Chapter 48: Marked Prey r18

I shoved the suite door open with more force than necessary, the heavy wood slamming against the stopper. Noah stumbled in behind me, his footsteps hesitant, like he knew what was coming.

The gala’s buzz still clung to us, the faint scent of champagne on his breath, the crisp night air on our suits, but here, in this glass-walled prison overlooking the glittering sprawl of Madrid, it was just us.

No witnesses. No interruptions. Just the rage boiling in my veins from watching Hendrix’s hand on him, that smug card slipped into his pocket like a fucking invitation.

He tried to play It cool, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it over a chair, but I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers fumbled with his tie.

“Cassian, it was nothing,” he muttered, not meeting my eyes, his voice edged with that familiar mix of defiance and nerves. “Just drop it.”

Drop it? After that little show? I crossed the room in three strides, grabbing his wrist before he could loosen the knot.

He jerked back slightly, but not enough to pull free, little resistance, just enough to spark something dark in me. I twisted his arm behind his back, not hard, but firm, pushing him face-first against the tall window.

The glass was cool under my palm as I pressed it flat beside his head, caging him there. His breath fogged the pane, the city lights blurring through it like distant stars mocking us.

“Nothing?” I echoed, my voice low, controlled, but laced with that simmer I’d been holding back all night. I leaned in, my chest against his back, feeling the heat radiating off him despite the AC humming in the background.

My free hand snaked around to his front, yanking the tie from his collar in one sharp pull. “You let him touch you. Whisper in your ear like some secret. And now it’s nothing?”

He twisted a bit, testing my grip, his body tensing under mine.

“He’s just being friendly. Unlike some people.” The subtle jab landed, insult wrapped in sarcasm, and I couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped me.

Friendly.

Right.

It only fueled the fire, making me want to strip away every layer of that false bravado.

I released his wrist just long enough to loop the tie around them, binding them tight behind his back, not cutting off circulation, but secure enough that he couldn’t wriggle free without effort. He tugged once, a small act of defiance, his shoulders rolling as if to test the give.

“What the hell, Cassian? Untie me.”

“No.”

I grabbed a silk scarf from the nearby dresser, part of the suite’s amenities, soft but strong, and wrapped it around his eyes, knotting it at the back of his head.

Darkness for him now, heightening everything else. His world reduced to touch, sound, the press of my body. He stiffened, breath catching, but didn’t fight it hard, just that little push, a half-hearted twist that only pressed his ass back against my groin.

Fuck, the friction sent a jolt through me, my cock already half-hard from the gala’s pent-up fury.

I spun him around, backing him against the window again, the glass vibrating faintly from the wind outside.

My hands roamed down his sides, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate slowness, exposing inch after inch of skin. Goosebumps rose under my fingertips, his chest rising and falling quicker now.

“Tell me what Hendrix said,” I demanded, my mouth close to his ear, breath hot against the shell. “Or I’ll make you forget his name entirely.”

He swallowed hard, the blindfold shifting slightly with the movement.

“I already told you… He… he just asked about work. My background. Nothing important.”

Liar.

I could hear the hesitation, the way his voice cracked just a fraction. Defiance flickering, but weakening.

My hand slid lower, popping the button on his pants, zipper rasping down. He sucked in a breath, hips jerking forward involuntarily as I shoved the fabric aside, exposing him to the cool air.

His cock twitched, already swelling, betraying him, the head flushed pink, a vein pulsing along the shaft. I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking once, slow, firm, from base to tip, feeling the smooth, hot skin glide under my palm, the subtle throb as blood rushed in.

He bit his lip, stifling a sound, but his body leaned into it despite himself, pre-cum beading at the slit, slick and warm against my thumb.

“Liar,” I murmured, thumb circling the head, smearing the sticky fluid in lazy swirls, the wet sound of it obscene in the quiet room, sloppy, like the promise of more mess to come.

I stroked him fully now, hand pumping in a tight grip, the skin sliding back and forth with a faint, lewd schlick each time. His breath hitched, a low whine escaping despite his clenched jaw.

Noah’s head fell back against the window with a soft thud, blindfold hiding his eyes but not the flush creeping up his neck.

“Is this it? You’ll tie me up every time someone talks to me?”

That bite again… subtle insult, like he was testing boundaries. It made me laugh, a dark rumble in my chest. God, his fire turned me on, even when it pissed me off.

“Every fucking time,” I replied, my hand tightening around his cock, stroking faster now, building him up. His breath hitched, a low whine escaping despite his clenched jaw.

But I stopped just as his hips started thrusting in earnest, leaving him throbbing in my grip.

He shook his head, but his body told the truth, pre-cum leaking steadily, coating my fingers in a glossy sheen, the air thick with the musky scent of his arousal.

He coated my fingers in a glossy sheen, the air thick with the musky scent of his arousal.

“Fuck you,” he muttered, voice breathy, defiance cracking under the tease. Shy now, the way his thighs trembled, but shameless in how he pressed forward, chasing my hand. It was intoxicating, his resistance so thin, like a veneer over raw need.

I released his cock, ignoring his frustrated groan, and spun him around again, pressing his chest to the glass.

