Don't Call Me Iron Man by N. D. Wylders

Author:N. D. Wylders [Wylders, N.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: A Beyond Fairytales Adaptation of The Brothers' Grimm Tale of Iron John
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Published: 2014-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

***

Lucero laid his toys out on the stand next to his bed as Ivan shifted against the bedding. Sprawled out like a feast fit for a king, with his arms secured to the headboard and his thick thighs tied far enough apart for Lucero to move, Ivan’s body glistened in the faint candlelight. Just seeing Ivan naked and at his mercy made his dick hard. Tonight would not be the night he claimed Ivan, but he would make the man wish he had.

“Lucero?” Ivan licked his lips, his blue eyes seeking his.

“Yes?” He sat down next to him and brushed a lock of Ivan’s hair back.

“Do I have to call you Master?”

Lucero tried to judge if Ivan found the idea abhorrent or not. He cocked his head. “Call me what you want. If it’s Master, fine. If not, Lucero will do.” He leaned down and traced his tongue over the seam of Ivan’s lips. “I don’t care what comes from this sexy mouth.” He pulled back and gave a mock scowl. “Unless of course it’s to call me by that damned scientific name and number. That will earn you an ass warming you won’t forget, understand?” He squeezed Ivan’s hip for emphasis.

“Yes, sir.” Ivan squirmed, longing etched across his face.

“Good.” Twisting at the waist, he snagged the squat jar he’d put the ardentem in. “Much like the tactus, the dolore voluptatem is a sacred part of our mating ritual. Tonight, I will use a variety of things, each designed to create a different sensation, to show you the way of what we call pleasured pain.” He unscrewed the jar, setting the lid aside. The scent of citrus filled the air. Dipping his index finger into the cool substance, he coated it then pulled it free. “This particular oil comes from the ardentem plant. It is rather cool when applied.” Lucero drew a long line across the top of Ivan’s chest. “But it has a remarkable ability to change under the right conditions.” Leaning in, he breathed on the smear.

“Holy shit!” Ivan tossed his head back, the muscles in his arms flexing as he jerked on the cords binding him to the bed. “It burns.”

Lucero smiled at the bound man’s reaction. “Indeed, it does.” He wet his finger again, this time coating Ivan’s nearest nipple. “And it feels even better against more sensitive flesh.”

“No, oh my god.” Ivan babbled as Lucero tipped his head and blew on the distended peak. Not satisfied with a mere single plea to Ivan’s god, Lucero began to paint random designs across his lover’s torso. A swirly line between his pectorals, another circle around his right nipple, a sharp diagonal across each hip bone, even a heart around the man’s tempting navel. But no matter what he drew, Lucero followed each mark with his warm breath.

When he bent over the heart, Ivan thrashed against the bedding, tortured sounds of pleasure spilling from his lips. Lucero took the cue to push a little harder, a little further. Plunging back inside the jar, he scooped up a large dollop of oil.

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