Page 109 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12
Jun
Damian’s hands on his skin anchored Jun to his alpha. The overwhelm rolled through him, quieter now. The further he fell, the quieter his head became, the more he fixated on Damian, his touch, his scent, his movements. The rest of the world was beyond his awareness, barely a passing memory. The cave wrapped around them, shielding them. The rope held him. There was a place just beyond reach. Reaching it required letting go, being Damian’s captured and subjugated prey. He was captured, but subjugated? No. The instinct to fight, to watch, to be in control was hardwired.
Damian’s fingers squeezed his ass cheeks, first one then the other. His fingers played with whatever was holding his hole open, dipping inside.
An angry protest rolled through Jun.
“You don’t give in easily, do you, wolfling?” Damian murmured. “That’s all right. We can get you there. We’ll find the surrender.”
Would be easier if he could just give in like Collin. Fighting was exhausting.
Damian did something with the rope. He started to undo the tie that kept Jun’s forearms pressed together behind his back. Jun roused. Maybe he could get them under him.
He tried to draw them forward. One barely moved. The other flopped onto the cot.
Damian straightened one arm, then the other, hands moving down the muscles, rubbing them. Jun tried again. There was something stopping him from pulling his hands too far. The cuffs. Damian must have them leashed to something. Pulling on his one anchored ankle, he pushed back, bending his legs and rising up on all fours. He swayed. Drool ran from his open mouth. His ass felt weird, and moving was frightening with something foreign and unforgiving inside.
He turned his head, seeking Damian. His alpha moved on his knees from Jun’s side to right in front of him. He pushed up, guiding Jun to kneel up facing him. It put slack on the rope tethering his wrists. Damian had a clip. He brought Jun’s wrists together and linked them with one a couple of centimeters between the cuffs. Jun tugged at them. His shoulders ached. He dropped his hands into his lap, arms heavy.
Damian stroked Jun’s cheek. “Color, boy.”
Jun blinked dumbly at his alpha. Color? Was he supposed to be feeling like this? Was this part of the process? He wanted to throw himself into Damian, but he also wanted to run.
“Color, boy.” Damian clasped Jun’s wrists in both of his hands, raising up. The safety ball had fallen away. Jun gazed at his fingers.
Damian lowered Jun’s wrists and unbuckled the mouth spreader. He drew his fingers down Jun’s jaw, rubbing his face gently. He eased Jun’s mouth closed. From somewhere, he held a water bottle to Jun’s lips.
“Talk to me, wolfling.”
Jun swallowed, working his mouth.
“Still fighting me?” Damian’s voice was soft.
Jun nodded. A tear ran down his cheek. “Don’t want to.”
“We do whatever we need to do in this space.” Damian pressed a kiss to Jun’s forehead. “The question is whether you want to come back, be Jun, and try this later, knowing what we both know now, or do you want me to take you down all the way?”
Too many choices. Jun closed his eyes. Tomorrow had no guarantees. Tomorrows were hoped for, not held in one’s hand. And he wanted this. He wanted to find out who he was under Damian. He wanted to reach that place of surrender and pleasure, of closeness. What it was exactly, he couldn’t articulate, but he knew it was just there, just beyond. He’d experienced enough to know that much.
He lifted his chin, gazing back at Damian.
“You’re being too gentle, alpha.”
“Am I?” Damian stroked Jun’s throat.
“You want my surrender, alpha, you have to take it. I won’t—-can’t—-give it to you. I can’t just lay there and give in, no matter how much you tie me up.”
And that, in all its starkness, was the truth. This was on Damian. Either he could be the predator that Jun sensed him or he would fail.
Damian
Damian cradled Jun’s face in his hands. Gods, he wished Richard was there. Richard would know how to take Jun from this place of uncertainty and fight and submit him without breaking him.
But if he called Richard in, if Richard was the answer, then Jun’s submission would be to Richard. Not to Damian.
Jun was his. Jun was asking this of him. This was the moment he learned if he was the dominant he hoped to be, the one Jun needed.
He’d started the day with a plan to have a fun chase and fuck, but now they were somewhere else, a liminal place between before and after where fates were made.
