Filed To Story: Spit or Swallow: Kiss Of The Basilisk
“Yes.”
The king didn’t ask anything else. It would seem the time for talking had passed.
Without another word, he turned and climbed into Kora’s hands, reclining on his back so that her palms cradled his shoulders. It was clear Bastian wasn’t going to initiate anything; it was up to Tem to begin the ritual. And that was just fine with her. It gave her control in a situation that felt entirely out of her command, and she used the brief moment alone to close her eyes, preparing herself for what was about to happen.
Her mind was blank, Caspen’s presence noticeably absent. She missed him, but she didn’t wish he were with her. The next few minutes were not about him. They were about Tem, and they were about Bastian, and they were about showing everyone in this room what she was capable of. For some reason, she was perfectly calm. Some part of her liked this-the thrill of a challenge. She’d never felt particularly capable her entire life in the village-never excelled at much of anything. But she would excel at this.
Tem opened her eyes.
It was time.
She stepped forward, pressing her hands against the warm, smooth stone. Then she climbed onto Kora’s palms, placing her knees on either side of Bastian. The second she opened her legs, the king’s nostrils flared, and she knew he must smell the sandalwood and ylang-ylang on her thighs. Tem didn’t ride him yet-didn’t even touch him. She merely looked down at him, noticing all the things about his body that reminded her of Caspen’s. His skin held the same smooth, flawless luster. His jaw was the same angular shape. The two men were undeniable predators-Bastian was eyeing her like he wanted to devour her right then and there. It was a look she’d grown used to getting from Caspen, and it was a look she’d always liked.
Tem also noticed the ways in which they differed.
Bastian’s hair was streaked silver at his temples. He had a scar on his shoulder in the shape of a jagged lightning bolt. Perhaps an old battle wound. Whereas Caspen’s chest was bare, Bastian’s was covered in dark hair that tapered in a trail toward his cock. Tem wanted to run her fingers through it. Instead, she slowly leaned down, extended her hand, and cupped his balls in her palm. She had no idea if this was allowed, but she wanted to feel this part of him-the vulnerable part-to remind the king that she was in charge. Caspen was right: Tem was stubborn. And she was ready to begin.
Bastian didn’t protest. He simply watched her, his cunning eyes narrowed in focus. Tem wondered what he was thinking, whether he had already formed an impression of her. Did he believe she could bring him to climax? Or was he merely waiting for her to fail? It didn’t matter what he believed. Tem knew she could do this.
Her hand moved from his balls to his cock, her fingers wrapping around the impossibly thick base. She didn’t bother stroking it. Instead, she centered herself above Bastian, lowering herself until his cock was almost touching her. Her eyes flicked once more to his. The king looked up at her as if to say: Do it. I dare you.
Tem was not afraid.
She slid herself slowly down the first few inches of his cock. She already knew what to expect; Caspen had taught her how to take a cock like this inside her. The feeling of expanding-of stretching-was one she knew well. Still, it was difficult to get all the way to the bottom, and despite her efforts, she couldn’t make all of him fit. But it didn’t matter. As soon as Bastian was inside her, Tem’s trepidation fell away, and her instincts took over.
She moved her hips slowly, testing his cock, learning how it felt to ride him. The heat she had seen in the king’s eyes was unmistakable. Tem knew what it looked like when a man was aroused, and it was exactly how Bastian was looking at her now. She used it to her advantage, building into a steady pace, establishing a rhythm. She knew she had to make him finish quickly, but she also knew the power of the buildup. Caspen’s words played in her head: He values confidence. So Tem looked down at the king with haughty assurance, as if he were lucky to be here with her. She pretended Bastian was the one who needed her approval, not the other way around, and fucked him exactly the way she thought he should be fucked.
She dug her fingernails into his torso, using the hard planes of his abs to steady herself as she slid up and down, working herself back and forth the same way Caspen taught her. Tem pictured Caspen’s hands on her hips, guiding her, training her to understand a man’s body. She leaned forward even more, pushing her breasts together, daring the king to look at them. But he didn’t. He held her gaze with practiced detachment, the only sign that he was enjoying himself the endless black pools of his pupils, which were trained on her in uninterrupted rapture.
Up until now, Tem had been avoiding the base of his cock. Bastian was bigger than his son, and it was only when she let herself take him fully that her body began to protest. The moment he filled her completely, Tem couldn’t help but wince.
As soon as she did so, Bastian grunted.
Caspen’s words came to her suddenly:
We are predisposed to destroy you-to take pleasure in your pain. When we are together, I walk a line between pleasing you and…hurting you. My human form craves the former. My true form craves the latter.
Bastian was no different from Caspen in this way-he also craved her pain. If she wanted to make him finish-and finish fast-it would cost her something to do so.
Tem rolled her hips quickly, riding through the pain, concentrating instead on the effect she was having on Bastian. His jaw was locked, and with each shallow breath he took, his body only tensed more. She slammed herself down on his cock, harder and harder, allowing yelp after yelp to escape her lips. Pain merged with pleasure. They were one and the same.
Suddenly, Bastian was fucking her back, moving his hips to meet hers. She had no idea if that was standard, but if the goal was to make him finish, it had to be a good thing. Tem glanced at his hands, which thankfully weren’t straying. But there could be no doubt that the king was participating in the ritual, which meant that Caspen was watching his father fuck her. Tem tried not to think about that. Instead, she let herself go, arching her back and moaning whenever the base of his cock put pressure on her clitoris.
