About

Stories

Misc.

Credits

Ads

GAMBLE WITH FATE.COM

Dress

© Coco Reed

One day, while sitting in his daily bubble bath and filing his nails, Demian had a thought occur to him. The force of it when it struck had him gripping the sides of the tub and frowning. He stood from the tub with the thoughtful scowl still in place, drying off with the warm, fluffy towels laid out for him. The mammoth bathroom let into the even larger bedroom. Soft steps across the velvet rugs took him to a set of double doors. Usually he grinned at what the room held for him, but now he only huffed and crossed his arms. His closet was bursting with everything the beautiful demon needed to make himself irresistible. Along the walls were leathers and silks, lace and fur. Armoires below the clothes were overflowing with his jewelry and exotic toys of pleasure and pain. He tried to push the thought away, but as he studied the masterfully crafted thigh-high black boot with sharp metal studs on the toes he had just been gifted with, he couldn’t help but pausing.

Was he a pet?

The day wore on and he couldn’t shake his dark mood. Demian sat draped against the side of the curved and cushioned window seat of his suite and brooded. Since he had been here, he had not once been on a hunt. Why would he need to? He had a place where authorities wouldn’t look for him, no longer were witnesses seeing young men come to his apartment and not come out, and there was never a time anymore when he even began to grow tired from lack of feeding. Feeding became a nightly ritual. A smirk came to him at the thought and he trailed his fingers across his smooth stomach at the memory of his last feeding. He snarled when he realized what he was doing. This was exactly what the problem was!

Things were becoming comfortable, exquisite, dangerous. Since he had been here he did nothing. He was pampered, spoiled, and fucked until he couldn’t snarl and snap any longer at his host, but smile and even allow him to hold onto him after they came. Yes, he allowed everything that was being done to him, damn it! He was an incubus, a demon, and a killer. What he wasn’t, was a lover, a kept boy, and he sure as hell was not some god damned pet! He tensed up, hands settling on the arms that wrapped around him from behind and automatically moved his head to the side to give the soft lips better access to his neck.

“Afternoon, precious.”

Demian grunted in reply and then slipped out of Lyre’s hold. His bad mood wanted to evaporate now that the man was back in their room. An urge to climb him like a tree and do everything his mind came up with swelled inside him. He would not give in. Today he would prove that he was not easily swayed; bought with pretty things and amazing sex. He clung to his annoyance, though it wavered further when those strong hands took hold of his waist and pulled him onto the god’s lap. When he was turned toward him he conjured up a menacing glare but all it appeared to be was a pout on his full lips. Without a word, and with one of his damn charming smiles in place, Lyre held before his eyes a necklace.

His fingertips traced the spikes of turquoise and hematite, mesmerized by the craftsmanship of it. He had to admit that it was pretty. Taking it slowly from him, Demian trailed his hand along the god’s strong jaw to pull him into a kiss. Lyre kissed back eagerly, tugging him closer until there was nothing separating them. Knowing it would make him crazier, Demian moaned and wriggled against him. Before things could continue further he leaned back, smirking.

“Yet another sparkly trinket.” He left the window and the necklace behind.

Lyre chuckled and stood, straightening his white tunic. “Don’t pretend indifference, little crow.” He walked over to his lover and smiled though the young demon glared up at him. He couldn’t help taking a strand of his silky silver-blonde hair and play with the curled end. “Would a pony have pleased you instead?”

Demian scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned away. This strange annoyance was beginning to grow within and instead of willing it away he encouraged it to grow. “I’m not some twit to blind with gifts.”

“My, my, you have grown new thorns since yesterday.” Lyre frowned and leaned against his desk as he regarded Demian with hooded eyes. “Is this what having free time does to one such as you?”

“Free time,” Demian laughed quietly at the phrase, turning toward him again. “Perhaps. It feels like an eternity since I have enjoyed the night, a victim, the thrill of hunting, the fresh kill. I sit around except when you’re here, and then we fuck.”

Lyre shrugged, unaffected by his lover’s tantrum. “I will give you anything but those. Those I never gave you in the first place. If you crave what’s in your nature, by all means, seek it out. When you’re satisfied, come find me.” He had other things he could, should, be doing. When he came back he thought perhaps spending the evening with his demon would be good, but seeing as he was in one of his moods he couldn’t be bothered to try. It was a shame the incubus made him so wild with lust. If not perhaps he would be able to concentrate longer on other things.

Demian’s anger grew to rage when Lyre turned his back on him, leaving him in their inviting bedroom. “I am not your pet that returns to its master when called!”

“What a bizarre notion.”

