Finding Blood (City Underdark #1)

Begging

The sun had risen. Patricia considered trying to go to bed, then gave up immediately after looking in the direction of Hugo's door.

She was glad that he was having some fun. She truly was. He had been wanting this ever since he caught sight of the sour-face vampire. Hugo had a full-blown infatuation with the vampire. One would have had to be blind to miss it – or would have had to be called Barmond. She had chuckled when she had hear him ask Hugo if he liked him in a tone that revealed his true cluelessness.

But everything had turned out all right in the end. She was just surprised that he was so loud.

It simply was insane. One moment Barmond was screaming blood murder and cursing like a banshee. The next he was moaning up a storm. Not even the door stopped either of them. They had been going at it for an hour straight.

Although she had to admit that Barmond did sound like he was starting to falter. His voice was starting to crack more often and he would break into coughing fits. He even moaned quieter. And, maybe it was just her, but he didn't seem quite as virulent in his ire.

Bets were being made. Personally, she wagered on fifteen minutes more.

_____

Twenty minutes after Patricia lost her bet, Barmond was still laying face down on the bed. His limbs were shaking, his cock felt on the verge of exploding, and his shoulders were covered in throbbing bite marks. But worse of all was his throat. It felt like a lump of silver was stuck in it and breathing itself burned. Not even his regenerative abilities could help it fast enough – he had run out of saliva.

He didn't feel so much like fighting anymore. His mind was numb from wanting one thing.

"Gorgeous," said Hugo as he stroked his back gently. He had released himself on it earlier but he had cleaned all trace of his come afterwards. "You're being worked into a piece of art."

As sappy as this line was it struck a chord in Barmond. Time and time again, Hugo had "worked" on him, playing him like an instrument. He felt like his fingers have mapped every inch of him, tracking every last secret. He was a hunter; his prey had been Barmond's pleasure. Never in both his human life and the one that came after had he been treated this way – and his erection felt stronger than ever.

"Please..." croaked Barmond.

Hugo leaned in, making the bed creak. "What was that?"

"Can I..." Barmond had demanded that many times, screaming, thrashing and cursing. Each time he had been denied. He had known that he was doing it wrong since the start. Not that his voice was nothing but a raspy breath, he didn't have the will to hold on his pride. "Please, please take it out."

"Take what out?"

The bastard. "The ring. The ring on my cock."

Hugo clicked his tongue. "What do you say?"

"I'm—" Even then it was hard for Barmond to let go of his pride – but he had too. He wanted it so much he had actually cried earlier. "I'm sorry for calling you names. I'll never say I'll kill you again."

"That's more like it." Hugo reached around him.

"Wait!"

"What? What do you mean, wait?"

Barmond became silent. He felt himself become red.

"You can tell me." Hugo kissed the back of his neck, his beard brushing over a sensitive bite. Barmond thought about how he had gotten used to the feeling of those kisses. A little too much so, even.