[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Fantasy Romance, M/M, demons, light consensual BDSM, HEA]
Tattooist Robert “Rook” Michaels hasn't had much of a love life of late. That changes after a chance encounter in the local night spot when he meets the man of his dreams in the mysterious Damon. The pair finds themselves to be compatible in every way, especially in the bedroom, but Damon has a secret, a hell of a secret. He is an incubus, a centuries-old demon that feeds upon lust and sexual energy. When he meets Rook, though, for the first time in decades he has more on his mind than just sex. He wants a partner. Someone he can relax with and confide in. Someone who he can tell everything to without fear of rejection.
The question is how will Rook react when Damon finally comes clean about his true nature?
A Siren Erotic Romance
The office was tiny, stuffy, and looked like a tornado had taken up residence, but it also contained the comfiest chair known to man. Rook lowered himself reverently into the seat and let out a long sigh. He was just beginning to enjoy himself when someone knocked on the door.
“Carly, no last-minute appointments. No matter how urgent they say it is.”
“It’s Damon,” the silky voice said.
“Oh!” Rook jumped to his feet, slamming his knee into the desk in the process. “Come on in.”
He made it halfway across the room on his sore knee when Damon opened the door and stepped inside. God, the man was beautiful. He hadn’t really taken stock last night, what with the poor light in the club, but standing in the doorway with the light from the front windows lighting him, he looked almost angelic.
He smirked as Rook kept staring. “So you like my shirt, then?”
“Um, sorry.” Rook ran a hand through his hair. “Well, yes, actually. It’s nice. But it’s not...Ah, fuck.”
Damon laughed. “Don’t worry about it.” He gestured to the shabby couch lining one wall of the office. “May I?”
The man sat and smiled up at Rook, who stared blankly until he finally took the hint and sat beside Damon. Damn, he smelt great, too. Rook didn’t normally notice scents, but the subtle hint of vanilla filled his senses.
“So,” he said, to force himself to stop staring. “Do you want to head straight out?”
“Actually, I wanted to ask you about a tattoo first, if you don’t mind. I thought while I was here you could help me choose a placement for a design I’ve been working on for a couple of months.”
“Sure. It’s what I do best.”
Damon pulled a square of paper from his shirt pocket. “This is roughly what I want.”
Rook took the paper and unfolded it, smoothing it on his sore knee. “Wow. You’re a great artist.”
The design itself wasn’t overly complex, just a shield with some shading to make it look metallic, but it was ringed with symbols that drew the eye and didn’t let go. They were almost like Magic Eye drawings, in that they seemed to shift when he moved his head.
“Do these mean something?”
“They do. Though I’d rather keep it to myself, if you don’t mind. It’s a family thing.”
Rook nodded, his attention still on the page. “Sure, no worries. Get that a lot. What sort of size are you looking at?”
“Pretty much that scale.” Damon tapped on the page, breaking Rook’s stare. “The question is where to put it.”
The design was a little over six inches high and similar in width. Not huge, but it did limit placement.
“Any places in mind?”
Damon stood and began to unbutton his shirt. “A few, but I’d like a professional’s opinion.”
Rook smiled and held up a finger, then poked his head out of the office door. “Consultation in session. Do not disturb.”
Carly grinned from her place by the front window. “Sure thing, boss. Be gentle.”
He felt the blood rush to his face as he closed the door. Damon smirked at the sight.
“Come now, you’ve seen more already.”
“True. That was, uh, below the belt, though. This is new territory.”
Damon shrugged and began to remove his shirt. “This territory isn’t as pretty, I’m afraid.”
The shirt came away, revealing two very noticeable things. Muscles and scars—lots of scars. Rook moved closer despite himself and reached out to brush his fingers over a long scar that ran over Damon’s right pectoral and down toward his naval. Though there were many sizes, each was narrow, as if from a cut from a very sharp instrument. A sword?
“What happened?” Rook swallowed as he realized what he was doing. “Uh, if you don’t mind me asking.”
Damon reached over and picked up his tattoo design, his gaze on the page for a moment. “Oh, you know. Can’t live as long as me and not pick up a few scars.”
Rook frowned. “You can’t be more than thirty-five.”
Damon’s eyes widened for a split second. “Yeah. Sorry. Meant you can’t live a life as hard as mine. Still, it’s in the past.”
Damon nodded. “I was a soldier, of sorts. These markings are related to that.”
“I see. May I?”
Damon handed the design to Rook. He held it against Damon’s chest for a moment. “Tattooing scar tissue is tricky. Luckily these are all old scars, which helps, and I have experience. It won’t be a problem, just a little more time consuming.” He walked around to check Damon’s back. “This your first?”
