Chapter 5 #2
Julian hesitated for a fraction of a second before the command in Damien’s voice bypassed his brain entirely. He scrambled onto the polished mahogany desk, scattering papers and knocking a pen holder to the floor.
Damien stepped between his legs, forcing his thighs apart. He captured Julian’s mouth in a bruising kiss. It was a claim of ownership, all teeth and tongue, tasting of dominance and desire. Julian kissed back with equal fervor, his hands fisting in Damien’s shirt, pulling him closer.
This was wrong. It was reckless. It was exactly what he needed.
Damien’s hands found Julian’s ass, lifting him slightly, positioning him. Julian heard the tear of a foil packet—Damien had come prepared, the arrogant bastard—and then the blunt head of Damien’s cock was pressing against his entrance.
Julian was still sore from the weekend, his body tender, but the slick was already there, his biology responding to the Alpha’s proximity with embarrassing speed.
"Look at me," Damien commanded, pulling back from the kiss.
Julian met his gaze, his pupils blown wide.
"This is who you are," Damien said, and thrust forward.
Julian’s head fell back, a silent scream tearing from his throat. The stretch was intense, a burning fullness that bordered on pain but tipped instantly into pleasure. Damien didn't stop until he was buried to the hilt, his hips flush against Julian’s ass.
"Feel that?" Damien growled, grinding his hips in a slow circle. "That is where you belong. Filled by me. Owned by me."
"Move," Julian begged, his voice breaking. "Please, Damien."
Damien obliged. He set a punishing pace, driving into Julian with a force that rattled the desk. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the office, mingling with their harsh breaths and the wet, obscene sounds of their coupling.
Julian clung to Damien’s shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. He tried to stay quiet, to bite back the moans that threatened to escape, but Damien was hitting that spot inside him with unerring accuracy, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through his nervous system.
"Louder," Damien commanded, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. "Let them hear."
"Damien—" Julian gasped, his cock trapped between their bodies, friction building rapidly.
"Say it," Damien demanded, leaning down to bite the junction of Julian’s neck and shoulder. "Say you're mine."
"I'm... I'm yours," Julian sobbed, the words torn from him by the relentless assault on his senses. "Yours!"
The admission triggered something in Damien. He roared, a guttural sound that vibrated through Julian’s chest, and slammed home one last time. He held himself deep, his body tensing as he spilled inside the condom.
The feeling of the Alpha pulsing inside him, coupled with the friction on his own cock, sent Julian over the edge. He came hard, his vision whiting out, spilling between their pressed bodies. He bit down on Damien’s shoulder to muffle his scream, tasting the salt of the Alpha’s sweat.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, trembling in the aftermath. The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city below.
Slowly, Damien pulled back. He cupped Julian’s face, his thumbs wiping away tears Julian hadn't realized had fallen. The look in his eyes was soft now, the feral rage replaced by a possessive tenderness.
"I meant what I said," Damien murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Julian’s forehead. "You are mine. Not Henderson’s. Not the board’s. Mine."
Julian nodded weakly, too spent to argue. He felt hollowed out and refilled, his defenses utterly shattered.
Damien helped him off the desk, steadying him when his legs threatened to give out. He tucked himself away, then carefully straightened Julian’s clothes, his hands gentle as he refastened the trousers and smoothed the wrinkles from the suit jacket.
"You have a meeting in ten minutes," Damien said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "You should fix your tie."
Julian let out a shaky laugh. "You're insane."
"I'm thorough," Damien corrected. He leaned in, inhaling deeply at Julian’s neck. "There. Now you smell right."
Julian blinked. The scent of neutralizer was gone, overpowered by the thick, musky scent of Alpha satisfaction. He smelled claimed. Marked.
"You did that on purpose," Julian accused, though there was no heat in his voice.
"I did," Damien admitted shamelessly. "Now, go run your empire. I’ll be watching."
He turned to leave, but paused at the door. He looked back over his shoulder, his golden eyes glinting.
"Tonight. Dinner. My place. Don't be late."
Before Julian could respond, Damien was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Julian stood in the middle of his office, his body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. He could smell Damien all over him—a heavy, invisible collar. He walked to the window, looking out at the city he had fought so hard to conquer.
He was ruined. He was exposed. He was completely, utterly claimed.
And as he straightened his tie and prepared to face his board, Julian Mercer realized, with a terrifying jolt of clarity, that he wouldn't have it any other way.