Sin Still Hard

NIKOLAI

The first time I smelled him again, I nearly tore through stone just to get to his throat.

Not to kill.

To taste.

To remind him who the fuck he belongs to.

Winter and sin. That was him. It punched my lungs, burned my veins, had my cock straining against my trousers before I even saw him. Every stitch of restraint I’d forced into myself ripped loose in a breath.

I didn’t walk. I didn’t run.

I arrived.

And there he was.

Zaqriel.

Spine straight. Midnight cut into a man’s shape. Hands braced on the railing, pale fingers flexing once, tight enough I knew he felt me crawling up his skin already.

My neck cracked as I fought the need to cross the distance in one savage move. My fists clenched, blood roaring, every muscle twitching to lunge.

Then he turned. His glacial blues that had watched centuries pass without thawing once sliced me open. That crimson mouth tilted in a smirk.

“Three months... And no hello?”

It was enough to light the fuse. And I fucking snapped.

A blink. A breath. Then I was on him.

My hand hit the back of his neck, yanking him in, my mouth slamming onto his. Teeth, tongue, spit—there wasn’t a difference. He tasted like smoke and fucking berries. The bastard had kissed some wild fruit before me. 

How dare he?!

He laughed into it. The bastard laughed.

That hand he’d kept lazy in his pocket tore my collar instead, jerking me around. In one vicious twist, my spine cracked the wall. His hips drove into me, thigh shoved between mine. His mouth didn’t stop devouring, like he owned it. And he fucking did.

“You taste pissed,” he breathed, eyes bleeding red.

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, and ripped his black shirt wide. Buttons scattered, fabric tearing under my hands until I had pale skin, hard, cut, begging to be clawed.

“Three months,” he bit down on my jaw, teeth scraping, sucking hard at my throat. “You made me wait three. Fucking. Months. Nikolai.”

“You could’ve come,” I shoved back, hand grabbing his ass, grinding hard into him until we both hissed.

He slammed me harder against the stone, making my teeth clatter.

“Don’t turn this on me, Nik.”

And then, his fangs, sunk deep into the side of my neck.

My body locked, cock jerking in my trousers like I’d been shocked. I gasped, swore, ground harder against him. His tongue dragged, hot and wet, pulling blood like he meant to drain me right here.

“F-Fuck,” I choked, clawing at his back.

His cock was solid against mine, pressing, demanding, each rut driving fire through my spine. He groaned into my throat, biting deeper, sucking harder, until I swore my knees would give.

He ripped back just long enough to look me dead in the eye, mouth wet with blood.

“You’re lucky I don’t tear you open on this wall.”

I grinned even while panting. “Do it.”

And he fucking did.

With a blur of motion, he tore me open, buttons ripped, belt snapped, trousers yanked down like I was prey, not lover. My back slammed into the bed, our bed, sheets cool against skin burning with need.

He was on me instantly, straddling. Naked. Heavy. Unstoppable.

His cock pressed to mine, hard, demanding, and I swore I could feel every thick vein, every ounce of heat. Blood still leaked down my throat from his bite, crimson staining his chin, his chest, his mouth. 

“You starved me,” he snarled against my skin, fangs dragging over my collarbone. “Don't even think I'll be gentle.”

“Quit talking,” I rasped, flipping him, straddling him in one breathless move. My mouth found his neck, fangs sinking into the thick vein. His blood flooded my tongue.

Hot iron. Copper. Salt. But sweeter too, like smoke and wine, like sex and storm.

Every swallow lit me from the inside out, nerves catching fire. My cock grew harder, hungrier. His dead heart—FUCK— I felt it shudder, like it wanted to beat again under my tongue.

The world blurred until there was nothing but him. The taste. The heat. The way his hips jerked beneath me as our cocks rubbed together, slick friction sparking hard and raw.

“Take it, Nik,” he growled, voice breaking as I sucked harder. “Drink me like you mean it.”

I did. Fuck, I did.

But the bastard didn’t just stop there.

His hand slid down my spine, and then lower—fingers spreading me open with no warning, no softness, just a filthy claim. One slick push of spit, then he rammed two fingers inside me, hard and merciless.

I tore from his throat, gasping, choking on blood and pleasure. “Z-Zaq—fuck—!”

“Messy little wolf,” he hissed into my mouth, biting my lower lip hard enough to split it. “I’ll make you scream so loud the whole fucking palace hears.”

And his fingers thrust deeper, curling, stretching me until my legs trembled. 

“Enough.” His hand tangled in my hair and wrenched my mouth away, blood slicking my lips. He shoved me down. “Turn over.”

I obeyed. Because I couldn’t not.

His mouth burned a trail down my spine, each kiss wet, lingering, sharp with fang. He licked open skin, then bit, tearing a welt before smoothing it with his tongue. Warm. Wet. Claiming. Every drag of him along me was possession painted in saliva and blood.

Then his mouth was between my cheeks, hot, relentless. He spat, tongue pushing deep, fucking me open.

My moan broke, shoving back in his warm mouth.

“Patience,” he rasped into me.

