Beg (His Command Book 2)

by Piper Scott

  Nothing should have felt so good.

  Marcus kept him tucked against his chest, holding him there as Lucian came down from the high he’d been on. He hadn’t come, but he hadn’t needed to. What bound them together wasn’t purely physical. Lucian had found release in other ways.

  “Next week,” Marcus told him as they parted ways. “I want you to let me drive you home.”

  “We’ll see what next week brings,” Lucian replied. He couldn’t commit to a yes, even though he wanted nothing more than to do as Marcus told him. “Goodnight, Marcus.”

  “Goodnight, fledgling.”

  They parted ways, but even as he made his way home alone, Lucian didn’t feel lonely. Marcus was a part of him.

  He felt it even when they were apart.

  17

  Marcus

  It was far too early on a Saturday morning when the phone rang, a ten-second clip of music startling Marcus from his sleep. He scrambled to grab his phone and answered, and he put it to his ear just in time to hear the message.

  “They’re here.”

  Marcus rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up in bed. He was dizzy from lack of sleep, but the conversation was too important to flake on. Crawford deserved his respect. “You’re being serious?”

  “I’m serious. I have never been more serious in my life. The twins have been born.”

  “Congratulations.” Marcus stretched, working the laziness from his muscles. The low light streaming in from between the curtains stung his eyes. “They take after you already. If they took after Owen, they wouldn’t have been born so early on a Saturday morning. It was clearly planned so they could smite me.”

  “Clearly,” Crawford said sarcastically.

  “Is Owen doing okay?”

  “As well as could be expected. We had the birth at home. Are you familiar with the Rutledge family?”

  “Vaguely.” Marcus headed, nude, from the bedroom to the kitchen in search of water. “Old money. Three sons. The mother does charity planning, if I’m not mistaken. I think I’ve encountered her a few times during Christmas events.”

  “One of the sons is a doula. We had him work with Owen through the labor, so we were able to avoid the hospital, but now Owen’s due in for surgery.”

  “Surgery? Shit.” Marcus set a hand on the fridge, devoting his attention to the conversation. “That doesn’t sound good, Crawford. I thought you said he was doing fine.”

  “It’s an elective surgery. He’s being sterilized.” Crawford paused. “He’s taking the idea of going back to the hospital worse than he did the birth. But otherwise, he’s in good spirits. The babies are happy and healthy, average birth weights for twins.”

  “Thank you for sparing me the fine details. You may have baby fever, but I don’t.” Marcus freed a glass from the cabinet and pressed it against the water dispenser on the front of the fridge. “… But that’s no excuse to keep me in suspense. I want some details. Boys or girls? Both? I take it they’re not identical?”

  “The genetic testing is still being done,” Crawford said.

  “So what I’m hearing is, they’re the same sex.” Marcus grinned. “Boys or girls, Crawford? Don’t tease me.”

  “Boys.” The joy in Crawford’s voice shone through. “They’re gorgeous. I’m over the moon in love with them.”

  “I hear that happens.” Marcus took the glass away from the dispenser and took a sip of water. His mouth was dry, but he didn’t realize how much until he drank. “Names?”

  “Carter and Logan.” Joy turned to pride. “They’re already handsome. They’re going to grow up into exceptional young men, I know it.”

  “With you and Owen as parents, I’m sure that’s true.” Marcus drank again, more deeply this time. The thought bothered him. It wasn’t because he didn’t think Crawford would be an excellent father—Crawford was good at everything he did, and Marcus would bet money that he’d excel at fatherhood—but because it made him think of scenarios he wasn’t ready to embrace.

  There, in his mind’s eye, was Lucian, grinning a cocky grin while his hand traced over a baby bump.

  A bump that Marcus had put in him.

  Fuck.

  “Owen and I are talking of moving the wedding up,” Crawford said. “Maybe in a few months from now, once he’s recovered enough from his surgery that he doesn’t need to worry about standing. We’re going to consider it carefully and figure it out from there.”

