Ryland's Sacrifice

by Kim Dare

  He’d always wondered what the professor would look like if all that long dark brown hair weren’t caught back by a strip of leather at the nape of his neck. Now he knew. It looked like a lion’s mane. Ryland took a shaky breath. Behind his back, his hands clenched into tight fists as he fought against a sudden spike of panic at the reminder of the L word.

  “I asked you a question.”

  Ryland nodded. Arslan had asked him a question, and everyone who had ever attended one of his lectures knew that when the professor asked a question, you’d better bloody well know the answer.

  Who had he been expecting? Quite frankly, someone who looked like they needed to pay for sex.

  “I…” There was no way in hell he could say that. If he said that, then he’d end up blurting out something even worse—like the fact Professor Arslan would never have to pay for sex because damn near every student in the university who was the least interested in men would happily drop to their knees for him for free. And if he told him half the student population had a crush on him, then he’d soon be telling him which half he fell into and…

  “I didn’t know what to expect, sir,” Ryland whispered.

  The older man studied him for a long time before he finally nodded his willingness to accept his answer.

  Ryland let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

  “He’s one of your students?”

  Ryland jumped at the reminder that other people existed in the world, existed in that very room. Before he had a chance to turn toward the voice or descend into panic, Arslan’s hand was on the back of Ryland’s head, his fingers tangling in his hair. As he held him in place, the professor somehow managed to ease Ryland’s need to look over his shoulder, to see who asked the question.

  “No,” Arslan said, his voice brooked no argument as he looked past Ryland and glared at whoever interrupted them. “He’s not one of my students.”

  Ryland stared up at the older man, wondering how a sentence that disclaimed all knowledge of him could also manage to sound as possessive as hell.

  “You’re a…?” Ryland trailed off as he realized he had no idea what to call the other man.

  Arslan raised an eyebrow. “A shifter? A were? A lion? Yes.”

  Ryland swallowed and nodded as if that was nothing to worry about. His wrists pulled nervously at his cuffs.

  Since Arslan could never need to tie someone up to ensure they did as he wished, the bondage was obviously there because he liked it. The professor wasn’t just a lion. He was a kinky lion. Ryland wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

  Arslan reached behind him. In a second, the cuffs were unbuckled from his wrists. The older man held the combination of leather and metal up as he studied them.

  “Very dramatic,” he said, apparently more to himself than to anyone else. He tossed them out of Ryland’s line of sight, perhaps to another lion. Ryland didn’t hear them land. He didn’t try to look in the direction they disappeared to either.

  Ryland’s freed hands remained behind him as he waited for the other man to give him permission to move them. The professor had always been able to make him sit still through a two-hour lecture with nothing more than a glare in his general direction. No one in their right mind tapped his pen against his desk or fidgeted with his textbooks when Arslan was in charge of the room.

  Ryland tried to tell himself that standing there naked with his hands behind his back was no different to minding his manners in a lecture hall. But it wasn’t the same. It felt far more natural.

  “I thought you didn’t do students.”

  Arslan’s fingers tightened in Ryland’s hair. Nails that suddenly felt long enough to resemble claws scraped against his scalp. The professor snarled at someone outside Ryland’s field of vision.

  The harsh, angry little noise wasn’t directed at him, but Ryland still felt his heart hesitate before taking its next beat.

  The lion’s snarl morphed into words without any clear line being drawn between the two. “You have something to say, Blaine?”

  Professor Joseph Arslan searched the gloom that lingered outside the bright circle of firelight. As he met the younger lion’s eyes, Blaine took a step back and dropped his gaze. Arslan watched the other lion’s posture change as he appeared to realize he’d misjudged the situation.

  Arslan wasn’t inclined to be sympathetic. It was well past time the younger lion learned to show due respect to the leader of his pride. Blaine was old enough to learn how to tell when he might be allowed to play silly games and when the moment was too serious for such foolishness to be tolerated.

