Chapter 30 Nikolaj #2
His body tenses, back arching slightly into my touch, and his thighs flex where I have them spread open beneath me. My fingers are working him open—two knuckles deep and curling just right—and his whole body jolts with it. He’s too proud to scream, but not too proud to take it.
I stare down at him, at the way his spine curves under my palm, the way his hips twitch helplessly as my fingers curl deeper inside him. I feel his shame, his desperation, his pride bleeding out onto these sheets one groan at a time, and I want to drink every drop.
“You’ve never done this before,” I murmur, not a question. I already know.
He hesitates, just for a breath. “No.”
I lean over his back, tongue dragging along his shoulder blade. “Tell me I’m the only one,” I whisper.
His laugh is a broken thing, and it trembles. “You are the only one I ever wanted to keep,” he admits, bare and trembling. “I promised myself I’d never be soft, but you—” His voice shatters like glass. “You make me forget the rehearsal.”
“You always were a bad actor,” I say, and I bite his shoulder, gentle enough to sting.
He growls at that, but it’s a weak sound—too wrecked to back it up with anything. I twist my fingers once, pressing right against the spot that makes his mouth drop open on a silent scream. He’s shaking and leaking so hard, he’s probably soaking the bed.
“You gonna come untouched, my king?” I taunt, dragging my mouth down his spine, biting softly into the flesh just above his ass as my fingers piston inside him. “Gonna spill like a good little whore just from my fingers? You want me to breed you that bad?”
“Shut—” His voice breaks. “Shut the fuck up.”
I grin into his skin and bite again, hard enough to leave a mark this time. “You don’t get to tell me to shut up. Not like this. Not when your tight little hole’s sucking me in like it was made for my cock. Not when you’re dripping for it.”
“You proud of yourself?” he sneers. “You think this makes you king now?”
“No.” I pull my fingers free, slow and messy, watching his hole flutter like it’s still begging for more. “I don’t need a throne, Vincenzo. I already have you kneeling under me.”
A noise breaks out of him, hoarse and raw. He tries to bury it in the sheets, but I catch it. I feel it. That noise was surrender. “You sure you want it like this?”
He nods again. “Yes.” A pause. “Please.”
Please.
I reach down and stroke him once, slow and tight, just to feel the way he trembles under my hands.
He lets out a broken, desperate sound, almost a sob, and that’s when I know I’ve got him.
He’s so close already. All pride and hate stripped down to this—raw need, trembling muscles, and a hole fluttering around my fingers, begging to be filled.
“Don’t come yet,” I growl. “Not until you’re full of me.”
I slip in three fingers again, scissoring gently, prepping him as thoroughly as I can while my cock aches, heavy and dripping. The lube coats his skin in a slick sheen, and every breath he takes shudders out of him like it hurts. He lets out a strangled moan, hips rocking back instinctively.
“Greedy fucking prince,” I whisper against his ear. “You want to be split open, don’t you?”
“God, yes,” he chokes out, turning his head slightly, face half-buried in the pillow. “Please fuck me, Nikolaj, I need it.”
“I won’t be gentle,” I warn and pull my fingers free slowly, relishing the way he gasps at the loss.
“I don’t fucking want gentle,” he bites out.
I slick myself up and drag my cock along his hole, just enough to tease. He groans like he’s dying for it, that greedy, perfect ass rocking back again to catch the bare head of my cock as I drag it across his crease.
Vincenzo growls into the mattress. “You’re a fucking sadist.”
“No,” I murmur, bending low over his back so my chest skims his spine. “A sadist would’ve fucked you raw the second you begged. You sure you want this? I’m not using protection.”
He shudders so hard I feel it down to the marrow. I want him undone. I want to watch the future King of the Five Families break open on my cock like he was always meant to. But I hesitate. Just for a second.
Vincenzo glances over his shoulder again, expression hazy. “I never do anything without protection. You’re my only risk.”
The words slice something open in me. The gravity of them, the weight. He’s giving me this—his body, his pride, the last piece of himself no one’s ever had. And he’s giving it to me raw. No shield. No wall. No fucking safety.
