Villain, 89

Pain Has A Way of Taking Your Mind off Frustration

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“This is really fucking annoying,” Sam growled, banging open the bedroom door with good old-fashioned Chaos and storming into the room. “Necromancy isn’t even a real type of magic, it shouldn’t be this fucking stupid to figure out.”

“Solomon didn’t know how to do it,” Henry said. “So his notes are useless.”

Sam knew that, he’d listened to Henry reading them out loud for days now. Whenever the topic of necromancy came up, he said something to the effect of “Jocelyn will know how to do this.”

For all that dad had claimed never to trust anyone, he sure hadn’t been prepared for them to betray him, clearly.

Sam’s feet hurt, so he fell back onto the bed and lifted his leg in the air for Henry to take his boots off. Henry started on his right leg, unlacing the boot. “I wish Jocelyn wasn’t such a fucking bitch,” Sam complained.

“Me too, but she is. I’m sure there are other necromancers out there.”

Sam sighed. “Probably, but who the fuck can be bothered to find them?”

“If only we knew people with connections to the rest of the magic-using world,” Henry said, pulling Sam’s boot off. Sam sighed as his foot was released. Henry kissed the sole of his foot, then the top, then his ankle, then his knee, then his thigh. And then he started undoing Sam’s other boot.

Even if Cassiopeia failed in killing James, he wouldn’t be in the mood to help them now. Once the boot was gone, Sam got another kiss on the foot. “If you want to give me a blowjob just fucking do it,” Sam told Henry, as he kissed his way up Sam’s leg. “Stop fucking around.”

“Make me,” Henry said.

Oh, for…it was going to be one of these days, then. Whatever, the best way to beat Henry at this game was to make him play it by himself. Sam just lay back and let Henry do what he wanted, which was kiss his way up Sam’s leg before finally kissing his dick.

And then flipping Sam over. “Oh,” Sam said, once he was on his belly. “What the fuck are you…oh.” Henry was kissing his asshole now, sticking his tongue inside.

Sam sighed and just lay there, letting him do it. It felt nice enough, he thought. He wasn’t going to be doing it for Henry, though. Maybe if Henry sat on his face and gave him no choice or something, but until then

Henry’s hands felt nice on his ass cheeks, massaging them as Henry ate his ass, and Sam let himself lay his head on the bed and just think about that instead of about necromancy and how hard it was and how he’d made a declaration in front of everyone that he was going to talk to Solomon’s ghost as if that were something he could just do, and the longer he went without doing it, the more obvious it was going to be that he couldn’t, and…

“Hey,” Sam said, raising his head. “Stop.” He reached back at swatted Henry. “Stop doing that.”

“You don’t like it?” Henry asked, head lifting from Sam’s ass.

“I don’t like that you’re doing it to distract me so I’m not mad.”

“Why not?” Henry asked.

Sam scowled. “Because I like being mad.” Honestly, Henry had just fucked Todd over the table this morning because he’d burned his tongue on his coffee. If he hadn’t enjoyed that, what the fuck was the point of having a Todd?

“No, you don’t. It makes you unhappy. I’m taking your mind off it. That’s what husbands do.”

“We’ve talked about you manipulating me.”

Henry gave Sam’s ass a kiss. “I’m not manipulating you. I’m just trying to help you feel better, because the only person here for you to torture is me, and I’d rather you didn’t do that.”

Sam was just about to suggest they get the new cockwarmer Giacomo had given them and torture him, but torturing Henry did sound like fun, actually. “Get the knife,” Sam said.

Henry kissed him again. “I have it here already.”

“Good. Give it to…” The knife tip pressed against Sam’s inner thigh. “Oh, you think you’re funny today.”

“I do,” Henry agreed, removing the knife and kissing where it had been. Then he pressed it into the small of Sam’s back, just hard enough to draw blood.

Sam shivered as Henry kissed him there, leaving that small point of pain behind. Henry did the same thing again higher up, kissing the knife wound after. Those were going to irritate the hell out of Sam tomorrow, but for now they were something to focus on, and they were always followed by Henry’s mouth.