His lips wet my rim again, his spit dripping, smeared in with his thumb. He bit my ass, hard enough to tear skin, then licked the wound before spitting into me again.

“I’ll use your blood if I have to. Slick and sweet. You’ll always lube yourself for me.”

And then he was gone... I barely craned my head back when he finally shoved inside. It was fucking brutal, the stretch making my vision go white out. He bottomed out in one thrust, hips grinding in, cock splitting me wide, forcing my body to remember what it was made for.

I shouted into the sheets, whole body shuddering.

Zaq stilled, buried to the root, cock throbbing inside me. His chest lined my back, leaning down until his warm breath hit my ear, “Baby, you take me like you were built for this.”

Then he pulled out slow, slick with my blood and his spit, only to slam back in. Angle perfect. Fucking deliberate. Every drag found my prostate, lit it up until my toes curled. He kept hunting for that spot, changing thrust, tilt, depth, until I fucking sobbed into the bed.

“Right there,” I gasped. “Fuck, right there—”

He bit my shoulder, tearing skin, and growled around it.  “I know every place inside you that breaks you. Every point that makes you scream. Don’t think I forgot.”

I tried to reach for my cock, desperate. His hand closed around my wrist and slammed it into the mattress.

“You don’t touch. You come when I fucking say.”

I snarled, fighting the restraint. “You bastard—”

His fangs buried in my shoulder, and I screamed into the sheets, whole body jerking. The bite pulled me to the edge, cock throbbing, aching, leaking against the bed.

“Close?” he rasped, tongue lapping the blood. His hips rolled deeper, cock grinding my prostate until I was shuddering. “Good. Stay there.”

He pulled back out. Completely.

I howled, rage and desperation tearing through me. My cock slapped against my stomach, swollen, dripping, untouched.

“Look at you. Fucking wrecked already. I could keep you like this for hours. Hard. Needy. Mine.”

My chest heaved. “Fuck me, Zaq. Goddammit!”

His hand gripped my jaw, forcing my head back, making me look at him over my shoulder. His midnight-black hair clung in wild, sweat-snarled strands, falling into eyes burning hell-red. His cheeks were flushed, crimson-tinted with feverish hunger, and when he bared his teeth at me, his fangs gleamed wet, streaked with blood. A monster. A god. Mine.

“You think begging saves you?” He shoved the head of his cock back inside—just the head—and held. “You’ll bleed for me first. Then I’ll let you come.”

I clenched around him, trembling, the sting already tearing at my walls. “Do it then...” 

His smirk cut wicked across his bloodstained mouth. He pressed only a fraction deeper, “Eager pup.”

My cock pulsed against the sheets, leaking, desperate, but he still wouldn’t let me touch it.

My claws shredded the sheets. Rage burned through my teeth. “I’ll tear you apart when I get free.”

“That’s what I fucking want.”

“Then fucking break me, Zaqriel.”

His hand fisted in my hair, jerking my head back, forcing me to arch as he hammered into me, his mouth crushed mine again, swallowing every scream.

“Tell me, Nikolai,” he snarled against my lips, pounding harder, "Did your hand ever get you close?”

“No,” I moaned. “Fuck—never—”

“Damn right. You can’t come without me. Your body won’t let you.”

My vision blurred. My cock pulsed, aching for touch. My hole clenched around him, begging.

“Fuck. Do that again, and I’ll spill inside you right now.”

“Do it,” I growled, pushing back into him. “Fill me up.”

His thrusts stuttered. “You want that?” he muttered, his fingers finally squeezing around my shaft. “Me dripping out of you all night?”

“Yes.” 

He slammed deeper, the head of his cock grinding that brutal angle, “Then beg louder.”

“Don’t stop—fuck—don’t you dare fucking stop—”

“That’s better.” His fist twisted mean around my cock, his hips snapping sharp. “I’m never letting you leave again.”  

“Good,” I gasped. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll fuck you in your sleep if you try.” His hand moved faster, squeezing harder. “Tie you to the goddamn bed if I have to.”

I grinned against the sheets, breathless. "You already have."

The pressure inside me climbed, coiling in my gut.

He twisted his fist, thumb dragging over my slit. "You're close." “

"Yeah,” I choked, legs trembling. “Fuck, Zaq—”

“Give it to me. Come while I’m inside you.” His fist twisted one last time. “Come like you’re mine.”

My body locked, every nerve strung tight.

His thrust speared deep—so fucking deep—and his hand turned savage, jerking me until the heat snapped and I broke apart, spilling over his fist and the ruined sheets. The sound that tore from me was raw, guttural, like he’d ripped the climax straight out of my bones.

I hadn’t even caught a breath before he slammed in again, twice, hard enough to rattle the walls. His roar cracked against my skin as he came deep, flooding me, every thrust a brand, every snap of his hips a claim. He fucked me through it, relentless, like he’d pour every last piece of himself into me until nothing was left but him.

We collapsed into the wreckage of sweat, blood, release with his cock still buried, twitching, our lungs dragging ragged breaths like survivors of something wild and unholy. Hearts thundering.

And still, impossibly, he was hard. Not finished. Not even close.