Chapter Two #3
Smiling wryly to himself, Marrick had to wonder if he was really focusing on the most pertinent details of the situation. But a glance over Luther and Blaine, and his cock hardened even further regardless.
“The other human was hurting him,” Luther said, with obviously forced calm
“You’ve both been stalking him ever since he was thrown to us,” Arslan shot back.
“He’s our human. We couldn’t just stand there and watch another man hurt our…” Blaine seemed to stumble over the right word for the occasion. “Our pet.”
“The word you’re probably looking for is sub—its short for submissive,” Marrick suggested—quite calmly, in his opinion, all things considered.
All attention swung back to him. “Humans are pets,” Blaine informed him, the way an adult might speak to a child who was a bit slow on the uptake.
“Yeah, well, I’m not that sort of sub,” Marrick tossed back at him, in a pretty good imitation of Blaine’s tone if he did say so himself.
Blaine looked away from him, towards the fourth man in their group, the only one who had yet to say anything, as if he expected him to be able to somehow fix the situation. “Ryland?”
The young blond man offered Marrick a slightly embarrassed half-smile. He was smaller than the others. From what Marrick could see of his shape through his clothes, he was well built enough, but he didn’t have the same physique as the rest of the lions.
Marrick looked from Ryland to Arslan and back again.
They stood quite close together, and Ryland’s posture screamed his submission just as loudly as Arslan’s screamed his dominance.
The dots joined up inside Marrick’s head.
He wasn’t actually the only human in a room full of lions, or the only sub in a room full of doms.
“No offense intended,” he offered.
Ryland dismissed any need for an apology with a shake of the head. And, by the time Marrick glanced back to the lions, the three of them were all arguing again, if a little more calmly and quietly this time around.
When Ryland stepped forward and crossed the room toward him, Luther and Blaine didn’t notice.
They were far too absorbed in their defence of their actions to their…
their leader? Marrick was pretty sure Arslan noticed through.
Marrick couldn’t help but get the impression that there was nothing Ryland could do that Arslan would make the time to be intensely unaware of.
“You and him?” Marrick asked, nodding to Arslan as Ryland took a seat next to him on the small sofa, more for something to say than because he had any real doubts on the matter.
“Yes.”
Marrick looked at Arslan, then back to Ryland. He could see that working.
“Your back, do you need anything?” Ryland asked. Marrick hadn’t bothered to put his shirt back on, just his jeans and his boots, and Ryland was looking at Marrick’s back as if he’d never seen a whipped bit of skin before.
That half-smile twisted Ryland’s lips again as their eyes met. “I’m not that sort of sub.”
Marrick grinned. “I’ve got some…” His jacket lay on the sofa next to him, along with his shirt. He patted the pockets until he found the tube of cream he was looking for. “Not that the guy I was playing with really had a chance to do much before those two turned up and all hell broke loose.”
Ryland took the cream anyway. Spreading some on his fingers, he carefully began to tend to the pale lines the whip had left on Marrick’s back.
“Did it help?” Ryland asked after a little while.
Marrick looked over his shoulder. “The cream? Yeah, thanks, it—”
Ryland shook his head. “I mean, did the whipping help take your mind off wanting to go back to them?”
Marrick met Ryland’s eyes. He knew. Somehow, without Marrick saying a word, it seemed like Ryland knew all about the uneasy feeling that had grown in his stomach ever since that night—to know that Marrick had been kidding himself when he’d tried to pretend that feeling was nothing more than the desire to find an even bigger thrill to chase in the future.
“Nothing I tried took my mind off Arslan until I went back to him. I’ve never been whipped, but I don’t think it would have helped me much, either.”
Marrick bowed his head and rested his temple on his forearms. Ryland didn’t say anything else as he conscientiously finished smoothing the cream into the light whip marks.
“Sometimes, it works,” Marrick finally said.
“The pain pushes everything else out of your mind.” He frowned slightly.
Sometimes, it put him so in the moment, the rest of the world stopped existing.
All that mattered was the adrenaline and endorphins, and little niggly things weren’t important.
“Sometimes, it makes you feel so alive that…”
But that hadn’t happened this time. Huntley might not have had much time to really get going, but it had been long enough for Marrick to know he was never going to do more than go through the motions that night. His heart hadn’t been in it.
Maybe if he’d been able to relax, it would have felt different. Maybe if it hadn’t felt like he’d been cheating on men he’d never even set eyes on—
“What’re you doing?”
Marrick looked up. Luther was standing directly in front of them, glaring down at Ryland.
“It’ll help the marks on his back,” Ryland said, far more calm in the face of the lion’s apparent anger than Marrick expected him to be.
Luther turned back to face Arslan. “He’s ours.”
“Both of yours?” Arslan asked, looking from Luther to Blaine and back again.
“Yes,” Blaine said, without even hesitating.
Marrick raised an eyebrow. It was always nice to know what was going on. It would have been even nicer if anyone thought he should be consulted before all the decisions were made.
He looked back and forth between Luther and Blaine.
He wouldn’t have been able to choose between them.
Hell, he wasn’t actually entirely sure he’d get it right if he tried to tell them apart when they were both wearing whole outfits full of intact clothing.
Still, it would have been nice to have the chance to say he was all in favour of a ménage.
“He can’t belong to both of you.” Arslan sounded very certain about that.
Blaine folded his arms across his chest. Marrick found himself waiting for the guy to actually stamp his foot, too.
“Why not?” Luther asked, before Blaine had the chance to say anything.
Arslan took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if he was working very hard to keep his patience.
“It’s not fair on a man to expect him to serve two masters.
Sharing a sacrifice is one thing—a pet is something different.
You have to think! Which of you is going to be responsible for him?
Which will be answerable if anything should happen to him? ”
“Would it help if I promise to look both ways before I cross the road and not take sweets off strangers?” Marrick asked.
For the first time, Arslan’s full attention turned toward him. He seemed no more impressed with him than he was with the younger lions. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. It was just a scene. I was actually having a good time before—”
Grumbling sounds came from both Luther’s and Blaine’s directions.
Arslan ignored them. “Do you have any objection to returning to the den tonight?”
Marrick glanced at Ryland. Going back to Arslan had helped him—it had been the only thing that had helped him by the sound of it. He saw a touch of sympathy Ryland’s eyes as he watched him come to a decision.
“Luther and Blaine will also be our guests, but you’ll be free to leave whenever you want,” Arslan promised. The glare he gave Luther and Blaine as he said it made it quite clear he would have the final say on the matter and not them.
Marrick nodded, slowly, as if there had ever been a possibility he’d come to a different decision when faced with the prospect of spending another night with the lions who’d been filling his brain and stealing his ability to sleep for more than a fortnight.
“Okay. Just for tonight.”