Waking the Demon (MM)
[Siren Allure ManLove: Erotic Alternative Fantasy Romance, M/M, demons, HFN]
Matthew Murray is a typical bartender, undervalued and overworked. Living in Illinois was a stopgap whilst he made himself some money to make it big, but that never happened.
After a hard shift, Matt locks The Pound, but just as he’s about to go home, he spots a mysterious figure walking past. Unable to stop, he follows the tall man to a shady alley. Still not satisfied, Matt continues to spy. Watching him gain entrance to a private club, he tries his luck and miraculously gets in, too. The bar is posh, and the men are, too. Biting the bullet, he talks to the other man, but little does he know what lies in store for him.
Bellamy Stock has been stuck in this same place for too long. He just wants to go home, but he can’t. It’s not the money. He has plenty of that, and time isn’t the issue either. Everything is boring and everyone is the same, except for maybe Matthew...
A Siren Erotic Romance
Why did he have to clean up that awful mess? He didn’t make it. It just wasn’t fair. He rolled his eyes dramatically. He supposed that was life. Well, his life anyway. Matt threw down the rag he was using to wipe the counter and glared at his balding, overweight manager. Resisting the urge to spit in his aging face, he huffed in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth. That fat bastard always did this to him. He gave him the shit shifts, and as soon as some fucker had had too much sauce, he was the one that was cleaning stomach contents off the floor… and walls… and chairs… and sometimes ceilings. He grimaced and ran a pale hand over his face. Surely these punters were too old to still be doing that every night of the week. He tutted to himself. Clearly not.
If he didn’t need the damn job, if he didn’t need the money, he would have told the manager to stick it up his fat ass a long time ago. As it was, Matt had been working in the crappy dive, on minimum wage, for more than four years now. It was supposed to be a stop gap, something whilst he saved up enough money to get out of Illinois. He always wanted to go to New York, but those dreams were becoming more and more distant with every soul-destroying shift he took at The Pound. Sidling out from behind the counter, he suppressed the shudder that crept up his spine when he felt the old man’s eyes rove over his back. He knew that stare was lingering on his tight ass.
Matt’s stomach dropped as he reached the cupboard in which they kept the cleaning supplies and he heard the croaky rasp of the nicotine-stained manager’s voice again.
“Oh, and, Murray…” Matt froze. He hated being referred to by his surname. “We’ve run out of mop heads, so you’ll have to use a cloth.”
Matt nodded briskly, not trusting himself to answer. Crouching low, he pulled open the door with one hinge and grabbed the only cloth left in the cupboard. Tucking it in his pocket, he thrust his hand in again and waved it about, but there was nothing else in there. He sighed and dropped his chin to his chest.
“Also, I didn’t order any gloves, so make sure you wash your hands thoroughly after…”
Still not turning round, Matt’s top lip curled up. He could just picture the smug grin on his lips. Damn, how he wished he could smack that expression from his stupid face. Half expecting another grim instruction, he waited a few seconds before he rose and stalked off. Matt muttered empty threats to himself as he snatched at the mostly empty bottle of bleach on the side. He was painfully aware of the only reason Clyde had hired him, and it was nothing to do with experience or his witty repartee. Both of which, he had been so reliably informed on more than one occasion, were somewhat lacking. No, standing at six feet one, set with compact muscle and a face that could make even Da Vinci swoon, he was just the eye candy of the bar. He should have known the first time he stepped into the dingy, stinking place by the way the few regulars that were perched on broken stools at the bar followed him with their gaze and licked their chapped lips.
Matt didn’t mind the attention, not really. A boost to one’s ego, no matter where it came from, was always good, even if it was from dirty, old men. He had long since realized he wasn’t like the other boys at school. When they were all playing kiss chase with the girls, Matt had spent his time locked away reading fantasy novels, dreaming he was the one being swept off his feet by the handsome hero, taken to live in a vast castle, served by numerous sexy slaves in skimpy outfits. As it was, he’d never found his knight in shining armor, just a bunch of scumbags with no jobs, hopes, or dreams. In fact, he was beginning to think that he was destined to be alone forever. Friends, well, the few he had would try and cheer him up sometimes but always said the same thing.
“You’re only twenty-three. You’re too young to worry about being single. Go out and enjoy yourself,” some would say.
“You’re so gorgeous, you’ll be snapped up in no time,” others would offer.
Neither made him feel any better. He wasn’t stupid. He knew he was good-looking with his glossy, brown locks and big, dewy eyes. That had never been an issue. The real problem was his taste in men. He had always liked older guys, the sort that were mature and interesting but still looked good. He would have been lying to himself if he didn’t say that he liked the idea of them having money. Basically, he was looking for a gay Johnny Depp. Could he find one in this asshole of a town, though? Despite himself, Matt scoffed and rolled his eyes. All he was good for was a quick fuck and nothing more. Relationships weren’t the done thing round here. They meant loyalty, fidelity, boredom, at least to the sleazebags that frequented The Pound.
