Chapter 4 #2
Julian hesitated. The logic was sound, even if the situation was insane.
He couldn't walk into his office reeking of sex and Alpha.
It would destroy everything he had built, every lie he had told about his biology.
With trembling hands, he stripped off his ruined shirt and trousers, leaving them in a pile on the floor.
He stepped into the shower, flinching as the hot water hit his oversensitive skin.
The heat felt good, loosening the tight muscles in his back, soothing the ache in his bones. He stood under the spray, closing his eyes and trying to disappear into the steam. If he concentrated hard enough, maybe he could pretend this was just another morning, just another shower.
Then he felt large, soapy hands on his shoulders.
Julian gasped. Damien was behind him, his body heat radiating through the steam. He began to massage Julian's shoulders, his thumbs digging into the knotted muscles with practiced ease.
"Relax," Damien murmured near his ear. "I'm just cleaning you."
Julian wanted to pull away, but the massage felt too good. His head fell forward, a groan escaping his lips before he could stop it. The tension he had been holding in his neck and shoulders began to dissolve under Damien's persistent touch.
Damien's hands moved down, sliding over Julian's back, washing away the grime. He was thorough, clinical yet intimate, his palms mapping every inch of Julian's skin. When his hands slid lower, cupping Julian's ass, Julian tensed.
"Damien..."
"Hush," Damien said. "I need to clean you here."
Julian's face flamed, but he didn't stop him.
He braced his hands against the marble wall as Damien gently parted his cheeks.
The Alpha used his fingers, sliding them through the slick mess, cleaning him with a tenderness that felt out of character.
The touch was careful, almost reverent, a stark contrast to the rough possession of the night before.
Julian's breath hitched when Damien's finger brushed against his rim. It was swollen and tender, still stretched from the night's activities.
"You took me so well," Damien whispered, pressing a kiss to Julian's shoulder blade. "You were made for this. Made for me."
The words sent a spark of arousal through Julian's exhausted body. To his horror, he felt his cock twitch, filling slowly despite his exhaustion. His body was a traitor, responding to the Alpha's touch against his will.
Damien noticed. He chuckled darkly, reaching around to wrap his hand around Julian's half-hard shaft. "Insatiable."
"Don't," Julian gasped, though his hips jerked into the touch of their own accord. "I can't. Not again."
"I know," Damien said, stroking him slowly, his grip firm and sure. "Let me help."
He turned Julian around so they were face to face.
The water beat down on them, warm and relentless, streaming between their bodies.
Damien looked into Julian's eyes, his gaze intense, searching.
There was something there that Julian didn't want to acknowledge—something that looked dangerously like tenderness.
Julian nodded, a barely perceptible dip of his chin. He was too tired to fight, too worn down to resist. And somewhere deep inside, in a place he would never admit existed, he wanted this. Wanted the Alpha's touch, his attention, his care.
Damien didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees on the marble floor, the water pounding against his back. He leaned forward and took Julian into his mouth.
Julian cried out, his hands flying to Damien's wet hair, gripping tight.
The sensation was electric—the wet heat, the suction, the sight of the powerful Alpha on his knees before him.
Damien sucked him deep, his tongue working the sensitive underside of his shaft, his hands gripping Julian's hips to steady him.
It was obscene. It was wrong. And it felt incredible.
Damien worked him with a skill that made Julian's knees buckle.
He took him to the root, his throat relaxing to accommodate Julian's length, then pulled back to tongue at the head, tasting the precum that had gathered there.
He set a rhythm that was just slow enough to drive Julian mad, bringing him to the edge and then backing off, making him whimper with need.
"Please," Julian heard himself say, the word torn from his throat. "Damien, please."
Damien hummed in response, the vibration traveling up Julian's spine. He grabbed Julian's ass, pulling him closer, taking him deeper. His fingers found Julian's entrance, still slick and sensitive, and pressed inside.
