Chapter Twenty-Seven
Trask fumbled in his pocket. He had the drugs ready. All he needed was a few minutes, and he wouldn’t waste a single one. He tried to stop himself from getting excited…but damn. He’d be ramming his hard prick into a fucking god within minutes. His respiration quickened, and his gums swelled. He lusted past the point of no return, so he might as well make the best of it.
“So…god. Unless you want a repeat of my minion’s little torture session with your boyfriend,” Trask caught the instant alpha posturing the god couldn’t tamp down, and it spiked his libido even more. “You’ll take your clothes off…now.”
Anger and indecision warred across Emesh’s face before the immortal finally shrugged, glowered, loosened the button on his jeans, and yanked down his zipper.
Trask’s gaze dropped to the god’s crotch, and his breath nearly left him. The blue briefs that hugged Emesh’s private parts showed a penis―curled up and at rest―which even in its current state, had to be the largest cock the doctor had ever seen. His sexual thermometer raised another fifty degrees. After he’d spent himself thoroughly in the god’s ass, he’d watch as Emesh jammed that super-sized morsel into one or more of his ghouls. Trask’s fingers nervously worked on the hypodermic held. Yes. He needed release and soon. The doctor looked at his watch. Five more minutes.
“Take the rest off,” he ordered and flared his nostrils as the shirt, jeans, and finally, the small scrap of material shimmied to the floor. Beautiful. A work of art. His mouth watered, and his fangs punched through. Now fully distended, they dripped in anticipation. Why should he wait? His seriously needy cock would feel every inch of Emesh even if the god wouldn’t register the intrusion.
Trask stepped forward, then stopped. No. He needed the fear from Emesh to make sure he got the maximum he craved from the experience. The pleasure of being inside the god would take the edge off…but he needed more. He needed to know Emesh’s pain.
The doctor weighed options and picked one. He’d wrap his hand around the god’s luscious cock for starters.
“Lay, belly down on thithh table,” Trask lisped demandingly. He salivated more than usual. His new piece of furniture would help with an unwilling god. Straight from a sexual-toy warehouse, the table could bend in the middle, bringing Emesh’s arms and legs down while his ass pointed up. Once in this gloriously vulnerable position, a panel would drop away in front, and Emesh’s cock would spring free to be easily handled. Marvelous invention. Trask wished he could personally thank the perverse genius who designed it.
The doctor could see the hesitation in the god’s response toward mounting the table, so he lowered the microphone to his mouth again and sent Emesh a warning look, letting him know he would not hesitate to torture Douglas again.
If eyes could kill, Trask would be dead on the spot, but the doctor had the upper hand. The god did as he was told.
The doctor tapped a few buttons on the table’s remote and Emesh lay in a mouthwatering position, his fine ass raised, poised, and at the ready. Trask brought a hand forward and stroked one cheek. The god apparently knew what the doctor did, even though he couldn’t feel it, and Trask thrilled as the well-toned flanks shivered.
“Thoon you’ll be able to feel thithh,” Trask hissed around his dentally challenged orifice. His voice trembled in anticipation. The doctor slithered around and took Emesh’s soft prick into one hand, knowing it would be hard within minutes. “And at that point, I’m going to fuck you until you thcream while at the thame time jerking you off ath you beg me to hurt you. You’ll hate everything I do, but you’ll want it. Do you underthtand what I’m thaying?”
Emesh might or might not be aware of an incubus’s skills. So, the doctor relished telling him.
“I have pheromoneth which I will releathe to make you want me. I’ll appear to you ath… thomeone you love, thomeone you crave, but even ath you crave, part of you will know it’th me behind you, taking what I want in the motht…demanding way.”
Emesh laughed, and Trask’s ardor deflated a notch.
****
“You are one sick puppy. You know that?” Emesh, uncomfortably positioned even for an invisible guy, grew tired of the doctor’s bullshit. He didn’t like being on display, corporeal or not, and the only person he wanted behind him was Douglas. “There’s no way you can win.” Emesh kept his voice conversational. “My friends will come for me.”
