Chapter 13 Auden
AUDEN
When I was younger, I knew exactly how many Van Dorens were living. I kept track of everyone. It was somewhat of an obsession and also a whole lot of fascination. Our family was enormous. We expanded across all of North America.
Of course, we had relatives in Europe, where our family originated. But if we only begin with my great times three grandparents that came over here from the Netherlands, that’s where I always imagined the beginning of our family.
From there, we truly became self-made in the US. Before the US was a country. When there were just colonies and territories. That’s when the Van Dorens moved over here. Bringing only what could fit in a couple trunks on boats. Gathering items in a wagon as they moved west.
It was my great-times-two grandmothers who settled in Arizona. Was it Arizona then? I don’t even remember anymore. But that’s where the family member counting began. I spent years tracing all the lineages and knowing exactly how many of us existed.
The thing I always found interesting was that, even three generations prior to mine, we were a very inclusive family.
We adopted people when we felt close ties to them.
This was before there was a legality to adoption.
One of my Aunt Sophia’s children is adopted.
I think she wanted a daughter, and when she’d just had her fourth son and thought it probably wasn’t going to happen naturally, she adopted Jorah, a four-year-old little girl.
I wonder if Rome Five has met Jorah. I think Rome Five struggles with belonging because he hadn’t belonged anywhere before my Rome Four brought him home.
Jorah is thirty-eight now and living her best life.
She worked for me for quite a few years before she wanted to try something new.
She’s a good kid. She’s a Van Doren through and through.
I’ve often thought that being a Van Doren is more than just blood. It’s personality. It’s a mindset. It’s like… the mafia. Family is more than genetics. Sometimes loyalty is louder than familial relations.
It’s not like being a Van Doren means you’re instantly loved and part of the whole. There are always people like Kairo who go out of their way to push everyone away. To hate everyone. To spread that hate like a virus because they’re miserable for whatever reason.
Although I think we all know that Kairo’s assholery is nothing but a mask that he hides behind for some reason. We’ve all seen him show up when the family needs support. We see glimpses of his heart before he hides it back behind the wall of animosity again.
Still, there are people like Kairo in every generation. Kairo is simply our problem child. If we can love him despite his attempts at making us hate him at every turn, I think Rome Five should be able to see that we can love him as our own, too.
Then again, Rome Three has kept his family line out of the bloody business, which means he’s not often around the Van Doren Estate, nor Jalon and his brothers and sons, except for holidays. It’s difficult to see anything during the holidays since they’re overwhelmingly enormous, magical events.
I turn toward the window and stare into the trees toward the cabin Mark is staying in. I can barely make it out through the trees. Only slivers of it. I know where to look and what I’m looking for, which is why I can see it.
Licking my lips, I pull my phone from my pocket and bring up my text conversation with Mark. For the past few days, the only thing there’s been is a series of ‘Meeting’ and ‘Finished’ texts from Mark. I haven’t responded. There’s no need to. Not for those.
It’s been a while since our conversation about elevating our play to something more… forceful. I’m not sure why I’m holding off. I’ve been telling myself I don’t want Mark to see it coming. I don’t want him prepared. That’s not the point of force, right?
Maybe I’m waiting for him to request a chase. Whatever the reason is, I’ve been dreaming about the things I want to do to Mark. I wake up hard and eager, yet by the time we’re in a position during the day to properly play, something stops me.
Perhaps because I haven’t done this before either. There’s a chance I’m far too anxious. Afraid of actually hurting him?
“That’s why we have safewords,” I remind myself.
There’s a chance that I’m afraid of how much I’m going to enjoy it.
Turning my attention to our text exchange, I type the word and let my finger hover over the send arrow. My heart races as I stare, chewing my lip. Can I do this? Am I ready to do this? Stalking him was one thing. This… it feels different. I don’t know why but it feels bigger somehow.
I want to. There’s no doubt in my mind how much I want to.
I drop my thumb, and the text sends.
Me
Run
The word under the text says Sending for several rapid heartbeats. It changes to Sent and then quickly to Delivered. I wait. Wait. My heart jumps when Delivered changes to Seen.
I raise my eyes to the window and watch the slivers of cabin through the dense trees.
There’s less of a view through the third-floor windows than there is if I were watching from the first floor.
Still, I think I see movement through the trees.
Did Mark just leave his house? He doesn’t come this way if he does, which is smart.
Turning, I gather some things from my room—lube, a condom. I think about the rough ground, but this isn’t about comfort. It’s about force. This is all I need then.
Should I put the condom on now? No. Yes? I grab my junk. Hmm. I’m definitely hard enough. How awkward will it be to chase him while wearing a condom? Do people do that? Do they wear condoms so they’re ready to take their victim as soon as they’re able to?
