On Wings of Thunder (On Wings Saga 1)

by M. D. Grimm

  “The enchantment continued. Good.”

  “Enchantment?” Trystan landed on a stone path between two large bushes of berries. He gazed at the tomatoes, the edible flowers, the berries, the leafy greens, and the countless other vegetables—and fruit trees—that crowded the chamber from the floor to the ceiling and from wall to wall. There were a few paths made between the vegetation, but most had been covered with overgrowth, and he suspected some couldn’t be seen at all now.

  “My enchantment,” Asagoroth said. “We are far from angelic food sources. Roland and I created this place.”

  Trystan rubbed his arms as if cold. He would never move past the comparison between himself and Roland. He knew that. He resented that.

  Asagoroth didn’t want him. Didn’t want Trystan. He wanted Roland back and figured Trystan would be a good substitute. Bitterness and anger choked him, and Trystan had to fight back the tears that burned his eyes. No one wanted him for him—not the angels and not Asagoroth. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get one creature to want him for him? Why was he never good enough for anyone?

  Asagoroth must have sensed something, because Trystan suddenly felt his fiery gaze.

  “Trystan? Something pains you. I can feel it.”

  Trystan blinked. He could feel it? The dragon wasn’t even inside his head this time.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do not lie to me,” he said, his voice edging toward a growl.

  Trystan flinched. He turned slightly, looking at Asagoroth, and realized Asagoroth literally towered over him, staring down at him with one fierce eye. Fear spiked, and Trystan hunched his shoulders, looking away.

  “I’m not Roland,” he said quietly. Then he gathered up his courage and turned around, standing tall. He lifted his chin and met Asagoroth’s eye. “Asagoroth, I’m not Roland. I have none of his memories. If you thought you could have him back by claiming me, you’ll be disappointed. I—” His voice cracked. He cleared it, struggling to keep his voice level. “Don’t love me because you think I’m him. I’m not. I can’t be him. I can only be Trystan.” His shoulders sagged, his wings whispering over the stone. “I’m sorry, Asagoroth. I’m sorry you went through all this trouble for nothing.”

  Asagoroth said nothing, only stared at him. Then he closed his eyes, and the air around him pulsed violently. Trystan jerked back, gaping, not knowing what to expect. The dragon’s figure blurred, fragmented, and with a great clap of thunder, the dragon vanished.

  Trystan blinked.

  Before him crouched a black figure—with skin as black as the onyx of Asagoroth’s scales—with folded leathery wings and two horns jutting from his brow and whipping back alongside his head. The figure panted heavily before slowly standing, sturdy and muscled and completely naked.

  Trystan felt his eyes widen as he took in the perfection of the male creature before him. The creature looked like a strong demon, one with the same body structure as angels and what Trystan assumed was the same anatomy. With broad shoulders and a wide chest, he was muscled from his corded neck to the tops of his sturdy feet. Leathery wings stretched far over his head, dragging across the ground. They were mighty wings and seemed to breed darkness. His hips were narrow, the better to showcase the evidence of his manhood. Trystan blushed as he stared at the figure’s erection; it stood up proudly and was just as solid as the rest of him. Then the figure opened his eyes, and Trystan knew.

  “Asagoroth?” he squeaked.

  Burning blue eyes regarded him before the shape-shifting dragon stepped forward, his height still intimidating, and gripped Trystan’s chin firmly. Asagoroth continued to exude heat, and Trystan trembled as he was captured in that blue gaze.

  “Listen to me, Trystan,” Asagoroth said, his voice quiet but fierce. “You are Roland. You are Trystan. You are Roland’s essence, my beloved, for I can see him in your eyes. But you are also Trystan. You are the same, and yet you are not.”

  Trystan swallowed hard. “I don’t understand. I might have his essence, but I’m not him, so how can… how can you love me? You don’t know me.”

  Asagoroth regarded him with calm eyes, and Trystan had the feeling the dragon was choosing his words carefully.

  “Will you allow me to know you?” he asked.

  Trystan blinked. Blushed. “I….”

  “You are similar to him, Trystan, but in many ways, you are not. I knew who Roland was. Now I wish to learn who you are now. Will you let me?”

