Of all the truly ancient beings he could have ended up with, Samandriel hated that it was a Spartan. It wasn't as if there weren't benefits to it. After all, what other breed of creature would pursue him so relentlessly as to give him exactly what he wanted? He just wished he could pull the kind of romance and pleasure out of Carrick that Hermes seemed to enjoy.
He did as the vampire instructed, positioning himself in such a way that his cock was pressed against the pillows. He was sure it could be jerked away at any point to suit Carrick's pleasure, but having some illusion of protection and security helped a little.
The pile of pillows didn't completely give under him and so he had to tuck his knees up as well, legs spread wide in such a way that left his untouched opening as exposed as the rest of him. Laying prone on his forearms, he hadn't ever felt so exposed. Arched like this, the scars running down his back seemed almost straight lines running in parallel to the dip in his spine instead of the slight tapered curve they usually had. Those were going to disappear along with the rest of whatever wounds Carrick inflicted on him and the scar at his throat as soon as he was himself again.
"Is there anything I can do to avoid the lash, my lord Spartan?" he asked. He didn't think so, but it was worth a shot to see.