The smirk and glittering onyx eyes Demian found aimed his way when Lyre looked over his shoulder at him had his blood boiling. “I want to make myself perfectly clear about something. Everything – the gifts, the sex, the clothes you want me to wear – are tolerated and allowed by me, understand?” He stalked closer, terrifying even in his tight, ripped up jeans and small t-shirt that had some old rock band on it. “I enjoy being here with you and want more, but know this: I am not a pet, nor am I your doll.”

“Are you sure?”

With the snap of Lyre’s fingers, Demian found himself to be several inches higher and air cooling his legs. Looking down, he gasped at the sight. Black seven inch platform heels, white thigh highs, a frilly white petticoat, black silk, and white lace accents. He was standing in the middle of the room in a French maid costume. His cheeks reddened but not from embarrassment. Lyre Westreach was going to die. Soon. The moment his hands flew up to tear his ensemble to shreds, he was being held tight and studied by black eyes crackling with emerald and amethyst sparks.

“Funny, you say you call all the shots between us,” Lyre chuckled, dark and altogether sinister in how sexy he sounded, as he leaned closer to his captive. “And yet, here we are.” His hand not gripping Demian’s arms back slid down his chest and side, enjoying the feel of silk and lace.

“You bastard,” Demian spat.

Stepping away only made things worse. Wherever he moved he was followed. Lyre had a hold on him, strong but nowhere near painful. His anger grew as he realized even this way, Lyre was playful and would never hurt him. This was a game to him, even if he was making Demian play along. And screw the bastard for being able to get his way so easily! He could already feel the familiar heat Lyre always seemed to invoke in him build across every one of his nerves. They struggled, banging into furniture, and Demian gasped as he was spun around and bent over across the round table in the room. It was used when Lyre felt like having a lazy day and ate breakfast inside his cozy quarters. Demian couldn’t ignore the irony of the situation as he moaned and squirmed, knocking the entire china spread off the table as Lyre pressed against him.

Lyre groaned, pressing harder and let his hands explore the soft fleshy mounds of Demian’s ass beneath the skirt. He leaned over him, kissing his neck. A shudder, pleasant and sweet, rushed through his veins when Demian moaned and pressed back. “I hate when you act difficult, especially when I know you want me as much as I crave you, cruel little she-wolf.”

“Lyre… you bastard.” The insult was more an endearment as he hissed through his teeth.

The god chuckled before beginning his renewed search for all the places that would make his lover scream. He smiled as the demon trembled when he pushed his skirt up, cool air finding his bare skin. His fingers slid easily inside after properly slicking them and Demian’s impatient body. He played and searched, memorizing every move that made him buck and moan, sob and beg. After he was finished touching and tasting all that he wanted, Demian was a wriggling wreck of emotions. Spread before him, he was even more irresistible in his rumpled silk costume. Lyre leaned over him and nibbled his ear lobe.

“It’s exciting isn’t it? Playing and pretending… You’re beautiful, I know you are aware of this, but did you know you make me absolutely mindless to see you this way?” He received a strangled groan as a reply and he humped his clothed erection against him. “All you have to do is ask and I am equally under your will, Demian.”

“However, you have been quite naughty today.”

A resounding smack rang through the room. The stinging pain on his backside took a moment to come through the haze in his head, but when it did, Demian was speechless. For about a second. The fucker spanked him! With something hard, no less. He would never admit that it added to his lust. The idiot god didn’t have to know that. When Lyre began to chuckle he lost it.

“You fucker! What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” He snarled and tried to get away. His pride was already too bruised for his liking.

In another second he was flipped on his back. Violet eyes widened as he took in his lover. Towering over him, Lyre was dressed in a black pinstripe suit, not a hair was out of place as it was tied back in a professional pony tail, and he was smirking down at him with a large ruler in hand. Belatedly Demian realized the puffy lace and silk was gone from his body, replaced with one of those ghastly uniforms he had seen Japanese girls wear when he had lived there a few years. He tried to remember who he was and that this would stop immediately if Lyre enjoyed his dick attached to his body, but the illusion of their play was getting to him. He was so exposed, the tiny skirt hitched up around his hips, legs spread wide to show just what he thought of his lover standing over him with a masochistic smirk but still warm eyes in place. A shudder went through him as Lyre put the ruler down and moved between his legs.

Demian sighed, leaning back on his elbows as Lyre slowly unzipped his pants. He never had a chance to enjoy the view, reach out for his favorite toy, when the god lunged at him. Lips met in a painful, incredible kiss and Demian screamed against his perfect mouth when Lyre shoved inside him. He threw his head back, gripping the table as Lyre rutted on top of him. Strong hands ran up his chest until they grabbed the flimsy material and pulled. The ugly sailor-style shirt hung from his arms, exposing his creamy chest for Lyre’s enjoyment. This wasn’t right, wasn’t what he said he wanted. In fact, this was everything he just told Lyre he was against. Yet here he was, crying out and begging for more. He tried to hate this, but he felt his cock twitch and harden further when his legs crossed to keep Lyre in place and found the dainty appendages incased in white knee-highs and polished black Mary Janes.