  “It’s going to be small, then?” Marcus spoke the words, but he barely noticed he said them. He already knew the delight that was Lucien in heat, and he imagined the sweet notes of his fertility amplified when no longer suppressed by medication. Marcus’ cock twitched to life. “If you can pull it off on such short notice, I can’t imagine it’s going to be over the top.”

  “Small and simple,” Crawford confirmed. “There are some coworkers Owen wants to invite from Stonecrest, and then there are those I’d like to invite from my social spheres, but neither of us have strong ties to family. It will still be lovely, but it won’t be the kind of wedding my mother would have strongly urged me to consider.”

  Marcus knew Crawford’s mother only well enough to agree that she would have wanted something bigger, but Crawford was on his own now, and he called the shots. A small wedding suited him just fine.

  “Are you planning on bringing a plus one?” Crawford asked when Marcus was silent. “You’re welcome to, you know.”

  “I…” Marcus rolled the words around in his mouth, wondering if he should go through with speaking them or not. Crawford didn’t know about Lucian, but out of anyone in Marcus’ social circle, Crawford was the safest bet to confide in. With twin newborns, Crawford wasn’t about to spend his weekends at The Shepherd any time soon, and he didn’t exactly have Sterling on speed dial. “… I might be.”

  “Oh?” Crawford’s voice grew sly. “I guess your drive came back. That didn’t take long.”

  “He…” Marcus struggled. It wasn’t like him to be lost for words, but Lucian did things to him no other man had done before. “He’s not a member of The Shepherd.”

  “Are you going to change that?”

  “No.” Marcus glanced across the room. As he was half-hard and still naked, the kitchen didn’t feel like the best place to continue a conversation. He headed for his bedroom. “I don’t think so, at least. I’ve been making small advances with him, but it’s… it’s different.”

  “Go on.”

  “I don’t want to break him,” Marcus admitted. He sank into bed, placing his water on the bedside table. “It’s been a little more than a month now and I still don’t know where we stand.”

  “Have you tried anything with him?” Crawford asked. “When I met Owen, I made it very clear from the start what I was after, and even though he wasn’t familiar with the lifestyle, he responded positively.”

  “I…” Marcus sank back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. His erection didn’t wane. “No, not really. I introduced the concept of total power exchange to him, and we had a private play scene where he proved receptive to the idea, but it’s complicated.”

  “It sounds like it’s pretty straightforward. Why is it complicated?”

  “Because we’re not allowed to be together.” Marcus winced. He was used to bending the rules, but for Lucian, he’d snapped them right in half. Now he was afraid the splintered, jagged edges were going to hurt them. “He’s one of Clarissa’s bartenders. We’re sneaking around behind her back.”

  “Does Sterling know?” Crawford asked, mildly concerned.

  “Sterling doesn’t know.” Marcus rubbed his hand across his face. “No one knows. When I saw him, I knew I wanted him—I just didn’t know that I’d want him this much.”

  The severity of what he’d said settled between them, forbidding room for anything else. Marcus ran his hand along his jaw, letting his stubble abrade his palm.

  “I don’t know what to do. I thought that we’d play for a while, then go our separate w
ays, but I want him.”

  “Then what’s stopping you?” Crawford asked. “If you want him more than you want admission into The Shepherd, then the choice is clear, isn’t it?”

  “No.” Marcus closed his eyes and held back a sigh. “If we go public about it, he could lose his job. The rules work both ways—the staff isn’t supposed to play with us as much as we’re not supposed to play with them.”

  “You make more than enough money to support him. If he’s interested in total power exchange, you’d be supporting him anyway.”

  What Crawford said made sense, and while Marcus adored the thought of keeping Lucian in his condo 24/7 as his toy, he wanted more for Lucian, too. He wanted to see Lucian vibrant, and happy, and so full of life that he glowed with it. Marcus could only provide so much happiness to Lucian if he kept Lucian locked up in his condo.

  If he wanted to give Lucian true happiness, he needed to let him make the choice on his own.

