Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
Between a Rock and a Riot
Cass
The hallway stretched ahead of him, dim and narrow, and Cass’s bare feet slapped against the worn carpet as he ran.
He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have a plan beyond escape—from Riot, from his own mind, from the ache that lived inside his body.
The wounds on his thighs burned with every stride, bandages shifting against raw flesh, but the pain was distant.
Secondary. Everything was secondary to the need to move.
Behind him, he heard a sound that made every hair on his body stand up.
A low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the corridor like thunder, settling somewhere deep in Cass’s abdomen. He risked a glance over his shoulder.
Riot’s eyes were so bright. His expression had transformed into something primal—not angry, not even hungry exactly. Just... focused. Like Cass was the only thing in the world that existed. It was the most terrifying thing Cass had ever seen.
It was also, somehow, the most thrilling.
The stairwell door appeared ahead, and Cass slammed through it, taking the stairs two at a time despite his shaking legs.
The concrete was cold under his bare feet, sharp against skin that felt fever-hot.
He had no plan, no destination, just the overwhelming need to run and the contradictory, confusing hope that he wouldn’t run fast enough.
He made it down one flight before a strong arm wrapped around his waist from behind.
His feet left the ground. The world spun. And then his back was against the wall of the stairwell landing, Riot’s massive body pinning him in place so completely that Cass couldn’t have moved if he tried.
“I warned you,” Riot growled. His breath was hot against Cass’s neck, one hand splayed possessively across Cass’s stomach while the other gripped his hip hard enough to bruise. “Told you what would happen if you ran.”
Cass couldn’t find words. The rough concrete scraped against his bare back where his bandages had shifted, but the sting was nothing compared to the feeling of Riot’s body pressed against his—all that heat and muscle and hardness grinding against him.
He could feel the thick ridge of Riot’s arousal against his stomach, and his body clenched around nothing in response.
“Your scent changes when you run.” Riot’s nose traced a line up Cass’s neck, and Cass shivered, a whimper escaping before he could stop it. “Like you’re begging me to catch you.”
“I wasn’t—” Cass’s voice came out as a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Shh.” Riot’s hand slid from his stomach to his thigh, fingers trailing through the wetness that had run down past his underwear. “Your body doesn’t lie, princess. This tells me exactly what you really want, no matter what pretty lies Elysian taught you.”
Cass was crying again, but he wasn’t sure if it was from fear or overwhelm or the confusing pleasure that kept sparking through him every time Riot touched him.
“Your body knows exactly what it needs,” Riot said, his voice deeper than usual. “And I’ll give it to you princess, as many times as you need.”
Cass shook his head. “But I’m scared.”
Riot’s hand came up to cup Cass’s face, his thumb brushing over his lower lip. “That’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared.”
The permission made something loosen in Cass’s chest. He was scared—terrified, even—but Riot wasn’t angry about it. He wasn’t telling him his fear was a spiritual deficiency that needed to be released.
“You’re going to do so good for me,” Riot murmured, nuzzling into Cass’s neck and inhaling before he sucked at the skin. “Right, princess?”
Cass whined and nodded, unable to form words as Riot’s teeth gently nibbled at his Adam’s apple.
“There you go,” Riot said, thumbing away the tears. “Let yourself feel it.”
Then he kissed Cass again, and the fear vanished. Riot’s hand fisted in Cass’s hair, yanking his head back against the wall, and the sharp sting of it made Cass gasp. Riot swallowed the sound, his tongue pushing deeper, exploring his mouth with the same intensity he’d used to chase him.
“Good boy,” Riot groaned into his mouth. “Stop fighting it.”
Riot’s thigh pressed between Cass’s legs, and the pressure against his hardness made his knees buckle. He would have fallen if Riot hadn’t been holding him up, and then Cass was grinding down before he could stop himself, chasing the friction as he panted with every roll of his hips.
“Yeah, just like that.” Riot’s hands gripped his hips, guiding the motion. “Take what you need.”
Cass stopped caring about how wet he was and just moved, rubbing against Riot’s thigh with increasing desperation. He felt completely shameless.
“Beautiful,” Riot breathed, watching his face. “Look at you.”
Then Riot’s hand slid around to his backside, under his soaked underwear, and Cass froze.
Riot’s fingers were there. Touching Cass where he was wettest and achiest as more fluid—the slick— gushed out.
“What—” His voice came out strangled. “What are you doing?”
