Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  What good parts, vampire hunter? On the TV, or this?

  Gideon bit down on a moan as Daegan moved his hand and cupped his testicles where his splayed legs revealed their swollen curve against the denim. Daegan’s thumb rubbed with sure skill against the base of Gideon’s hardening cock. The male’s fangs pierced flesh, puncturing the carotid at last. Gideon convulsed, his hands flexing in reaction, but then he pushed them flat into the sofa again, mashing hard. He was going to leave handprints in the resilient foam.

  “What were you imagining?” His voice was hoarse. “When you were dozing?”

  Daegan’s lips curved against him, his tongue flicking across Gideon’s skin, taking the fast rush of blood with precise skill. Gideon felt lightheaded, but there could be a variety of reasons for that.

  I imagined opening my jeans, pulling out my cock. I command you to go down on me, suck me off while I watch television and drink my beer. I’d curl my fingers in your hair, push you down harder and harder, make that smart mouth of yours work for it. I’d hold off for quite a while, tiring your jaw and throat. You’d be too stubborn to give up, sucking, licking and occasionally biting to test me. When I came, vampire hunter, it’d be so thick and fast, you’d gag, but you’d fight to take every drop.

  His hand withdrew from Gideon’s cock, fisted instead in his shirt. When you fight for something, you are just as determined as when you fight against it.

  Using that hold in his shirt, Daegan kept him steady as he drank from his artery. He’d been worried about Daegan’s blood loss, so Gideon was glad the vampire was taking what he needed, but he noticed how aggressive the vampire was being about it, the strong pull on the throat, the clamp on his body. Usually, Daegan went with a gentler, more courteous approach than Anwyn, as if he knew Gideon had an innate nervousness about letting a male vampire drink from him.

  The couple times Gideon had been captured, the male vampires who’d taken him had torn into his throat or thigh with maximum pain without inflicting death. While he wasn’t some whiny therapy case, he had enough bad dreams about it that he still tensed up if Daegan came at him a little harder than usual, even with Anwyn present. Apparently Daegan wasn’t so worried about that today. He had those fangs driven in so deep, was pulling on that vein so hard, he’d be leaving a blood hickey there, a visible mark of how he’d tasted Gideon.

  My purpose exactly, Gideon. One of several marks I intend to leave on you tonight.

  Daegan lifted his head, replacing his lips with his thumb, holding pressure on the puncture marks. “Clean my mouth, servant. With your own.”

  Those dark eyes were implacable. This wasn’t going quite as Gideon had expected. But before he could question his own response, he was leaning in, remembering that kiss, and knowing now he had permission to move his mouth. Putting his over Daegan’s, he sucked the blood away from the firm lips, used his tongue to trace the seam, tasting himself and Daegan together. Daegan’s hand shifted, a collaring that caused pressure against the larynx, keeping Gideon at a certain distance, keeping him from deepening that kiss. Damn if he didn’t want that, because he kept pushing against it, reminded again and again by the force on his windpipe to ease back.

  When Gideon was done, he’d cleaned every trace of blood, inside and out, and his heart was racing as if he’d just run a race. Daegan’s eyes showed traces of crimson fire. Okay, this might be going into really dangerous territory. He wondered if it was too much to hope that they’d just start watching TV again. Or maybe Daegan would want a quick fuck. He could do that. God knew, he was more than ready for it.

  “Stand up, Gideon. I want you to strip. Take everything off, here in front of me. Then go into Anwyn’s personal supply room and put on the cock harness I’ve laid out on the desk there. Then come back here.”

  No. He couldn’t do that. Anwyn had done stuff like that to him, and her and Daegan together, but put himself in those kind of trappings with just Daegan, for Daegan? It made things somersault in his chest and stomach. Gideon couldn’t determine if the reaction was pleasant or unpleasant, but he recognized a gut-level, won’t-cross-that-line apprehension. He wasn’t going to call it fear. He wasn’t afraid of Daegan. But he didn’t need to do the psychoanalysis crap. Just no. N-O, hell no. Daegan might be able to force him to do it, but no way was he going to do it willingly.