  Trystan’s eyes burned, and one single tear slipped through his control. It raced down his face, and Asagoroth used his surprisingly elegant fingers to gently brush it away.

  Asagoroth leaned closer to him, his sharp face aristocratically structured with a strong chin, a noble nose, and deep-set eyes under heavy brows. His eyes were exactly the same as they were in his natural form, from the diamond pupils to the bold color.

  “Do you know what love is, Trystan? I didn’t, not until I met Roland. He told me once that it was a force that shows you what is most important. For Roland love had him leaving the angels, becoming an outcast, becoming the mate of a demon. For me love made me end my campaign, made me abandon my demons and the Lower Realm. I gave up everything for him. For you.”

  Asagoroth smiled slightly, tilting his striking face. His blue eyes were warm as he ran his hand lightly over Trystan’s hair, the touch tender. He released Trystan’s chin to slowly caress his cheek.

  “I don’t regret my decision. Do you know why? He made me happy. I wasn’t happy before him. Will you make me happy?”

  Trystan stood, flabbergasted. He didn’t know what to say, to think. His mind was whirling, and Asagoroth’s touches weren’t helping.

  “B-but do you want me for me? Or because of him? I’m unchosen, never wanted, and—”

  “I want you.” His voice became fierce again. “I told you, you are chosen. You are and will always be mine. That is why you were unchosen to the angels. You have no place with them. You were already chosen by me, and your place is at my side.”

  Asagoroth paused, tilted his head the other way. Then he cupped Trystan’s face with both hands.

  “I am blessed, you see. I have a second chance. We have a second chance.” He paused. “Can I not love you both?”

  Trystan felt more tears slip down his face. He saw the honesty, the sincerity in Asagoroth’s eyes. Who knew he could receive such devotion from a demon?

  Asagoroth wiped the tears away with his thumbs. Trystan closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to regain some dignity.

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Then say nothing. Only feel this.” Asagoroth swooped down and kissed him hard, thrusting his tongue inside his mouth. Trystan’s eyes popped open wide, and he gripped Asagoroth’s broad shoulders, the heated skin flaring against his palms. The kiss was a conquest, demanding his surrender, his acceptance. It was hot, Asagoroth’s tongue scorching inside his mouth. Heat bloomed inside Trystan’s stomach while his skin suddenly itched against the robe he wore, as if the material suddenly irritated him. His erection surged to life, and when Asagoroth snaked his arms around Trystan’s waist and yanked him against his hard body, Trystan acutely felt Asagoroth’s own length pressed against him.

  “I need you.” Asagoroth skimmed his searing lips across Trystan’s face, down his neck. “I need you. Give yourself to me.”

  Did he really have a choice?

  Trystan clutched at Asagoroth’s horns as Asagoroth lowered one of his hands to cup and squeeze his ass. Asagoroth held Trystan tightly, pressing him along his hard body. Trystan panted, trembled, simply overwhelmed and intoxicated by the pleasure dazzling his senses.

  Asagoroth curved over him, causing Trystan to bow backward. He panted, moaned as Asagoroth worked him with that flaming mouth and those strong hands, bringing him higher and higher, making his sensitive skin sing. Then Asagoroth abruptly stopped. Trystan sucked in a breath, then blew it out even as Asagoroth straightened but still held him close.

&nb
sp; “You need to eat.”

  Trystan blinked, his mind slow to comprehend the dragon’s words. “But—”

  “Eat.” The word was a command. Asagoroth slowly dropped his hands and took a step away, his reluctance obvious.

  Trystan got another delightful view of Asagoroth’s erection. It was just as impressive as the rest of him.

  “You need your strength,” Asagoroth said, his eyes burning bright and a wicked smile on his face. “Eat, because once I start with you, I might never let you go.”

  Trystan smiled, his face heating, his mouth still vibrating from the force of Asagoroth’s kiss. He dragged his hand through his hair, glanced down, and realized his own erection was tenting his robe. He blushed harder.

  Asagoroth stared at him, at his covered erection, with an alarming intensity. Then he tore his gaze away.

  “Eat,” he said again. Then he slipped out of the chamber. Before Trystan could think to follow, there was a pulse, a loud crack, and a large black shadow erupted from the roof and soared high into the sky.