“Touching you,” Riot panted, pressing his forehead against the wall beside Cass’s face. “Where you need it.”
“But that’s—I don’t—”
A finger pressed against the opening, not pushing inside, just there, and Cass’s whole body lit up. He made a sound that was almost a scream, back arching off the wall, his hands scrabbling at Riot’s shoulders for purchase.
“Shh, shh.” Riot’s other hand stroked through his hair, gentle contrast to the devastating pressure below. “You’re okay yeah? It feels good, doesn’t it?”
It did feel good. It felt incredible, jolting through every nerve like an answer to that deep emptiness that was hurting so bad.
“Your body knows.” Riot’s finger traced another slow circle, and more slick spilled out, coating his hand. “Just trust it.”
“But there’s so much—” Cass looked down, mortified, at the mess between his legs. His underwear was completely transparent now, soaked through, and slick was running down to his knees in rivulets. “I can’t make it stop—”
“I don’t want it to stop,” Riot whispered. “I want you dripping for me so I can lick your thighs clean and taste all of you. I want to drink you down, princess, and taste that pretty little cock that is so hard for me. Do you want that? My mouth on you?”
“I don’t know,” Cass whimpered. He felt like he was losing his mind between the ache and the edge and the need to keep moving. “Please, Riot, please…”
“Please what, princess?” Riot’s finger pressed a little harder, teasing, testing. “Tell me what you want.”
Riot kissed his forehead and his finger pressed inward harder, and this time it slipped inside—just the tip, just barely—and Cass forgot how to exist. Everything narrowed to that single point of contact.
The stretch, the fullness, the pleasure radiating outward from where Riot was breaching him.
His body clenched around the intrusion, desperate for more even as his mind reeled, and he was making sounds against Riot’s shoulder that felt completely beyond his control.
“Fuck.” Riot groaned, nipping at the shell of his ear. “You’re so fucking tight, princess.”
Cass’s hips moved on their own, trying to take more, and Riot sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Greedy little thing.” But he sounded pleased. Delighted, even. “Want more?”
“I don’t—” Cass’s voice cracked. “I don’t know—yes—I think—”
Riot’s finger pushed deeper, and Cass stopped being able to form words at all. His body wept around the intrusion, slick sounds filling the stairwell with evidence of what was happening, and some distant part of his brain was mortified, but most of him didn’t care. Most of him just wanted more.
“Look at you,” Riot murmured, pulling back to watch Cass’s face with those glowing gold eyes. “Are you going to cum from just one finger, princess? Or do you want more? You’re so wet for me, we could probably skip straight to the real thing.”
Cass’s body clenched hard and he cried out, the idea of feeling fuller very appealing. He didn’t fully understand what Riot meant—his education had been vague about such things—but he liked the idea of it.
“Please,” he gasped, his hips moving on Riot’s hand without his permission. “Riot, please—”
That climbing sensation was building again. The same one from the hotel room, the one that had terrified him into running. It was coiling in his spine, winding tighter with every movement of Riot’s finger, and this time he wasn’t sure he could stop it even if he wanted to—
The stairwell door above them banged open.
Riot didn’t even flinch, still focused on Cass, his finger still moving in slow circles that made Cass’s mind dissolve. His mouth found Cass’s neck, teeth scraping over the sensitive gland, and Cass’s vision went white at the edges—
”?Oye, cabrón! Get your hands off him!”
Something hard and metallic hit the wall beside them with a loud clang. Riot’s head snapped up, a snarl ripping from his throat as he positioned himself between Cass and the threat, his finger slipping out in the process.
Cass gasped at the sudden emptiness, clenching desperately around nothing. The loss was almost painful, that climbing sensation crashing back down without resolution, leaving him shaking and desperate and so confused he could barely stand.
At the top of the stairs stood a woman Cass had never seen before. Tall—easily six feet—with short, dark hair and a muscular build. Scars ran along her jaw and down her neck and her dark eyes blazed with fury as she raised another object—a heavy metal thermos—ready to throw.
“Back the fuck away from him, pendejo, or the next one hits your face,“ she warned in accented English, her stance suggesting she wasn’t bluffing.
Riot growled, the sound vibrating through the air. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m making it my business.” The stranger descended a few steps, thermos still raised. Her eyes found Cass behind Riot’s massive frame. “Hey, golden boy. You okay? Blink twice if you need help.”