The silk over Atticus’ eyes had grown hot, pulling sweat from his cheeks. His arms rested along the back of an antique sofa, his sleeves rolled up to expose his wrists and forearms, which he imagined were now well-punctured from how long he’d been sitting in Sebastien’s lap.
Sebastien, who kissed along Atticus’ jaw before he said, “Gorgeous, isn’t he?”
Atticus heard no verbal response, but the sudden pinprick of fangs was a welcome distraction from the blunt carve of wood digging into his skin. The stranger lapped greedily at his arm, and Atticus waited until the fangs retracted and the guest shuffled away before he groaned softly.
“Are you tired, sweetheart?”
Atticus turned his face toward Sebastien’s voice. “You know the answer to that fucking question,” he whispered. To be fair, he was more irritated than tired, as well as anxious from all the attention and miserably aroused from being fed on for hours.
Sebastien only laughed in his ear, sweeping Atticus’ hair away from his sweaty forehead with a claw. “Not enjoying yourself?”
It had been Sebastien’s idea, inviting Atticus to be the evening’s feast. The thought of strangers drinking from him, when that privilege had only ever belonged to his master, should have been an upsetting proposal. But Atticus didn’t regret it—couldn’t—because the smell of blood had become an aphrodisiac. Each time a stranger fed on him, his cock stirred, his mind frayed like cotton, and his skin sang deliciously.
“Yes,” he breathed, unconcerned if his response provided a clear answer as he squirmed in Sebastien’s lap.
“Poor thing,” Sebastien soothed, his hands drifting down Atticus’ chest. “You’re being so good for our guests.” He undid one button on Atticus’ shirt, followed by another. “I’m very pleased.”
In his mind, Atticus screamed yes, yes! as Sebastien gradually parted his shirt. A burst of cool air stifled the heat lancing his chest before Sebastien’s fingers closed around both nipples and tugged.
Atticus sucked in a breath and groaned again.
“You want to give them a show?” Sebastien murmured in his ear.
The blindfold had been Sebastien’s idea and Atticus was grateful for it. The din of the party implied they had quite the audience and he’d lost count of how many sets of teeth had sunk into his arm. It was less unsettling that he couldn’t see, though he could hardly pretend it was only Sebastien in the room with him.
Atticus answered by tilting his head against Sebastien’s shoulder and relaxing his limbs, as if turning himself into a doll, to be positioned and posed as his master pleased. He whined as cold claws trailed across his heated skin, as Sebastien pushed his legs apart and unfastened the button of his pants.
“Let them hear you, pet.”
Atticus couldn’t have disobeyed if he wanted to—he moaned and spread his legs wider as Sebastien petted his cunt. He tasted the ghost of copper as he licked his lips, rocking shamelessly against Sebastien’s fingers as they curled around his cock.
He heard Sebastien hiss and imagined another vampire had wandered too close. Truthfully he wouldn’t have minded if someone else’s teeth sank into him—he was enrobed in bliss, his cock swollen and throbbing as he rutted against Sebastien’s clever fingers.
The room hushed, as if the other vampires had suddenly evaporated into smoke, but Atticus could feel their eyes on him as he had all night. His moans rose louder in his ears, and even beneath the thick weave of his pants he could hear the slick, near-obscene evidence of Sebastien’s attention.
“Are you close, sweetheart?” Sebastien murmured in his ear.
“Yes,” Atticus said through gritted teeth, followed by a short gasp as Sebastien pinched his cock between two trained fingers.
“Going to come for me, then? In front of our guests?”
Atticus nodded vigorously, too far gone for dignity. He raised his elbows, squeezing the back of the antique couch for leverage, panting as he jerked his hips.
“Beg for it.” A long tongue flicked Atticus’ ear, followed by the graze of fangs. “Let everyone hear how desperate you are.”
“Fuck—please!” Atticus cried, static roaring in his ears. “Let me come, please, please—”
Claws raked up his stomach as Sebastien stroked him faster. Lips brushed Atticus’ neck, his body contorting as he chased each sensation. His pleas fell into needy babbling as he begged for his master’s teeth to claim him, for permission to come.
Atticus yelped when claws snatched his hair, craning his head to the side as hot, needling fangs pierced his throat. His mouth fell open as he came, head swimming from the smell of fresh blood and the pleasure pulsing between his twitching legs. He whimpered as Sebastien suckled on his skin, his tongue half hanging out of his mouth like a spent puppy as he ground his lower half against Sebastien’s touch.
Sebastien’s tongue replaced his fangs, lapping the wound closed as he pulled his hand from Atticus’ pants. His licks turned to kisses, hands firmly caressing Atticus’ stomach as he pecked his way to Atticus’ ear.
“You should see yourself, pet.”
Atticus shivered, lowering his arms from the couch back. The room shuffled back to life as Sebastien buttoned him back up; Atticus could hear the murmur of renewed conversation, the clink of glasses being refilled, and the distant drumroll of thunder as a midnight storm rolled in.
He eased a thumb behind the blindfold and peeked out, meeting his master’s flame-gold eyes. Sebastien smiled softly, all fangs and fondness, his plump lips smeared with Atticus’ blood.
“There you are.”
Atticus tilted his head and swiped his tongue across Sebastien’s bloodied lips. Tasting his blood on his master’s mouth was unlike sucking on a papercut—the flavor was not only rich but saccharine and tart, reminding him of ripe blackberries straight off the vine.
After he kissed every smudge from Sebastien’s lips, he groped for his master’s fingers to suck them clean.
Sebastien hummed softly in approval and cupped the nape of Atticus’ neck when he finished. “So good for me, sweetheart.” Atticus sighed and sluggishly replaced the blindfold over his eyes. He nestled against Sebastien’s blood-warmed body and muttered, “Now I’m tired.”