  If the younger lions couldn’t look at the man in their midst and tell that this offering from the humans was different to all those who came before, it was about time the cubs were called to heel and reminded of their respective places in his pride.

  Blaine kept his eyes down. Satisfied for the moment, Arslan looked at each of the other lions who lurked around the edges of the room, daring each of them to speak.

  No one said a word. No one held his gaze for longer than a second before they looked down either. Arslan turned his attention back to Ryland. The younger man quickly dropped his eyes too.

  It was a far more instinctive reaction than most of the other lions had demonstrated. It screamed a natural inclination to submission rather than anything like an understanding of what it meant to be part of a pride.

  Arslan gentled his grip on Ryland’s hair and stroked his fingers through the ruffled strands. Putting the fear of Arslan into the other lions was one thing. There was no reason for him to scare his new pet.

  Ducking his head, Arslan brushed his lips across Ryland’s temple. Even that little hint of a kiss seemed to ease his anxieties. His breathing became steadier. His pulse ceased to race so quickly. Part of the younger man seemed to realize that the leader of the pride was pleased with him, that he was safe.

  His improved understanding of the situation didn’t wipe away everything that existed in the previous moments. Arslan could still smell the younger man’s desire. That hadn’t changed.

  Half a step brought them together. Ryland was still hard. He let out a little mew of unexpected pleasure as the tip of his cock brushed against Arslan’s hipbone, sounding for all the world like an eager cub.

  Still, however enthusiastic he was about feeling their bodies rub together, he didn’t reach out and try to pull Arslan closer. He seemed to appreciate that he’d given control of such decisions over to someone else.

  Arslan smiled slightly. He’d been right to see the potential in him. And he’d been right to wait and watch the younger man sit in the back row of his lecture hall, he’d been right to let Ryland eavesdrop on a subject he wasn’t even studying. Patience had its rewards. Ryland rocked forward ever so slightly, leaning into his master’s touch.

  “Do you know what it means to belong to the pride, pet?”

  Ryland shook his head.

  “If you don’t wish to know what it means, say your word.”

  Ryland blinked up at him. His eyes were half closed, hooded with a depth of pleasure that seemed unfamiliar to him. Even as he stood there, he appeared to pull together the rough edges of tattered human instinct and mould it into something that might one day resemble a lion’s ability to do as his nature intended.

  Arslan saw his answer reflected in a pair of mesmerizing blue eyes long before the smaller man managed to frame a single syllable. He still waited for the words.

  “Please, sir?” Ryland finally whispered.

  And as easily as that, the silly human games were over. Ryland was his.

  Arslan tugged at the short blond strands of hair, tilting Ryland’s head back. Their mouths met. Arslan ran his tongue over the seam between Ryland’s lips. They immediately parted, welcoming him. The younger man moaned into the kiss. The hands he’d kept behind his back for so long, finally broke their invisible bonds. He clutched at Arslan’s shoulders, pulling himself onto his tiptoes as he tried to match their height
s.

  His new pet was apparently far too used to dealing with young men his own age. He didn’t seem to know what to do with a fully-grown man, let alone a lion. Arslan wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him closer. Claws crept out as he ran his hands over Ryland’s back, scratching his skin and leaving their mark to show any other lion who might catch sight of his new pet that Ryland had already been claimed.

  As they traced their way down the younger man’s skin, Arslan’s hands stretched out to their full span, ensuring that any man who saw the scratches would also know just how large a shifter had claimed him.

  Ryland bucked against him as the gentle scratches seemed to set off a cascade of adrenaline under his skin. He pressed against Arslan, rubbing their cocks together as he once more tried to climb up his lover’s body and make them the same height, to make their bodies fit together the way he wanted them to.

  Arslan broke the kiss and spun Ryland around. Without a pair of bound hands in the way, he was able to line himself up against the younger man’s back properly. Ryland instantly murmured his approval. Pushing his buttocks back against him in encouragement, the smaller man dropped his head back to lean against Arslan’s shoulder.

