Page 9 of Rivals

Nick couldn't tear his eyes away. He didn’t want to look—he shouldn't be looking—but he did.

The sight of Viktor above him, muscles flexed and straining, his body rolling into motion with purpose, was impossible to ignore. Moonlight cast sharp shadows across his broad chest, highlighting every ridge of his abs, the deep lines cutting down to where he was hard and heavy, sliding slick and hot between Nick’s thighs. Every motion was deliberate, focused, like Viktor was making a point.

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t help.

The sensations were impossible to block out—the heat of Viktor’s body, the weight of him pressing him into the damp earth, the steady, rhythmic push of movement. The sound of skin on skin filled the air, wet and obscene, each movement deepening the unbearable tension winding through Nick’s core.

His breath came in uneven bursts. His fingers dug into the dirt, grasping for anything solid as his body reacted in ways he refused to acknowledge. A traitorous shudder rolled through him, shame and need tangling into something unbearable.

Nick clenched his jaw, desperate to keep himself in check. He fought to suppress the sounds building in his throat, but each thrust made it harder to hold on. He felt raw, exposed, like Viktor was unraveling him thread by thread, breaking him down until there was nothing left but sensation.

The sound of Viktor’s breathing was ragged now, his growls turning guttural, his control slipping. His grip on Nick's thighs tightened, nails biting in, as his rhythm turned desperate, erratic.

Nick barely had time to react before Viktor stiffened above him. His entire frame shuddered, muscles locking tight as a deep,primalsound tore from his throat.

Then heat. Wet, thick, undeniable.

The first hot splash hit Nick’s stomach. Then another, splattering across his chest. He flinched as a spurt landed high on his cheek, cooling too fast against his flushed skin.

Marking him.

Nick sucked in a sharp breath, pulse hammering so hard he swore he could feel it in his teeth. The force of it was overwhelming, dragging him under, leaving his skin flushed, his breath shaky, his body aching with the aftermath of something that shouldn’t have felt this intense.

Viktor exhaled roughly, his chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged breaths. Nick was still trapped beneath him, slick and shaking, his mind a complete blank.

Nick scowled, more out of instinct than anything else. “Jesus,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Youreallydon’t believe in giving a guy a warning, huh?”

Viktor’s breath hitched—a sharp exhale that was almost a laugh. Almost.

Then, with a lazy, satisfied smirk, he dragged a single finger through the mess on Nick’s cheek and lifted it, deliberately slow, to Nick’s mouth.

Viktor’s voice was still rough, thick with satisfaction as he murmured, “Open.”

Nick’s entire body seized, like something deep inside him had short-circuited.

No. No, absolutely not. He clenched his jaw, refusing to react, refusing to acknowledge the heat crawling up his spine, the way his pulse hammered like a drum beneath his skin. He needed to move, to twist away, to shove Viktor back and put space between them…

But he didn’t.

His mouth parted, just slightly, and that was all the permission Viktor needed.

Viktor's fingers slid through his lips, pressing firm against his tongue, tasting of salt and heat and humiliation. Nick inhaled sharply through his nose, but the scent of sweat and musk and something purely Viktor filled his senses, thick and inescapable.

His body betrayed him. Again. A low, broken sound slipped from his throat before he could stop it, vibrating against Viktor’s fingers. His face flamed with instant shame, heat rushing from his neck to his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, mortified, furious with himself, desperate to pretend it hadn't happened.

But Nick wasn't lucky—not now, not ever.

Viktor heard it. His breath hitched, a quiet, satisfied sound, and then he pushed deeper, his fingers pressing against Nick’s tongue, tenderly fucking his mouth.

Nick should have bitten him. Should have turned his head, spat, cursed,anythingto shatter the moment, to pull himself out of this spiral. He wanted to snap back, to lunge for Viktor’s throat, to wipe that smug expression off his face. But he couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel.

And the worst part—the absolute, undeniable worst part—was that he was still hard.

His lips closed around Viktor’s fingers, his breath shuddering as the taste of him flooded his mouth, warm and unmistakable. His cock ached, flushed and heavy between them, proof of his own betrayal. His skin was too sensitive, too aware of every shift, every slow drag of Viktor’s fingers over his tongue, every flex of muscle above him.

"Good boy," Viktor murmured, amusement laced through the rough edges of his voice. Then he pulled his fingers free with a slick pop, and got to his feet.

"Have a nice night," Viktor called over his shoulder, voice dripping with smug dismissal.

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