Chapter 18 Julian
JULIAN
Idismiss the attendants after they fill the large marble tub. This isn’t something I’m willing to delegate. Not with him.
“I’m going to bathe you,” I tell Elliot, my voice rougher than intended. He nods, following me to the steaming water.
As I guide him into the bath, his muscles tense momentarily before relaxing against me. I’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful as Elliot Chambers surrendering his control. The warm water embraces his body, and I watch goosebumps rise on his skin where my fingers trace invisible patterns.
“You don’t need to—” he starts, but I silence him with a finger to his lips.
“Let me take care of you.”
I lather the soap between my hands, working it across his shoulders, down his chest.
“I never expected you,” I admit. My hands slide lower, circling his navel. “I thought I’d be obsessed with one of the women in the end.”
Elliot’s eyes meet mine, vulnerability shimmering in their depths. I’ve spent my life keeping people at arm’s length, maintaining control through distance, but with him, I want the opposite. I want to peel away every layer, drag the real man beneath all his bullshit out into the light.
“But you,” I continue, my hand dipping beneath the water to grip his hardening cock, “you’ve become essential to me. Like breathing.”
I stroke him languidly, watching pleasure bloom across his features. God, I love his cock—thick, perfect. The way it fills my hand, how it pulses when I squeeze it just right.
“Julian,” he gasps, his hips lifting into my touch.
“The sounds you make,” I murmur, leaning closer to his ear. “The way you respond when I’m inside you. I can’t get enough.”
He shivers despite the warm water, his head falling back as a moan escapes him.
I take my time washing Elliot, my hands gentle as they glide across his skin.
Unlike before, I keep my touch purposeful but clinical—this isn’t about pleasure, not yet.
I work the soap into a lather, cleaning away the evidence of our previous encounters while mentally marking the places I’ll claim again soon.
“Stand,” I command softly when I finish.
He rises from the water, rivulets streaming down his body. I take a plush towel and dry him, lingering over the marks I’ve left on his skin. Each bruise and bite mark is a signature, a reminder that he’s mine now.
I wrap Elliot in the towel and lead him to the center of the bathing chamber. Soft light bathes his skin, highlighting every mark I’ve left on him. He’s magnificent—all lean muscle and tentative vulnerability.
“Stand here,” I instruct, my voice low. “Legs apart.”
I retrieve a crystal vial of lubricant from a nearby shelf, uncorking it with a practiced motion.
“Unlike the women being prepared for the Feast, you need special attention,” I explain, coating my fingers generously. The oil glistens in the low light. “You’ll be sitting on me for hours. I need to make sure you’re ready.”
Elliot’s breath catches as I circle behind him, my free hand sliding possessively down his spine.
“Bend forward slightly,” I murmur against his ear.
His muscles tense beneath my touch, but he follows my command. I slide my slick fingers between his cheeks, circling his entrance with deliberate pressure. The lubricant warms against his skin as I massage him, feeling his resistance give way to acceptance.
“Good boy,” I praise, pushing a finger inside him.
Elliot gasps, his body clenching around my intrusion before relaxing. I work him open, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching him with patient determination. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, hardening visibly with each thrust of my fingers.
I curl my fingers to brush against his prostate. His reaction is immediate—a full-body shudder as a moan escapes his throat. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“Julian—” he chokes out, his cock jerking as pre-cum beads at the tip.
“Should I stop?” I tease, knowing the answer.
“Don’t you dare,” he growls, pushing back against my hand.
I thrust deeper, maintaining steady pressure against that sensitive spot inside him. His breathing grows ragged, his legs trembling with the effort to remain standing.
“Come for me,” I command, my free hand reaching around to grip his cock.
One stroke is all it takes. Elliot cries out, his release painting the marble floor as his body clenches rhythmically around my fingers.
“Such a good boy for me,” I murmur, cleaning my hands in the nearby basin. Once he’s recovered, I turn my attention to dressing him.
“Arms out,” I instruct, reaching for the garment I’ve selected. Not the traditional dress prey would wear, but a black silk dress shirt that will frame his body perfectly. I slide it up his arms, letting the cool fabric brush against his skin.
I fasten only the middle buttons, leaving his chest and lower body exposed. The shirt hangs just low enough to tease at what lies beneath without offering any real coverage.
