Chapter 4 Victor
VICTOR
Ishouldn’t have come. That thought’s been circling my brain since the moment I walked into Julian’s place and realized how intimate this gathering would be. Five people. Fucking five, when usually these after-Hunt parties pack twenty or more bodies into these rooms.
Julian, that prick, didn’t warn me. Just called it the usual decompression after the adrenaline rush of the Hunt.
I’d expected the safety of a crowd, not this—Julian pouring drinks, Jenson lounging in an armchair like some spy kingpin, those twin girls whispering to each other on the couch, and. ..him.
Theo fucking Winters.
He hasn’t stopped looking at me since I walked in, those dark eyes tracking my every movement like I’m prey. Like the Hunt never ended.
I take another gulp of whiskey, hoping the burn will distract me from the memory that won’t leave me alone—Theo bent over, taking Elliot inside him, those sounds he made...
The jealousy that ripped through me then still sits in my gut like broken glass. I wanted to tear Elliot off him. Wanted to replace him. Wanted...
No. That’s not me. That’s not who I am.
“Victor,” Julian calls from across the room. “Come tell the girls about your part in tonight’s festivities.” His smile is too knowing, too calculated.
I cross the room, deliberately putting my back to Theo, but I feel him anyway—his gaze hot on my skin.
“The twins hear you’re very well endowed,” Julian says, voice smooth as oil. “And wanted to know if it’s true.”
The girls smile up at me, perfect mirror images with their matching blonde hair and ruby lips. Any other night, I’d be all over that. Tonight, I can’t focus on them. Not with Theo’s presence prickling at the edges of my awareness.
I glance at the twins, then back to Julian. “Thought you were busy playing house with your new pet,” I say. “Since when do you worry about keeping anyone else entertained?”
Behind me, I hear Theo’s low laugh, and something inside me tightens.
I take a seat in Julian’s fancy Italian leather armchair, feeling it strain beneath my weight. Everything in this penthouse screams money—from the crystal tumblers to the fucking panoramic view of Ravenwood spread out below us like a carpet of jewels. It’s all so perfectly Julian Frost.
He stands by those vast windows, swirling his expensive whiskey like it’s some religious ritual. I’ve already downed mine in one go.
“Never thought I’d see the day Julian Frost would be domesticated,” I say, watching his face for a reaction. The word feels good in my mouth. Domesticated. Like I’ve managed to take something away from his perfect image.
Julian’s expression barely flickers. “I’m hardly domesticated,” he says, but there’s something off in his tone. Like he’s trying to convince himself.
From the couch, Theo stretches his legs in that deliberately graceful way that makes my skin prickle with—fuck, I don’t know what. Irritation. That’s all it is.
“Says the man who claimed another hunter for an entire year,” Theo adds. “That’s fucking unprecedented.”
Jenson, the Blackwoods’ creepy shadow man, leans forward. “Unprecedented is Julian’s specialty. Though I must say, none of us predicted the art dealer.”
Julian’s face gives nothing away. “Elliot wasn’t planned.”
I can’t help but laugh at that bullshit. “Nothing about the Hunt is ever unplanned with you. You’ve always got some angle.”
“Perhaps this time the angle was simply pleasure,” Theo suggests, his eyes meeting Julian’s in a way that makes something hot and uncomfortable curl in my gut.
“The gallery owner got under your skin,” Jenson says quietly. “Interesting.”
Julian sets his glass down with a clink. “He’s surprising.”
“Must be, to have Julian Frost breaking his rules of not claiming prey,” I say, remembering Xavier’s reaction. “Xavier was shocked you asked for the year with another hunter.”
“I’m surprised he agreed,” Theo adds.
Julian’s mouth curves slightly. “Xavier respects innovation.”
I lean forward, feeling a strange urge to push him, to break through that perfect composure. “So what now? You parade your conquest around town? Add him to your collection?”
Something flashes in Julian’s eyes—something raw and genuine that I’ve never seen before. “Elliot isn’t a conquest.”
The room goes dead silent. Even I don’t have a comeback for that.
My throat burns as whiskey slides down it, a welcome distraction from the tension in the room. I reach for the bottle again, needing more of that numbing heat. These rich bastards and their games are exhausting.
