Beg (His Command Book 2)

by Piper Scott

  Lucian’s fingers wove around the post of the headboard. He gripped it tightly, like doing so might make the rest of his body stop trembling in anticipation.

  It didn’t.

  His thighs shook as Marcus’ body bore into him, and Lucian felt his fat cock wedge between the cheeks of his ass.

  The rope tightened suddenly, putting pressure on Lucian’s wrists, and he jumped in surprise. With Marcus over him, there wasn’t much space to go anywhere, but the impact was all that mattered. Marcus had felt it.

  He chuckled.

  The rope did not loosen.

  “Do you like the feel of it?” Marcus asked. The coarse rope contrasted the silk blocking Lucian’s vision. “Do you like how firm it feels against you?”

  “Yes.” Lucian knew it would do him no good to beg. He belonged to Marcus—the things he wanted were secondary to what Marcus demanded—but Lucian had been wound up since before work, and he was aching for Marcus’ touch. “Please, please, Master, I need you. I need you so badly.”

  Another chuckle. Marcus’ hands ran down Lucian’s back to the dip in his spine. The touch was electric. Without his sight to distract him, Lucian felt Marcus’ fingers like he never had before.

  The pressure. The toughness. The care.

  Marcus’ hands parted when they reached the small of Lucian’s back. Lucian felt them trail along to his flanks, then move down to circling around the swell of his ass and creep up its sides instead. Traveling across his sensitive skin, Marcus’ fingers decreased in pressure until they almost stopped touching Lucian entirely. The ghosted sensation of static between them was electric in ways it shouldn’t have been, and Lucian moaned into Marcus’ pillows as Marcus treated his body with untold kindness.

  There was no response to his plea.

  Marcus’ fingers continued to ghost across Lucian’s skin, and Lucian tracked the sensation down the cheeks of his ass and to his taint. He bore himself a little higher as one of Marcus’ hands slipped beneath him, finding his balls and taking each in his palm to fondle and squeeze. Pleasure surged in Lucian’s groin, and he had to grip the headboard tighter to keep from pressing into Marcus’ hand.

  “There’s so much of my cum in you, isn’t there?” Marcus asked in Lucian’s ear. He’d adjusted his position so he laid across Lucian, and Lucian felt him reach for something near the bed. “So much of it that I want to work out of you. Where am I going to start? I need to get it all.”

  His hand tightened around Lucian’s balls, nearing pain, but not breaching it. Lucian squeezed his eyes shut even though the blindfold forced him into seeing nothing.

  A click rang through the room, cutting through the noises that now tumbled nonstop from Lucian’s mouth and into the pillows. Lucian knew what it was, and it didn’t surprise him in the least when he felt Marcus’ hand return between their bodies, his fingers wet and chilled with lube.

  “I think there’s so much, I’m going to need to work it out from the inside,” Marcus murmured, as though he was speaking to himself. “I’m going to need to push it out of you. How do you think that sounds, fledgling?”

  Lucian whimpered. He couldn’t find the strength to speak.

  “Mm.” Marcus chuckled against the back of Lucian’s ear, then raked his teeth across it. “You do test my patience. I asked you a question. I expect you to respond.”

  “Yes,” Lucian gasped. Each word was a struggle. “Master.”

  There was no more conversation. Marcus’ fingers circled his hole, teasing it, then pushed inward. The intrusion was familiar, and under normal circumstances Lucian knew how to loosen himself for a man, but with Marcus there, he clenched like a virgin. Pleasure rippled through him, and he found himself tugging against the ropes as Marcus’ fingers plugged him.

  The scent of alpha filled the air, so strong that Lucian smelled it through the linens. He tried his best to calm down and relax for Marcus, but Marcus had stripped him down until there was nothing left. All of Lucian’s experience hadn’t prepared him for this.

  For the first time, he knew what it was like to be with a man who wanted him for more than sex.

