[Siren Everlasting Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Alternative, Sci-Fi, BDSM, MM, HEA]
In Bound by Pleasure, only pleasure could destroy his pain… When an alien race saves humanity in exchange for a few healthy human males, Hunter Wilkes is terrified to be selected. Those who are chosen are never seen again. Worse, no one knows their fate. Still, Hunter vows to face his destiny like a man, but he’s shocked when he finds himself owned by a terrifying alien. Kian Lachlan might have a terminal disease that keeps him in constant pain, but that doesn’t mean he believes the hype about Earthlings having curative powers. When his father buys him one anyway, Kian is furious and determined to prove Hunter is as fake as all the other cures he’s been subjected to. What neither one of them was expecting was discovering a shocking sexual affinity. True roles of master and slave translate perfectly in the bedroom, but Kian’s father didn’t buy Hunter to pleasure his son. He wants a cure and won’t settle for anything less. If Hunter fails, he’ll be sold.
In Bound by Temptation, temptation stripped away their masks… Supreme ruler of his planet, Zigog Claelyan, was kept so frantically busy he had no time to be tempted, until an admirer gives him a rare and expensive earthling. When the arrogant creature seems to have no interest in him, Zigog is furious and reluctantly intrigued. There is nothing Dalton Boyd hates more than feeling powerless. When he’s caged and given as a gift to an alien who clearly has everything, he’s willing to do anything to torment him—even ignore him. When his strategy works a little too well, Dalton discovers he’s just as captivated as his new master. As their masks fall away and they succumb to temptation, can Zigog and Dalton face one another with honesty? Or will they allow dark secrets and deep-seated fears to ruin their chance at the mystical soul resonance?
Bound by Pleasure
Hunter Wilkes expected the official summons to be something spectacular. Not marching band and parade spectacular, but something grander than the thoroughly understated way he found out his life, as he knew it, was over. Rather than fanfare and trumpets, the command came in a plain white envelope. It wasn’t even festooned with a fancy script. It was just an utterly boring number ten envelope with his name, address, and social security number in the most standard typeface in the universe. For some reason, Hunter found it odd that the Eoeans used something so mundane for their hideous lottery.
There wasn’t a stamp on it because they didn’t use the postal service. Hunter thought they didn’t trust that the orders would be delivered. Or if they were received on time by the right man, he might claim that he never got it. So they sent an official. Hunter had seen the pale-blue van in his neighborhood before. Whenever anyone saw one they all stopped, stared, and prayed to whatever god they believed in that the van wasn’t coming to their house. Hunter hoped his mother hadn’t been at the window when the van had come. Although, as soon as she opened the door and saw the man in the crisp, white uniform with the light-blue trim, she would have known. Everyone knew. She would have confirmed that Hunter Wilkes was her son, that he lived in the house, and that he would present himself according to the instructions inside the envelope she’d been given. Hunter didn’t have to see her perform those actions to know that was exactly what she would have done. Because if Hunter knew nothing else about his mother, he knew she was a law-abiding citizen.
“It came today.” His mother clutched her hands together and held them to her chest. She was struggling not to cry. Worse, despite the fact she was terrified, she was forcing herself to smile. In her determination to appear positive, she looked maniacal. Had he not known her, Hunter would have thought her crazy. But he did know her, and he loved her. He realized she was desperate to appear unaffected even though she was losing her only son. “I didn’t touch it. I mean I did to put it there on the table, but I haven’t—only you can open it.”
Actually, anyone could open it. From what he’d heard from other guys, the envelopes weren’t booby-trapped or anything. But no one wanted to open them. Not even the man the summons was intended for actually wanted to open the envelope and read what it contained. But the men always did. Because that was the deal. The Eoeans saved Earth from a deadly virus, and all they wanted in exchange was a few young men. Desperate, the powers that be decided it was a fair trade. Without the Eoeans’ help, everyone would have died, so giving away a few hundred men every year seemed like a bargain.
