Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
DOMINO
S unlight bled through the gap in the curtains, an unwelcome intruder in the sacred dark. The city below pulsed with meaningless life, but none of it mattered. Nothing existed beyond this room, beyond the steady rise and fall of Remi’s chest beside me. He was warm, soft, his breath a slow metronome against my skin.
Mine .
His arm lay draped over my stomach, unconscious instinct pulling him close. Even in sleep, he reached for me. Because he knew. His body knew. It had surrendered long before his mind had caught up.
But even now, even here, something inside him still fought. A twitch of his fingers, a crease between his brows. A caged thing testing the bars. Foolish.
I brushed ink and snow strands from his forehead, my touch featherlight. He shivered. So fragile. So easy to break.
He thought he had a choice. He thought he could walk away, slip back into that hollow, fabricated world of lectures and expectations. That life was a mirage, an illusion I allowed him to believe in. But I knew better.
I knew him better than he knew himself.
He was never meant for normalcy.
I had memorized his movements, his schedule, the rhythm of his days. I knew the time he left, the time he returned. If he was out of my sight, it was only because I allowed it. Cameras. Shadows. A whisper in the wind. I was always there. I was everywhere.
But it didn’t matter. The outside world was inconsequential. He belonged here.
With me.
He didn’t need a degree. He didn’t need a future outside of the one I had designed for him. I would give him everything—every pleasure, every nightmare, every whispered desire he was too afraid to name. I’d bring them to his fingertips. Watch him bathe in blood, creating art from death. I would feed every part of his psyche, set it free, raw and untamed.
All he had to do was stay.
A memory burned hot beneath my skin, igniting the hunger that never truly slept. My fingers tightened against his supple skin. Remi had grown into his darkness and unleashed it with confidence. Let it devour him like I always knew he would. The art he created was more twisted now, more exquisite.
Juno had been his finest masterpiece.
The glint in his eye as he flayed him apart, peeling back his skin like he was unwrapping a gift. How he’d pinned it back so it looked like wings as Juno screamed, suspended above the ground.
Those beautiful hands, slick with crimson, trembling with hunger as he cracked open Juno’s ribcage to display the still-beating heart within, blood pouring down Juno’s olive skin like an offering for the devil.
The way he had turned to me, blood-slick and radiant, eyes blown wide with hunger.
“Like what you see?” he had murmured, coy and teasing.
I had watched him inhale death like it was all he needed—like it was air—drag his tongue over blood-stained lips as he raised Juno’s body. His camera captured every flicker of agony, every shattered breath. And when he set the camera down, my control snapped.
Not that I ever had any around him.
The need to fuck, claim and mark him his was incessant.
My feet devoured the distance between us in a few strides. I had seized him, my mouth claiming his in a brutal, possessive kiss. My teeth had torn into his lip, the taste of him exploding across my tongue. I had wrenched his head back, gripped his jaw between my fingers, and pried his mouth open to see the crimson pool on his tongue.
“Don’t swallow.” My voice had been a growl, a command, a promise.
He had obeyed. He always did.
I had forced him to his knees, the cold edge of my blade whispering against his throat. His hands had trembled as he fumbled with my belt, desperate, wrecked, his ruined lips red and glistening, parted to take me in. Ice-blue eyes never left mine.
We were lost to our desire.
When he wrapped those filthy, stained lips around my cock, I had lost myself.
Lost control.
And claimed him.
My thick cock had tunneled into his throat like a battering ram. Again. And again. And again. My free hand sank back into his hair and held his head so his nose was buried in the thick thatch of hair at the base of my shaft. I hadn’t allowed him to breathe as he’d gagged and gurgled around me. Tears had streamed down his blood stained face.
I had never seen anything more beautiful.
He was my greatest creation.
Art in motion.
All fucking mine.
Now, he was a part of me. Two halves of a whole, madness entwined. We sank into our depravity together.
My fingers trailed down the curve of his spine, counting each delicate vertebra as I shook the memory from my mind, not willing to miss a moment of the present. He wore my bruises, my marks, his body a canvas of possession.
They were tender beneath my touch. It would take nothing at all to push down and watch them grow and spread, like this thing crawling through my cells, growing inside me.
A slow smile curled my lips as he shifted, turning toward me, seeking me even in his sleep.
Always seeking.
I lowered my mouth to his throat, inhaling deeply, letting his scent flood my lungs. My teeth grazed his pulse, the delicate rhythm a steady, tantalizing beat against my lips. My tongue lapped the dry, salty sweat from his skin.
He was inside me, crawling through my veins, consuming me whole.
