Page 26 of Trapped

Like a spider.

The thought makes me shudder, realization hitting my absent mind. The butt plug. As if sensing my distress, Arsène rubs my back, making my body tremble even more. Uncontrolled. Because my limbs are being pulled so tautly together by his glittering thread that it can easily burn into my flesh when I resist the slightest. Thank fuck he hasn’t added any superglue this time. I don’t care for a repetition of that cobweb in the forest.

“Do you have any questions about our brotherhood?” Elder Jacques asks. Arsène brushes two digits in my hair, lifting my head to meet the Elder’s glare. Yanking at my hands, I feel my body convulse in a sudden fit of panic, coiling like a tightening fist in my stomach. He leans in from behind, rubbing my hair with his lips, and I feel his own dark strands tumble freely over mine, blanketing my lighter ones with his golden glow. He must have pulled his hood down.

My prey. The words ghost through my ear.

“N—no,” I hear myself say. My mind is once more swimming, but this time it’s not just flickering shadows. It’s my blood that’s flooding south, making me feel a little light-headed while my cock fills with desire. Arsène’s fingers cup my cheek, turning my head to meet his lips, and my face flushes. His mouth presses a soft kiss on the hot skin. He doesn’t talk, just makes soft, reassuring humming sounds while he continues to touch my face, neck and nape.

It makes me feel deliciously helpless.

“The Alpha Fraternarii has big plans for the future of our country,” Elder Jacques says, his dark eyes still on mine. “After tonight, your life will never be the same again. Our brotherhood respects their traditions, and as such, you are under protection of the family de Noailles.”

“What about…” The words leave my mouth in a flood, only to dry up before I reach the end of my phrase. I flinch at my own boldness, then turn angry at this anxiety, that turns into blind panic once more when I realize that I’m completely wrapped up. Arsène has left his fingers under my chin, the imprints still warm and tickly, and has moved on to explore more of my revealed flesh. My eyes fly back to Golden Mask, who's still standing by my side, his gaze toward the scene.

Elder Jacques tilts his head. “What about your family?”

Behind me, Arsène taps my naked ass and with my mind still on the Elder’s words, I absentmindedly feel how he slides out the plug. He was right, the drugs are not as heavy as the other ones were, but they still make my mind numb. Make me obey without a single snarl. Make me fucking want this so badly.

No, I inwardly shake my head. That’s not on the drugs. Me wanting Arsène has nothing to do with these tranquillizers and everything with his powerful, broody self. With his dominant, yet pure hunger for me.

Then a cool, wet finger probes between my crease and I hiss.

Putain de merde.

I am tense, legs shaking, lips trembling. Around us, brothers come closer, their cloaks and masks ominous in the dim light. The melody’s so peaceful, the only thing my tumbling mind can hang on to, which I do, clambering and begging for it to continue, to never stop.

I moan when Arsène’s fingers slide deeper inside and press against my g-spot, hips rocking back against his digits.

“F—fuck,” I pant. Arsène chuckles softly, raspily, the sound humming inside my body. My eyes flutter, together with my mind, and I let out another unhinged cry when his fingers pick up the pace, scissoring mercilessly inside my tight heat and hitting that sweet spot again and again.

“Baise-le, Arsène,” Golden Mask purrs. Turning to lean on my cheek, our eyes meet, and he smiles wickedly, revealing a golden tooth. Fuck him, he’s asking Arsène to fuck me.

“Spiders are patient,” Arsène croons against my ear, his voice hitched and unable to reveal his arousal. He positions the plug right in front of me, the large wolf spider at full exhibit. I wince at the sight. “But fuck, papillon, you are perfect. The way you’re splayed out for me, wings spread, only to be restricted by me. Don’t worry, pretty boy, I want you to fly. I want you to make your art, for you to be happy. You’ll be under my protection. Your dad and brothers will stay away from you, if you want them to.”

“H—how?” I breathe, then let out a needy gasp, because I can feel him line up the head of his cock against my hole, his fingers still crooked deep inside. My question echoes through the silenced room, much like it throbs inside my head, repeating itself on a reverb. If I don’t even understand what I mean, how’s he supposed to know?

“Because our brotherhood is based on respect,” Arsène muses. After one final press against my prostate, he slowly pulls out his fingers, and I’m left empty, a shuddering breath escaping my lungs.

“I’ll be right there.” A whisper, a promise. And then his fingers coax the tip of his cock past the ring of muscles that clench on instinct at the invasion of something big, and slippery. Something persistent like his crown, followed by the rest of his shaft. Slowly, persistently, filling my tight channel, moulding it snug around his shape.

“Arsène is right,” I hear the Elder call out. “The Alpha Fraternarii honour their values. Respect.”

“Respect,” the brothers repeat after him. Arsène bottoms out, his hands on my exposed ass cheeks, spreading them apart.

“Your ass is perfection. Tight and hot, papillon. So fucking delicious.”

“Loyalty.” The Elder booms, his command echoed by the rest. Arsène leans forward, his chest touching my back, his hands now in my hair, brushing the strands out of my face, while his other hand cups my chin, angling it so that his mouth can easily find mine. The rest of my face, covered by lace, feels hot and clammy. He growls against my lips, a guttural, animalistic sound.

“You are mine, Robin. Mon papillon.” And then he starts moving, slowly dragging his cock nearly out of me, before he slams back in.

Hard.

I cry out, feeling split open and claimed in front of all these guys.

Outside of our bubble, I can hear the sound of their chanting, I can smell the herbal, woodsy essence and vibrations along with the melody of the piano. But everything is muffled, as if I’m not really here. Maybe I am not. Or maybe it’s the exquisite love making that has plunged us into an everlasting tumble into the unknown. The past. The present. The future.

Golden Mask was right—Arsène is a generous lover. His lips nip at my flesh, warm my skin, lick and kiss everywhere they can reach. His hands tangle in my hair, pull me closer, caress my wrapped up skin under loud purrs, while his hips keep on rocking a steady rhythm, driving us into a frenzy. Heat coils up into my stomach, makes my toes curl and my eyes burn, and my heart thumps violently in my chest.

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