Trask laughed. “Who? That fake doctor and nurthe who exthtricated you from my offithe?”
Emesh could tell that the doctor barely contained his mirth.
“They are not godth. I replayed my tapeth of that little meeting and enlarged the aurath around all of you.” Trask sounded smug. “They didn’t have your glow.” He made a dismissive noise. “They weren’t all powerful.”
If Emesh didn’t feel so pissed off and distracted at his splayed position, he would have snickered. Of course, Dorian and Addie didn’t have his glow, being witches. But then again, neither did any of his brothers. He was the god of summer, and the other gods―with the exception of Shamash, the all-seeing sun god of the law―wouldn’t shine like him. Emesh pondered how to respond when he realized Trask required nothing of him except an available orifice. The asshole still blah-blah-ed as if Emesh cared.
“Do you know that when I fuck, I get thtronger?” Trask lisped gleefully.
“Do you remember that when you don’t, you get weaker?” Emesh reminded him. He felt a little unsure of the facts, but he knew he’d hit close to a nerve when the doctor hissed and stumbled.
“There ith no chanthe of that happening,” the doctor railed. “Neffer doubt I will take you.” Trask recovered nicely, emitting a laugh that came right out of an Elvira marathon. “We’ll thee who ith weaker when I’m finithed.”
Emesh recognized a tingle he’d experienced only a couple of times before, and knew, instantly, that Douglas neared. The air around him changed, and his body began to turn solid. He felt…
“Ouch...” the stab of something sharp jabbed into his neck. What the fuck. Not another sedative? Emesh roared and began to rise, but before he could do the physics required, his limbs gave out and refused to hold him. He collapsed back to “ass-up.” The doctor must have used a god-dose of whatever he injected.
“One hundred yardth,” the doctor cried, gleefully. “Your lover ith clothe.”
Emesh shook his head to clear it, but a pleasant buzz started around his edges. Cloudiness beckoned, pink and inviting, like diving into cotton candy. He forced one eye open to peer back, curiously, over his shoulder with a detached, out-of-body feeling. And, oooh. Trask had changed his appearance. Emesh blinked to be sure. Whoa. Damned if the doctor didn’t look like Douglas.
“Wha…wha…?” Emesh laughed. He couldn’t get words out of his mouth. So funny. Why would the doctor look like Douglas? Or could it really be Douglas? Wait. His Chosen stood over him…but why couldn’t he move? Think, Emesh… think.
“Hi, lover,” Douglas’ voice whispered against his bare shoulder, his warm fingers insinuating themselves down the crevice of his ass. Ahh. Decidedly fine. He remembered this. But wait. Trask had to be somewhere in the room.
Douglas’ deep cadence came again, “I think we should fuck. What do you think?”
The words stirred Emesh, and he had visions of Douglas curled up in bed with him. Douglas handling him in the shower. Douglas kissing him in the dressing room. They all coalesced in his brain, and his cock grew so hard, he needed desperately to be touched. He needed Douglas, and he wanted him now.
Emesh drew in a breath to demand his lover’s hand, but with that deep inhalation, he took in something bad. A foul stench. His haze lifted for a split second, and he remembered Trask. This was not Douglas. No indeed. The incubus-thing enticed him. He needed to remember…
Remember what? The Douglas person’s hand wrapped around his cock and gave a hard tug. All the blood fled from the god’s head to his dick. He moaned, “Douglas. Don’t stop. That feels…so good.”
“It’s the only thing that will,” the voice in Emesh’s ear taunted low and chidingly. “I’m going to hurt you…here.”
Emesh felt a finger at his asshole and wondered at the change in Douglas? Why would his Chosen want to hurt him? He suffered an ungentle probe, and the hand that warmed his cock dropped to squeeze his balls. Trask’s hand, Emesh remembered. Too hard. Pain. Emesh cried out. Damn Trask to Hell.