And I would drown in him, again and again.
His alarm would go off soon, shattering any semblance of peace I had found. My jaw clenched, my molars grinding together. I didn’t want him to leave.
The world didn’t deserve him. Didn’t understand him. Didn’t know how to tame him, how to hold him together before he shattered and unleashed everything he kept hidden in the light of day.
But I did.
Only I did.
I could stop him from leaving. Break his phone. Lock the doors. Deactivate his building pass. Put him on his knees and remind him why he never wanted to leave in the first place.
But that wasn’t how this worked.
He had to choose me. Had to sink deeper into my world, into me, until he forgot there had ever been an outside.
Until he couldn’t breathe without me.
My fingers toyed with the silk sheet that covered the curve of his ass, teasing the fine hairs that led down to his cleft. Goosebumps rippled over his back with every pass of my fingertips. His body, even in sleep, recognized me. Knew me. Craved me.
His breathing shifted. Muscles tensed. He was waking.
My mouth watered, desperate to taste him on my tongue. It had been too long.
His lashes fluttered. Hazy ice-blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, blinked sleepily up at me. His breath hitched, caught in the back of his throat—recognition. The moment he realized how close we were. How my body was already pressing into him. Trapping him. How, even half-conscious, he clung to me with the same fervent intensity.
His tongue darted out, slicking over his swollen lips. The ice-blue of his irises disappeared beneath the bleeding black of his pupils.
“Domino,” he rasped. His voice, rough from sleep, curled around my aching cock.
“Morning, piccolo agnello ,” I murmured.
I dragged my lips over his collarbone, tasting, biting, and pressed him onto his back. He stretched beneath me, shifting—but I didn’t move. I never moved. Didn’t give him an inch of space. There was nowhere else he needed to be than right here, under me.
His body slid against mine, warm and perfect, his hardness brushing against me as he undulated beneath me.
“Class,” he breathed, his voice thick, dazed. “I have to?—”
“You have to nothing .”
I sank my teeth into his skin, hard enough to make him gasp. My hand slid lower, pressing against the deep bruises on his hips. His breath stuttered. A deep groan rumbled in his chest, his hips rolling, seeking friction, alleviating any space between us.
“You belong here.”
His hands twitched like he wanted to push me away—or pull me closer—but he couldn’t decide. He was balanced on a precipice, torn between what his mind told him was right and what his body begged for. A taut string ready to snap.
Because he liked the cage I formed around him.
Because he craved it.
Even if he sometimes refused to admit it.
He needed me like I needed him. Like sin needed the devil. Without one, the other wouldn’t survive. Still, he fought me. Not with his body—I had claimed that a long time ago—but with words. With brittle little insistences that he could leave. That he had a life outside of me.
It was frustrating.
He drove me to the edge of insanity.
My fingers wrapped around his wrist, dragging it to my lips and pressing a slow, biting kiss to the delicate skin. His pulse stuttered beneath my mouth before I pinned him down, his wrists trapped above his head.
Then I moved over him, pressing my weight onto him, letting him feel it. Feel me. Letting him know he wasn’t going anywhere.
“What time does your class start?”
He hesitated. “Ten.”
“Plenty of time.” My lips curved against his skin.
“Domino—”
I silenced him with my knee, sliding it between his thighs, pressing down against his hard length. He sucked in a breath. A beautiful, broken sound.
His cock throbbed against my leg, heat pulsing through the silky soft skin. His fingers curled into the sheets, his body betraying him even as his mind tried to deny me.
My lips twitched. Pathetic. Gorgeous. Mine.
My eyes devoured him—the way pale skin stretched over muscle, the faint tremor in his limbs. My bruises bloomed in purples, blacks, and yellows, claiming marks. Every inch of him invited destruction, and I had never been one to resist temptation.
I was a lit match over gasoline, and Remi was already burning. The world could go up in flames around us, and we wouldn’t notice.
“Stay,” I whispered, running my lips over the sharp jut of his collarbone, dragging my tongue down the center of his chest, circling the tight bud of his nipple. Tasting him. Claiming him.
“I—”
I didn’t let him finish. With one swift movement, I flipped him onto his stomach like he weighed nothing. He gasped as I yanked him onto his knees, his spine curving in a perfect, submissive arch.
“Why do you always try to make this so difficult?” I murmured, fingers sliding over the ridges of his ribs.
I reached for the nightstand. His body tensed. He already knew. Anticipation buzzed across his skin like static zapping into me. The knife was cool in my hand as I pressed the flat of the blade against his spine, trailing it downward.
