“I’m not,” Cyprian muttered in reply. He yanked the handcuffs out and closed the drawer with a loud bang. “You’re the one playingme.”
11
“Go and lay down on the bed. Hands above your head. Close the cuffs around your wrists and wait for me.”
Moargan deliberately didn’t look up and kept on typing his message. But he heard Cyprian shuffling back inside the bedroom. Felt him hesitating, imagined a gasp. There was the faint rustle of sheets as Cyprian climbed onto the bed. The way he situated the sheets so they were carefully wrapped around his naked body.
The metallic clank of the cuffs as he tried them out.
Moargan inwardly groaned at Cyprian’s submission. Nowthatwas a sound he could get used to. Cyprian obeying his every command. Cyprian presenting his lithe, pale body fully to Moargan.
As an Imperial, he almost always got what he wanted.Almost. Because there was one black hole in his heart and a missing one that burned the edges of love. His mother. No one ever spoke of her anymore. She was gone, that’s all Helions needed to know.
Maybe they were right. For the sunrays his mother had bathed the family in, when they were younger, had long faded. All that was left were recollections. Of her brilliant voice as sheread for them before bed. Her own made-up stories created by events that happened during the day. How they loved those.
Her voice hadn’t sung for a long time now. Her smile was still there, wrapped in the familiar glow of who she used to be, intermingled with sorrow about the way life had treated her.
Moargan went to visit her every week and read to her. He thought—hefeltthat she enjoyed the stories. At least it was a comforting thought.
Up until recently, she had been the only person who could make him feel. That had now all changed. It was…shocking, to say the least. It was…beautiful.
Focus. He stared at the message. It was getting late, and his mind made up.
Thank light, Father hadn’t asked any questions, although Moargan didn’t count himself lucky just yet. They would come, followed by the full official ceremonies.
But first things first. They needed to inform the public about this asshole terrorizing their streets, and Helianth and Kylix needed to arrest and punish the motherfucker.
Still…he skimmed over the text and hit send. There was an instant relief that hit him. Tomorrow would be a glorious day. Moargan would officially stake his claim. And that claim had nothing to do with the mark he’d left on the tender skin of his littleaeon’sthroat back on the spaceship.
Cyprian.
A mysterious name for a mysterious guy. Moargen liked it.
He finished the cigarette, enjoying the faint intoxication of the opium. “You can release the sheets.” He raised an amused eyebrow when Cyprian glared at him. “I like them very much, but I don’t need them right now.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“But I can.” Moargan watched his property flinch when he took a step forward. “Now, stay down.” Taking out the bottle of lube, he walked toward the back of the bed and watched asCyprian did as he was told, his jaw clenched. He looked beautiful like this. Stubborn, annoyed. Moargan took a deep breath. “Fear is like an ambrosia for someone like me. And you haven’t done what I asked.” The cuffs still dangled in Cyprian’s hand.
“Perhaps we can—” Cyprian hesitated, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
Moargan shook his head. “No, littleaeon, that’s not going to work. I want you to understand you’re mine now.”
“I understand,” Cyprian muttered.
“By putting yourself on display,cuffed.” Moargan slid both hands on Cyprian’s ankles and spread his legs as he made himself comfortable between his thighs. When Cyprian hesitated, he clicked his tongue. “Perhaps you’d rather have me brand you, too.”
Cyprian shook his head saying no, fumbling with the cuffs. It took him a few tries before he managed to open them blindly, but when they closed around his wrists, he had caught himself. A fucking thrilling thought.
“Well done.” Nuzzling Cyprian’s cock, which was hardening again under the attention, Moargan hummed in delight. “How are you feeling?”
Cyprian gasped at the touch, his shoulders tense as he looked down. “I don’t know.”
Moargan squirted some lube on his fingers and traced a wet line from Cyprian’s balls down to his ass. “What do you mean, you don’t know? Don’t know how you feel about being mine, or is this about what I’m going to do to you?”
Cyprian didn’t reply. He lay still and Moargan inhaled deeply, sniffing the trepidation on Cyprian’s skin as he started circling his hole with wet, sticky fingers. “Have you ever put anything in here?”
“No,” Cyprian whispered.