  His eyes were closed as if to better savor each sensation his master offered him. Arslan ran his tongue over the younger man’s neck. His new pet might not have been able to see the other lions watching them, but Arslan knew how closely they were being observed.

  As Arslan looked up, he found Blaine and Luther staring back at him, just as he’d expected. Their own desire for Ryland was obvious. Arslan met their eyes, each man in turn. Tonight, the pair would have to make do with each other. Even as he saw the realization dawn, he noticed Luther reach out to stroke his fingertips down Blaine’s spine.

  Instinct demanded that he deal with his pride as well as with his new pet, Arslan met another set of watchful eyes, then another. Bowing his head over Ryland’s throat, he placed a gentle nip to his neck.

  Ryland couldn’t have truly understood the significance of it, but he seemed to thrive on the tender touch of teeth regardless. His hand shot up to bury itself in Arslan’s hair, trying to pull him back to his neck apparently desperate to feel the scrape of canines across his skin again.

  Arslan let the sound of his pleasure vibrate against Ryland’s throat instead. The younger man was quick to whimper his enjoyment of that too.

  Placing his hand on the other man’s shoulder, Arslan pressed gently down. Eyes still closed, Ryland frowned, as if he didn’t understand. His expression cleared as he seemed to realize what his master wanted him to do and why. He dropped to his knees on the rug before the fireplace without any further hesitation. Reaching out, he settled his hands on the floor in front him.

  As Arslan lowered himself to his knees behind the smaller man, he reached out and stroked his hand down his spine. Ryland arched into his touch like an enthusiastic cub. He shifted his knees further apart on the rug without needing to be prompted, offering himself to his lover through pure instinct.

  No lion in his right mind could be expected to resist such a beautiful invitation. Arslan snatched up the tube of lubricant from beside the fireplace and smeared it on his fingers. It was warm from the blaze, and Ryland murmured his appreciation as his new master circled his hole with the tips of his fingers.

  “Do you like that, pet?” Arslan whispered to him, his voice rough with his own desire, even as he fought to speak softly to the younger man. It needed every bit of his human side to remind the lion within him, that words were important when dealing with those who hadn’t been raised to understand their instincts, to follow their intuition like a lion.

  If he let Ryland get too lost in his newfound instincts, he’d be scared when he looked back over their time together and tried to understand what had happened. That wasn’t acceptable. Lions looked after their human pets—they didn’t let them get scared.

  Several seconds passed before Ryland seemed able to process his master’s question. He nodded rapidly. At the same time, he pushed back against Arslan’s fingers, impatiently trying to squirm his way onto the digits. Arslan slid one finger inside him, quick to reward him for providing his master with such an honest answer. The younger man’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t stop trying to push back around the finger.

  He might not have taken a lion before, but he obviously had some degree of experience with human men. Arslan forced a surge of jealousy aside and worked another finger alongside the first. Ryland jerked and groaned his pleasure as Arslan rubbed the tips of the digits against his prostate.

  Then, as Arslan watched, his pet seemed to muster his self-control. He fell still, giving every decision, every movement over to his master. Arslan stared down at him, mesmerized by the pure beauty of the other man’s submission. No lion who saw him could fail to realize exactly who Ryland belonged to right then.

  Crooking his fingers, Arslan coaxed a purring little noise out of his lover. Ryland remained very still as the fingers continued to work inside him. Arslan stroked his other hand across his back, soothing him down, praising him for digging up instincts humans always seemed to bury too deeply.

  Ryland seemed to like that gentle kind of caress. He murmured his pleasure, but he stayed very still, as if scared that even the tiniest movement might break some sort of spell surrounding them. Arslan thrust his fingers further inside him, encouraging him to relax, until his pleased little noises formed a constant stream of audible delight.

  Ryland’s head dropped forward. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.” It was the only word he seemed to be able to remember. Then he found another one. “Please, sir.”

