Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 2

a few things, those bastards. A few things I seem to have taken to. A few things I now can't seem to do without. And now I want to fuck you. We're safe, all thanks to you, and I want to enjoy every moment that we have together."
    Sam didn't want to think about Bobby and the cruelty of leaving him back at that evil place. He didn't want to think about the sacrifices he had made and would continue to make.
    The opium-laced tobacco made him sluggish. He realized Oberon was undressing him. And Sam couldn't find it in himself to refuse him. In fact, he wanted this. Away from that place, he wanted Oberon to fuck him. It had been so long— or so it seemed. Once naked, Oberon yanked him up from the bed and shoved him against one of the walls. Sam saw him pull down some of the cooking oil from a shelf.
    "One fuck with Bobby and I'm already addicted to a nice slippery hole," Oberon said as he dribbled oil down Sam's crack then slathered some onto his deeply reddened cock. Within moments he was at Sam's entrance. He pressed in.
    "They didn't use oil when they fucked me, Sam. They never used anything."
    "Oberon—–"
    Oberon's cock slid into him, thick and hard and deep. "No, don't say anything. They liked hearing me scream. After the first few times, I didn't give them the satisfaction. But I used to hear the others at night. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of those screams. In a place like that, they echo and echo and echo. All through the passages, all through my head."
    He pumped into Sam again and again. Oberon pinned him to the wall. Sam closed his eyes and submitted to Oberon. Oberon's hard cock bored into him, over and over. He used more oil, until the bottle was empty and Oberon tossed it across the wagon wall. Sam lost track of time— the opium running through his system certainly didn't help matters.
    "Unfortunately, you reap what you sow, don't you, Sam? I am what they made me, what you let them make me. And now— well, you reap what you sow. Isn't that the proper saying?"
    Sam couldn't deny the accusation. He wished he didn't enjoy the feel of Oberon fucking him quite so much. Sam shoved back against him.
    "Then fuck me," he growled, embracing some of that pain. "I want you to fuck me. However it gives you satisfaction."
    Oberon surged into Sam again. "Do you want this, Sam? I could fuck you for a very long time."
    Sam shoved back again, clamping down on Oberon's dick.
    "Oh, yes. You do want it." Oberon chuckled softly. "Do you know what you're locked to, Sam?"
    "A demon," he gasped, as Oberon pulled out and then shoved deep again.
    "Exactly. I don't know that there's any hope for us, darling."
    "Was there ever? But it doesn't matter." He turned his head and gazed up at Oberon– his eyes glazed over from the opium, his body drowning in pleasure and pain. "I love you."
    Something in Oberon's expression softened. "You're a fool, Sam. A lovely, beautiful fool. You should have left me there. I can't ever be the man you want me to be. You see someone who doesn't exist. And never will."
    "It doesn't seem to matter anymore. I discovered that long ago. We're all flawed humans, how we love is something that isn't always logical. Nor is it always sane."
    Oberon chucked. "Forever, Sam. Forever." Sam heard him unstrap the leather binding. He thrust into Sam again and again, then seated deep and came.
    "Oberon," Sam said. Taking him, wanting him, needing him. And there was no rational reason for him to do so. He had spoken the truth; it didn't matter. Oberon Ophelian was branded into his soul and there was no way to remove that searing passion for a madman.
    "Forever, Oberon." And he meant it.
    It was sometime later that Sam dressed and then stepped outside to check the coals of the dying fire. Orange coals glowed, sparks snapped. He stared up at the sky, sparkling with stars, a waning moon. His gaze widened as he saw a meteor flash across the sky. The darkness could be the most beautiful sight in the world if one could see it clearly. If one understood its perfection and imperfections. If one accepted that flaws didn't matter as much as embracing the beauty of a wild and dangerous creation. He embraced the darkness– he accepted the flaws in nature and in himself, and still he stepped forth gladly. Well, maybe not so gladly, but undeniably he was drawn. Many a man walked the path to his own destruction with no thought of turning back. No fear of death that might wait at the end. But there was a certain rapture