Then Theo’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Well. That is interesting.” He stretches like a cat, all deliberate sensuality that makes my skin prickle. “So I take it this means I’m not getting my usual post-Hunt fuck from you tonight, then?”
Something uncomfortable twists in my gut—jealousy? Disgust? I can’t name it, but I hate how it feels. I pour another generous portion, focusing on the amber liquid rather than Theo’s perfect pout or the way Julian’s watching me now.
“Perhaps Victor should do the honors,” Julian suggests, his voice curling around me like smoke. “Fuck Theo’s ass, since you didn’t get the chance to claim anyone during the Hunt. Seems wasteful to let your... talents go unappreciated.”
The whiskey goes down wrong, burning like fire as I choke and splutter. It sprays across my shirt as my brain short-circuits. Did he just—? Are they fucking with me? Heat floods my face, equal parts embarrassment and something darker I refuse to acknowledge.
“I’m not gay,” I growl, the defensive words bursting out before I can stop them. My heart hammers against my ribs, betraying me.
Theo laughs, and the sound crawls up my spine. “Such a narrow worldview. This isn’t about sexual orientation. It’s about power and pleasure.”
I can’t move as he rises from the couch with fluid grace. My mouth goes dry as he approaches, and I hate myself for not being able to look away. I should stand up, walk out, punch someone—do anything but sit here feeling my pulse quicken as he gets closer.
“Don’t be so provincial, Victor,” Julian says from his perch, watching me like I’m some experiment he’s conducting.
My hands grip the glass so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter when Theo’s fingers move to his shirt buttons. One by one, deliberately slow. My eyes follow each movement against my will, transfixed.
“Julian’s right. Sometimes, the most powerful men enjoy trying something new. Even if just for a night.”
I’m paralyzed, every muscle locked tight as Theo drops his shirt to the floor. His body is lean, all subtle muscle underneath smooth skin. Nothing like my bulk. Nothing like what I should want. But I can’t look away, can’t move, can’t even fucking breathe right as he stands before me.
“I don’t—” I start, but my protest dies in my throat as Theo unfastens his pants and lets them pool around his ankles.
Fuck. Me.
My entire body goes rigid. Blood rushes in my ears as I stare at what can only be described as my secret fucking fantasy come to life.
Theo stands there wearing nothing but a black lace thong, the delicate fabric stretched obscenely over his cock.
The swollen tip peeks out above the lace, visibly wet.
“Christ,” I mutter, my fingers digging into the armrests like they’re the only things keeping me anchored to reality.
My mouth goes desert-dry. Every rational thought evaporates, replaced by a primal hunger that claws at my insides.
I should look away. I should get up. I should fucking leave.
But I can’t move, can’t tear my eyes from the lean lines of his body, the contrast of that feminine scrap of lace against his masculine form.
“See something you like?” Theo asks, his voice like velvet as he turns slowly.
The sight of his perfect ass framed by those thin lace straps sends a jolt straight to my cock. It throbs painfully in my pants, betraying me completely. I’ve never been so hard in my life.
Julian’s voice cuts through my haze. “You’re both guests in my home. Feel free to enjoy yourselves.”
I barely register his words. All I can focus on is Theo stepping between my thighs. The size difference between us is stark—my heavy frame dwarfing his. I could snap him in half, yet I’m the one trembling.
When he drops to his knees, I grip the leather tighter, feeling it creak under my fingers, fighting the urge to grab him.
“Don’t fight it,” Theo murmurs, his fingers working my zipper down. “Everyone’s allowed to indulge during Hunt week.”
My breath catches in my chest as he frees my cock. The cool air hits it for a moment before Theo’s warm hand wraps around the base, measuring me with a low whistle of appreciation.
“Fuck,” I growl when his lips wrap around the head.
Holy fucking shit. Every nerve ending in my body is on fire as Theo’s mouth services me with an expertise that has me seeing stars.
I’m making these sounds—these desperate fucking groans that I barely recognize as my own.
My fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him now, no longer fighting what my body so clearly wants.
“Fuck,” I grunt as he takes me deeper than I thought possible. The wet heat of his throat constricts around me as he swallows, and my hips buck upward of their own accord. “Jesus Christ.”
Theo doesn’t gag, doesn’t pull back—just adjusts to take me deeper, those dark eyes looking at me with a satisfaction that makes my cock throb.
