Chapter Four #2
Blaine met Luther’s eyes over Marrick’s shoulder and nodded his understanding.
Luther wasn’t just speaking to Marrick. They both had to be cautious with him.
Arslan would skin them if they weren’t vigilant about that—and he might refuse to allow them to bring Marrick into the pride.
Worse even than that, if they made the same mistakes with their first pet as they’d made with their first sacrifice, Blaine knew that Arslan would be right to keep them both away from him.
“Are you okay?” Blaine asked.
Marrick looked at him as if he was crazy. He shook his head, as if dismissing all need for concern. “I’m fine.” He tried to step back, and, wary of holding onto him to tight if he tried to stop him, Blaine let him do that.
As he watched, Luther greeted their pet with a kiss of his own. His hands were unfailingly gentle on him, but Marrick didn’t seem reassured.
“You know, I’m not going to break if you want to invite me into the game.”
It took Blaine a few moments to realise what their pet meant. He frowned when the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place inside his head. “No. Lions can’t play rough with humans.”
Marrick turned away from Luther and looked across the room at him. “Oh?”
“You’re not strong enough.”
It was a simple statement of fact, but it made Marrick frown. “Who says I’m not?”
“Arslan says that humans are weaker than lions. We have to be careful with you and remember that it’s a master’s place to make sure his pet doesn’t get hurt,” Luther said.
Marrick didn’t look impressed with the explanation. “He’s wrong.”
Blaine met Luther’s eyes for a second. When he shook his head, he knew he spoke for both of them. Arslan wasn’t wrong, not about things like that. They’d learnt that much the hard way.
*
Marrick looked back and forth from one lion to the other. They were serious. It took him a few seconds to wrap his head around the idea.
“So, I’m the poor little sub, and you’re the big strong doms who are going to swoop in and rescue me and keep me safe from the whole world forever and ever?” he checked.
If they didn’t understand anything else about humans, they seemed to sense that his tone of voice meant something right then. Neither of them rushed to reply, but Marrick didn’t need them to—he saw the truth reflected very clearly in their eyes.
“You know, a few guys have told me things like that before—mostly my ex-boyfriends,” he said, his tone of voice not changing in the slightest. “It’s part of the reason they’re all exes now.”
Blaine snarled. Marrick wasn’t sure if that was because he’d mentioned having previous boyfriends, or if it was because he’d reminded them that they might become exes very quickly if they pushed him too hard on that particular subject. Either way, part of him loved the sound.
He wanted them angry with him—angry enough to forget that they had apparently been taught he was far too weak to play with them, angry enough to pin him down the way they did with each other—angry enough with him to make the adrenaline pound through his veins and make him feel alive in that special way that only a good dom and a rough scene really could.
Marrick looked around the room. Not there. The den’s meeting room was too full of Arslan’s dictates on how they were supposed to behave. Marrick needed them removed from that.
Turning away from them both, he picked up his bags from by the door.
Blaine’s hand wrapped around his forearm. “You’re not leaving.” His tone was far harsher than his grip.
“No,” Marrick said. “I’m not leaving. I’m going to bed.”
He could feel the lions’ hesitation as they tried to work out what was going on, but as he led the way up to the guest bedroom they’d been using, that wasn’t a problem. He didn’t need them to take the lead right then. There would be time enough for that when they were all on the same kinky page.
“The first night I came here, did you like having me tied up?”
Blaine nodded. Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around Marrick’s wrist. His touch was too gentle, but the sight of a strong hand encircling his skin still went straight to Marrick’s cock.
“It is part of the tradition,” Blaine said, his voice barely more than a whisper as he turned Marrick’s hand this way and that, studying his hold on him from every angle. Luther stepped up next to them—his eyes feasting on Blaine’s grip on him.
“There’s no law saying you can’t tie me up other times, is there?”
“If a lion has to tie his pet up to be able to lie with him, then his pet—”
Marrick reached out and put his fingertips over Luther’s lips, stopping him short.
“Not because I want to get away, not so that I can’t stop you if I want to, just because I like it.”
Luther frowned. He didn’t get it. Marrick dropped his hand away from Luther’s lips as he tried to think of another way to explain it. Turning away, he tried to put a little bit of space between them in the vague hope his brain cells would work better on the other side of the room.