The smallest tremor. A sharp, shuddering inhale. I could hear his heart pounding, the rhythm erratic and wild—the sound of prey before the kill.
“You like this, don’t you?” I whispered.
Remi swallowed. “You know I do.”
I hummed, turning the blade, dragging the sharp edge along his ribs, just enough pressure to make him gasp. Not enough to cut too deep. Just enough to pull the blood to the surface, to tease.
But I wanted more. I wanted to break his skin. To paint his body with red, to taste him, to feed his essence back to him and watch his wrecked, broken expression when I did.
“You can’t leave if I don’t let you.”
His breath hitched. “Ah.”
I slid the knife lower, teasing the sharp tip over his stomach, pressing just beneath his navel. He shuddered in the cage of my body. The arch of his back deepening—a desperate, instinctive plea—his ass pushing back against my cock, slotting it between the firm cheeks. A strangled, pained whimper spilled from his lips.
He needed this. Needed me.
Needed me to push him to the edge of fear—of pain—of pleasure so unbearable it blurred the lines between them.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“Domino—”
I pressed harder. A shiver, a crack, the whisper of air escaping as the blade kissed his skin. A single drop of crimson welled up, sliding down his stomach, pooling at my fingers. His breath hitched. I spread my knees, grounding myself, and reached around him, closing my hand over his cock.
He was leaking. Hard and flushed, betraying himself completely.
I swiped my thumb over the swollen tip, gathered the bead of precum, and brought it to my lips. The taste of him—salty, musky, electric—exploded on my tongue. A groan rumbled through my chest, dark and primal.
Remi exhaled shakily. “I’m yours,” he whispered.
A feral smile curled my lips. “Good boy.”
My control over him was absolute. He’d see.
I claimed him with biting kisses, marking him with a fresh wave of bruises, the imprint of my teeth sinking into his pale skin. My tongue traced a scorching path down his spine as my blade carved delicate lines into the soft flesh of his thighs—an unspoken vow, a promise written in red.
A love song of control and submission.
His body trembled beneath me, instinct warring with surrender. I pressed my palm to the base of his neck, forcing his face into the black silk sheets. His fingers clutched them like a lifeline, as if they were the only thing tethering him to this world.
The switchblade disappeared between the sheets as I shifted, my hands sinking into the full curves of his ass, spreading him open with a slow, deliberate grip. My breath ghosted over his skin, making him shiver, and I dragged my teeth along the sensitive flesh before biting down—hard enough to leave my mark, hard enough to sting.
“D-Domino,” he whimpered, voice thin with desperation.
I inhaled deeply, letting his scent drown me, corrupt me. Heat licked at my spine as I spread him wider, exposing every inch of him to my hunger. He trembled beneath my touch, his body a soft offering. So delicate. Breakable.
Adjusting my stance, I ran my thumbs along the crease of his ass and pulled his cheeks apart, enough to bury my face between them. My hot breath ghosted over the puckered skin of his entrance before I dropped my head, dragging the flat of my tongue from the base of his balls, along his taint, all the way up to his hole.
A long, low moan slipped through his trapped lips as he bit down on them, helpless against the pleasure flooding his senses.
My blood burned, a wildfire in my veins, as his taste exploded across my tongue. Each flick, each stroke sent zaps of pleasure straight to my aching cock, pulsing with its own violent heartbeat, hard enough to break through concrete.
“F-fuck… yess.”
Flattening my tongue, I circled his tight ring of muscle, feeling it flutter beneath my touch. I licked and sucked at his entrance, as if I were fucking his mouth with my tongue. My lips wrapped around him, drawing out desperate little gasps as I built the pressure, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Until he was a whimpering mess, reaching for his heavy neglected cock, heavy and dripping between his trembling legs.
“Don’t touch,” I growled. “That’s mine.”
“S-sorry,” he sobbed.
Without missing a beat, I plunged back in, devouring him like his body was my last meal. His hole softened, surrendering as I stiffened my tongue and pressed inside. My grip tightened on the fleshy globes of his ass, bruising, breaking him apart for me. His taste was intoxicating. Drugging.
“I-I’m… I’m… go-gonna…”
As soon as the words left his mouth, I pulled back, blowing gently over his twitching hole, watching it clench desperately around nothing. A cruel smirk tugged at my lips. Shifting tactics, I wrapped my hand around his cock and dragged it back between his spread thighs, stroking him in slow, torturous pulls. A sinful moan spilled from his lips as a bead of precum rolled down his length.
“Are you wet for me, piccolo agnello? ” My voice vibrated against his skin, sending shivers rippling across his abused flesh.