  “So you are refusing your Master?”

  Gideon rose from the couch. He faced Daegan, hands now fully clenched, the whole “relax” thing off the table. “Look, you can fuck me, all right? I can handle that. Maybe even handle the going down on you thing after I get in a few beers. But it’s just not that way between us. I don’t…I can’t.”

  “Your cock says you can. Your pulse leaped with every demand I made. You want to do all of it and far, far more, Gideon. You’re just afraid of yourself, of what that means.”

  “Quit the psychobabble. Look, it’s just the two of us. Why does this shit have to be part of it?” He reinforced that admonishment mentally to his body, and the various other parts of him that were yearning to do exactly as Daegan had ordered. Well, fuck it, no. He wasn’t going down that road, going to become some sniveling, weak thing like some of the guys he saw up in Club Atlantis, being led around like cowering dogs on leashes behind other guys, their junk trussed up ten different ways.

  “That’s not what you fear.” Daegan studied him, then extended his empty bottle. “Very well. I need another beer. Get it, and we’ll watch the next episode.”

  Just like that. Gideon took the bottle, waiting for further reaction, but Daegan’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem mad or anything. On the contrary, when Gideon went to the kitchen, the vampire was fiddling with the remote, rewinding the DVD to the point they’d been at before the whole disturbing conversation had started.

  Which meant the jagged rock in his lower belly should start to dissipate, right? Only it hadn’t become a jagged rock until a second ago, when he’d refused Daegan. Gideon pulled out two more beers, popped the tops, brought them back. His cock hadn’t settled, and the vampire’s languid gaze slid over the tight fit of the jeans, but he made no comment, merely leaning forward to take his beer from Gideon’s hand. He gave him a nod. “Thanks for the blood, vampire hunter. I prefer it fresh from your throat.”

  “Hey, one of the things I’m here for.” See, he could be useful. He didn’t have to do those other things to be appreciated by the male. Unbidden, Gideon remembered those forty days once more, when Anwyn had forced him to stay completely naked in the apartment. She and Daegan had used him in every conceivable violation of biblical tenets, short of coupling him with a farm animal. At times, he’d gotten so lost in all of it, he didn’t even recognize the mindless, lust-driven creature he’d become, willing to do anything for them, to please and sate them. That was what a vampire could do to a human servant. He became all about serving his Master. Whatever the Master desired brought the maximum amount of pleasure to the servant.

  He meant her. Mistress. Whatever she desired brought the maximum amount of pleasure to him. To Gideon.

  Sitting back down on his end of the couch, Gideon tried to resume the same relaxed position. He knew it wasn’t going to work. Daegan had flipped a switch. He could argue that he’d flipped it right back off, but that wasn’t what his revved body and mind were saying, the ache in the middle of his chest. And Daegan was right. It wasn’t all about lust. But Gideon wasn’t as comfortable with that part of himself as Daegan was, not when it came to the feeling part. All he knew was a sense of irritating wrongness had settled over him.

  Hell, it was what it was. He stared hard at the TV, watching without hearing or seeing it, all-too-aware when Daegan finally rose after about thirty minutes. He mentioned something about catching up on his reading Gideon barely heard. A few minutes later, the vampire re-appeared from his room, a couple books under his arm. He headed for the elevator. Once it passed dusk, Daegan liked the panorama of windows in the penthouse living quarters, the heated pool and all
the greenery Anwyn had up there.

  “If Anwyn calls, let me know,” the vampire said, giving Gideon a half-smile as the elevator doors opened. “We’ll find out how much of her fortune she’s blown in the underground malls.”

  “Yeah, there goes my hope of being a kept man. I’ll have to get a part-time job to supplement my servant gig.”

  Daegan chuckled, stepped into the elevator. “If you—”

  “Stop.” Gideon rose, setting down the beer. “Don’t.”

  As if the chuckle and half-smile had been mere masks, and Gideon guessed they had been, Daegan’s casual body language vanished. The predator was back. He cocked his head like a raptor, his hand on the control panel. “Don’t what?” he asked softly.

  “I’ll do what you asked.”