The city below probably couldn’t see shit up here, but the exposure humiliated him, I could tell by the way his bound hands flexed behind his back, knuckles white.

My palm smoothed over his ass for the first time, the curve firm under my touch, skin warm and smooth, a faint tremor running through the muscles as I squeezed.

He froze, breath catching, his hole clenching instinctively under the thin fabric of his boxers still half-pulled down. “Cassian…”

“Quiet.” I squeezed one cheek harder, nails digging in just enough to leave faint red crescents, the skin paling under pressure then flushing pink as blood rushed back.

He arched despite himself, a soft sound escaping, half protest, half plea. My fingers dipped lower, tracing the cleft through the fabric at first, feeling the heat radiating from between his legs.

I hooked the waistband and yanked the boxers down fully, exposing his ass completely, the air cool against the newly bared skin.

“What did Hendrix promise?” I pressed, my mouth at his neck now, teeth grazing the skin before sinking in, a bite, sharp and claiming, the metallic tang of broken skin faint on my tongue as he yelped.

Blood welled slightly, and I licked it away, the metallic taste mixing with the sweat beading on his skin. He pushed back subtly, ass brushing my crotch, but muttered,

“Nothing you’d understand.”

Another subtle insult, shy but biting, it made me chuckle darkly, my cock jumping against my zipper.

I spit into my palm, the wet, vulgar sound echoing, and slicked my fingers, the saliva warm and viscous.

Returning to his ass, I circled the rim, feeling the pucker contract under the slippery touch, the muscle resisting at first.

“Stay away from him,” I warned, voice rough, my own arousal straining painfully now. “He’s poison. Using you.”

Noah’s head dropped forward against the glass, blindfold damp with sweat. “Or what? You’ll… fuck me up more?” Buzzing out, words slurring as I pressed a finger against him, breaching slowly.

The heat enveloped me, tight, velvety walls clenching around the intrusion, a soft, wet squelch as I pushed deeper.

He gasped, body tensing, but his hips rocked back just a fraction, shameless desire peeking through the shy resistance.

I curled the finger, grazing his prostate, a swollen nub that made him jolt, a strangled moan ripping out.

The sound was filthy, echoing off the glass, his cock leaking more now, a steady drip pattering to the floor. I added a second finger, the stretch pulling another wet schlick, the slickness building as his body adjusted, walls fluttering around me.

“Admit you want this,” I said, stroking his walls roughly, the obscene sounds filling the room, sloppy, rhythmic, like fucking but slower, more torturous.

He shook his head, but his ass clenched greedily, pulling my fingers deeper.

“I… don’t. You fucking psychopath.” Defiance thin, voice shy and breathy, but it only aroused me more, the contrast of his words against his body’s betrayal.

I laughed low, thrusting fingers faster, prostate hits sending tremors through him, his thighs quaking, pre-cum stringing from his cock in viscous threads.

Edging him internally now, fingers plunging deep, then withdrawing almost fully, teasing the rim with shallow circles.

His hole gaped slightly on each pull, slick and shining, the air cool on the exposed skin. I reached around with my free hand, stroking his cock in sync, tight, unfiltered pumps, the skin hot and slick under my palm, veins bulging as I twisted at the head.

Wet sounds doubled, schlick from behind, slap of skin on skin from the front. He bucked, shameless now, moans turning lewd and unbroken, but still shy in how he bit his lip, trying to hold back.

Overstimulation hit as I kept going, fingers hammering his spot, cock stroked to the brink then denied, hand squeezing the base to cut off release.

His body convulsed, sweat-slick skin sliding against mine, the musky scent thick in the air mixed with the salty tang of pre-cum. “Please…” he whimpered, shy plea slipping out, but followed by, “Asshole.”

The insult made me laugh again, thrusting fingers harder, the wet slop echoing louder, his hole loosening, greedy.

I kissed his neck, rough, open-mouthed, tongue laving the bite mark, then bit down again, harder, drawing a cry as blood trickled. The pain mixed with pleasure, his cock jumping in my hand, pre-cum oozing in a hot arc.

“Don’t hold back.”

I whispered, finally releasing the hold, stroking furiously, sloppy, wet sounds filling the room as he shattered.

Noah came with a broken sob, body arching, cum erupting in thick ropes over my fingers, splattering the window in messy streaks, warm, sticky, the scent sharp and heady.

His hole clenched rhythmically around my fingers, milking them as tremors racked him, legs giving out until I held him up.

Shameless in release, but shy after, body slumping, breaths ragged, a faint blush visible under the blindfold.

I pulled my fingers free with a final wet pop, his hole winking, slick and puffy. My cock ached, but I stroked myself roughly, the sight of him, a humiliated, trembling mess, pushing me over. Cum shot across his ass, hot stripes painting the reddened cheeks, dripping down his thighs in obscene trails.

Before I could savor it, my phone buzzed, a crisis call. I cursed, zipping up, leaving him bound and blindfolded, a marked wreck against the glass. “Don’t move,” I said, answering as I walked away, the intimacy of the moment lingering unspoken, heavy in the air.

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