His only answer was a helpless whimper, his thighs shaking, his body betraying him once more.
“Who told you that you could move?” I growled. “I’m the one who gets to decide how you receive your pleasure, Remi. You’d do well to remember that I can stop this at any time. Leave you hanging off the edge of that cliff with no relief.”
His movements stopped instantly, a low hollow chuckle circled my throat. I took his glands into my mouth, sucked hard and teased his slit with my tongue. A burst of precum filled my mouth, making me moan.
A high, broken keening sound split the air as I brought him to the brink again. And again.
I was unraveling him, thread by thread, carving my name into his soul. Every gasp, every broken plea belonged to me. His body was mine to ruin, mine to worship, and mine to control.
Tears streaked his flushed cheeks, his breath coming in frantic, shallow pants. His body glistened with sweat, the bruises I’d left painted across his skin like the most exquisite art. Time had ceased to exist. There was only this—only him. Bound by my hands, by my desire.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” he chanted, voice slurred, hypnotized, shattered.
His limbs trembled violently, and he was barely able to hold himself up. Between deep, slow drags of his cock and fucking his hole with the length of my tongue, I unraveled him thread by thread, carving my name into his soul.
The sheets beneath him were soaked with his tears. The puddle of precum below him was obscene.
I gave his stretched hole one last deep lick before reaching for my switchblade. Flipping it open, I met his gaze—those ice-blue eyes hazy, lost, drowning in my control.
A wicked smirk curved my lips as I traced the blade down the arch of his spine, pressing just hard enough to break skin. Beads of red welled up, rolling down to where he was stretched and quivering for me.
I licked the blood from his skin, savoring the metallic tang, the intoxicating mixture of pain and surrender. My fingers tangled in his damp hair, yanking his head back as I crushed my mouth against his in a brutal, claiming kiss.
Mine.
Always .
I fed him his essence, his whimper lost between my teeth. It was messy. Raw. Obsession incarnate.
He was mine. And I made sure he knew it.
When I pulled back, he gasped, lips swollen, eyes glazed with need. He reached for me, desperate.
“Nu-uh.” I gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You take what I give you.”
Dragging my fingers through the blood streaking his back, I painted my palm in crimson before wrapping it around my cock, slicking my length with it. My breathing turned ragged at the sight—his blood marking me. Claiming me as much as I claimed him.
It made me fucking feral.
Notching the head against his stretched hole, I let out a satisfied growl. “You exist to take me, Remi.” I pressed in just enough to make him shudder. “To be filled by me. To wear me inside and out.”
A moan tore from his throat, his hips rolling, his body seeking more. My hand cracked down on his ass, sharp and punishing. He jerked forward with a high-pitched cry.
“Stay. Still.” My voice was steel. “You don’t move unless I say. You don’t breathe unless I allow it.”
My hips snapped forward, impaling him in one brutal thrust. Remi’s back arched, his body seizing, his nails clawing at the sheets as he wailed.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, my lips grazing his ear. “I’m going to use you like my own personal cocksleeve.” I licked a slow path down his throat, feeling his pulse hammer beneath my tongue. “And if you can’t behave, I’ll tie you down. Bind your wrists. Your ankles. Spread you wide.”
I tightened my grip on his hair, tilting his head back further, and his body bent to my will.
“You’ll be at my mercy.”
Remi shuddered violently, whimpering, his body limp against mine, pliant, willing.
“You like that, don’t you?” Remi nodded. I dragged my teeth along his jaw before shoving two fingers into his mouth. “Suck.”
He obeyed without hesitation, tongue swirling, moaning around them like he was starving for it.
“To be tied down and used over and over again. Fucked until you blacked out.”
He moaned around my fingers, saliva spilling down his chin.
I pulled my fingers free, gripping his jaw once more. “Would you like to wake up, piccolo agnello , and feel my cum dripping out of you?”
“Oh God. Oh God,” he chanted.
A dark chuckle rumbled through me as I grabbed my switchblade and pressed it to his throat.
His breath hitched. Every swallow, every hammering heartbeat trembled against the cold steel.
Tears welled in his eyes as I drove up into him, grinding so deep he keened. His body sucked me in greedily, gripping me like it never wanted to let me go.
“Would you even remember?” I pressed the blade just enough to slice the thinnest line, a bead of crimson rolling down his neck. “Would you wake up ruined, wrecked, dripping, and wonder how many times I took you?”
He trembled, his fingers clutching at my wrist as if to anchor himself.
“You would, wouldn’t you?”
Every muscle in my body was coiled tight. A raw, aching need surged through my veins like lightning. My balls were heavy, tight against the base of my cock, my orgasm balanced on a razor’s edge.
