Feel My Pain (Curse Bound 1)

“What are those marks?”

Zane pulled on his jeans. “I said get dressed.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the library,” Zane said and opened a can of Coke from Roach’s stash.

“What?”

“Library. It’s as good of a start as any to figure out this bullshit curse.”

Roach groaned and pulled a pillow over his face.

Chapter 7 – Zane

Zane had to begrudgingly admit that Roach’s motorcycle was a thing of beauty. A sleek black panther of a bike, sprinting over the asphalt as it carried them to their destination. The Harley was far too refined for Roach, and Zane already imagined smashing the beloved vehicle to pieces in front of Roach before killing him, but good things come to those who wait. And he’d waited two years, so he might as well pace himself. For now, he’d enjoy the ride, shamelessly pressing his crotch against that ripe ass. The sex had been wild. Not because of Roach himself of course—the guy was a useless sack of meat—but the bond they now shared turned the fucking into a brand new experience.

The magic didn’t communicate pleasure the same way it did pain, but any arousal Roach experienced echoed in Zane’s body. If Roach—the ass virgin—felt discomfort, Zane could adjust his actions without the need for guessing. Which was a literal pain in the ass, because Zane had wanted to push Roach, to make him suffer a little more for what he’d done, but if he couldn’t hurt the fucker with his dick, words would have to do the trick.

Unexplained sensations had burned, tickled, and teased, as if his flesh extended beyond the bounds of his skin. He didn’t feel his own cock entering him, his hole didn’t stretch, but there had been a sense of heat and little jolts that strengthened his perception of touch and fueled the power of his orgasm.

And while he’d never forgive Roach for what he’d done, he couldn’t help but think of the next time already. Sex like that should only exist in fiction, but the impossible, treacherous illusion of belonging with another person so much they didn’t feel like separate beings still echoed in his head as he buried his face in Roach’s leather jacket, hiding from the cold air behind his personal wall of muscle.

Yet another annoying thing about Roach. The bastard was built. Not like a juiced-up gym bunny, but he had nice definition to his muscles, and Zane had experienced the strength of his arms firsthand. With Roach at his side, Zane hadn’t worried about coming to blows with Sid. Not that Zane was afraid of a scuffle, but why get punched if you could avoid it?

Roach was meaty, touchable, with a fine, round ass, and the fact that they shared a tattoo felt strangely intimate, even though they didn’t know each other well. Not that Zane and Roach were about to sing Kumbayas and talk about each other’s feelings. As soon as this mind-bending magical shit was over, Zane would stab Roach in the neck and leave the most painful chapter of his life behind.

He would be free again. Free to travel and make a name for himself. Free to enjoy good sex with hot strangers without feeling all weird and emotional about it.

He hadn’t meant to fuck Roach, but then he’d found the magazines, and his brain spiraled down a rabbit hole where keeping Roach on a leash through sex made perfect sense. Countless excuses had sped through his mind while the handsome bastard had been in the shower, surely touching himself, because why else would lust have hit Zane so hard? And here they were.

Roach had tried to evade his invisible collar at first and threw a fit, telling Zane to move out. Well, the pliant beast wouldn’t be doing that anymore. Zane stroked Roach’s belly with a smirk. Not to please Roach, but enjoy the touch himself. The fucker was too horny for his own good, and would be a good bitch for now as long as he was leashed and muzzled.

He frowned at the twitch of arousal in his balls, confused when he realized he could no longer tell if it came from within or was just an echo of Roach’s oversexed brain? Zane slid his hand lower and cupped Roach’s dick. Yep, rock hard. But Zane enjoyed the closeness too. Even the stupid cigarette smoke that had soaked through Roach’s clothes smelled comforting, despite Zane hating the smell on anyone else.

The connection was both pleasure and a nuisance, but Zane was in for a rude awakening once Roach pulled into a parking lot next to a single storey building reminiscent of a giant block of concrete with windows at the front and gray steps leading in.

“Off,” Roach grumbled, leaning forward against the handlebars.

“What’s your problem?” Zane asked, digging his chin between Roach’s shoulder blades. “If you go inside like that, the librarian might get a stroke.”