Julian saw stars. The dual sensation of Damien's mouth on his cock and his fingers inside him was too much. With a broken sob, he came, spilling down Damien's throat. Damien swallowed every drop, milking him until Julian was shaking and empty, his legs barely able to hold him up.
Damien pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He stood, his own arousal evident now, heavy and hard against his thigh. The water had turned cooler, but neither of them seemed to notice.
Julian stared at him, his chest heaving, his mind a blank slate of post-orgasmic haze. He should feel ashamed. He should feel used. Instead, all he felt was a bone-deep satisfaction that terrified him.
"Your turn," Damien said, his voice rough. He guided Julian's hand to his cock.
Julian's fingers wrapped around the hot, hard length instinctively. He had touched it before, in the dark of the night, but now, in the clear light of morning, he could see it properly. It was thick and long, the head flushed and leaking. Julian's mouth watered despite himself.
He started to lower himself, to return the favor, but Damien stopped him with a hand under his chin.
"Not your mouth," Damien said, his eyes dark. "I want to be inside you again."
Julian's breath caught. "I can't. I'm too—"
"I'll be gentle," Damien promised. "I need to feel you. One more time."
He turned Julian around, pressing him against the marble wall. The stone was cool against Julian's heated skin, a shocking contrast that made him gasp. Damien pressed up behind him, his cock sliding between Julian's cheeks, hot and hard.
"I'm going to make this good for you," Damien murmured against his ear. "I'm going to take care of you."
He reached for a bottle on the shelf—expensive body oil, not proper lubricant, but it would have to do.
He slicked his fingers and pressed them inside Julian, preparing him with careful, deliberate movements.
Julian was still stretched from the night before, still slick with his own natural lubrication, and Damien's fingers slid in easily.
By the time Damien positioned himself at Julian's entrance, Julian was panting with need again. His body had betrayed him completely, responding to the Alpha's touch like it was programmed to do. He pressed his forehead against the marble and tried to steady his breathing.
Damien pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving Julian time to adjust. The stretch was intense, bordering on painful, but there was an underlying pleasure that Julian couldn't deny. He felt so full, so complete, like a piece of himself he hadn't known was missing had finally clicked into place.
"Tell me if it's too much," Damien said, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
"It's not," Julian said, and he meant it. "Move. Please."
Damien didn't need to be told twice. He set a slow, deep rhythm, each thrust hitting that spot inside Julian that made stars burst behind his eyes. The water sluiced over them, washing away the sweat and slick, but it couldn't wash away the connection that was building between them.
This was different from the night before. The heat had been frantic, desperate, a biological imperative that had overridden all reason. This was deliberate. Intimate. Damien's hands roamed over Julian's body with a reverence that made Julian's chest ache.
"You're so beautiful," Damien murmured against his shoulder. "So perfect. My perfect Omega."
Julian's eyes stung. He didn't want to hear those words. Didn't want to acknowledge how much they affected him. "I'm not yours," he said, but the words came out breathless, unconvincing.
"You are," Damien countered, thrusting deeper. "You have been since the moment you walked into my office. You just didn't know it yet."
He reached around and took Julian's cock in his hand, stroking him in time with his thrusts. The dual sensation was overwhelming, and Julian felt another orgasm building, impossibly fast after the last one.
"Come for me," Damien commanded, his voice dropping into a register that Julian's body couldn't ignore. "Come on my cock."
Julian did. He shattered, crying out Damien's name as pleasure crashed through him in waves. His walls clenched around Damien, triggering the Alpha's own release. Damien buried himself deep, groaning against Julian's neck as he spilled inside him.
They stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together under the cooling water, both of them trembling with the aftermath.
Julian could feel Damien's heart pounding against his back, could feel the softening cock still inside him, and he felt a devastating sense of rightness that he knew he would hate himself for later.
Finally, Damien pulled out. Julian winced at the loss, at the sudden emptiness, and hated himself a little more.
Damien turned him around, cupping his face in both hands. His thumbs stroked over Julian's cheekbones, wiping away the water—or maybe tears, Julian couldn't tell anymore.