I glance down between us. I’m leaking all over his lower back, thick drops of precum trailing down the cleft of his ass.
He’s ready—red and stretched and twitching with it.
My cock’s heavy in my hand, and I know if I stop now, I’ll never be able to start again.
Not without hearing that voice every time I close my eyes.
The second I breach him, he goes rigid, the sound he makes more sob than moan. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to go slow—but only for the first inch. His body sucks me in like it’s starving for it, and I bury myself deep with a growl that sounds like it’s being torn from my chest.
Vincenzo claws the sheets, face buried again, the muscles in his back taut as hell. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice cracking.
“Relax for me, beautiful. Let me in,” I say, staying there for a second, barely inside him, hand gripping his hip, trying to breathe through the pressure.
He’s so fucking tight around me I see stars, but I don’t give him time to adjust, and I don’t give him softness—he didn’t ask for soft, he asked for me.
I drive into him again, and again, his body opening up around me like it’s been waiting for this since the day we met.
I bite at his neck and shoulders, licking over the bruises I leave, marking him in places no one else will ever touch.
He’s mine. All of him. And he’s not even trying to hide it anymore.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
He moans and I love it; I fucking live for it. The way he bends beneath me but never breaks. The way he whispers my name like a sin and a prayer in the same breath. His whole body rolls into every stroke, greedy for it, lost to it.
He reaches back blindly, grabbing at my thigh. “Nikolaj… harder. Fuck me harder, make me feel it.”
My control snaps.
“You want me to stay?” I rasp.
“Yes—fuck—yes—don’t stop—”
“You want me to haunt you?”
He nods frantically, eyes glassy. “Haunt me. Own me. Just don’t stop.”
It’s a fucking miracle I don’t explode just listening to his slutty rambles.
I reach around and grip his cock, stroking him in time with my thrusts, watching the way he breaks apart under me, how he gives in completely. No defenses, no royal posture.
Just a boy who wants to be fucked by the devil who knows his name.
“Nikolaj—!”
I grin, teeth grazing the shell of his ear as I slam in deeper, grinding against the spot that makes him cry out. “You feel that?” I pant, low and brutal. “That’s how a king’s supposed to take it. Spread open. Full. Fucked stupid.”
He bucks into my hand, desperate and wrecked, body trembling beneath mine as I stroke him harder, in time with every savage thrust. His breath is ragged, lips bitten red, every muscle in his back tensing as he chokes on a moan.
“Gonna ruin this royal hole,” I hiss against his ear as my hand fists tighter around his cock. Vincenzo shudders violently as he bucks into my fist, breath hitching, moaning like he’s breaking apart just from my words. “Gonna fuck you so full they’ll crown me with what spills out.”
“God—fuck—” he gasps, voice cracking, “Nikolaj—”
“Come for me, Vieri. I want proof I bred a fucking king,” I rasp. The way his tight hole is sucking me in makes it impossible to think. “Show me how good your throne breaks when I’m the one inside you.”
His thighs tremble, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets, and I watch it happen all at once. His muscles lock, a strangled moan catches in his throat, and then he’s coming hard, cock jerking in my grip as he spills across his stomach and the sheets in messy, pulsing spurts.
The way he clenches around me drags me straight to the edge. “Fuck—that’s it,” I curse and grab his hips, slam into him one final time, and come so deep it feels like I’m branding him from the inside out.
I collapse onto his back, breath caught in my throat, still inside him, still holding on like letting go might shatter something.
Vincenzo is twitching from the aftershocks, hands clenched in the sheets.
My cum is buried deep inside him, and his own is painted across the mattress below; a filthy masterpiece.
I stay inside him, grinding my hips slowly as I feel every flutter of his overstimulated body still trying to milk more from me. But when I eventually shift to pull out, he stops me with a trembling hand.
“Don’t,” he whispers. “Not yet.”
So, I stay wrapped around him, buried inside him. Claiming the one thing I never thought I’d be allowed to have.
Him.
My prince.
My enemy.
And I know I’m fucked.