“You know, for someone who had the audacity to follow me halfway around town, you do seem very nervous, Matthew…” Bellamy said with a quirked eyebrow. “Come, sit with me. Make yourself comfortable.”
Doing as he was bid, Matt walked over and perched on the edge of the cold leather. Suddenly, he felt a cool hand around the back of his neck and he was pulled forward. Soft, warm lips closed over his. Matt sighed and melted into the embrace. Snaking his arms around Bellamy’s tapered waist, he pressed his chest hard against the other man. Already his prick was making a tent of his impossibly tight jeans. His tongue was like a snake, slipping into his mouth, massaging his own and brushing over his teeth. Matt shuddered as the tingling in his pants intensified, but he had little time to think, or even breathe, as Bellamy pushed him roughly against the couch and straddled his hips. He looked down at him with lustful eyes, and the corner of his lips quirked up.
Matt’s breath caught in his throat as the black-haired man began to grind ruthlessly against his aching cock. His lithe fingers popped open the buttons of his creased shirt easily and quickly. He tugged the two halves of material away to reveal Matt’s muscular chest. Bellamy licked his lips. Running his fingers over the velvety skin, he stopped when he reached the rosy buds of Matt’s nipples. Twisting them gently, he leaned down and took Matt in in a possessive kiss again, never once stopping the devious work of his demonic hips.
“Do you like that?” Bellamy whispered as he leaned low and kissed down Matt’s neck.
He asked again when he received no answer. Matt groaned, tossing his head from side to side at the overload of sensations gripping him. He bit into his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh man, that felt awesome. How was this man so damn good at this? He hissed when he felt the other man suck ruthlessly at the delicate skin on his neck, but he didn’t stop him. Matt smoothed his hands over the broad planes of Bellamy’s back. The sounds of moaning filled the air as slowly they peeled their clothes from their damp skin, leaving the material to fall to the floor with a dull thud.
Standing swiftly, Bellamy took handfuls of glossy brown hair and pulled Matt into a sitting position. His eyes widened when he caught sight of the long, thick cock coming toward his face. It was quite possibly the biggest he’d ever seen. He knew what was coming. Breathing deeply, he dropped his jaw as wide as it would go and slid his mouth over the ruby head. Bellamy stiffened, and his fingers curled tightly into the hair on Matt’s head, tugging him farther down the hot rod of flesh.
“Yes, Matthew, that’s right. Take it all.” He gasped, flinging his head back.
Tears streamed from the corner of Matt’s eyes, but he didn’t want to stop. Even when the glans hit the back of his throat like a battering ram, he continued to pump his head back and forth. He relished the guttural sounds erupting from the black-haired man as he thrust evermore enthusiastically into his mouth. Spittle spilled over his lips as he sucked and slurped greedily. Maybe he was drunk on lust, but he was sure that Bellamy’s erection was growing as it slipped farther and farther down his throat with each movement. He swirled his tongue around the juicy helmet and licked along the leaking slit. Fuck, Matt had forgotten how good another man could taste.
Taking his own neglected prick into his hand, Matt slid his fingers up and down the velvety skin, moaning around the fat cock that filled his mouth. Bellamy hissed, freeing himself from Matt’s mouth. Pulling Matt up by the huge globes of his shoulders, he cupped his face roughly and allowed their tongues to duel for what seemed like a lifetime as their members slapped and bounced against each other. Matt shivered, despite the heat burning through him. He wouldn’t be able to wait much longer. Bellamy was just too damn delectable. Twisting on his heel, he pressed his pert ass against Bellamy, enjoying the way their sweat-slicked skin slid against each other as he swayed his hips teasingly.
Leaning forward, Bellamy slid an arm around Matt’s naked body and began to jerk at his veiny cock. He slid the fingers of his other hand into his mouth, slurping at each one in turn, leaving saliva to slide down each one in silver lines. Matt shivered as he felt a wet finger, drastically warmer than earlier, slide along down his crack. Bellamy parted his fingers, opening Matt’s cheeks a little. Rubbing a single digit around Matt’s tight entrance, he began to press until the tight ring of muscle expanded, allowing him access. Matt gasped. Pushing another in, Bellamy whispered sweet nothings into Matt’s ear as his back arched and he bit into his bottom lip. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but it had been a while since anyone had taken him like this. Pushing back gently, he moaned his name aloud when Bellamy began to move his fingers in a scissoring motion, stretching him farther than he’d ever been stretched before.
Whimpering lightly when he felt those devious fingers slide free, Matt turned his head over his shoulder to stare into Bellamy’s gray eyes. He didn’t know why, but for some reason, he felt safe, safer than he had done in years, despite the ridiculous circumstances that had led to this moment.
“Please…” he muttered into his collarbone, never once breaking eye contact.
“Please what…?” Bellamy pressed, the corner of his lip turning up.
He bit his lip and dropped his gaze.
“Please, just fuck me.” Matt sighed.