  “I’ll take your silence as a no,” Crawford said. “You could always terminate your membership at The Shepherd. Then it wouldn’t be an issue.”

  “But it’s the only place he’ll see me. He won’t even get in my car.”

  “If that’s the case, are you sure he’s as committed as you are? I’m taking it he’s an omega, if he’s working for Clarissa. You know how some omegas are. They either say yes too easily, or they’re too afraid to say no.”

  “He’s not like that.” Marcus spoke with a stern tone that surprised even himself. “I’m sorry, Crawford. I know you’re trying to help. It’s just… it’s complicated, like I said.”

  “Then it’s a good thing it’s in your hands,” Crawford said. “If there’s anyone from The Shepherd who can handle a complex situation with tact and grace, it’s you. Treat this like you would a criminal defense case. You’ll reason it out in time.”

  “Except court cases follow rules.” Marcus grinned. “Once you divest yourself from the emotion behind whatever’s happening, the underlying threads all become clear. All you need to know how to do is manipulate those threads into the tapestry you want. It’s not the same with relationships. The heart doesn’t follow any rules.”

  “But The Shepherd does,” Crawford reminded him. “All you need to do is divest yourself from your emotion, just like you said. Figure out what threads you’re working with, then figure out how to weave them as you wish. I know you can do it, Marcus. You’re a good attorney, but you’re a damn good man, too. I have faith.”

  There was a shrill noise from Crawford’s end of the call. Marcus blinked his eyes open. “What’s that?”

  “The children,” Crawford said. “I’ve got to go. Keep me informed as to the progress you make, and I’ll keep you informed of the wedding date so you can elect to bring your plus one. I look forward to meeting him.”

  “No promises.”

  “Never.”

  The goodbyes were short. It sounded as though Crawford had his hands full, and Marcus didn’t want to keep him. Their conversation had gone on for long enough, considering what was going on in Crawford’s life. They weren’t the same men they’d been just a few years prior, and while Marcus had once regretted that fact, he understood what Crawford was going through more clearly now than ever. Crawford hadn’t chosen to fall for an omega who’d reshaped his opinion of the world—it had happened to him by chance. Marcus had never been a gambling man, but refuting his own roll of this dice? He didn’t need experience to know that was a terrible idea. Lucian was either everything Marcus never knew he needed, or he wasn’t.

  With any luck, it wouldn’t be long before Marcus knew if he’d struck the jackpot, or if the riches he thought he saw were all shine and no substance.

  18

  Lucian

  Wear something for me tonight.

  The text was timestamped 3:27PM, and Lucian read the message several times over the next few hours as it sank in. Five simple words followed him into the shower. Five simple words echoed in his ears even as the patter of water drowned out other ambient noises. Five simple words shadowed him into his bedroom and directed him toward the closet.

  Something.

  There had been no specification, but Lucian knew what Marcus meant. There was no mistaking the intent in his message. Marcus wanted to see him in something unusual, something that Lucian felt great in.

  Lucian chewed on his lip as he considered it. He had amassed a collection of button-down shirts from the thrift store since starting at The Shepherd, enough that he could cycle through his collection without drawing attention to the fact that he didn’t have much in the way of clothing, but none of them were special. Lucian wore them out of necessity. The Shepherd had a loose dress policy that Clarissa strictly enforced.

  No t-shirts.

  No jeans.

  That outlawed the majority of Lucian’s wardrobe.

  Towel wrapped around his waist, Lucian pulled open his dresser drawer to select a pair of boxer-briefs from inside. As he considered skirting beneath Clarissa’s rules by wearing a pair of skinny black denim jeans, his eyes came to rest on something Lucian had long ago forgotten about.

  Lace.

  His lips parted. The panties were an indulgence, a seldom used piece of Lucian’s identity that he rarely got to visit. With a delicate touch, he took them from the drawer and unfolded them.

  Fine white patterns spanned from hip to hip. Lucian ran his thumb along them, savoring the smoothness. Not a thread was out of place.

  They were beautiful.