  Marcus’ fingers pushed inward, prepping him. He moved with practiced ease, but progressed with regard to Lucian’s comfort. His fingers curled, seeking to put pressure where it most mattered, and Lucian shifted his hips to help. The second Marcus found the right spot, Lucian drew in a shuddering breath and froze.

  “There it is,” Marcus uttered, voice heavy with prideful lust. “That’s where my cum is, isn’t it? That’s where it’s stored up inside of you.”

  Tears gathered in Lucian’s eyes, not from embarrassment or from pain, but from the incredible pleasure of release. He hadn’t come, but Marcus had chased the past from his bones and stripped the old memories from his mind.

  In that moment, Lucian was normal.

  It was a gift he didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay.

  Marcus’ fingers curled and straightened, setting up a rhythm that drove Lucian toward the edge. He held his thighs apart and kept his ass hitched, but his body trembled, and his core threatened to give out. The bed was so close and so welcoming, but he knew if he dropped onto it, he’d be breaking Marcus’ trust.

  Marcus wanted him to stay like that. He’d ordered it.

  Lucian wouldn’t let him down.

  “Does it feel nice?” Marcus’ free hand found Lucian’s cock, and it stroked him in time to the motions of his fingers. Lucian choked out a cry and buried his head deep into the pillows. “I bet it feels nice, holding it all in for me, but it’s time to let it out, fledgling. It’s time to let it all out.”

  Lucian choked out another cry. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to come, or if Marcus wanted him to hold it back. As Lucian straddled the line between orgasm and denial, Marcus stopped all stimulation. His hand parted from Lucian’s cock and his fingers withdrew from Lucian’s ass. The sudden emptiness was chilling, and Lucian lifted his head in stunned disbelief, only for Marcus to shove it back into the pillows.

  Lucian submitted, exhausted yet eager for more.

  He couldn’t stop until he’d worked Marcus’ cum from his body. All of it.

  “If it won’t come out like that, we’re going to have to try something different.” Marcus spoke against the back of his ear, his body bearing down upon Lucian as he did. The hand left the back of Lucian’s head. In the seconds that followed, Lucian heard a series of familiar noises, each made more distinct by Lucian’s sensory deprivation.

  The tear of a condom package.

  The sound of lubricated latex working its way down a hardened shaft.

  Then the subtle, unmistakable noise of a man adjusting his position amongst the sheets.

  The head of Marcus’ cock pushed against Lucian’s ring, then plunged into him. Lucian’s body stretched for him, letting him in like they’d been born to fit together—like Lucian really did belong to him.

  “Let it out,” Marcus urged him as he rocked forward. He didn’t move too quickly or push too far, but that didn’t matter. The sparks that shot through Lucian more than made up for the pace. They blinded him to the discomfort of intrusion and made him want more. “Let it all out. Come for me.”

  Lucian whined into the pillows, too overcome by the way Marcus made him feel for anything else. The back and forth of Marcus’ thrusts spurred him onward, but Lucian wanted to pump himself. His cock begged to be touched, but with his hands bound, he was helpless.

  “M-Master.” Finding the power to speak was near impossible, but Lucian couldn’t keep quiet. Marcus was inside of him, filling him, and making him feel things he’d never thought he’d feel. The orgasm he built would be the best of his life, but it could be even better if only Marcus would touch him. “Your cum is almost here, but I need h-help. Touch me. Please, please touch me. Help it come out. I can’t get it to come out on my own.”

  “Shh.” Marcus nipped the back of Lucian’s ear, and Lucian let out a muffled howl. His pace increased. He went
deeper. Lucian took it, his body already addicted to the alpha who now claimed him. “You sound pretty when you beg, you know that? I don’t like what belongs to me to ever plead, but I’ll allow it just this once…”

  Marcus grasped Lucian’s cock. The sensation of Marcus’ fist pumping him toward climax combined with the pleasure Lucian felt from each of his thrusts, and Lucian wanted to buck forward and push backward all at once. A small, hardwired part of his brain urged him to ride Marcus like he’d ridden his clients—to bring Marcus the most pleasure possible.

  But Lucian did nothing.

  He couldn’t.