Hunter wondered if any of those powerful people had asked what happened to the young men who were sacrificed. Someone probably had. But the Eoeans didn’t answer. Even now, after all the men they’d taken, no one knew what happened to them. The only thing anyone knew was that once a man left, he never came back. There were no calls, e-mails—nothing. It was almost as if the young man had never existed at all. Except for the shattered families left behind. Too bad they didn’t have some kind of a cure for that.
Hunter and his mother stood in the surprisingly bright and cheerful kitchen looking at the envelope. The table it sat on was old pine that his father had stained a dark brown. So many birthdays, holidays, and everyday meals had happened on that surface. It was as if all of those times before were to give him some kind of strength for what was on the table now.
“Is Dad home yet?” Hunter didn’t know why he asked. Whether his father was home or not would have no bearing on what would happen next. Just last night Hunter and his friends were talking about the odds of one of them getting the summons. Hunter figured his chances were less than the other guys. He’d had a terrible fever when he was a kid. The doctors thought for sure it was a variant of the virus, but they were wrong. Erroneously, Hunter had assumed that the Eoeans would only want the healthiest adult males possible. He was wrong.
“Your father will be home in an hour.” His mom turned away and pretended to do dishes. He knew she was just desperate to give herself something to do when she washed the same bowl repeatedly. “There’s leftovers in the fridge if you’re hungry.”
“I’m good. Thanks.” Usually when Hunter got home from class he was positively ravenous. Finding out he was going to die sucked the appetite right out of him. “I’m going to go call Dalton.”
She spun away from the sink, spilling water on the floor. The dots looked like tears against the light-blue area rug. How strange that he’d never noticed the patch of carpet was the same color as the Eoeans’ van and their strange alien skin.
“Dalton?” she asked, clutching the bowl so tightly it was almost as if that piece of ceramic could stop what was happening. “That’s good. That’s a good thing to do.”
“Yeah.” Hunter stood there in the kitchen he’d known since the day he started having memories. He’d spent his whole life living in their house on Charles Street. Twenty-four twenty-six Charles. He’d probably remember the address until the day he died. He swallowed hard. That was apparently coming at him far faster than he wanted to consider. Nineteen years old and he’d not even finished his first year of undergraduate studies. He remembered turning nineteen and thinking he was mature because soon he’d be out of his teen years altogether. Twenty seemed so very adult.
Until he was looking down the long tunnel of his life and realizing he was barely an adult. In legal terms he was, but in life experiences he really wasn’t. Hell, he couldn’t even buy booze yet.
“You think I am a joke?” Kian took two steps toward him with a slowness that was almost hypnotic.
Hunter had to crane his head back to keep looking up. Quite suddenly he realized that by attempting to look Kian right in the eye, even though his gaze was hidden behind a shield, he was inadvertently showing aggression. This wasn’t a joke. And whatever was behind the gleaming faceplate wasn’t human.
Before he could open his mouth and stammer out an apology, Kian grasped Hunter by the neck. He didn’t squeeze, just held his massive hand there, letting Hunter know that all Kian had to do was draw his fingers and thumb together and he could mangle his neck even easier than he’d destroyed his smartphone.
“You belong to me.”
Since he was too afraid to speak, Hunter nodded. His progress up and down was impeded by Kian’s grip, but he was pretty sure he got the message.
“You will do what I say.”
Again, Hunter nodded ever so slightly.
“Should you displease me, I will kill you.”
Hunter was so terrified he couldn’t even nod. And then, the absolute worst thing that could happen did. To his utter shock, he got hard. He couldn’t believe that his body was reacting to Kian’s control the exact way it always had to Dalton’s. The difference was, this was no rough interlude or stress-relieving scene. This was a life-or-death situation that Hunter realized he had absolutely no control over. But his body didn’t see the difference. His body got off on surrendering to power and control, and Kian exuded plenty of both. Somehow, even the idea that he could kill him almost effortlessly turned on some twisted part of Hunter. It seemed the more Kian restricted his movement and his ability to breathe, the more aroused he became. He was so shockingly stimulated he thought he was going to climax if Kian didn’t release him.