Damon paused for a moment. “Yes. But pain isn’t an issue, don’t worry.”
“Glad to hear it.” Rook ran a hand over Damon’s shoulder. “Can’t stand pussies.”
“We already established that, if you remember.”
Rook didn’t know where to look.
This Damon, who he’d met only seconds before, had just asked him to suck his cock. More concerning was the fact the idea wasn’t sounding too bad. He took a slow sip of his beer to buy him a moment’s thought.
Okay, so he’d come out in the hope of maybe seeing some action, and this guy was plainly offering that, but did he want to jump in headfirst?
Damon shifted in his seat. Eager or nervous? “Well?”
Rook put his beer down. “Sure, why not.”
“Great. Follow me.”
Damon stood and began to weave through the throngs of people toward the back of the bar. Rook had assumed that they would head to the guy’s office, but apparently that wasn’t the plan. Damon headed toward a door to the left of a staircase, nodded to the bouncer, then stepped into a small, dark room. Rook took a deep breath and followed.
Once inside, the door clicked shut behind him and a light was switched on, revealing a modest storeroom half full of tables and chairs. Out of modesty rather than confidence, Rook flipped the catch on the door, locking it to anyone trying to get in. Damon noticed and smirked.
“Nobody comes in here when it’s open. Other than me, anyway.”
“Oh?” Rook walked over, trying to keep his steps sure. “And do you come in here often?”
“Yes. In both senses of the word come.”
He flipped a barstool from the top of one of the tables and set it on the ground then began to unbuckle his belt. He slid his pants and boxers to the ground then sat on the stool.
Rook tried not to lick his lips, but he couldn’t help himself. The guy was hung like a horse. Eight inches at least, and thick, and he wasn’t even fully hard yet! He began to play with his cock, sliding the foreskin back and forth over the head, his gaze not leaving Rook’s.
“I’ve been horny all day,” he said as he stroked his hardening cock. “How about you?”
Rook steeled himself and came closer, his hand brushing Damon’s thigh. “Up until a few minutes ago, not so much.”
Rook dropped to his knees and took Damon’s cock in his hand. Damon gasped softly and Rook began to work the stiff length. His own cock was threatening to explode already, but he left it alone for now. He wouldn’t last long if he tried anything.
Slowly, Rook lowered his head until his lips were just brushing the tip. God, he’d missed the salty taste of pre-cum. He flicked his tongue across Damon’s thick cockhead then suddenly lowered his head, taking half the length into his mouth.
“That’s it,” Damon hissed. “I’m not looking for tenderness.”
With one hand, Rook jerked the thick cock as he worked his mouth up and down the length, taking a little more in each time until the cockhead was thumping against the back of his throat. He worked his tongue along the length at the same time as long-forgotten techniques came flooding back.
“You’ve done this before,” Damon said, his breath halting.
Rook smirked, a difficult thing to do with a mouthful of cock, and kept at it, sucking and jerking. Suddenly, Damon placed his hands on Rook’s face, and with a surprising amount of strength, pulled Rook off his cock.
Rook looked up, a question on his lips. Damon stood.
“I’ve changed my mind. Bend over that table.” He worked his cock. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week.”
* * * *
Rook gaped, and Damon wasn’t surprised. He’d surprised himself with the forcefulness of his statement. He was just so damn horny! This guy had sucked him like a pro, and the energy coming from him was a veritable feast. There was no way Damon was wasting his coming orgasm on a blow job.
Rook paused for a moment then dropped his pants. His cock was as hard as Damon’s and not that much smaller. I know how to pick ’em. The man turned and bent over the table, his hands gripping the wood top. Damon moved into position and pulled out the small bottle of lube he’d slipped into his pocket earlier in the night, just in case. He quickly dropped some onto his finger then slid it around Rook’s waiting asshole.
“You’re tight,” Damon said as he slid his finger in to the first knuckle. “I like that.”
Rook only gasped in response as Damon pulled his finger out and pushed the head of his cock in its place. Rook relaxed a little, and Damon squirted a little more lube onto his cock in readiness. Once he was satisfied, he pushed inside Rook’s ass.
“Oh God,” Rook groaned as Damon worked his way in.
“You like that?” Damon pushed further inside, his hands clasping Rook’s sides. “You like my big cock inside your hole?”
“Yesss,” Rook hissed back.
“Yes, what?” Damon pulled back out till his cockhead popped free. “Call me master or I’ll stop right now.”
This was always the risky point. Some men weren’t into it, and some hated the idea of it. But Damon was so damn horny he couldn’t hold back.
“Yes, master,” Rook gasped without a moment’s hesitation. “Fuck my ass, master.”