  A switch had been flipped in Lucian’s brain, flushing out everything he once knew. Every thought he’d clung to and every instinct he’d once respected was gone. In its place was blissful emptiness—a sense of self that made Lucian wonder if he hadn’t found heaven.

  He floated, and the sensations he felt grew tenfold as strong.

  The burn of the rope as it strained against his wrists, the caress of the blindfold against the bridge of his nose, the rustling of the sheets as Marcus pumped into him, the slick sound of his own cock being stroked in Marcus’ fist, and even the catch of Marcus’ breath as he worked to milk the cum from Lucian’s body—it was all that mattered, and it became Lucian’s whole world.

  “One more push,” Marcus promised. The words were distant, and they echoed strangely in Lucian’s ears. “Are you ready, fledgling? All you need is one more push. One more to get it out—to give me what I want.”

  “Yes, Master.” The sounds came from Lucian’s mouth, but he couldn’t recall speaking them. “Please. Please, oh please, please.”

  Marcus’ knot swelled. There was no warning. It stretched behind Lucian’s ring, plugging him and putting pressure where he needed it the most.

  He came.

  The clench compressed everything inside of him, and it happened all at once. Lucian cried into the pillow, his body shaking as Marcus brought him over the edge.

  “That’s it,” Marcus praised. He worked Lucian’s cock, encouraging him to keep draining. “That’s right. That’s what I want. Good boy. You’re doing such a good job.”

  The tears beading in Lucian’s eyes were promptly soaked up by his blindfold. He laughed, dry and raw, into the pillow as his body convulsed again and again.

  “Empty it all out,” Marcus whispered as Lucian shot again. “More. Give me more.”

  Lucian emptied until there was nothing left to give. Even when he was done, he kept his ass lifted. Marcus was bound to him now, and would be for the next quarter of an hour until his knot deflated, but Lucian would not try to guide him down.

  Until Marcus ordered him to move, he would stay put.

  “You did such a good job,” Marcus uttered. Lucian heard the exhaustion in his voice. “So good. You couldn’t have made me happier.”

  The ropes tightened, then went limp. Lucian dropped his arms, but before he could guide them away, Marcus took him by the wrists and rubbed the sore spots with his thumbs. Lucian melted.

  “I’m going to roll us over so you can rest,” Marcus told him. “Don’t struggle. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  Lucian wanted to reply, but he couldn’t. The sounds were lodged in his throat, stuck. Marcus didn’t seem to mind. One moment Lucian was on his knees with his chest on the mattress, and the next, Marcus’ arms wrapped around his stomach, pulling him close. They fell together onto the bed.

  “You did an amazing job,” Marcus whispered. He spoke into the hairs on the back of Lucian’s head. While he peppered the back of Lucian’s head with kisses, he went back to massaging Lucian’s sore wrists. “So good.”

  The praise resonated inside Lucian, and he basked in it. The void he’d found himself in during the height of their encounter began to close in, and reality started to make more sense. He was still blindfolded, and Marcus’ touch still sent sparks through him, but the atmosphere had changed.

  It was done.

  He’d been good.

  Lucian smiled. He nuzzled back against Marcus as Marcus worked his tired wrists. The blindfold remained in place—Lucian wouldn’t have taken it off even if Marcus had granted him permission to.

  It was Marcus’ decision to make whether he saw or not.

  “Sleep now,” Marcus said. “You’re safe with me, fledgling. I take care of what’s mine. And in the morning, when you’re rested, we can talk about how we should continue.”

  Continue?

  What had once been blissful joy soured. Dread curled in Lucian’s stomach, and the word returned to haunt him again.

  Continue?

  As much as he’d enjoyed Marcus’ company, the thought of officially committing himself was terrifying. The fantasy was fun in small doses, but permanently? To consider himself officially owned by another alpha after everything he’d gone through at The White Lotus?

  Lucian didn’t say anything.

