Page 120

Sweat glistens on Damon’s brow as he draws the Amber Blade. “My ship. And I will take her.”

“We will take her,” says Trysta, putting her hand on Damon’s sword arm. “There are five of us and only two warriors. So we will wait until nightfall.”

“I can take them now. I can take them alone if I need to. I am The One Man Army of Azuria.”

“No you’re not,” says Trysta. “Not anymore.”

Lyr steps closer and slides a hand around Damon’s waist, marvelling a little that he can do this whenever he wants to. He feels his bare skin brush over Damon’s sun-warmed leather jerkin. It’s warm enough here that Lyr wears nothing but a hip cloth most of the time. It’s comfortable, but also he likes the way it seems to make Damon need to touch him constantly. The runes on his chest glow whenever he does, but they are less noticeable in the bright sunlight. They feel warm and he doesn’t mind them. They mean nothing now.

Not nothing.

Damon’s name. His lover’s name.

They take the White Watch in the middle of the night. Trysta leads the charge, seeming delighted to get to kill so many Azurian soldiers.

Damon has his ship back. Trysta calls him Captain and Opeth and Razelii soon do the same.

But Lyr never does. He has other names he enjoys calling Damon.

In his cabin, the captain’s cabin, on the White Watch, Damon looks at Lyr, as Lyr kneels between Damon’s wide-spread thighs on the bed. Damon is naked, his hard cock in his hand. Lyr moans, ordered to wait for his command. And he obeys, despite his aching need.

Damon, after much persuasion, has allowed Lyr to take a dose of foribunda, purely for Damon’s pleasure.

It is roaring through Lyr’s blood now. Familiar and with a wild desperate want that is glorious and terrifying.

Damon says, “Ask me. Beg.”

“Please,” Lyr whines. “Please let me. I need it.”

Damon licks his bottom lip. “I will be generous tonight. Let your mouth touch it,” Damon says. “Just that. Your closed mouth.”

Lyr obeys. He brings his mouth to the head of Damon’s cock and lets his lips touch it. He gasps with frustration. The scent overpowering him. He wants to taste it so much. So much he feels if he doesn’t, he will die.

“Please,” he begs. “Please, I need it. Let me take you in my mouth. Please.” His voice sounds thick and heavy with desire. “Meru.”

Damon groans and wipes the thick head of his cock along Lyr’s lower lip.

Lyr’s entire body is shaking with need.

“You are beautiful like this, slave,” Damon says.

“I am yours, Master,” Lyr says, lips brushing over the thick head of Damon’s cock as he speaks.

Damon smiles. “Achi.”

“Achi,” Lyr echoes. Then he pleads. “Meru, Achi.”

Even in his dazed state, even throbbing with need, Lyr can see the arousal take Damon when he hears Lyr speak Magaar, overwhelmed with desire. He knows Damon cannot hold out. He cannot resist. He nods.

Lyr almost wants to cry with relief as he leans forward and takes Damon’s cock in his mouth. A long sweet slide. Damon’s cock is thick and heavy, blood-hot, pulsing with pleasure. It fills Lyr’s mouth, fills his throat, fills his senses. The pleasure makes Lyr’s own cock throb and leak wet.

Lyr slides his mouth up and down Damon’s cock, mind lost to the pleasure of it. He can hear Damon groan, filled with nothing but want. He is pure need. They both are. Bound together by tight threads of want. He sucks harder. He wants to consume Damon. All of him. Suck him right into his body. Keep him there.

His.

His forever.

His Master.