"Stay," Damien said. "Have breakfast with me."
Julian shook his head, stepping back, putting distance between them. "I have to go."
"Julian—"
"Don't," Julian said, his voice cracking. "Don't make this more than it was. It was sex. It was biology. It doesn't change anything."
Damien's expression hardened. "It changes everything."
"No," Julian insisted, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel. He wrapped it around himself, a flimsy shield against the Alpha's gaze. "It doesn't have to. We can pretend this never happened. We can go back to being rivals."
"We can't," Damien said simply. "I won't let you."
Julian's hands trembled as he dried himself off. He found his clothes—ruined, but wearable enough to get him home—and dressed quickly. He could feel Damien's eyes on him the entire time, tracking his movements like a wolf watching its prey.
At the door, Julian paused. He didn't turn around, but he had to know. "Did you plan this? The storm, the heat... was this all part of your takeover strategy?"
There was a long silence. Then: "No."
Julian nodded, not sure if he believed him. Not sure if it mattered anymore. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, his legs still shaky, his heart still pounding.
"Julian."
He stopped but didn't turn around.
"I'll see you at the merger meeting on Monday," Damien said. "And we will discuss terms. All of them."
Julian's jaw tightened. He walked to the elevator without looking back, pressing the button for the lobby with fingers that still smelled like Damien's skin.
The ride down felt endless. By the time Julian stepped out of the building and into the bright morning sun, he had constructed a careful mask of indifference. He climbed into his waiting car, gave the driver his address, and leaned his head against the cool glass of the window.
His body was satisfied, thoroughly used and cared for. But his mind was a battlefield, and his heart—his heart was a traitor that wouldn't stop racing at the memory of golden eyes and a possessive touch.
One night. That's all it had been. One night of weakness, of biological imperative. It didn't mean anything.
Julian repeated the words to himself like a mantra as the city blurred past outside his window.
It didn't mean anything.
But even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie.
The apartment was silent when Julian arrived home.
He stood in the entryway for a long moment, just breathing, trying to find himself in the spaces he had left behind.
Everything looked the same—the minimalist furniture, the carefully curated art, the spotless kitchen.
But Julian felt like a stranger in his own home.
He went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower, as hot as he could stand it.
He scrubbed his skin until it was pink and raw, trying to remove every trace of Damien's scent, his touch, his claim.
But no matter how hard he scrubbed, he could still smell him—cedar and ozone, branded into his memory if not his skin.
When he finally emerged, wrapped in a clean robe, he felt marginally more like himself. He took two suppressants, double his usual dose, and washed them down with a glass of water that tasted like defeat.
His phone buzzed on the counter. A text from an unknown number.
You forgot your watch. It's on my nightstand. Come by and pick it up whenever you want. I'll be here.
Julian stared at the screen, his heart doing something complicated in his chest. He hadn't even noticed his watch was missing—a vintage piece that had belonged to his grandfather, one of the few sentimental items he owned.
He typed a reply: Send it to my office.
The response came immediately: No. Come get it yourself.
Julian threw the phone onto the couch and walked away, as if putting distance between himself and the device could somehow put distance between himself and the Alpha who had turned his world upside down in a single night.
He had a company to run. A reputation to maintain. A secret to protect.
And now, apparently, he had a watch to retrieve.
But not today. Today, he was going to sit in his pristine apartment, surrounded by everything he had built, and try to remember who Julian Mercer was before Damien Wolfe had walked into his life and taken him apart piece by piece.
Tomorrow, he would be the cold, untouchable CEO again. Tomorrow, he would pretend the storm had never happened.
But tonight, wrapped in a robe that smelled only of his own detergent, Julian closed his eyes and let himself remember the weight of an arm across his chest, the heat of a body beside him, and the terrifying, exhilarating feeling of belonging to someone else.
Just for tonight.
Tomorrow, the war would resume.
But tonight, in the quiet dark of his lonely apartment, Julian let himself imagine—just for a moment—what it might be like to surrender.