A sob wrenched from him, his body writhing in my grip, caught between pleasure and surrender.
I smirked.
“Pathetic.”
I pulled him up until he straddled my lap, my arms banding around him, keeping him exactly where I wanted him. My cock drove up into him relentlessly, mercilessly.
“I own you,” I snarled. “Every inch. Every breath. Every thought.”
He whimpered, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks.
“You don’t get to come until I decide. You don’t get to break unless I say.”
His head lolled back against my shoulder, his body limp, utterly consumed.
“P-please,” he gasped.
I ignored him, shifting him higher onto his knees, my grip iron-clad as I fucked up into him, my cock dragging over his prostate with every brutal thrust. His body shook, thighs twitching, his cock dripping onto the sheets.
The sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin was a salacious echo bouncing off the walls.
“I-I can’t?—”
“You will.” I slammed into him, punishing, relentless. My teeth sank into his skin between neck and shoulder to keep him teetering on the edge of fear.
Right where he thrived.
He moaned, head thrashing, body trembling. His breath hitched every time the blade kissed his flesh, slicing another claiming mark—another reminder of my ownership—into his skin.
“Come,” I ordered.
With a broken cry he shattered, untouched, as thick ropes of cum spilled onto the sheets.
I didn’t stop.
I wrung every last tremor from his body, dragging him deeper, further, until he was nothing but a ruined mess in my hands. By the time I was done, he sagged against me, his body wracked with aftershocks, sweat-drenched, marked in crimson.
He was wrecked. Spent. Mine.
My orgasm tore through me like wildfire, consuming, obliterating, dragging me under until I was nothing but instinct and need. I emptied myself inside him, holding him still, making sure he took every drop.
When I finally came back to myself, we were a tangled mess of limbs, sweat, cum, and blood.
Remi looked ruined—perfectly, exquisitely claimed.
No one would question who he belonged to. I pulled him into my lap, nosing along his throat, tasting sweat and blood and something uniquely him. His pulse pounded wildly beneath my lips.
I hummed, satisfied. “Now you can go,” I murmured. “You smell like me. You wear my marks so well, baby.”
Remi didn’t move. Not at first. His breathing was ragged, uneven. But then, slowly, he peeled himself away from me.
I let him.
I watched as he stood on shaking legs, reaching for his jeans. He didn’t even try to wipe me off. A slow smile tugged at my lips.
He wanted everyone to see what I’d done to him.
He wanted to carry me with him—inside, outside.
I owned it all.
He was mine.
“You’re a psycho,” he bit out through blood-red, kiss-swollen lips.
I laughed, low and cold. “No, piccolo agnello . I’m just thorough.”
Remi scoffed and disappeared into the bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the silence as I slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Leaning against the bathroom door frame, I watched him furiously scrub his face and teeth.
His eyes met mine in the mirror and never left. Shadows swirled in their icy depths.
A challenge. A useless threat.
Because I knew the truth. Remi couldn’t breathe without me. It was fine—for now—he could go. But he’d be back.
He always would be.
He grabbed his phone, gaze locked on the screen. He hesitated. Something dark flickered in his gaze as he tapped his phone against his lips and shook his head.
He knew.
Not the specifics. But he knew I was watching. That I always was.
The cameras in our apartment saw everything. Every flicker of emotion across his face. Every restless shift of his body when he thought he was alone.
The tracker in his phone ensured I never lost him. The extra surveillance Ghost installed let me hear every conversation and access his camera at will.
Just in case.
In case fuckwits like Kyran Stirling came sniffing around again. That bastard was still breathing. Lucky him. But next time—and there would be a next time—he wouldn’t be so fortunate. His breaths were already numbered.
Remi stormed across the room, snatched one of the hoodies off the chair, and yanked it over his head. My hoodie. Mine . He could have picked any of his own, but he didn’t.
He never did.
Bag slung over his shoulder, sketchbook tucked under his arm, he headed for the elevator.
My head tilted as his steps slowed. “Come back to me soon.”
He hesitated.
His thumb hovered over the call button, his back tense. Then, finally, he glanced at me. Eyes Dark. Unreadable.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open, swallowing him whole. The last thing I saw before they snapped shut was his gaze, locked on mine.
A challenge. A plea. A silent fucking war.
I reached for my phone. For my app. The live feed flickered to life. I watched him step onto the street. Watched the way he inhaled deeply, like he was freeing himself. Like I wasn’t still wrapped around his ribs, pressing against his lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe without me.
I let him have the illusion.
For now.