Chapter Eight #3
Mark him for real. Not just scratches that would heal in a few days, marks that might last for weeks, maybe even longer.
Perhaps even the kind of scratches that would turn into scars that would always linger under his skin.
For the first time in his life, Marrick realised that the idea of something that might last forever didn’t scare him—at least not in a bad way.
Fingers trailed over Marrick’s back first, marking out the lines they wanted to create.
He took a long, slow breath and did his best to relax.
He wasn’t sure how deep the scratches would be, how much that kind of mark would hurt, if it would be fast like a whip, or a long drawn out movement that he’d have to grit his teeth and breathe through.
When they came, the claws that traced along his skin were far lighter than he expected, more like place holders for the real thing than the actual marks they were about to put on him.
A glance over his shoulder and he saw the war playing out in the lions’ eyes. They both wanted it just as much as him, but he could see that he wasn’t the only one who was afraid.
“It doesn’t have to be tonight,” Marrick said gently, not sure how to tell them how much he loved them for even thinking about it, for wanting to do it for him.
“As your promises are kept, we’ll make them again, a little deeper. And again, when those marks have healed, they’ll be made again,” Luther suggested.
Marrick nodded against the pillow. “I like that—the idea we’ll earn the marks together.”
Blaine purred gently against Marrick’s back as he rubbed his temple against his shoulder blade.
When his claws returned to his skin, the scratches they layered over the initial markers were deeper, enough to break the skin.
Enough to draw blood. Marrick gasped. His whole body tensed as the claws slowly made their way down his back.
“Too much?” Blaine asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Marrick shook his head against the pillow. “Amazing.”
A second later, another curve drew its way down the other side of his back, just as deep, just as perfect. Marrick doubted they would leave the kind of permanent marks he’d love, but they were a damn good start.
As the lions dipped their head and lapped at the wounds, Marrick lay still and silent, letting their lips and tongues play over him. Each rough lick went to his cock, adding to the frustration the scratches had already created inside him.
”You know,” Marrick said over his shoulder, when he was sure that one more lick would either send him crazy or make it impossible for him to resist the temptation to hump the bed. “There’s more than one way for you both to prove I belong to you.”
“I want to tie you up,” Luther whispered into his ear.
Marrick had been thinking more about screwing than bondage, but he nodded his complete approval of the idea.
Bounding off the bed, Luther tipped out a drawer in the dresser opposite them and snatched up a blindfold and a pair of cuffs, rather like the ones Marrick had been wearing when he’d been delivered to the den for the first time.
“Role play?” Marrick asked.
Luther tilted his head onto the side, as if he didn’t understand what the term meant.
“I pretend I’m being thrown to the lions for the first time, you get to claim me for the first time all over again—maybe do what you would have done if you weren’t so worried about being careful or if you knew you’d stumbled on someone who was capable of playing the game properly.”
For a few seconds, two sets of feline eyes just stared at him.
Then, the two lions turned toward each other.
Without any warning, Marrick found himself picked up and deposited just inside the front door of their flat, hands quickly bound behind his back, blindfold over his eyes. Then, both the lions disappeared.
Marrick took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. He hadn’t been too nervous that first night he was thrown to the lions, just excited. Marrick had no idea why the hell he should be wary right now, but he was.
And the little sods made him wait, getting more and more nervous by the second.
Knowing they’d be able to tell that from his scent didn’t help.
The blow, when it finally came, knocked him forward onto the floor.
He couldn’t even put his arms out to break his fall.
A naked man landed heavily on top of him, pinning him to the floorboards, making it impossible to take a breath to replace the air that had just been knocked out of his lungs.
Another set of hands found their way onto his skin.
There was little gentleness in the touch, but there was control in it.
Even if the lions didn’t want him to see it, it was still there.
But knowing that didn’t dim the pleasure the strong grip sent spiralling through Marrick as the lions manoeuvred him into whatever position they’d decided they wanted him to be in.
Head down, arse up. Rough hands pulled Marrick’s knees further apart on the hard floor. His cheek rubbed against the smooth floorboards as his hands opened and closed behind his back, reaching for something, anything that might be within his grasp.
Slicked fingers stroked against his arse, preparing him quickly. Gasping, he pushed back against the digits, silently begging them to work even faster inside him.
The noise of a condom wrapper being torn filled the air.
“You don’t have to.”
Marrick felt both lions still completely. “You’re scared of getting ill again. These make you feel safe—a good kind of safe,” Luther said behind him.
“I checked what you said.” Quadruple checked actually. “I know I can’t catch anything off you.”
He could feel the need in both the lions, feel how much they wanted to believe him. The same desire to be rid of every barrier that might exist between them swirled inside him, too. “It’s fine,” he whispered. “Promise.”
Blaine let out a satisfied little purr. Within a minute, a slicked cock was pressed against Marrick’s arse. It slid into Marrick, slow and steady. He held his breath as the lion’s dick stretched him open further until it was buried inside him to the hilt.
“You don’t have permission to come,” Luther whispered in his ear.
Marrick whimpered, but not sure that he’d be able to obey that order, but he nodded that he would do his best to follow their command.
Blaine obviously wasn’t inclined to hold back. He thrust into him, hard and frantic, and more perfect than Marrick could believe until he roared out his pleasure.
Marrick gasped and pushed back against him, holding himself back from his own orgasm by luck as much as judgement. Within seconds, Blaine had pulled away, leaving him empty and needy. He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to ask for. Then, he felt Luther behind him.
Luther seemed to think that Blaine had had the right idea. The need they had to mark him seemed to override everything else. The lion’s grip on his hips was tight. Marrick had no doubt he’d have two beautiful sets of fingerprint bruises on his skin the next day.
He murmured his pleasure against the floorboards.
Every thrust rocked his whole body. His own dick pushed against the empty air, unable to achieve even the tiniest bit of friction against anything.
Still, he was on the edge of coming, permission or no permission, when Luther finally jerked and echoed Blaine’s roar.
The sound of the lion’s pleasure filled the room, filled Marrick’s mind. He whimpered as Luther carefully pulled away from him, but neither of the lions had gone far. He could feel both of his new masters still close by, hear their panting breaths, sense their eyes raking over his skin.
“How do you feel?” Luther whispered in his ear as he nuzzled sleepily against his neck some minutes later.
Frustrated. Sore. Bound. Perfect. “Alive,” Marrick whispered softly. “So alive.”
He could practically hear Blaine’s grin as he collapsed down on the floor next to him. “Good pet.”