in his pants.

His entire vision blacked out.

Fuck.

It was all he could do to breathe. His entire mind was gone. No more thoughts of his mother or the amulet or Lore, just a beautiful, peaceful blankness.

He whined when Callan began to pull out. Myth forced his eyes open so he could see just what had been inside him, and was almost disappointed when he saw an ordinary cock. It didn’t even seem that large anymore.

Callan snorted and petted the top of Myth’s head. “You can move now.”

Myth stared up at him, dazed. He tried to give a minute shake of his head, but it sent an ache through him. “Nah, ‘m’good,” he slurred. He let his eyes close again, resting heavily against the floor beneath him.

He was better than good.