“That’s right,” the Douglas-but-not-Douglas voice purred. “Scream for me while I hurt you.”
The presence drew away, and he heard the rasp of a zipper. An aggressive punch worried his puckered hole, and he clenched hard against the intrusion. A loud whimper rang out. His own? Emesh grew fearful. Not good. Everything felt wrong. Trask stood behind him. Or was it Douglas? His head spun.
Emesh understood he needed to move, but he’d been held immobile by a force he could not combat. This Douglas who smelled all wrong would hurt him. He didn’t want that. He found the power to wrench slightly to one side but found no strength with which to fight. He forcibly got twisted back to his stomach and held there by cold, ruthless hands.
“That’s right,” the voice came again. “Fight me, Emesh. Make it difficult. The more you hurt, the more I will enjoy this.”
“Noooo,” the words ripped through the air, and for a moment, Emesh thought he’d uttered the cry. But it couldn’t be because he’d been poised to growl a long string of expletives.
Wait. The door. The door had crashed open. The noise came from there.
Suddenly, the hands that clenched him disappeared. Emesh looked back again and felt an odd sense of detachment as he saw himself across the room.
Blearily he shook his head and chuckled. Yup. There he stood with his pants down, facing off against an irate Douglas and a bunch of his brothers.
“No, Douglas. It’s me. It’s me.” Emesh saw himself speaking, yet he didn’t think he’d moved his mouth. He ran his tongue over his lips and gave it a try.
“Hi guys,” he slurred, and found it so funny that he could talk from two different bodies, he collapsed into a fit of laughter. The other him continued to speak.
“That’s Trask. On the table.”
Did his doppelganger point at him? Was he, himself, the evil doctor? He turned his head and sniffed his armpit. Nope. He didn’t smell like Trask, thank the gods. The voice that sounded like his own continued to whine. Did he whine? He hoped not, it sounded fucking awful.
“Seriously, guys. He told me to bugger him. I’ve been drugged. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Emesh’s regarded his own finger as it pointed across the room…at him. And what the hell? He might as well get involved. But too tired to make his mouth move, he slipped straight to head-speak.
Why am on the table? And…
Emesh’s already loose jaw dropped farther when partway through his question, Douglas―really Douglas? ―launched himself at the other Emesh and viciously pounded him in the head.
Hey. I don’t…Douglas? Are you hitting him…me?
“It’s okay, big guy. Nobody’s beating the shit out of you,” a lovely voice sounded right next to his head that shut him up. It belonged to Candy. He’d know her loving syllables anywhere. He vaguely hummed in her direction as she drew up a chair and sat.
“Oh, hello Candy, my sweet,” Emesh smiled sunnily in her direction, trying to ignore the grunts of pain from across the room. “What are you doing in my dream?” The goings-on were so weird, Emesh decided that’s what it had to be.
Did Candy snort?
“Admiring your fine ass…which by the way, sunshine, is gorgeous and on full display.”
“Shhh,” Emesh admonished, trying to shake his head. “My dream. But even so, I don’t want to upset Enlil by having you enjoy my behind even if I’m hallucinating.” Emesh peered blearily at the wind god across the room who shook his head, frowning. Yup. Enlil was pretty particular about Candy. Admiring Emesh’s ass would absolutely, one hundred percent not be on her allowed-to-do list.
Isn’t my fault, bull-boy, he chuckled.
Emesh experienced the drift of a breeze across his balls and giggled. “So, Candy, you going to cover me up?”
“Nope,” came the sassy reply. “The boys are going to fight for a while, and I need to be distracted by something pretty.”
She smiled for a minute but then got up. Emesh received a gentle pat on his exposed posterior, and despite her words to the contrary, she swept something over his hindquarters. She came back and sat down.