  Lucian closed the drawer. He parted the towel from his hips and stepped into the panties. The lace crossed his thighs, then cushioned his cock. Lucian closed his eyes and soaked in the sensation.

  When Marcus saw what he’d picked out for him, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself.

  When Marcus saw.

  Lucian shivered. He sat on the edge of his bed, doing his best to chase away the intrusive thoughts that sought to harden his cock. If he went into work horny, it wasn’t going to end well for him. The first couple that curled up together in one of Lucian’s booths, playing with each other in anticipation of visiting the public rooms, would push him over the edge.

  He needed to calm down.

  It was only lace.

  Lace he was wearing for Marcus.

  Lucian scrubbed his face and fell back onto the bed. He needed to finish getting ready. Work wouldn’t wait for him to cool down.

  A shirt, a pair of slacks, and a glance in the mirror later, Lucian was out the door. With the lace cradling his cock like it did, it was going to be a long night, made longer yet by the feeling of Marcus’ eyes on him from across the bar.

  Lucian had a choice to make tonight—he could either let Marcus take him home, or he could rebuff his advances. But with the lace at his hips, the choice was clear.

  Tonight, he would let Marcus take what he deserved.

  He’d figure the rest out along the way.

  “Knob Creek, neat.”

  As if drawn in by his voice, Lucian looked up at Marcus. The dark depths of Marcus’ eyes tugged like vicious riptides that drew Lucian in and kept him beneath their surface. Lucian’s jaw went slack and his lips parted the slightest bit. A gasp tumbled from his lips. Marcus wasn’t treating him any differently than he usually did, but the reminder of what they were going to get up to after The Shepherd closed was impossible to forget when his cock was cradled with lace.

  “Do you know why I drink Knob Creek?” Marcus asked. His eyes never wandered from Lucian’s, and Lucian found he couldn’t look away.

  “No.”

  “Because I’m a creature of habit,” Marcus said. “The first time I came here, Clarissa introduced me to the brand. She thought the name was naughty, but the bourbon is damn good, and I came back for it.”

  “That sounds like Clarissa,” Lucian said softly, attempting humor and failing. He was too rattled by the way Marcus looked at him—by the things that gaze did to his cock.

  “The ma
rk of a true gentleman is predictability,” Marcus continued. “And it’s the mark of a good Dom, too. Simple, logical, easy-to-follow rules that never change or waver. Any sub who breaks those rules knows what to expect.”

  “And any sub who follows those rules?” Lucian’s mouth was dry. He knew that Marcus was talking about today’s earlier instructions, teasing him with what was to come later tonight.

  “Any sub who follows those rules knows what to expect, too,” Marcus told him. “Praise. Release. Adoration.”

  Marcus would praise him when he found out what Lucian had done. Lucian knew it. Marcus couldn’t see what lengths he’d gone to in order to respect his directive, but Lucian knew that once they were alone and Marcus saw what he’d worn for him, he’d be pleased, and Lucian would know his lips again. His hand. His cock…

  “It’s a shame you don’t have a sub, then,” Lucian said. He took a small step back from Marcus’ booth and prayed that Marcus would let him go. They’d convinced Clarissa that there was nothing going on between them, and Lucian wanted to keep it that way. If Marcus held him there any longer, they risked exposure. “Are you looking?”

  “I am.” Marcus held his gaze. “I have a promising lead, but I need to find out what he thinks of me, and what he truly wants.”

  “Lucky man.”

  “There isn’t luck involved. Those I take, I take because I see something within them.” Lucian was drowning, his lungs squeezed shut as Marcus’ dark eyes devoured him. The breath he took refused to make it down his throat. “The only luck involved is if those men see the same things in themselves that I do.”

  Marcus arched an eyebrow, then looked away. The pressure on Lucian’s lungs vanished, and he drew in an audible breath.

  “If you need anything else, wave me over or come visit me at the bar,” Lucian said, dragging himself back into a work mindset. He couldn’t acknowledge the way his cock strained against his panties or the rush of his pulse in his ears. “Enjoy your night.”