  “I don’t recall asking, vampire hunter.”

  Gideon swallowed. Daegan kept his position in the elevator, not yet ready to change course. He was waiting for something and Gideon was all too aware of what it was. He knew it like he knew how to breathe. He knew how to serve a Master, just as he knew how to serve a Mistress. They’d taught him. All he had to do was grasp at the lesson, and it would be there. No matter how it conflicted with his image of himself. What he wanted was stronger than that, right?

  “I’ll do what you…ordered. Commanded, whatever.”

  Daegan still waited, but that charged silence increased. Tightening his jaw, Gideon pulled off his shirt. The vampire’s gaze followed the motion, appraising the expanse of Gideon’s chest, his scarred, broad shoulders. Opening his jeans, Gideon pushed them off, got his socks free, then kicked it all to the side. There. He stood before the dressed vampire completely stripped. Even though he had a feeling he’d taken off way more than his clothes.

  Daegan took his time covering all the exposed terrain, lingering on Gideon’s cock that was getting hard again, the skin over it taut as a drum. “The cock harness, Gideon. I marked the holes so you’ll know how tight I want it. Don’t change any of the adjustments.”

  Gideon nodded. He moved across the room, trying not to be self-conscious about it, even while feeling the weight of that growing erection pulling against every step. In Anwyn’s personal dungeon, there was a supply room. Just as Daegan had said, a cock harness had been laid out. Jesus. It was the one with the prongs that went around the base of the cock. The stiffer a guy got, the more they dug into him. It also had a nice, big ring in back so if Daegan wanted to put his sizeable dick through it and fuck Gideon’s ass, it would be accessible.

  He’d said not to change any of the adjustments, but Christ. The prongs were already tight, enough to make Gideon wince. When he reached full erection, it would be excruciating, leaving marks. One of several marks I intend to leave on you tonight… Sure enough, that wide-assed ring was positioned in back right where it was supposed to be. Another strap fitted around his testicles, and the cinching around them was likewise going to turn his balls blue before it was all over. But all those uncomfortable sensations made him even harder.

  During those forty days, he sometimes craved punishment, pain, the lash. Anwyn told him he was purging a lot from his soul, and that was a good way to do it. His response was she’d turned him into a fucking happy lunatic, an answer that earned him one of her amused, beautiful smiles. And another flogging.

  He moved back into the other room. It wasn’t easy walking this way, but those forty days had given him the training of a runway model. He could get right up there with the Victoria Secrets’ angels. Hell, he could outprance them any day, because he knew how to walk with a thick, six inch dildo up his ass. Thank the gods Daegan hadn’t added that to the arsenal tonight. Yet.

  But man, those prongs hurt. Didn’t seem to dim his cock’s enthusiasm, though. Soon as he got back to the main room in Daegan’s line of sight, it got thicker. A drop of semen had collected at the tip, was smearing the slit. Daegan’s attention swept over the harness, confirming its fit, but then he zeroed in on that response. As an anticipatory hunger suffused his expression, it honest-to-God made Gideon’s cock convulse right under his gaze.

  The vampire had stepped out of the elevator, but left the doors open, his books propped on the rail inside. The latest Michael Connelly novel Anwyn had gotten him, and what appeared to be an ancient volume of Greek poetry. The guy was eclectic, you had to give him that.

  “You owe me an apology, Gideon.”

  “What, this isn’t enough? My dick is in the jaws of a Rottweiler.”

  “That is what I commanded you to do at the beginning, no more, no less.” Daegan continued to regard him steadily.

  “I’m sorry,” Gideon muttered. Didn’t Daegan realize how screwed up he was over this kind of thing? He had no clue why the need to say he was sorry, to make amends somehow, was overwhelming him, as if he’d really done something unforgivable. But it was making him whine like a girl. Jesus. The really pathetic thing was that he wasn’t pissed off, wanting Daegan to be gone again so he could be by himself, watching SOA and propping his feet on the coffee table. He wanted Daegan touching his neck, hell, feeding from him. He wanted things to be okay, enough to do pretty much anything. But he didn’t know how to fix it.

  “That’s because you are looking to the wrong person to fix it.”