“You’re right, Emesh. Enlil would probably kill you, and that’s hardly fair. You didn’t ask for this,” she smiled and dropped a kiss on his brow.
Emesh sighed, feeling pleasantly cared for and tried to stop making sense of things. If the guys would just stop the racket, he could probably go to sleep. That would be nice. He drifted, but Candy’s serious voice interrupted his journey to la-la land.
“I understand you probably don’t want to talk right now, Emesh, but I gotta know the truth. That whack job…Trask…he didn’t get a chance to…do stuff…did he?” she asked.
“Do stuff?” Emesh opened his eyes, confused. What did Candy ask? Mid-figuring, he got distracted again. An awful lot of activity went on across the room.
A Douglas person―real or imagined―got dragged off of what now looked like a pulverized Trask. Douglas. His hero.
Emesh’s chin became trapped between insistent fingers as Candy forced him back to look at her.
“Pay attention, Emesh. There’s no good way for me to ask this,” she huffed. “And I’m not doing it twice. Did Trask fuck you?”
Emesh’s brain zigged. Then zagged. He giggled at Candy’s assumption. What a strange thing to ask. Why would he let Trask fuck him? The doctor didn’t attract him in the least. Besides, Douglas had been with them, hadn’t he? He’d let Douglas fuck him if he asked, but…wait. Had it been Douglas hovering over him, naked? Little by little, tiny chunks of semi-lucidity dropped back into place. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Emesh moaned.
“Trask was Douglas. I mean Douglas was Trask,” he said aloud. What had the doctor done?
Emesh played things back in his head and whimpered. He remembered a finger in his asshole; a small bit of finger but, no…thank the gods, he recalled no cock. He let himself relax but recognized he sported an enormous woody. What did his dick tell him? More memory returned. Shit and hell. Emesh gagged and wretched. Trask had touched his privates.
“Gack…gack,” Emesh heaved. “No, Candy. No fucking,” Emesh barely held down his gorge. “But he worked my penis.” About to lose the contents of his stomach, he turned his head. Candy made fast with a plastic bucket from gods knows where and thrust it under his face just as his supper erupted.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Candy thank Dorian while misery urped from his very soul. He voided what little food he had before running the back of his hand over his mouth, spitting and coughing. His eyes watered.
“Sorry,” he sniffed, but his head cleared more with the voiding. “That guy’s hands on me…too creepy.”
That’s when it hit Emesh like a sledgehammer. Douglas had suffered that and every other debauched indignity over years and years. His mate had to be fucking strong to have made it out the other side. Inconceivable that he could have survived. Emesh’s eyes filled with tears for Douglas and felt humbled.
How had Douglas endured and gone on living? So horrifyingly unfair.
Emesh vowed, then and there―with more fervor, feeling and commitment than any amulet ceremony they would ever share―he would love and protect Douglas with everything in him, from this day forward. He swore it on everything he held dear in all the worlds combined.
When he found his voice again to speak, Emesh eyed the cluster of bodies several feet away. “What are they doing now?” he asked Candy.
“I do believe it’s what Marduk described to Douglas as ‘the hard way’.”
Emesh nodded, not quite understanding, but clearly, there would be no mercy for Trask tonight. The doctor remained unrepentant. Trask’s penis, still exposed, throbbed with a need that resonated throughout the room. Candy filled Emesh in.
“In case you don’t remember your incubus biology, once one of his species gets all worked up with the sex and fear thing, they have to have it come to fruition, or they…” Candy made a little exploding sound and mimicked a mushroom cloud with her hands. Emesh got the picture.
He sat up, gingerly because the room spun, but followed the proceedings with a calm, level eye.
Trask’s appearance morphed from desperate, to…Tess? He/she leveled a seductive gaze at Marduk, and the voice came out sexy and enticing.
“Touch me, Marduk. You know you want to. Suck my right nipple, the one that drives me wild.”
