CHAPTER 194: CHAPTER 194: THE SHOWER

Dax’s fingers went to the fastenings of Chris’s clothes, the shirt, and the trousers; each was shed and discarded to the floor in a heap of expensive fabric. Chris stood bare before him, skin pebbling in the warm, humid air.

Dax’s gaze raked over him, a visceral, claiming look that felt more intimate than any touch. "Beautiful," he breathed, the word a prayer. He quickly removed his own clothes, and they were skin to skin, Dax’s hard planes providing a stark contrast to Chris’s.

He guided Chris backward into the large glass enclosure. Warm water instantly sluiced over them, soaking hair, plastering it to skin, and tracing paths over shoulders and down backs. Dax crowded him against the cool, wet tile, his mouth finding Chris’s again in a deep, claiming kiss as the water cascaded around them.

His hands were everywhere. One slid down the curve of Chris’s spine, cupping his ass, pulling him flush. The other hand tangled in his hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. The bond thrummed, a live wire connecting their pleasure, so that Chris could feel the echo of Dax’s own desperate hunger coiling in his gut.

Dax broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gusts against Chris’s wet skin. He trailed his lips down Chris’s throat, over his collarbone, lower. He took one nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking, teeth grazing lightly, and Chris cried out, back arching off the tile, the sensation bolting straight to his core.

"Dax..."

"I know," Dax murmured against his skin, his voice filled with desire. His hand slipped between them, fingers wrapping around Chris’s length. He began to stroke, a slow, torturous rhythm made slick by the water and Chris’s own pre-cum.

Chris’s head fell back against the tile with a thud, a moan tearing from his throat. His hands struggled to grasp Dax’s slick shoulders, nails digging in.

He urged Chris’s legs up, hooking one over his hip, then the other, until Chris was completely supported by him, pinned to the wall and utterly at his mercy. The new position left him open, vulnerable, his most sensitive place exposed.

Dax’s fingers drifted lower, tracing the sensitive skin behind his balls, then circling his entrance. He didn’t press inside, just teased, a light, maddening touch that had Chris squirming, his body clenching in anticipation. The bond was a frantic, humming thing, a combination of Dax’s smug satisfaction and Chris’s own desperate, burning need.

"Look at me," Dax commanded, his voice a low growl that vibrated through Chris’s entire body.

Chris forced his heavy eyelids open. Dax’s face was inches away from his own, his expression raw and unguarded, his violet eyes burning with an intensity that was both terrifying and thrilling. Water streamed down his face, plastering his blond-white hair to his brow, giving him the appearance of a wild, beautiful god.

"I’m going to fuck you against this wall," Dax said, his words a blunt, explicit promise that made Chris’ cock throb. "I’m going to make you forget your own name. And when I’m done, you’re going to walk back into that world smelling of me, and everyone will know you’re mine."

"I already smell like you, possessive bastard." Chris said and before he could reach for Dax’s head to drag him in for a kiss, he felt his hole being stretched.

The stretch was a slow burn. Dax hadn’t used his fingers to prepare him; he’d simply pressed the head of his cock against Chris’s entrance and pushed, allowing his body to yield to the unstoppable pressure. It was a claiming, a raw, primal act that cut through all pretense and got right to the heart of their relationship. Chris’s breath hitched, his body tensing for a moment before the overwhelming pleasure of being filled washed over him. The bond roared in approval, and Dax sent a wave of possessive satisfaction that made Chris’ head spin.

"You’re right," Dax growled, his voice a low rumble against Chris’s lips as he paused, buried to the hilt. "You do, but nothing would stop me now."

He didn’t give Chris time to adjust. He pulled back, almost withdrawing completely, only to slam back in with a powerful thrust that knocked the air from Chris’s lungs. The sound of their bodies meeting was a wet, filthy slap, lost in the roar of the shower. He set a brutal rhythm, each stroke a deep, hard thrust that hit the spot deep inside him that made stars explode behind his eyes.

Chris’s world dissolved into the hot water cascading over them, the cool, slick tile behind him, Dax’s hard, unyielding strength holding him up, and the thick, perfect drag of Dax’s cock inside him. His nails raked down Dax’s back, leaving red trails on the slick skin, his body arching into each thrust, his head thrown back in a silent scream of pleasure.

Dax’s mouth was on his neck again, his teeth and tongue leaving new marks, a possessive gesture that sent jolts of pleasure straight to Chris’s core. The bond was amplifying every sensation until Chris thought he might shatter into a million pieces. He could feel Dax’s own desperate need, his relentless hunger, and it only fueled his own, pushing him higher and higher until he was teetering on the edge of oblivion.

"Dax... please..." he begged, the words broken. He was so close, so achingly close, and the pleasure was coiling in his gut like a tight spring.

"Come for me, Chris," Dax growled in his ear, his voice rough with his own impending release. "I love it when you come on me."

With a hoarse cry, Chris shattered, his orgasm tearing through him. His release pulsed between them, hot and thick, his inner walls clamping down around Dax’s cock. Dax followed him over the edge with a guttural roar, his own release filling Chris to the brim.

Steam curled around them like a second skin, the water still falling in warm sheets as their breaths slowly evened out. Chris sagged against Dax’s chest, muscles trembling from the intensity of everything. His legs were useless, too shaky to trust, and Dax’s arms stayed firmly around his waist, refusing to let him slip even an inch.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

The only sound was the steady thrum of water and the uneven rise and fall of their chests pressed together, their scents thick and sweet in the warm air.

Dax’s forehead rested against Chris’s temple, his hair dripping onto Chris’s shoulder. His voice, when it finally came, was low and hoarse in a way Chris had only heard after their marking.

"Are you alright?"

Chris let out a shaky breath that might have been a laugh if he weren’t half-melting against the wall. "Give me a minute," he murmured, fingers curled weakly against Dax’s shoulder. "I think my bones forgot how to function."

Dax’s answering smile was soft, feral pride layered with affection. "Good."

Chris swatted his chest. It was ineffective. Everything was ineffective against a man built like a walking marble statue. "That wasn’t a compliment."

"It was for me."

Chris closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the shower wash over his utterly spent body. The bond hummed lazily between them now, no longer a screaming live wire but a golden thread wound snugly around his ribs, vibrating with shared satisfaction and the faint echo of Dax’s lingering awe.

Dax nuzzled the side of his throat with a tenderness that contradicted every brutal thing he’d just done. "You should see yourself," he murmured. "You look..."

"Don’t you dare say it."

"Beautiful." He said it anyway, pressing a slow kiss to Chris’s jaw.