  It took Trystan a moment to surmise Asagoroth was keeping his distance to allow Trystan to eat in peace. Well, after a millennium of being caged, Asagoroth had a right to be horny.

  Shivering again, Trystan took calming breaths before turning his attention to the garden. His stomach rumbled again. Yes, he would need his strength. He journeyed down the path, eating as he walked.

  Chapter Nine

  The pressure in his head returned as soon as Asagoroth disappeared. He was glad of it. Now that he was full, he was needy. It scared him a little to realize just how needy. His body craved more of those touches, more of those kisses.

  “Asagoroth,” he said without raising his voice. But he made sure to put enough mental focus behind it that Asagoroth heard him.

  As suddenly as Asagoroth disappeared, he now reappeared in the sky. He dove sharply and Trystan held his breath. But he needn’t have worried: no one compared to Asagoroth, not in anything, especially flight.

  Asagoroth landed in the chamber filled with treasure, and Trystan found himself running out of the garden and into the same chamber. Even as he rounded the corner, sped through the archway, the air pulsed and cracked and Asagoroth was once again in his other form. His pale eyes were so bright that Trystan could have sworn he saw living flame inside them. Trystan ran to the edge of the treasure pile and looked up at Asagoroth, who stood on the pile of gold and jewels like a king on a glimmering mountain. Trystan’s breath hitched as he stared, fully knowing he was about to give himself to a creature of pure power; one who knew how to command and destroy… but also one who knew how to love.

  He hoped, prayed whatever Asagoroth felt for him would last.

  Trystan flew over the treasure and landed in front of Asagoroth. Asagoroth simply stared at him, frozen like a statue. His erection was full and standing proud, and Trystan’s stomach jittered just to look at it. Swallowing hard, Trystan didn’t know what to do, where to start, but his body grew hot, his need growing with it, and his robe was truly starting to itch.

  Asagoroth suddenly lifted a hand and flicked at the sleeve of his robe. His voice was gruff as he spoke. “Take it off, or I burn it off.”

  Flushing fiercely but also laughing, Trystan grabbed hold of his courage and took off his robe, letting it slide down his body. Asagoroth watched every move, his gaze roaming over Trystan’s body, so intense it felt like actual touches. Trystan trembled a little, nervous and excited at the same time.

  Then Asagoroth met and held Trystan’s gaze and opened his arms. “Come to me, my love.”

  Thought fizzled away as Trystan leapt at Asagoroth and locked his arms around that thick neck. His feet dangled above the gold as he slammed his mouth against Asagoroth’s and gloried in the heat that seared his body. Asagoroth possessively tightened his powerful grip around Trystan before he stroked and petted, rubbed and squeezed with his hands, evoking pleasure Trystan had never known. He felt wanted, desired.

  Chosen.

  Trystan put as much power into the kiss as he could. He pushed his tongue inside Asagoroth’s mouth, realizing Asagoroth was allowing him to direct the kiss. Gripping the back of Asagoroth’s head, Trystan gave it his all, unable to hold back a moan. He had no experience when it came to kisses, but he was determined to learn quickly. Asagoroth’s taste was something far beyond anything he could describe. There was heat on those lips, in that mouth, on that tongue that Asagoroth slid into his own mouth, tasting everything, everywhere.

  Asagoroth’s skin was so smooth and hot, a furnace that threatened to roast him alive. He felt that warmth penetrate his own cold skin. Trystan explored his back—the portion he could reach, anyway. So smooth, no hair, and as black as the darkest reaches of the cosmos, but alive and warm and needy. Skimming his fingers over Asagoroth’s wings, he felt Asagoroth shudder and moan into his mouth. Feeling smug, Trystan changed the angle of the kiss and kept going.

  Asagoroth touched him boldly, urgently. Intimately. He grazed Trystan’s own wings with his large hands, skimming over and between his feathers so gently and tenderly it could only be described as loving. It tickled, aroused, Trystan’s wings as sensitive as his skin. Trystan’s erection dug into Asagoroth’s stomach while Asagoroth’s slid along his thigh. Suddenly Asagoroth’s hands dove down and gripped his ass. Trystan yelped in surprise, and Asagoroth laughed, a rumble coming from his chest. Their mouths separated, and Trystan panted, gasping for air he realized he’d denied himself. Asagoroth gulped down air as well but recovered faster and began feasting on Trystan’s neck. Then he slipped wicked fingers between Trystan’s ass cheeks and roughly caressed his small opening.