Marduk remained unmoved, arms crossed over his chest, but the rest of the guys knew Trask had probed the thunder god’s brain to come up with that fact. They started whooping it up.
“Seriously, Marduk? What about the left nipple?” Anshar laughed. “No, go on that, baby?”
Dagon entered the fray. “You can teach the other one to beg if you use special treats,” he snickered.
The joking caused Tess/Trask to lose that body, and she/he morphed into a very pregnant Glory. Ahh. Emesh didn’t like it. Trask played dirty the more desperate he became. He hiked up a skirt and displayed a perfect, dusky bum, which he wiggled toward Enten.
“How many times did we do it from behind yesterday?” Glory’s exact tone came through, hot and bothered. All the guys averted their eyes, and nobody teased Enten. Clothed nipples were one thing to kid about, but naked asses were another.
“Nobody’s tapping that today,” Enlil helped a furiously immobile Enten. He growled and strode forward, drawing the dress back down. “We know it’s your pimply ass, Trask, under that fine bit of woman.” He nodded toward Enten who, chilled to the bone, forced a smile so as not to give Trask any fear or anger to feed on.
“And that ass was waaay too skinny to belong to my woman,” Enten grinned coldly.
“Let me. Let me.” Candy bounced forward on the balls of her feet, assiduously thinking up something fast. It showed on her face.
As soon as her idea fully formed, Trask picked up on it right away, and the Glory thing grew and twisted until it became the wind god, Enlil, but not one that his buddies had ever seen before. This version sported a black, leather studded collar around his neck, with a very complicated harness leading to his erect cock. A leash that Trask/Enlil held out, imploringly, in Candy’s direction.
“Take it,” the doctor cried in Enlil’s voice. “Use me however you want.”
“Ha ha, spouse,” the real Enlil snarled. “Very entertaining.”
The guys in the room convulsed with glee.
Candy glowed up at him. “Damn, stud-muffin. That’s hella smoking. I’ve always wanted to see you like that.”
Emesh could tell she’d been turned on by her vision but tamped down her lust, so she didn’t give satisfaction to Trask. She peered in closely at the erect, bound member, sniffing.
“Well…it could be bigger.” She wrinkled her nose.
Her husband growled.
Emesh laughed. He knew what would be happening later.
Marduk tapped his foot impatiently. “Do you have anything else, Trask?” Marduk glanced at his watch. “I’m interested in getting home sometime before the sun rises.”
Trask gave a strangled cry, clearly digging through all the god’s heads. He morphed first into Lenore, then rapid-fire into Holly, Obedience, Charlie, Addie, and finally into Anna, and Vesca. He switched around so quickly, Emesh became near hysterical. The crazed doc resembled Jim Carrey in The Mask, and all he got for his troubles? Continued teasing and laughter from the gods, laced with the silliest jokes Emesh had ever heard in order to keep the atmosphere non-fearful and non-sexual.
The interplay appeared to be working. The more outrageous the comments from the spectators, the redder and more swollen Trask became. His head resembled a watermelon, his cock a balloon. It wouldn’t be long before something culminated, Emesh figured, and apparently, the thunder god concurred.
“Dorian,” Marduk located the warlock. “Can you conjure a containment field? We’re going to need one, pronto.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a Lucite barrier appeared.
And just in time.
Trask’s body inflated…and inflated…and inflated until his eyes bugged out of his head. He made strange squeaking noises and one final squeal before he…exploded. Into a million bits of…not blood and flesh, Emesh noted dispassionately. More like reptile skin and yellow effluent, the latter oozing all over the inside of the shield that had gone up in the nick of time.
Quiet descended in the room until Candy brought up her hands and with a clap, rubbed them vigorously together.
“So, guys, who’s up for a ghoul hunt?” she asked enthusiastically. “Trask must have a bunch. Let’s round them all up, wrap them with bows, and send them to Nergal as a special present.”
Oh, she did love to tease the king.