  The two words formed a plea that couldn’t be refused. Taking his fingers away, Arslan quickly slicked his shaft with extra lube. When he glanced up, Ryland was looking over his shoulder, naked craving burning in his gaze.

  All thoughts of human words and traditions faded from the shifter’s mind. All he could do was let the lion inside speak. The look in Ryland’s eyes, every line of his body, his scent, everything about the younger man screamed his submission and his need for his master.

  He offered the tip of his cock to Ryland’s hole. As he pushed forward, very slowly sheathing himself inside the younger man, Ryland gasped. Arslan ran a palm down his lover’s back once more, before stroking around the younger man’s torso to wrap his hand around his lover’s cock.

  Gently squeezing the hard shaft in his hand, he rubbed his thumb back and forth over the tip. Ryland clenched around his master’s shaft. His head dropped forward as if the combined sensations were too much for him. Arslan continued to push forward as the pleasure Ryland took from his master’s touch slowly relaxed him. Finally, he was sheathed inside him to the hilt.

  For a long time, the only thing that moved was Arslan’s hand underneath Ryland’s body as he continued to stroke his cock, slow and simple. He took his pet to the edge and held him there as he waited for Ryland’s body not just to relax around him, but to truly welcome the feel of a hard shaft stretching him open, filling him completely.

  Another minute passed. Ryland began to shift within his master’s grasp, not so much pushing himself forward into Arslan’s hand, as pushing himself back onto his cock, silently begging his lover to move.

  Arslan stopped his teasing. He removed his fingers from where they played. Steadying his lover with one hand on either side of Ryland’s body, he began to rock his hips back, ready to thrust forward again. At first, the movement was tiny, a test of what his new pet was able to take.

  The younger man gasped. His head was bowed so low his forehead almost touched the carpet, but it didn’t seem to be an expression of submission as much as he appeared to be completely overwhelmed by his own pleasure.

  Arslan pulled back further, until almost his entire shaft was cocooned in nothing but air. Ryland held his breath, as if he thought his master might leave him entirely. At the last moment, he pushed back into him. Ryland sighed his relief.<
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  Again, and again, one slow, controlled thrust, then another, until Ryland’s breaths took up the same rhythm his master’s movements, and Arslan was half-sure he’d hyperventilate before he could take his pleasure from their mating. Leaning forward, he let the younger man feel his master’s chest pressed close against his back as he offered him another, safer rhythm to follow.

  “That’s right, pet. Follow your master.”

  He wasn’t sure if Ryland consciously understood the words, but his burgeoning instincts seemed to know what was being offered to him. The younger man’s breaths fell in time with his. Arslan ran his tongue over the smaller man’s shoulder as he felt Ryland arch his back, looking for more contact, more everything.

  Slow measured thrusts could only last for so long. Arslan wasn’t sure which of them was more of an inexperienced cub right then—the man who had never been touched by a lion, or the lion himself. His responses to Ryland were so far beyond his control, it was impossible to believe that anything he’d done with another human had in any way prepared him for this particular man.

  He reached under Ryland’s body and took him in hand once more. A few quick strokes and the younger man bucked underneath him. It took all of Arslan’s control to ride out the waves of the other man’s bliss as Ryland clenched around him and yelled his pleasure into the room.

  As he stilled, Ryland’s muscles seemed to give out on him. He collapsed forward on to the rug. Arslan went with him, keeping their bodies joined snugly together. The younger man rested his temple against one of his forearms as he struggled to catch his breath. His face was turned to the side. For the first time since he looked over his shoulder, Arslan saw his expression.

  Such peace, such perfection. Arslan froze, still buried deep inside the younger man’s body.

  “Don’t stop, sir,” Ryland whispered. “Please, don’t stop…”

  Arslan rocked his hips, very slowly.

  Supporting most of his frame, he let just enough of his weight rest on Ryland to ensure the younger man would be able to feel every movement—not just feel his master’s shaft inside him, but feel skin moving against skin and the heat of his master’s body covering his too.