He came hard, hips bucking long after he was finished. Euphoria swept over him, causing a lazy grin to crawl across his kiss-swollen lips. Lyre was still hard. Enjoying the snarls and groans coming from the man, he lay back running his hands through his hair and waited for his own lust to return. His eyes widened and he stiffened when he felt teeth, longer and sharper than he remembered, graze his neck. A shudder ran through him, his cock waking up, when Lyre slowly pulled out after abusing his prostate. Another shiver came when he felt sharp nails run along his sides and hips. A rumbling growl vibrated against his ear the same moment Demian found he was naked, save for the hooded crimson cape tied around his neck.

Nothing prepared him coming face-to-face with what his lover had become. Slit eyes met his, a hungry smile flitting over his mouth to show fangs glittering at him. Demian swallowed, unsure whether he could handle the god taking on an animal side while fucking. He just hoped he would be able to walk in the morning. Without thinking he reached up to caress his face, noticing two furry ears atop Lyre’s head twitched in approval. A hand with razor black claws encased his delicate wrist, massaging the silky skin with the thumb.

“Lyre?” He willed the tremor out of his voice, though he was positive that Lyre could see the lust in his eyes. Something about this excited him. The fantasy of being helpless under such a dangerous, perfect form; unable to stop him if the beast wanted to take him, was for lack of a better word in his hazy mind, hot. Demian smiled, rolling his hips up into Lyre’s.

“Mmm,” Lyre smiled, his voice deeper than usual, and leaned down to lap at his mouth. “You are delicious in all ways, star dust.” He trailed his hands down the demon’s sides, delighting in the shaking he caused. “Hold on.”

The warning did little to ready Demian. He arched up, tears blinding his vision as Lyre shoved back into him. He was moved along the god’s shaft hard and fast, tossed around like a rag doll. He was a doll. Demian smiled and gripped Lyre’s ass to keep him deeply set in his body. He may be a doll, but he was Lyre’s doll. Only his. Anyone else who tried, well… look what happened to Kame. Talons sliced his skin, adding to his pleasure, and Demian finally fell back with his arms above his head. Their fucking left him limp and ravenous. All he had to do was lay back and Lyre would take care of everything. A spurt of something hot and rich filled him and he came again, moving his hips to try and coax Lyre into coming but nothing else happened. Lyre was far from finished.

“Come, Lyre. Give me everything! I want it all, now!”

“Not yet.”

“I want you. NOW!” Gods, it felt too good. Demian clung to him, bucking and squeezing to push the immortal over the edge and drowned him in his ecstasy as well.

Lyre snarled, pushing up to balance on his palms as he rammed into him. “Demanding, naughty, beautiful boy.” He stopped suddenly and pulled out, earning a sob from Demian. “I’m not finished yet, princess.”

Demian pouted, getting quite pissed off. Now wasn’t the time to call him names. He had been so close to having another orgasm. His mouth opened to tell Lyre he could go to hell when he noticed he was no longer hurting his ass and head on the hard table, but was on their bed, cushioned by pillows and silk sheets. By now he was not bothered by his lover’s fantasies for him, smiling a devilish smile as Lyre stalked toward the bed. Demian put his arms above his head, enjoying the way his cool black silk bell sleeves fell around him. The large black gown was fit for a princess, a dark and cruel one that would look like a fallen angel inside the onyx-beaded thing.

Lyre crawled onto the bed, letting his hands slide up the creamy legs that opened for him. He smiled as his impatient lover wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It wasn’t hard for him to find Demian’s stretched and waiting opening. They both moaned as he sank back inside, moving with each other as their release quickly approached. Demian trailed his hands along the god’s body, teasing and pleasuring the man. He looked up at him and studied him. Handsome features were lost in the moment, concentrated, and desperate for release. Finally Demian understood. The realization dawned on him as he thought about the past few days he had stayed with Lyre. The god was addicted to him. He would never force him, but he craved Demian and the sensations his body made him experience. Demian was weak when it came to Lyre, he knew this. This was what brought on a lot of his frustration, but now he didn’t feel so bad. They were addicted to each other.

Demian and Lyre cried out as they came, jerking against each other for stimulation until they were dry and exhausted. Lyre panted and buried his face in Demian’s neck, holding him close as his body shook with his orgasm. Demian groaned, combing his hands through Lyre’s damp hair and smiled.

It was going to be interesting, having a god as a long-term lover.

Back

Home

Copyrights & Credits

GambleWithFate © Lacey Grey and Coco Reed (2006)
Designed by Aethereality.net
Images © Index Stock
Textures © The Blooming Effect and Hybrid Genesis
Brushes © Relished.net and Cirratus.org and Roshiweb.com