Blaine kept hold of his wrist, stopping him before he took a full step. “Like it, how?”
Marrick met his gaze and held it. “I like being tied up. I like someone else having that much control over me—knowing that he can do whatever he wants with me.”
“Like feeling like you belong to him,” Blaine suggested. “Like you’re his pet.”
Marrick took a deep breath. “Maybe.” It was the best he could offer either of them.
It seemed to be enough. He saw the triumph in Blaine’s eyes and the happiness in Luther’s.
A second later, Luther’s expression faltered. “You took the cuffs with you when you left us.”
“It doesn’t have to be real cuffs,” Marrick rushed to reassure him. “You can use whatever you want.”
As easily as that, the light bounced back into the lion’s expression. Luther nodded to himself as he strode across the room and started rifling through a wardrobe.
He returned in less than a minute, victory in his eyes and several ties in his hands.
Marrick nodded his approval, happy to endorse anything that showed they were at least willing to try.
His clothes quickly disappeared. Within minutes, Marrick lay on the bed, face down, with his hands extended up toward the bed frame.
Luther quickly tied his right hand in place.
It should have been a tighter binding; he’d have liked it to have been a stronger knot, too.
Marrick kept those facts to himself. The simple fact they were willing to tie him up was glorious—they’d have years to work on the details.
The breath caught in his throat. They’d have days to work on the details. Maybe even weeks. Months at the outside. That’s what he’d meant. Days…
“You’ve healed.”
Marrick happily jumped on the distraction. “What?”
“The lines that man left on your back have healed.”
Marrick looked over his shoulder. That was hardly surprising. Huntley had barely had a chance to flick the whip against his skin before Luther had descended on him and chaos ensued.
“You can put some new marks there, if you like,” Marrick offered.
Without warning, he found himself unceremoniously flipped over onto his back. The fabric tightened around his wrist very nicely as he was tugged several inches down the bed in the process.
“You think either of us would ever do that to you?” Blaine demanded.
Marrick looked up at him. The lion looked so thoroughly disgusted by the idea, Marrick couldn’t bring himself to hold his gaze.
He had nothing to be ashamed of. He’d worked his way through all that bull a long time ago. He’d be damned if he’d apologise for his kinks—or blush over them.
But he still couldn’t find it in himself to lift his gaze.
In some way that he was only then starting to understand, this was important.
If some guy in a club looked down on masochists that was fine; Marrick had been there, done that.
He’d shrugged, walked away and hooked up with another dom right around the corner, too.
If Luther and Blaine hated that part of him…
Marrick swallowed. Unwilling to look down a moment longer, he turned his attention to his bound wrist. He kept his focus fixed on that point until Luther’s fingers settled on his cheek and turned him to face him. Their eyes met.
“We would never hurt you.”
Marrick took a deep breath and let it out. Feel the fear and do it anyway. He’d lived by the motto for years. It was the habit of doing that more than anything else that finally pushed the words out of his mouth. “Not even if I ask you to?”
Confusion flooded Luther’s eyes. He looked to Blaine for help. Marrick followed his gaze. Blaine was frowning at him, but the anger had gone.
“A pet shouldn’t ask his master to do something like that,” Blaine whispered. They were the gentlest words Marrick ever heard the lion utter, and Marrick would have given him anything if he’d just have taken them back.
“Then, maybe I’m not the pet you want.” Marrick looked pointedly at his wrist. “You can untie me now.” It wasn’t as if there was much use in keeping the restraint in place, if that was how they really felt.
Blaine reached out as if to untie him, but halfway through the movement, he seemed to change his mind. Ignoring the length of fabric still wrapped around Marrick’s right wrist, the lion placed his palm flat on the centre of Marrick’s chest.
As he stared down at Blaine’s hand, Marrick saw the lion’s nails morph into claws. Real claws—just like a domestic cat’s but lion-sized. They extended just enough far for the sharp tips to catch at Marrick’s skin.
Marrick held his breath. He was pretty sure both lions did the same, as everything seemed to hang in the balance around them. As he watched, Blaine slowly started to move, dragging his fingertips down Marrick’s chest, his claws leaving barely visible scratches in their wake.
Helpless to do anything else, Marrick arched against the mattress, pressing his skin up against each point of contact. His lungs burned as he continued to hold his breath, but pure relief swept through him like a torrent.