Henry’s body covered Sam’s, his cock resting in the cleft of Sam’s ass. He lifted Sam up off the bed, slipping the knife around, and pressed the point against Sam’s neck. “You still want to torture me?” he asked, pressing the point into Sam’s skin.

Sam breathed harder, his heart pounding against Henry’s other hand. “Yeah,” he said, as Henry kissed his neck.

Blood ran down Sam’s front in a trickle as Henry moved away, turning Sam’s head to kiss him. Sam tasted his own blood and shuddered, cumming against the silk sheets. When he was done, he relaxed, letting Henry hold him. He spat the blood out of his mouth and onto Henry’s side, not liking the metallic tang of it. “Gross,” he panted.

“I enjoyed it,” Henry said, kissing Sam’s neck again. And then he put the knife in Sam’s hand.

Sam smiled, used his magic to flip Henry onto his back, and climbed on top of him. After a moment’s thought, he took Henry’s cock and sat himself on it, forcing himself down. It hurt, but Sam just bore it, leaning forward, pressing the knife against Henry’s nipple. “If you cum I’m going to stab you,” he warned.

“You’re going to stab me anyway,” Henry said, grabbing Sam’s hips and thrusting upwards.

That was true, so Sam found a nice spot on Henry’s upper arm and drove the knife in until he hit bone. Henry made a nice sound and dropped that hand from Sam’s hip, so Sam twisted the knife before pulling it out.

Henry kept moving, so Sam moved the knife around, stabbing Henry in the side this time, just shallowly, glancing off his ribs. Henry cried out in pain, which made Sam gasp.

Sam got Henry to move his other hand away and stabbed the knife through that, giggling as Henry screamed this time. Henry started to cry after that, sobbing, no longer thrusting into Sam, but Sam didn’t need him to. He rode Henry hard, feeling Henry’s cock inside him, and Henry cried louder as he started to cum.

Sam lifted the knife and slammed it between two of Henry’s ribs, into his lung. Henry’s scream gurgled out and he started to splutter and cough as Sam pulled the knife out, enjoying the sound and enjoying the feeling, jerking off onto Henry’s bloody chest.

When he’d cum, Sam leaned back, touching his power. The bedroom door opened. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” Derek said.

“I’m sure you are,” Sam muttered, running healing magic through Henry, pulling the blood from his lung. “What do you want?”

“You have a letter from Jakob of Clan Cween,” Derek said.

Sam got off Henry, wiping his bloody hands on his thigh. “What does it say? Don’t fucking pretend you didn’t read it.”

“He’s accepting your invitation to meet, but he wants to do it on his territory, and says you’re not to bring any other sorcerers.”

Well, that shouldn’t be a problem, since Sam didn’t have any of those yet. “Fine. Leave the letter here, Henry will respond to it tonight.”

“Yes, your Majesty. If I can just suggest, he didn’t say anything about dragons.”

Sam smirked. “Good point. I’m going to have a bath. Get someone in here to clean my bed up.”

“I’ll do that now,” Derek said, and he retreated from the room.

Sam stretched as he walked into the bathroom, and then winced. “Ow, those cuts hurt, Henry.”

“You stabbed me in my favourite lung,” Henry reminded him.

“Yeah, but you’re fucking fine,” Sam muttered. He sighed. “I can’t heal myself.”

“Have you tried? You do have all those new powers.”

Sam had not tried. He put a hand on the still bleeding wound in his neck, reached through his medium, tried for healing magic. There was a rush of ice across his skin and Sam shivered, but when he brushed the goosebumps away, Sam wasn’t bleeding anymore. “Huh.”

“Guess next time I’ll stab you harder,” Henry teased, hand on Sam’s ass.

“You’d fucking better,” Sam said. “Hey, wait a minute, fuck you.”

“Again? Sure.”

“No, I told you not to distract me into feeling better and you fucking did anyway.”

Henry kissed Sam’s neck where the wound no longer was. “Go figure,” he said. “You going to get in the bath or not?”

Sam got in the bath and immediately warmed it to a temperature that was too hot, sinking into the water as it scalded their skin. The worst thing about having been manipulated into feeling better was that he fucking felt better, and how could he stay mad about that?

Especially when Henry got in the bath with him and set about finding out just what the limits of Sam’s new healing power were.

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