  Trystan gasped and clutched Asagoroth’s head. He squeezed his eyes shut as Asagoroth continued his exploration, as he built the fire inside him higher and higher.

  “I will devour you,” Asagoroth growled, and his words were barely intelligible.

  Trystan felt a spurt of fear before Asagoroth lifted him and began to feast on his chest, his nipples. He licked and sucked, driving Trystan to insanity, and he could only grasp Asagoroth’s shoulders and hold on through the onslaught. Trystan wrapped his legs around Asagoroth’s waist, and that only gave Asagoroth more access, and he used it, leaving one hand to continue to caress Trystan’s ass while he slipped the other forward and fondled his balls.

  Sobbing, panting, Trystan was overwhelmed with sensation and the feeling of being wanted by someone, desired by someone. It was foreign to him.

  “Asagoroth,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Asagoroth growled in response.

  His tongue left a heated path as he slid it over Trystan’s chest, seemingly obsessed with his nipples. Trystan gripped Asagoroth’s horns and began to kiss him in return. He started with Asagoroth’s smooth head before sliding his lips over his horns. Asagoroth’s breath caught, and for a moment, Trystan thought he’d done something wrong. But Asagoroth never pushed away, never left contact with Trystan’s body. Asagoroth suddenly lowered to his knees, and Trystan set his feet on the treasure. Proceeding to drift his hot lips down Trystan’s chest, his torso, Asagoroth laid openmouthed kisses along his ribs and licked at his skin here and there. Trystan looked down and had the wild realization Asagoroth was worshipping him. The way he touched him, and tasted every part of Trystan’s body, there was a measure of reverence, indulgence, and Trystan wondered if this was some strange, wild dream.

  Asagoroth slid his strong hands up and down Trystan’s legs as he ghosted his mouth over Trystan’s erection. Trystan still had a firm grip on Asagoroth’s horns and couldn’t stop the tremors that constantly raced through his body, nor the moans that escaped his mouth.

  “Trystan,” Asagoroth whispered before he slipped his fingers between Trystan’s ass cheeks again and devoured his erection.

  Trystan yelped as heat blasted over and through him at the touch.

  “Asa, Asa, please. Oh Light!” He didn’t know what he said, but that hardly mattered.

  A
sagoroth hummed as he sucked, continuing to stroke his fingers over Trystan’s hole. His motions were slow but strong, and Trystan’s heart raced as his breathing came in uneven pants. He felt devoured, possessed, held in a passionate embrace that would never let him go. Ever.

  Asagoroth’s lips were so warm and smooth as he slid his mouth up and down Trystan’s rigid length. Trystan began to sob, feeling near release. He was about to explode.

  “Asa, please, I—”

  Surrender to me. This time it was a command.

  Trystan’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he came hard. “Asa!”

  His legs collapsed, but Asagoroth caught him and pulled him against his hard black chest. Trystan laid his head on Asagoroth’s shoulder, catching his breath, and Asagoroth stroked his back, his wings, the touch still amazingly gentle. Shivering, Trystan pressed closer, his arms loosely twined around the dragon’s shoulders.

  Asagoroth kissed his neck, cheek, ear. “You taste the same, my dearest love. My angel.”

  It was said in a whisper, and Trystan closed his eyes, hearing the naked affection and devotion in Asagoroth’s tone.

  “I am your angel,” Trystan said softly. He stroked a hand down the back of Asagoroth’s neck. “You are my dragon.”

  Asagoroth’s hold became unbreakable and heat flared from that dark body. Trystan gasped in surprise.

  “I missed you,” Asagoroth said. “I longed for you. To hear you, touch you, to become one with you again. Your elegance and your softness. How I need you.”

  Trystan blushed more with pleasure than embarrassment.

  Asagoroth cupped Trystan’s chin and raised his head, their gazes meeting. There was a fierceness, a depthless passion inside Asagoroth’s eyes, and Trystan cupped his face in return, instinctually knowing they both needed the contact.

  “No one will ever take you away from me again,” Asagoroth said.