Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)
Chapter 166 - 161: Temptation (3)

Chapter 166: Chapter 161: Temptation (3)

"You," Gabriel said, eyes dark, voice wrecked. "In me. Now."

Damian’s breath caught, not in hesitation, but in something deeper. Something older. The sound of Gabriel like that, frayed, open, asking, was its own kind of seduction.

Heat shot through Damian’s blood like fire through parched grass as it sliced through what little control he still possessed.

One hand reached down, unfastening his belt with a metallic click that echoed in the air like a promise being unbuckled. Gabriel’s breath caught once more, this time from anticipation that had been building inside of him all evening rather than surprise.

The zipper followed, quiet and deliberate, then the soft rustle of fabric as Damian’s pants slid low on his hips. He didn’t take them off. He didn’t need to. Just enough to free himself, flushed and aching, already slick at the tip.

Gabriel’s eyes dropped for a second, just a second, and Damian saw it, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. The way his legs fell wider in invitation.

Damian leaned forward, pressing his hips to the cradle of Gabriel’s thighs. His cock, hard and hot, slid through the slick already pooling there, dragging slow, deliberate paths along Gabriel’s entrance, through the wet heat between his legs. Coating himself in want that wasn’t his own.

He didn’t enter. Not yet. Just circled. Teased. Claimed the space with nothing but pressure and heat and denial.

Gabriel gasped, his head pressing deeper into the pillows, his hips twitching up in search of friction. But Damian held him down with one firm hand at his hip, just enough to keep him still.

And through all of it... Gabriel’s cock throbbed visibly, still caught in the damp, clinging fabric of his briefs, untouched.

His eyes fluttered open, unfocused but sharp, and his breath caught as he realized the deliberate cruelty of it.

"You’re doing that on purpose," he rasped.

"I am," Damian murmured, leaning in until his lips ghosted over Gabriel’s ear.

He sank in.

One slow, agonizing thrust, burying himself deep inside Gabriel until he was fully sheathed, until Gabriel’s body clenched around him, already fluttering, already too much and not enough.

Gabriel’s head fell back, mouth parted in a gasp that dissolved into something voiceless. His legs tightened around Damian’s waist, his fingers twisting harder into the silk of that gold-threaded shirt, desperate for something to anchor him as his body stretched to take him.

Gabriel cried out, high and raw.

Damian didn’t move. Not yet.

He stayed buried inside him, pulse pounding through the heat between them, breath fanning hot against Gabriel’s cheek. Damian’s raw, musky scent enveloped them like a second skin.

Gabriel’s hands were still fisted in the silk of his shirt, knuckles white, muscles tight from the force of holding back.

Damian didn’t speak.

He simply reached down, calm as ever, and unclasped Gabriel’s hands from the fabric, one finger at a time. Then, with effortless strength, he pinned them both above Gabriel’s head in one palm, his grip steady, the imperial sigil shining ominous in the golden light.

Damian’s body trembled with restraint as he finally moved, his hips rolling forward with a deeper rhythm, no longer teasing, no longer testing. Each thrust ground into Gabriel with maddening precision, the pace deliberate, punishing in its elegance.

Then his head fell to the nook of Gabriel’s neck.

And everything shifted.

He breathed Gabriel scent in, deep, raw, filling his lungs with scent and salt, skin and sin. Sweat-slicked and flushed, Gabriel’s body arched to meet every thrust, hips rising in perfect rhythm, pulling Damian deeper into the madness he hadn’t known he was spiraling toward until now.

The slow, careful control was gone.

The slap of skin echoed beneath the velvet hush of the room, beneath the golden glow of firelight and silk, and still Gabriel’s briefs clung to him, drenched and stretched over a cock that throbbed untouched, the material soaked through with proof of how close he was.

Damian’s grip never loosened.

He held Gabriel’s wrists pinned above him, that imperial ring biting gently into flesh as his other hand curled under one thigh, lifting it, folding Gabriel open.

"Damian," Gabriel gasped again, broken this time, his voice catching on a moan, "I—fuck—I’m—"

Damian silenced him.

He sealed his mouth with a kiss that was not gentle, but consuming. Desperate. His tongue claimed every shattered breath, his lips pressing hard and deep, drinking down the sound of Gabriel’s unraveling like it belonged to him.

Because it did.

His other hand gripped Gabriel’s thigh harder, fingers digging in with enough force to leave crescent-shaped marks in the pale skin, visible, undeniable. A brand of where his body bent, where he opened up and let Damian inside.

Gabriel leaned into the kiss, unable to hold the sound back, his wrists still pinned high above his head, the weight of Damian’s ring pressing into flesh, a pulse of cool metal against burning skin.

His body jerked once, then again.

Climax crashed over him like a storm ripping through silence.

A dry, devastating orgasm that had him shaking under Damian, back arched, briefs soaked, cock twitching uselessly as he came untouched—only from the thrust of Damian inside him, from the kiss, from the grip, from the power he’d never wanted to give but had.

Damian didn’t stop.

He thrust through it, chasing his own end with a force that rattled the headboard, grinding deep, gasping into Gabriel’s mouth as his rhythm broke.

Then, with a low growl that echoed through both of them, he buried himself completely, spilling into Gabriel’s heat, his hand tightening just a moment before collapsing against him.

For a moment, there was only breath and heartbeat.

Damian’s forehead rested against Gabriel’s temple. His palm finally let go of his wrists, and Gabriel’s arms fell slowly down, loose and shaking, one hand brushing against Damian’s spine as if to hold him there.

Then Damian’s voice came, soft and rough, his breath still shaky.

"You came," he said, slightly breathless, more curious than smug. "You had a dry orgasm."

Gabriel sighed with fake exasperation. "And whose fault is that?"

Damian huffed a laugh against his shoulder, low and lazy. "I don’t hear you complaining."

Gabriel turned his head to the side, his breath still uneven, strands of hair sticking to his damp skin. "Give me a minute. I might lodge a formal complaint once I can walk again."

"You’ll have to crawl," Damian murmured into his neck, lips brushing sweat-slick skin. "But I’ll allow it. Dignified crawling, of course."

Gabriel let out a soft snort. "Oh, sure. I’ll wear my palace-issue collar for the occasion."

That earned him a bite, not sharp, but enough to make him gasp and shiver all over again.

Then Damian shifted, just enough to look at him, his tone dipping back into curiosity. "Seriously. That wasn’t... normal. How often does that happen?"

Gabriel, still breathless and glow-warm with aftershocks, stretched with a languid ease, arms over his head, the movement making Damian’s eyes flick down his body again without thinking.

"How would I know?" he said, too casually. "I wasn’t topped before."

And then he froze.

Realization hit a beat too late.

"Fuck," he muttered, eyes snapping wide. "Forget about that."