The king was close. She could see the muscles in his neck straining with each thrust. He was half sitting up now, his eyes boring into hers, delicate tendrils of smoke seeping from his skin. It was the point when he should climax-Tem knew it from her sessions with Caspen, and she knew it instinctively as a woman. Yet the king was not finishing. Before Tem could begin to panic, she felt a sudden presence overtake her mind. For a moment, she thought it might be Caspen. Then she realized it was Bastian.
Up until now, Caspen was the only basilisk who had ever entered her mind. His voice was as familiar as her own. But his father had a different presence-older, ancient, vaster than the sea. He spoke just two words before retreating:
You first.
It was the same thing Caspen had said to her their first night together in the caves. Like father, like son. But this wasn’t supposed to be part of the ritual; Caspen hadn’t said anything about her finishing-only his father and himself. What if this was the only way that Bastian would finish? What if his approval was contingent on her climax?
Whatever the case may be, Tem wanted to finish. And not just because he’d told her to. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t turned on by the ritual. She imagined the king was Caspen, and in a way, he was Caspen. The two men weren’t really so different. Both were intimidating. Both were powerful. Tem was attracted to that power: she always had been. She focused on the way his cock felt inside her, allowing herself to feel real pleasure, just for a moment. The moment she felt it, she pushed it in Bastian’s direction as hard as she could-as if she could reverse his infiltration into her mind and infiltrate his instead. Bastian’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing to slits. In that moment, she knew she had him.
With a single, final thrust, Tem came.
The second it happened, the king grabbed her waist, lifting her off his cock with undeniable finality. Tem gasped at the sudden emptiness, watching in stunned shock as the king finished on her thighs. She stared at his cum on her skin-blending with the ylang-yang and sandalwood oils-just as thick and shimmery as Caspen’s. It occurred to her distantly that Caspen only existed because of that exact substance.
Bastian set her on Kora’s stone fingers before stepping down from the altar. He slid his hand over Tem’s thighs and raised his palm high above his head. Tem realized he was showing his cum to the audience, offering irrefutable proof that she had succeeded. A deafening hiss rose from the crowd, and Tem felt immediately as if she might faint. Before she could fall, a pair of hands grabbed her, their grip familiar and strong. The second Caspen’s skin touched hers, peace spread through her. It reverberated down her spine in a soothing wave, and she knew he was keeping his promise to make her calm. He lifted her off the altar, pulling her tightly against his chest.
His lips were on her ear. “You were perfect, Tem.”
“Perfect?”
“Utterly.”
She leaned against his shoulder.
Bastian lowered his hand, and the hiss quieted. He turned to Caspen, and although he said nothing aloud, Tem knew they were speaking to each other using their minds.
Without warning, her calm faltered.
Caspen was supposed to be controlling her emotions; she shouldn’t be able to feel the anxiety that suddenly erupted in her chest as her heartbeat quickened into a frantic canter. Tem couldn’t tell whether the feelings were hers or Caspen’s. Anxiety turned to fear-the same fear she’d felt when she’d visited Caspen’s mind just last night. Without warning, Tem heard a single sentence of their exchange:
I will not allow it.
The words were spoken by Caspen, and when he said them, Bastian’s brow furrowed.
Tem froze in place as a flash of anger passed over the king’s face. His reply was swift:
You will do as I say.
Just as uncertainty began to twist her stomach, the king turned to her. He held out his hand, and the moment he did so, the wave of calm returned.
Tem looked at Caspen. He nodded. As if on autopilot, she raised her hand and placed her palm gently on the king’s, directly over his cum. His fingers wrapped around hers, lifting her arm high into the air. The second he did so, the hiss of the crowd returned.
Caspen’s face split into a proud smile. Not a word had been spoken, but she understood that she had done the impossible.
Tem had earned the king’s blessing.
Bastian dropped her hand before retreating into the audience. The hissing grew louder-it was all Tem could hear, reverberating through her like a tidal wave. She looked at Caspen, and when his eyes met hers, she saw a wild mix of concern, desire, and fierce pride. She knew he was worried for her, but she also knew how meaningful this moment was for him-for them.
“It is our turn now,” he said, his voice low. “Can you go on?”
She nodded again. The ritual had barely begun; the king’s blessing was only half the battle. Tem knew she was ultimately seeking the approval of Caspen’s quiver and that they would make their decision based on everything that would happen after she slept with the king.
“You are in charge, Tem. I will follow your lead. What do you wish for me to do?”
Tem had only one answer:
“Just kiss me.”
Caspen kissed her, and the moment he did so, Tem felt herself unwind. There was no ritual, no audience, no king. There was only Caspen, who she trusted unequivocally with her body and with her heart. They kissed as if they were the only two people in the room, and they may as well have been. His hands dipped to the backs of her thighs, lifting her onto the edge of the altar. He remained standing as his cock slid inside her.
Tem.
Caspen.
He felt so good. He felt so right. He felt like home.
Tem knew she could make Caspen finish-she’d done it a hundred times before. But this time, they needed to be quick. So she sent him vision after vision of her touching herself-alone in her room, where he had never been, sometimes using the claw, sometimes using her fingers, showing him what she did when they were apart. She replayed her moments of climax again and again, knowing they would overwhelm him-knowing they would push him straight to the brink.
New Book: Returned To Make Them Pay
On her wedding anniversary, Alicia is drugged and stumbles into the wrong room—straight into the arms of the powerful Caden Ward, a man rumored never to touch women. Their night of passion shocks even him, especially when he discovers she’s still a virgin after two years of marriage to Joshua Yates.