As Hunter stood very still, trying desperately not to do anything that would further his bizarre and utterly inappropriate excitement, he realized he was leaking pre-cum like crazy. He could feel the slick liquid wetting his briefs. Soon, it would make a wet spot on the front of his jeans. Dalton had always teased him that he seemed to make enough pre-cum for six guys. But where Dalton would tease him with words and the power of one probing finger, Hunter had no idea what Kian’s reaction would be.
He knew the precise instant when Kian noticed because his head tilted to the side in that familiar and utterly human gesture.
“You have wet yourself.”
Hunter shook his head, but he couldn’t get enough air to explain. To his simultaneous shock and delight, Kian reached down with his other hand, cupped Hunter’s bulge, and squeezed just hard enough to push him over the edge and make him climax.
* * * *
Kian had never thought he would enjoy having command of another being, but there was something about Hunter that instantly called to him. When Hunter laughed and thought the situation was a joke, fury sparked so strongly inside Kian that his pain actually abated. Something about this creature, this pale and oddly beautiful creature, engaged him so completely he forgot all about his illness. Hunter’s lack of fear had prompted Kian to terrorize him, and to his surprise, he found the sensation pleasurable. He didn’t want to injure him, not grievously, but he wanted to make it clear who was master and who was slave.
When he thought he’d gone too far and made Hunter wet himself, he realized just as he cupped his hand to Hunter’s genitals that rather than fear causing him to urinate, he’d aroused the Earthling to the point of climax. Stunned by the turn of events, Kian kept his hand around Hunter’s neck and the other against his quivering cock until his release ended.
Gasping, Hunter kept his head up, exposing his neck, but his eyes were closed. Long brown lashes rested against his cheeks, making him look vulnerable. Yet by his very stance, head up, neck so fully extended, he showed a curious kind of strength. Hunter seemed to innately trust that Kian would not go too far. After witnessing what he’d done to the handheld computer, Hunter shouldn’t want Kian’s powerful hand anywhere near his tender neck, yet he’d not fought at all. Instead, he’d submitted and found pleasure in doing so.
What made the encounter even more astonishing was the fact that Kian found his cock pressing hard against the unforgiving metal of his protective suit. He’d gotten aroused before, but he rarely had the chance to enjoy his stiffening member. Pain always came and made the sensation depart before he could find completion. Even when he had the cycle-long break from agony, he hadn’t been able to take his arousal to a natural conclusion because he feared the pain coming back right at the moment of release. But now, Kian was standing in sharp agony, hard, and ready to have his first release.
“You will now satisfy me.” Kian freed Hunter from his hold and slid back the front panel of his suit. The device was to make the process of urination easier, but now it would be used so that he might experience his very first climax. Instead of telling Hunter what he wanted him to do, Kian simply grasped his hand and cupped his fingers around his shaft. It took all his will not to utter a cry of relief. Pain was still pulsing through his body, but where Hunter touched him he was miraculously free of agony. The only sensation he had on his cock was one of pleasure.
Without prompting, Hunter stroked up and down, twisting his fist around the base then the crown. He seemed to intuitively know how to please. Perhaps the information he’d gotten was wrong and Earthlings were built remarkably similar to Koronians. Or there was something to the rumor about Earthlings being intuitive. Regardless, Kian let all his concerns evaporate. All he wanted was release. The pain was there, just like it always was, but somehow, Hunter’s touch sublimated his agony to bliss.
Bound by Temptation
“He is an Earthling.”
There were so many gasps they practically made a new kind of music.
Dalton grinned. He had no clue how the hell he could understand their language because he knew for a fact they weren’t speaking English. Something in his head was altering what he heard into words he could understand. Not that it mattered. All that concerned him at the moment was that he needed to keep projecting the macho disinterested sex god image he’d chosen. Dalton stood a little taller, puffed out his chest a little more, and tried to make danger ooze out his pores.