  He tuned back in to Daegan’s expression. He saw the implacability of a Dominant vampire, for sure. Gideon knew that look. When it was on the face of any other male vampire, it just made him want to reach for the nearest stake. With Daegan, it twisted his guts into further knots. Below that implacable expression was something important, something Gideon wanted. He just didn’t know if he could do all the right stuff to get it. He was like the kid that kept putting his hand on the stove time and again, just because he was told not to do it. It was his makeup.

  “And that is also part of what we appreciate about you.”

  “What, that I’m a clueless dumbass?”

  Daegan’s lips twitched, easing Gideon’s gut. Some. “No. That you stay who you are, even as you desire to be ours. Mine.” His gaze intensified again. “Because you are mine, Gideon. My servant as much as hers. The only one who refuses to accept it is you. I’m done waiting for you to figure it out. So again, what is wrong in your gut now is not yours to fix. Say the words, and I will make it better. But you must say the words.”

  His. All his muscles were tight, Gideon’s feet digging into the floor. But he wasn’t a coward. Daegan had told him that countless times as Gideon faced moments like this. Moments he and Anwyn knew were more terrifying to Gideon than any vampire who’d ever tortured or tried to kill him.

  He did know the words. The gestures. At the beginning, he expected them to feel so awkward and unnatural. But now, his leg bent, and he put himself on one knee. And he did what he hadn’t done on the couch. He bowed his head, eyes settling on Daegan’s bare feet. His Master’s feet.

  Wow. He felt a strong reaction from Daegan from that thought, so strong he almost lifted his head, but he didn’t. Instead, it gave him the courage to clear a dry throat and speak.

  “I disobeyed you. Mouthed off.” He wasn’t sure where to go from there, but thankfully, Daegan stepped in.

  “Do you deserve punishment?”

  “Yeah. I mean…if my Master thinks I do.” Another revelation, the sudden understanding that it was Daegan’s decision to make. Gideon always said “if my Master and Mistress”, because he was used to addressing them both, but now there was only Daegan. It was alien to everything he’d ever expected himself to want or need.

  “You do deserve punishment.” Daegan left the elevator doorway, because his feet moved toward Gideon. They stopped beside him, and Daegan pressed his hand into Gideon’s shoulder, passing almost gently over the bump of his spine at the base of his neck. “Keep your head down.”

  Gideon felt that quake in his lower back, his gut, down to the soles of his feet, as Daegan spoke again. “Thirty strikes with the punishment strap should do.”

  The punishment strap was a foot-long ru
bber strap, folded over and bound to an eight-inch knobbed handle wrapped in metal twine. Anwyn had used it on Gideon in play—her personally sadistic version of play, bless her dainty little heart. Even holding back, it had hurt like hell. She was a tough Mistress, one who knew how to focus her servant with just the right dose of pain and pleasure.

  Daegan was male, a Master who’d been directly challenged by a servant he knew had extreme resistance issues. What was Newton’s third law of motion? Something about mass exerting an equal and opposite force on the object? In Daegan’s case, maybe it was exerting excessive force, to take the object down and keep it down.

  You’ve read a book. I’m shocked.

  Hey, I remember a few minutes of high school.

  Gideon let his gaze flicker up to register the brief amusement in Daegan’s gaze. But when he looked down again, Daegan’s hand tightened in his hair, a brief pull on the scalp. “Follow me, Gideon.”

  God help him, he obeyed, rising to his feet, ass tight and cock stiff as a board. He wanted Daegan to do it. To beat the crap out of him with that strap. He wanted forgiveness from his Master, even as some part of him knew when it was over, it would merely be the starting bell for another round.

  There was too much shit going on in his gut, and he was in completely over his head. Everything in him told him to resist, to fight. With quiet despair, he knew he would, just as soon as he could get past this hurdle, make this right. He didn’t know how to handle Daegan alone, just the two of them. That same craziness was hoping the pain would open up the solution, a way to figure all this out. To make it okay once and for all. Of course, after thirty strikes from that strap, he might be ready to soak his ass in Epsom salts and call it a day.