so he ate obediently, neither of them meeting the other’s eyes.
It was unfortunate that all of Rion’s struggles during the time of Jack’s absences had yielded no give in his restraints, for Jack seemed lost in thought and was distracted enough that Rion could have flung him onto the bed and reversed their positions with ease, if only he’d been able to get loose.
Despite himself, a thrill sang through Rion at the thought of Jack tied to the bed and at his mercy. As Jack offered another piece of food, Rion’s tongue flicked over the calloused pads of his fingers, seemingly of its own accord. Jack’s breath stuttered, but he didn’t pull away as Rion swallowed the cheese. When he lifted up another chunk, Rion swirled his tongue again as Jack’s fingertips brushed his lips.
What am I doing? Stop! But he didn’t, and their eyes locked. The pulse in Jack’s throat fluttered, his breathing growing faster. Rion’s heart hammered as they continued on, Jack holding up the chunks of food and not pulling back as Rion teased with his lips and tongue. Remarkably, Jack was not repulsed or enraged—and his eyes were actually darkening with clear desire.
Was it possible? Did the Outsider share Rion’s secret sin?
For a moment, Rion felt only unfettered joy, pure and sweet as it soared in him. But then he forced himself to remember that he was bound to the bed, held prisoner in his own home by filthy scum.
But is he truly bad?
Rion swallowed his bite of cheese. It doesn’t matter. I have to get free. Nothing else means anything . Yes, this was how Rion would gain the upper hand once more. He would use this sin. He just had to get Jack to trust him—to let his guard down.
Yet Rion’s own flesh stirred and his belly quivered. For so long he’d craved a man’s touch, and there was something about this Outsider that made his blood run hot. A tiny, cautious smile lifted the corners of Jack’s mouth as Rion kissed his fingertips, and Rion wondered what it would be like to taste those full lips. He wanted to suck Jack’s fingers harder and deeper. He wanted to suck on his pale neck, on his…
No! It’s too dangerous to play this game .
Forcing himself back in control with a discipline earned over the lonely years, Rion rested his head down. He would find another way. He hardened his face and voice. “Best go back to your treasure hunt, as fruitless as it is. So why your own people reject you? Is it because you’re useless and ugly, or is there more to it?”
The soft, longing expression vanished from Jack’s—no, the Outsider’s face—and he jumped to his feet, the tray clattering to the floor. “You are a devil.” He turned and strode to the door.
“I have to piss,” Rion said. It was the truth, but perhaps the Outsider’s anger would distract him.
Jack glanced back warily, and then sighed. The old chamber pot sat behind the door, and he brought it to the bed.
“Untie one of my hands and this’ll be much easier.” Although Jack had surprising strength, if Rion could get one hand free, he knew it would be the end of his captivity.
“You truly must think me a fool.”
“No, just a scourge. All your people are.”
“And who are my people? How do you know them?”
Rion ignored the question. “Are you going to let me piss or not?”
Jaw clenched, Jack peeled the cloak down. He tugged at the laces of Rion’s breeches and reached inside. Rion’s breath caught as Jack pulled his cock free, wrapping his hand around the base. Rion bit down and swallowed a moan, tasting coppery blood on his tongue. All these years he’d wondered what it would be to have another man touch him there, and Jack’s palm was warm, his grip firm and rough. He would only need to move his hand, to stroke…
Rion’s lungs burned, lust coiling in his belly as images of his fantasies ran riot in his mind. He clenched his body, closed his eyes and concentrated on relieving himself into the pot, which Jack angled with his
It was unfortunate that all of Rion’s struggles during the time of Jack’s absences had yielded no give in his restraints, for Jack seemed lost in thought and was distracted enough that Rion could have flung him onto the bed and reversed their positions with ease, if only he’d been able to get loose.
Despite himself, a thrill sang through Rion at the thought of Jack tied to the bed and at his mercy. As Jack offered another piece of food, Rion’s tongue flicked over the calloused pads of his fingers, seemingly of its own accord. Jack’s breath stuttered, but he didn’t pull away as Rion swallowed the cheese. When he lifted up another chunk, Rion swirled his tongue again as Jack’s fingertips brushed his lips.
What am I doing? Stop! But he didn’t, and their eyes locked. The pulse in Jack’s throat fluttered, his breathing growing faster. Rion’s heart hammered as they continued on, Jack holding up the chunks of food and not pulling back as Rion teased with his lips and tongue. Remarkably, Jack was not repulsed or enraged—and his eyes were actually darkening with clear desire.
Was it possible? Did the Outsider share Rion’s secret sin?
For a moment, Rion felt only unfettered joy, pure and sweet as it soared in him. But then he forced himself to remember that he was bound to the bed, held prisoner in his own home by filthy scum.
But is he truly bad?
Rion swallowed his bite of cheese. It doesn’t matter. I have to get free. Nothing else means anything . Yes, this was how Rion would gain the upper hand once more. He would use this sin. He just had to get Jack to trust him—to let his guard down.
Yet Rion’s own flesh stirred and his belly quivered. For so long he’d craved a man’s touch, and there was something about this Outsider that made his blood run hot. A tiny, cautious smile lifted the corners of Jack’s mouth as Rion kissed his fingertips, and Rion wondered what it would be like to taste those full lips. He wanted to suck Jack’s fingers harder and deeper. He wanted to suck on his pale neck, on his…
No! It’s too dangerous to play this game .
Forcing himself back in control with a discipline earned over the lonely years, Rion rested his head down. He would find another way. He hardened his face and voice. “Best go back to your treasure hunt, as fruitless as it is. So why your own people reject you? Is it because you’re useless and ugly, or is there more to it?”
The soft, longing expression vanished from Jack’s—no, the Outsider’s face—and he jumped to his feet, the tray clattering to the floor. “You are a devil.” He turned and strode to the door.
“I have to piss,” Rion said. It was the truth, but perhaps the Outsider’s anger would distract him.
Jack glanced back warily, and then sighed. The old chamber pot sat behind the door, and he brought it to the bed.
“Untie one of my hands and this’ll be much easier.” Although Jack had surprising strength, if Rion could get one hand free, he knew it would be the end of his captivity.
“You truly must think me a fool.”
“No, just a scourge. All your people are.”
“And who are my people? How do you know them?”
Rion ignored the question. “Are you going to let me piss or not?”
Jaw clenched, Jack peeled the cloak down. He tugged at the laces of Rion’s breeches and reached inside. Rion’s breath caught as Jack pulled his cock free, wrapping his hand around the base. Rion bit down and swallowed a moan, tasting coppery blood on his tongue. All these years he’d wondered what it would be to have another man touch him there, and Jack’s palm was warm, his grip firm and rough. He would only need to move his hand, to stroke…
Rion’s lungs burned, lust coiling in his belly as images of his fantasies ran riot in his mind. He clenched his body, closed his eyes and concentrated on relieving himself into the pot, which Jack angled with his
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