“Is he sentient?”
Dalton almost winced. Golden Guy was asking if he was intelligent and that fucking embarrassed the hell out of him. Did he look stupid? Dalton had been assured by literally hundreds of people—male and female—that he was attractive. Unfortunately, no one ever said anything about the fact he had brains to go with his brawn. It was as if Golden Guy had found Dalton’s greatest weakness and kicked it. Hard. But then Dalton realized why Golden Guy had asked. He was pissed that Dalton hadn’t once bothered to look at him.
Aha. It’s like that, is it?
Apparently, little Mr. Ego didn’t like not being the center of attention. The more Dalton ignored him, the more furious he became. Dalton considered the wisdom of pissing the guy off, but then realized that he might be on the right track to getting what he wanted, which was in the man’s bed. Golden Guy wasn’t bored anymore. He’d been slumping down into his throne with his head cradled in his hand, but now he was straining forward. He was pissed and curious in fairly equal amounts.
“He is sentient, Your Grace.”
Dalton didn’t bother to look at the guy who was gifting him or the man he was being given to. He settled his gaze on the nearest woman. She was very short and pleasantly chubby. Her face was pretty, her eyes were gleaming, and when she realized Dalton was looking at her, she smiled. Her white teeth were bright against her sage-green skin. She, like the rest of the people present, was wearing very little, but her skin was completely covered with shiny sage-green paint.
“Why doesn’t he speak?”
“I do not know.”
When the two men seemed to realize that Dalton was staring at someone, he turned his attention to another guest. He didn’t want to inadvertently get some innocent lady in trouble. The next person he looked at was male. It didn’t take long for Dalton to realize that despite the height, the guy was really a kid. He had that lean kind of geekiness that most men mercifully left behind once they abandoned their teenaged years. Dalton grinned again. It was nice to know that the trials of adolescence were universal.
The next man Dalton considered was older, possibly twice as old as the gangly youth. He was dressed head to toe in royal purple. Whoever he was, he looked deeply concerned about the turn of events. Purple Man was darting his gaze from Dalton to the other two men with a kind of hinting head twitching almost as if he was desperately trying to tell Dalton to look at Golden Guy. From his behavior and the excessive finery on him, Dalton had a gut feeling he was either the coordinator of the evening’s events or he had some high-level position on Golden Guy’s staff.
As Dalton stood there, looking at everyone except the two who most wanted his attention, he kept them in his peripheral vision. When the guy giving him away had apparently had enough, he stomped over to the cage and grasped the bars.
Dalton deliberately took the time to smile and give a little nod to another one of the revelers then turned his attention to the rude fuck at the side of his cage. After looking him up and down and making a face that he hoped conveyed his utter disregard, Dalton asked, “What?”
The man frowned and took his hands off the bars. “What is your name?”
Clearly not accustomed to having anyone challenge him in any way, the guy just stood there shooting daggers at Dalton with his gaze. He was all blue and wore a tiny pair of underwear similar to the king’s. His body wasn’t nearly as nice as Golden Guy’s, but it wasn’t hideous, either. What was very strange to Dalton was to see so many people barely dressed yet covered in bright paint.
Dalton stopped looking at Blue Balls and went back to assessing the crowd. If not for the line of guards, he would have had a much better view of the revelers, but it wasn’t like they were going to move out of his way. Just at the very brink of his peripheral vision he noticed that Golden Guy was now quite literally on the edge of his garish throne. He was tapping his fingers in a fast and furious beat.
Knowing that he had Golden Guy’s undivided attention, Dalton finally turned his gaze toward him. Golden Guy was so startled he moved back as if pushed. Dalton allowed a slow, wicked smile to lift the edges of his lips. He didn’t bare his teeth. That was too often seen as a show of aggression. What he did was project to his new owner that he wasn’t a cowering creature who would submit to his every demand.