  Marcus kissed the back of his head and drew him close as he settled, and it wasn’t long before Lucian heard the steady rhythm of his breath slow as sleep claimed him. Lucian lay by his side as Marcus’ knot recessed and his cock slipped free from Lucian’s ass, then he wormed out from beneath Marcus’ arms and pulled the blindfold from his eyes.

  He couldn’t stay.

  Heart racing with fear, dread joined by regret to poison what had once been a high unlike any other, Lucian slipped out of Marcus’ room.

  Tonight had made their back alley adventures too real. It had driven home a message that Lucian wasn’t ready to hear—he’d found someone he wanted, and someone who wanted him just as badly, but he couldn’t have him.

  Not like this.

  Marcus had stripped away the residual ills inside of him, but only temporarily. Faced with the idea of permanent ownership—of letting another alpha take control of his body and his mind—Lucian folded.

  So he did what he’d never been able to do before.

  He ran.

  21

  Marcus

  Morning came. Marcus woke, groggy, and reached for the omega whose scent perfumed his sheets. He was met by a pile of blankets, nothing more.

  Concern didn’t strike when Marcus cracked open an eye to find the bed empty. It inched into the forefront of his mind when he checked to find the bathroom empty, then blossomed into mild panic when the kitchen was deserted, too.

  Lucian’s clothes were gone from the living room.

  The front door was unlocked.

  There was no note, no text waiting on Marcus’ phone, and no sign that Lucian had ever stayed the night—save for the pair of lace panties that had been left behind.

  Marcus scooped them up and brought them back to his bedroom, crestfallen. His thumb explored the design of the lace as he walked, allowing himself to process the complex maelstrom of emotion that ravaged him from the inside.

  Regret. Concern. Fear. Anger. Denial.

  Lucian had left the panties for him on purpose—he couldn’t have overlooked them when they’d been left so close to his other clothes. The more Marcus thought it through, the worse he felt. He couldn’t get over the feeling that they were a farewell gift—a token to remember him by. Marcus expected that kind of behavior from other subs—those who chased nights of passion and didn’t care where it came from—but that wasn’t Lucian. Marcus knew him well enough to safely say that.

  Something had to have happened. Something had to have broken inside of him.

  The Dom who’d poisoned Lucian’s mind had left him cracked, and Marcus couldn’t blame Lucian for shattering. It didn’t mean the end—far from it.

  Marcus would fix him.

  He didn’t discard his possessions so easily.

  22

  Lucian

  Nothing was as lonely as a phone that didn’t ring. Lucian lay in bed and watched it, expecting the screen to light up with a call or a text.

  It never did.

  Saturday morning bled into an uneasy evening at work. On Monday, the start of Luc
ian’s weekend, he stayed in. His attempts to distract himself with television left him feeling worse than he’d felt while fleeing from Marcus’ condo.

  He regretted what he’d done.

  Marcus deserved better. Lucian had been a coward. All Marcus had wanted to do was talk, and he’d run out on him without giving him a chance. Lucian knew that he was damaged, and that no matter how strong he felt he would always have triggers, but in that moment, he hated himself for his weakness.

  If Marcus never spoke to him again, Lucian wouldn’t blame him.

  On Tuesday, drained and lonely, Lucian picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. There weren’t many. With only so many lifelines to choose from, Lucian called the one person he knew he shouldn’t.

  He called Clarissa.

  The phone rang. Lucian closed his eyes and sprawled across his couch, hoping she’d answer. Once upon a time, she’d offered to lend her ear if there was something bothering him. Now that there was something sticking beneath his skin, Lucian intended to take her up on her offer.

  “Lucian?” Clarissa asked when she answered his call. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” It was only a partial lie, but Lucian set it straight. “Well, not one hundred percent okay. I, um, I was wondering if you had some time to talk.”

  Clarissa couldn’t know about who he was seeing, but if he was vague about the situation, Lucian thought she could help. It didn’t matter if she had advice for him or not—speaking his mind and putting actual words behind his thoughts would help him get a hold on the situation.

  “Yeah. I’m running laundry, but I’m not doing anything more exciting than that. Hit me. What’s got you down?”