Obviously, I’ve never considered this situation for real. This is our first chase, so this time, I won’t wear one while hunting him. Next time, we’ll try with one on. It might be a progression of our play.
I peek in on Rhodes and Bennett on my way to the first floor. They appear to be asleep. The entire floor of the bedroom is covered with wolf dogs. I’m confident that the snoring I hear is from the dogs and not the humans.
Smirking, I turn away and head for the back door. First, I should check the cabin. Make sure he left. On my way, I’m pretty sure I have my answer based on the unmistakable sound of twigs snapping in the trees. I glance at the door of the cabin and change my trajectory to follow the sound.
I imagine that Mark’s job doesn’t take him traipsing through the trees often.
That’s why he sounds like an elephant in the trees.
My footfalls are lighter, even though I jog in his direction.
I make noise, but not the loud snaps that he makes.
He might hear me coming if he stops to listen, but I have a feeling adrenaline is making him run.
I like that. Run.
“Run, little rabbit,” I murmur. “Run fast and far.”
My heart beats loudly, and while I know the circumstances are different, the excitement is different; I’m familiar with the adrenaline pumping through my body.
I’ve been on the hunt before. I know what it’s like to track someone down in these woods, though usually, the outcome is a knife through their neck and not a dick in their ass.
Still. The familiarity of hunting allows me some semblance of composure. I can keep my head. I can track Mark’s movements even as I jog after him.
It’s not long before I catch a glimpse ahead. He looks over his shoulder, though I’m sure he doesn’t see me. Glancing down at my clothes, I decide I blend in relatively well with the foliage. A happy accident.
Mark does not. He’s wearing a light blue knit sweater and white pants. Hopefully, he doesn’t mind if they get torn. Nowhere in this scenario am I giving him time to take his clothes off and fold them neatly. I’ll gladly replace them.
I track Mark’s movement from the side, but parallel. Following. Staying out of his line of sight as he continues to look over his shoulder. I should give him lessons in running away. He’s not only a bull in a china shop, but he’s also slowing himself down by continuously looking behind him.
I’m not in the least bit surprised when he doesn’t see me until I’m nearly on top of him. His eyes shoot wide behind his glasses when he realizes how close I am. This time when he runs, his focus stays ahead. It’s too late now. I’m on him.
My hand tangles in the back of his sweater, and we struggle to remain upright as we come to a stop. Mark tries to pull free. His body jerks away. He uses his body weight. But now my hands are on him. I have him by his arms as I shove him to the ground on his hands and knees.
“No,” he grits and attempts to get away.
His no gives me a momentary pause, but a voice in my head says that the only word that actually requires me to stop is red. Not no. Not let me go. Not stop. Red is the word I’m listening for. Nothing else out of his mouth matters right now.
As I follow him down, using my much bigger body to force him into the position I want him in, I’m wishing I put the condom on before. He struggles, fear and adrenaline making him strong and somewhat slippery.
I didn’t want to push him flat to the forest floor, but since I need to get the condom on, I do. Gripping both his hands, I send him face-first into the dirt. I should take his glasses off. No need to break them. But I don’t. This isn’t about consideration.
Once he’s somewhat flat, I put my knee in the middle of his back and give him some of my weight. He lets out an ‘oof’ as I force oxygen from his lungs. Not enough to hurt him. Not enough that he can’t breathe. But enough so that he doesn’t have enough air to truly fight.
I shove my pants down enough to pull my cock free and waste no time with the condom.
Lube is another contemplation as I think about this situation.
In the end, I decide that I’m using lube.
I coat my cock excessively and then replace my knee with my hand as I straddle his thighs and yank his pants and underwear down, revealing his ass.
Mark is whimpering now. Pushing against the ground. Alternating between trying to get up and pulling himself away by digging his nails into the dirt and pulling. It does nothing but leave claw marks behind. Something that sends an excited thrill through my body.
I’m about to ask him if he’s ready, but that’s going to break the spell, so I bite my tongue and adjust my position. I keep most of my weight on the hand that’s holding him down while using my other to bring my cock to his hole.
As soon as he feels me, his body jerks, and his fight increases.
It’s a struggle to get where I need to be.
It’s both frustrating and exhilarating. I have half a mind to restrain his hands behind his back like I usually do, but I like his fight.
I like that he struggles. I like that he has some semblance of hope of getting away.
Right up until I lay my body on top of his, so his movements are incredibly restricted. My much bigger body forces the air from his lungs again, and this is the moment I choose to shove my dick inside him.
Mark’s choked scream has his entire body thrashing so hard that he almost has me upended. Almost.
But not today. Today I’m taking his body whether he likes it or not.