Stepping back, I circle him slowly. The black fabric creates a striking contrast against his skin, highlighting the lean muscles of his thighs and the perfect curve of his ass. The partial buttoning reveals glimpses of his chest and stomach with each breath he takes.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I tell him, my voice dropping lower. “Perfection personified.”
His cock twitches at my words, a bead of precum forming at the tip. The physical response is immediate and undeniable—his body can’t lie even if he wanted to.
“Do you like being my beautiful boy?” I ask, stepping closer.
Elliot hesitates only briefly before nodding, his eyes meeting mine with newfound confidence. The shame that once clouded his features has receded, replaced by desire, acceptance, and surrender.
I capture his mouth in a possessive kiss, my hands sliding beneath the shirt to grip his ass.
“Come on, baby,” I whisper against his lips as I pull back. “Time to show that glorious cock off while bouncing on mine.”
I guide Elliot through the ornate double doors into the feast room, my hand possessively at the small of his back.
The massive glass table stretches the length of the room, already half-filled with hunters who failed to claim their prey.
Their expressions shift from boredom to shock as we enter—Elliot Chambers, art dealer and hunter, now entering as my claimed prize.
“Quite the entrance we’re making,” I murmur close to his ear, feeling him tremble slightly against my palm. “Everyone’s watching you, baby.”
I spot Theo already seated, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he catches my eye.
Perfect. Having him there will only heighten Elliot’s arousal.
I guide us toward the empty chair beside him, deliberately slowing our pace to allow every curious gaze to linger on Elliot’s exposed skin beneath the half-buttoned shirt.
When we reach our place, I take my seat next to Theo, keeping my hand on Elliot, who remains standing rather than taking the chair that would have been his next to me.
“You know how this works,” I say, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You’ve sat in this chair before, haven’t you? But that’s not where you belong tonight.”
Elliot swallows hard but remains standing beside me, exactly as protocol dictates for claimed prey. His fingers twitch at his sides, clearly fighting the urge to cover his hard cock as the silk shirt shifts with his breathing.
“He cleans up nicely,” Theo comments, reaching out to brush his fingers against Elliot’s wrist. “Though I preferred him messier.”
I catch Theo’s hand, squeezing just tight enough to make my point. “You can look, but you may only touch him when I instruct.”
The room fills quickly as other hunters arrive with their prey. Each couple follows the same ritual—hunters seated, prey standing beside them, bodies adorned in suits and the same black dresses.
I keep my hand possessively on Elliot’s lower back as they enter, feeling the slight tremor running through him. The anticipation in the room builds with each new arrival. Several hunters glance our way, eyebrows raising at the sight of a male hunter claimed as prey.
“They’re staring,” Elliot whispers.
I stroke his back. “Let them. They should see what they’re missing.”
A hush falls over the room as Xavier Blackwood enters, Mira Sullivan at his side. Xavier takes his seat at the head of the table with casual dominance, spreading his legs wide beneath his unbuttoned pants.
He wraps his hand around Mira’s wrist, guiding her between his thighs. With assured movements, he positions her above his exposed cock, already slick and ready. Her face betrays nothing as she lowers herself onto him, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes him completely.
That’s our cue.
I reach for the small vial of lube in my pocket, never taking my eyes off Elliot as I coat my cock generously. The room erupts into movement around us as hunters pull their prey onto their laps.
“Come here,” I murmur, guiding Elliot to stand between my legs. “I already prepared you, and now I’m prepared.”
He nods, as I position my cock at his entrance, holding him steady.
“Sit,” I command softly.
Elliot lowers himself slowly, his body accepting me inch by inch. When he’s fully seated, I wrap my arm around his stomach, pulling his back flush against my chest.
“Heaven,” I whisper against his ear. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Such a good boy.”
Elliot moans as I shift beneath him, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach where the silk shirt parts.
“God, you feel amazing,” I murmur against his ear, rolling my hips upward in a deliberate motion that makes him gasp. “So tight around me.”
Theo leans closer, his eyes fixed on Elliot’s cock. “May I touch him yet?” he asks, his voice low with desire. “He looks absolutely desperate.”
I glare at him, instinctively tightening my grip around Elliot’s waist. The possessiveness that surges through me is still unfamiliar.