Kenny was hot.
Damon had avoided working with Kenny, hearing that he was a walking sex machine. He was wearing his normal goth gear with fishnet stockings and shit-kicker boots.
“Took you fuckin’ long enough,” Kenny said, his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s your name?”
“I got hung up with something,” Damon said. He didn’t want to admit that his clothing was not hanging just so and it took him an extra fifteen minutes to get it fixed. Next time, he wasn’t going to iron. “Starcrowe.”
“No shit. Your real name.”
“Oh. Damon.”
“I’m Pyrestarter.” He looked intently at Damon. “That’s what you call me, you got it?”
Damon didn’t care much for the attitude, and that threw cold water on Kenny’s look. Pyrestarter. “I’m supposed to take the lead,” said Starcrowe, but Pyre was already going inside.
Pyrestarter must have heard him because he stopped just inside the door. “Well, go ahead, then.”
Starcrowe was used to Toxicon, who just barreled forward without a thought. However, he wanted to make sure Pyre understood who was boss, at least for this mission.
He summoned forth his dark creature of horrors, and Pyre smirked and summoned forth his huge red demon. “That’s all you got?”
He took out his amulet and showed him. “I have this, too.”
Pyre snorted. “Lead if you’re gonna fuckin’ lead.”
Starcrowe went first, and actually sent his creature forward. Pyre snorted again, and Starcrowe didn’t care much for that. If he’s going to be an asshole, I’m going to be a prick, he said to himself, and laughed at his own joke.
“What’s so funny?”
“You,” he said. Pyre narrowed his eyes. A small voice in Starcrowe’s mind got scared, but he refused to let it bother him. No, he was going to show this guy what a great and powerful wizard he was.
The first room full of people, Pyrestarter set them all on fire. Not just fire. Plasma-grade fire that nearly incinerated them all.
That scared voice got a little louder.
Magic coursed through Starcrowe as he fought, finding himself sometimes spreading ashes instead of attacking people. As it happened with him, his body thrummed with magic, and by the end of the mission, he was hard as a rock, not only from his own exertions, but from watching Pyrestarter.
“I need a break,” he said.
“Already?”
He had the skirt for a reason. It hid hard-ons better than pants, and it was a lot more comfortable. He doubled back, looking for the rest room for some relief. He knew from experience it wouldn’t take long.
“Hey,” Pyrestarter called, and followed.
Starcrowe nearly growled, “Not right now.”
“What’s your problem?”
“I gotta go to the bathroom, all right? Can’t I go in peace?”
“You sure it’s not anything else? Like I could take care of?” Kenny smirked at him.
How the hell did he know? Toxicon didn’t know – or never let on that he did.
Damon stood there, and Kenny beckoned. All of his leadership, all of his sense of pride, went right out the window as he meekly walked over to Kenny.
Damon got the roughest sex he’d ever had in his life. And it was damn good.