After his initial shock wore off, Golden Guy moved forward again. Now his gaze traveled over Dalton’s form. His once-tapping fingers now traced over the armrest of the throne almost as if he were imagining touching Dalton’s body.
When Zig emerged from the bathroom, he practically ran into Dalton’s arms, thoroughly distracting him. And then a veritable feast was brought in, further delaying their discussion. By the time they got around to talking, Dalton was sleepy from his massive meal. Tucked into the center of the palace, he had no concept of day or night. His circadian rhythms were all messed up, and he felt another wave of claustrophobia sweep over him. He pushed it away by reminding himself the walls were most certainly not closing in on the supreme ruler of the planet.
And then suddenly Dalton was back in bed with Zig where nothing mattered. He was kissing him, stroking him, and ultimately burying his cock deep into the snug heat of his ass. It was delicious. This time though, Zig refused to stay passive. He managed to get Dalton on his back then rode on top of him like a man desperate to tame a wild bull. Watching him stroke over his cock and pleasure pocket turned Dalton on to the point he bucked so violently he almost threw Zig off. But Zig just clamped his legs around Dalton’s hips and kept right on going until they both climaxed.
“Your ejaculate is pink.” He hadn’t noticed last night, probably because the color looked different against Zig’s skin rather than his own. It was a very light pink that reminded Dalton of dishwashing liquid.
“What color is yours?”
“Does it matter?”
“No. Like I told you before, I’m just curious about everything. I figured out the loose skin around your shaft is so your cock can expand right before your release because it’s holding all that pink cream.”
After another brief shower, they were back at it, but this time Dalton was taking Zig from behind. His ass was utter perfection. Dalton found himself stroking over his pale flesh, contemplating what it would feel like to smack him and watch his globes shake.
“Go ahead.” Zig wiggled his butt. “I know you want to.”
Dalton tried to resist and wasn’t even sure why. Zig wanted him to. He wanted to. It was safe, sane, and consensual. Hell, it was just a light paddling not a full on whipping or anything painful. But something was preventing Dalton from raising his hand to Zig.
“Why?” Zig looked back over his shoulder. “I thought this was what you liked?”
“I thought so, too. But it’s different now.” Dalton realized what had changed was something inside himself. “It’s not you. It’s me. I’m not the same guy I was yesterday.”
Zig turned around and settled on the bed so he could look at Dalton. “Have I angered you?”
“I think if you had I’d be more inclined to want to punish you.” Dalton sat on the bed across from Zig feeling very strange. “Last night when we—I had total control over your pleasure. That excited the hell out of me. It was like all my dreams of being some scary badass were nothing compared to that.”
Surprisingly, Zig looked disappointed.
“Do you want me to hit you?”
“It wasn’t about hitting me. It was about…something else.”
“Me being in control.”
“Yes. But aggressively in control.” Zig blushed a bit but then forcefully said, “I like the idea of you overpowering me.”
“Like this?” Dalton rose up and pushed Zig down on the bed. He pinned his arms above his head then forced his legs apart with his knee so he could settle between them.
“Yes.” Zig’s eyes were big, and his breath trembled.
“I think we can find a compromise.” Dalton kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue into Zig’s mouth. When he struggled, Dalton held his arms more firmly to the mattress. It seemed the more passionate he was, the more Zig seemed to enjoy himself. Below him, Zig squirmed and moaned. His pseudostruggle was arousing as hell. Dalton felt powerful in a new and profoundly erotic way.
When he pressed their cocks together, Dalton discovered he could thrust up against his amoram, making his golden king cry out with ecstasy.
“Is it too much?”
“No. Please keep going. I feel that curious lightness slipping over my body again.”
Dalton worked his hips faster, loving Zig’s squirming body and his lusty cries. He wasn’t even inside him when he felt his balls tightening, lifting, signaling that his orgasm was so very close. As he hit that precipice and tumbled over, Zig uttered a loud and lusty cry that was followed by an astonishing release. Together, they’d made quite a mess on Zig’s belly. White and pink strands of pleasure made a rather beautiful decoration.