The sight of him—this beautiful man on his knees, those delicate lace straps framing his ass, my cock disappearing into his mouth—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m vaguely aware of others in the room, of Julian watching us, of the twins and Jenson on the couch. But they fade to background noise against the symphony of pleasure Theo’s creating.
When he pulls off me with an obscene pop, I feel bereft. Empty. My hips chase his mouth instinctively, my cock glistening with his saliva in the dim light.
“Ready for more?” Theo asks, rising gracefully.
A growl rips from my chest, my hands reaching for him, desperate to maintain contact. I watch him cross to Julian’s bar cabinet and retrieve a bottle. Every step he takes highlights the curve of his ass in that fucking thong that’s driving me insane.
My entire world narrows to the sight in front of me.
Theo turns. My mouth goes dry all over again as he reaches behind himself.
My eyes track every movement as his fingers disappear into his body, stretching himself open.
The lace strap of his thong is pushed aside, giving me a perfect view of everything.
“Fuck,” I growl, unable to form more complex thoughts. My cock twitches against my stomach, so hard it almost hurts.
Theo looks over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded. “You like watching me get ready for that monster cock of yours?”
I can only nod, breathing like I’ve gone ten rounds in the ring. Each push of his fingers has me gripping the armchair harder, knuckles turning white.
“God, the size of you,” Theo murmurs, withdrawing his fingers. “Need to make sure I’m ready.”
He grabs the bottle again, squeezing a generous amount onto his palm before wrapping his hand around my shaft. The cool liquid quickly warms as he strokes me from base to tip, his touch maddening.
“Goddamn,” I hiss, hips bucking.
Theo turns and straddles my thick thighs. The remnants of the thong cling to his hips, framing his cock, which looks impressive despite his lean build.
“Been thinking about this ever since I met you,” Theo admits, positioning himself above me.
I grab his waist instinctively, my fingers nearly spanning his entire midsection. Something in my chest cracks open at that. “Don’t say things you don’t mean,” I growl, but my grip tightens, pulling him closer rather than pushing him away.
“Every word is true,” he says, slowly sinking down. “Dreamed of taking this thick cock, stretching me open, filling me up.”
The tight heat of him envelops me inch by excruciating inch. I dig my fingers into his flesh, fighting the urge to slam him down and bury myself completely.
“So. Fucking. Tight,” I grunt, watching where our bodies connect with fascination.
“And you’re so fucking big,” Theo moans, his head falling back as he takes more of me. “God, Victor, you’re splitting me open.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Julian unzip himself, taking his cock in hand as he watches us. His gaze is intense, analytical even now, but I don’t care anymore.
“Take it all,” I demand, voice barely recognizable to my own ears. “Take every fucking inch.”
When Theo finally takes all of me, he’s trembling. I can feel every inch of him stretched around my cock, so tight it’s almost painful. His smaller frame looks impossibly delicate as he sits impaled on me, his thighs spread wide across my much larger ones.
“Fuck, look at you,” I growl, running my hands up his sides, feeling how my palms span almost his entire ribcage. “Taking it all.”
He rolls his hips experimentally, and I nearly black out from the pleasure. I grip his waist, lifting him slightly before slamming him back down.
“Victor,” he gasps, his head falling back, exposing the column of his throat.
I’m beyond thinking, beyond caring about anything but the tight heat around my cock and the beautiful man riding me. My hand wraps around his length, and I’m surprised by how good it feels—how right.
“Your cock is fucking beautiful,” I admit, stroking him in time with our movements. “Just like the rest of you.”
The words surprise me, but I don’t take them back. Can’t take them back. Not when they’re true. Not when I’m buried inside him, watching his face contort with pleasure as I work my hand over him.
“Knew you’d be like this,” Theo moans, grinding down harder. “So much power. So much man.”
I thrust up into him, making him cry out. He fits against me like something breakable, and I’ve never wanted to both wreck and protect something so badly in my life.
“Come on, baby,” I urge, and mean it, even as the tenderness of it catches me off guard.
All pretense is gone—shattered by the white-hot pleasure coursing through me. I don’t care who’s watching. Don’t care about labels or what this means. All I care about is Theo, the maddening pressure around my cock, and the desperate need to make him come.