The Whorehouse Oracle
visions.”
    “ So, I’d be forced to
share you,” Artim spat. “Why does that not surprise me?”
    “ Forced or not, you’re a
triad. A triad shares, does it not?”
    Artim crossed his arms over his chest.
“It does. But I can’t help the way I feel. Either I share you with
them or I get nothing. Neither is acceptable.”
    “ The six must claim their
mates.”
    Artim frowned. “What does that
mean?”
    “ All I could see was the
three of you claiming me and then another claiming. It wasn’t your
triad, or me. I couldn’t see who they were. I only knew it wasn’t
us. I usually don’t see my own future, either, so I don’t know what
to make of it.”
    “ Because of some vision
you’ve had, we’re to claim you.”
    Khal sighed. “You told Smythe I was
your mate. You must sense our connection. Why fight it?”
    “ I don’t like being told
what to do,” Artim sneered as he stepped closer to the bed. “I
prefer to be the one doing the telling.”
    Khal rose to his knees and crawled out
of the bedding. He padded to the end of the bed. A chill raced over
his nude body, but he refused to back down. He sat on his knees and
stared at the male inches from him. “Then tell me what to do,
Artim.”
    Artim lifted a hand to touch Khal’s
chest, but he stopped inches from Khal’s skin. He kept his hand
there, hovering close enough for Khal to feel the male’s
warmth.
    “ I can’t touch
you.”
    “ Do you want
Tyron?”
    “ No!” Artim spat. “Not
yet. Give me time alone first.”
    Khal ran his hands down his own chest,
down to the hardening cock. He grabbed the root of his shaft and
gave the length one pump of his fist before releasing himself. His
cock swayed between his legs and Artim’s gaze followed
it.
    “ Touch yourself again,”
Artim whispered.
    Khal slowly collected his cock at the
base and languidly moved to the tip and back down. He followed with
another stroke, and another, his breath catching in his lungs as he
saw the lust building in Artim’s gaze.
    Artim’s tongue darted out and he wet
his lips. “Squeeze harder the next one. I want to see your cum on
the tip. Milk your sweet cock for me.”
    Khal obeyed, tightening his hold. He
milked his cock, bringing forth a single bead of cum to the tip.
“What do you want me to do with it … Master?”
    Artim shivered. “Spread it around the
head and then bring your finger to your lip. Taste your
essence.”
    Khal did as instructed.
    Artim closed his eyes, his whole body
shaking lightly. When he opened his eyes, they were dark with lust.
“How did it taste?”
    Khal ran his tongue over his lips,
thinking how to describe the flavor. “Slightly salty. But what I
really want to know is how it compares to you.”
    Artim clenched his fists tight. “Soon,
little one. Now masturbate for me. Show me what touches you
like.”
    Khal widened his knees and began to
jerk his cock, his stare never leaving Artim’s. Artim moved to the
chair he’d slept in and dragged it to sit right in front of Khal.
Artim lowered himself into the seat and opened the front placard of
his leather pants. He pulled his thick erection out, pumping his
own hand along his flesh. Khal shook with excitement to see Artim
yield just a little, giving in to the hunger between
them.
    “ Squeeze your balls with
your free hand, Khal.”
    Khal obeyed, loving the sensation of
being ordered about by the male. “I want your touch,
Master.”
    Artim leaned his head back against the
chair. “What else do you want, slave?”
    “ I want to taste you,”
Khal whispered.
    Artim shuddered. “Soon.”
    “ I can’t wait much
longer,” Khal answered, spearing his tongue out to lick his lips.
“I want to taste your seed on my tongue, washing down my
throat.”
    “ What else do you want,
little one?”
    Khal’s head fell back as he felt his
orgasm approach. Without a touch from Artim, he was going to come
because of the male. “I want …” Khal breathed out, his lungs
seizing in his chest.

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