CHAPTER 10
Until this moment, until Mark’s display of total trust, Caster had never understood Marcus’s description of a fitting submissive.
He’d said that if a dominant was lucky to find the one, the one made for their desires, the experience could be transcendent.
Caster had never asked Marcus if he had ever found one, knowing Marcus wouldn’t tell him.
But until this moment, the prospect of a possibility Marcus didn’t talk about too often had seemed an unattainable goal.
Plus, he liked to think he didn’t want to be beholden to one submissive.
But that had been before, before Mark, before a love he thought would create and destroy him in equal measure. The trust the submissive on his knees in front of him granted him was beyond all his imaginings, beyond everything he’d ever thought was possible, and now he had to live up to it.
It was clear Mark wasn’t too experienced, which was unusual given his lengthy existence.
It was also clear Zeke hadn’t been a Dominant deserving of his natural unguarded submission.
Reasons to tear his rival apart piled up by the moment, but he pushed those thoughts aside.
It wasn’t fair of him to forbid Mark from thinking of him and then falter.
This was about Mark, not Zeke, not even him.
His fingers threaded through Mark’s soft hair, the way the strands caressed his fingers, Mark’s tiny moans he couldn’t seem to hold on to, a memory he wanted to retain.
He took a breath, called on all his control; every ounce of his training would be needed today. Then he blew out a breath and released Mark’s hair.
“Stand up!”
His voice didn’t shake, and Mark scrambled to obey, stumbling as he found his feet.
“Take off everything.” He should wait, take this slow, but he was desperate to see that magnificent body again.
Mark’s shortened breaths, the tiny moans, were the only indication that he was as affected as Caster.
His mind, other than the occasional vivid image or memory of their lovemaking, was quiet.
The barrier containing his thoughts was still down, but Mark was in the moment, his desire to please Caster overriding his mind’s activity.
Caster smiled. Good. When he was done, his mind would be silent of every thought.
This time, there was no rush. Mark had learned what he wanted. His clothing piled up on the floor beside him, one after another, revealing his flushed, eager skin to Caster’s hungry eyes. His breath whooshed out of him when he stood in all his magnificence in front of Caster.
The intention to cover his nakedness, a niggling sense of his shame, flooded past the otherwise quiet mind.
“You’re perfect.”
Caster couldn’t stop looking at him. The muscles of a formidable weapon hidden behind smooth skin, tapering at the waist to reveal his best feature, the cock that jumped for Caster’s attention. It was hard and angry for release; perhaps he should grant him some relief.
He dragged his reluctant eyes away from that perfect cock to his face. “Touch yourself for me.”
Mark’s eyes widened a fraction, but his hand moved to his cock, his unguarded trust, his sublime obedience so beautiful, Caster almost abandoned all plans of a slow seduction. His latest moan ended on Caster's name with the first stroke, his body swaying forward.
Caster leaned back further, his cock throbbing in its confines with every chant of his name from Mark’s lips. Everything in him begged him to replace Mark’s hand with his own, toss him onto the bed behind him, and plunge deep, but this wasn’t about him.
Mark’s hips moved forward, chasing the retreating rhythm of his hand. His whisper, a chant of Caster’s name punctuated by moans he seemed no longer willing to subdue, filled the room, joining Caster’s harsh breaths.
“That’s good, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?”
A visible shudder shook every muscle in Mark’s body, increasing his heartbeat to impossible proportions, tearing a larger piece of Caster’s control.
Unwilling to remain outside that pleasure any longer, Caster reached for his thigh, grabbing the rippling muscle of his hamstring in a tight hold.
Mark moaned at the assault, but didn’t stop chasing his pleasure.
As Caster suspected, the pain only intensified his need.
Caster could do nothing about the hiss flowing past his lips as Mark’s muscle rippled in his hand, the shuddering rhythm of his pleasure sailing past his skin to shorten his breath. His cock throbbed, and he tightened his hold.
Mark let out a sound that was half cry, half moan, and the chant became a plea. He begged, and Caster smiled. He was too close; denying him now would just be torture. They had time for that kind of play; this was about momentary relief.
“Come, my love!”
Mark’s rhythm faltered as his body bowed to Caster’s will.
The muscle still in his grip was a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he experienced.
It tightened, relaxed, and tightened in rhythm with Mark’s moans, the evidence of his pleasure landing on Caster’s shirt as the force of the orgasm pushed him closer to Caster’s chest.
Caster caught his momentum; he always would. When the pleasure relented, he gathered Mark in his arms. Mark fit on his lap despite his size like he belonged, his trust communicated in the way he snuggled deeper, his mind quiet.
Caster couldn’t have resisted kissing his forehead if he’d called on all of his control.
In the past, he’d argued that loving a submissive would interfere with play, make it difficult to summon the firm hand needed.
But in this moment, with a pliant Mark in his arms, he understood Marcus’s conviction that love only enhanced the moment.
Mark’s love was apparent in his display of total trust, in his complete surrender. Caster could only reciprocate that love by granting Mark what he needed.
The exertion of Mark's pleasure dissipated with each breath, his muscles regaining their vigor. His mind remained devoid of most thought, but his contented sighs soon turned into those tiny moans again the longer Caster caressed a path down his back to the top of his ass.
When Mark’s lips brushed his neck, Caster couldn’t help his smile. “Again? I see that satisfying you will prove a challenge.”
He felt Mark’s smile glide over his skin, his mind flooding with images of what he thought today would hold.
“Oh, baby. You can’t possibly imagine what I have in store.”
His hand found purchase on the back of his head, still unwilling to let him out of the embrace they’d found.
He guided his head away from his neck and kissed him.
Mark moaned into his mouth, his body shifting to grant Caster’s cock a tiny bit of the friction it craved.
His control slipping with every surrendering moan from Mark, Caster pulled away from a taste he’d come to believe would be his undoing. “You OK?” His voice was a whisper, his tender lips brushing Mark’s wet ones.
Mark nodded, his usual defensive response to that question nonexistent, hope and anticipation the only emotion his calm heartbeat communicated.
“Good.” This time, when Caster gave in to the ever-present need to taste his lips, he let his dominance through. His desperation, his need shone through the hard kiss, his grip on the back of Mark’s head too tight.
But Mark didn’t back down, moaning through the assault, his body coming alive, the combined scent of the arousal they both couldn’t contain filling the room.
The energy of their desire was almost threatening, and by the time he let them catch their breath, Mark was aroused again, his brown eyes clouded by a need that tore a path across his unguarded mind to collide with Caster’s intense desire.
Caster allowed him one deep breath. “On your feet!”