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C yprian woke up to fingers softly tracing his back. Humming, he leaned into the touch, mind still too foggy to ascertain his whereabouts. “Feels good,” he sighed.

“Yeah?” Came a husky drawl.

“Hmm.”

His palm itched a little, and he fluttered his eyes open, blinking a few times for his view to become clearer. Aside from the slight itch, he couldn’t find anything off. Teasing fingertips crawled down his spine and to the curve of his ass.

“How’s your hand?”

“A little sensitive.” Cyprian bit his lip as he gazed through the fluttering curtains. It was still early, judging by the way the planets were positioned in the dark sky. He looked at the inside of his left hand once more. It felt warm beneath his sensitive flesh. Something simmered under the surface. “Is that what woke me?”

“Hmm.” Moargan’s fingers skidded back up his spine until they reached his nape. He brushed the hair aside and blew inside the curve behind his ear. “You woke up because I was awake. ”

“I woke—” Cyprian turned over his shoulder, catching Moargan’s brilliant stare. “Is that what this is? This…our hands, are we connected now?”

Moargan smiled. Cyprian was only half surprised to see that the gems on his incisors had transformed to the same amethyst color as his eyes. He’d seen it happen before when he mutilated Theo. “We are. I claimed you, aeon . You are mine.”

“But I thought…” Cyprian halted. What had he thought? He stared back at the outside scene of darkness and colourful spots high in the air and sighed. “Why me?” He asked instead. “I have nothing to offer you.”

“Why won’t you let me be the judge?” Moargan closed his lips on Cyprian’s earlobe. He sucked on the tender flesh while snaking a hand around his waist, making Cyprian shiver. “What’s on the chip, Cyprian?”

“Nothing that’s of importance to you.”

“Then why don’t you help us get access?”

“Because it’s not your business.”

Moargan grunted and pulled him closer. “Lift your left hand above your head.”

As soon as the new position exposed Cyprian’s palm, Moargan wrapped his own over his. It felt as if the blood in his veins heated, creating a soothing rush through his insides. His body relaxed and he felt his eyes flutter closed. “What’s happening?”

“It’s still early. Sleep some more.”

“How do you do that?” Cyprian wanted to look over his shoulder again, but he didn’t have the energy. “That’s you, right?”

“You can do it too.” Moargan’s words reverberated against Cyprian’s ear, and goosebumps erupted. “From now on you’ll be close to me, little aeon . Your feelings are mine. Everything about you is mine now. ”

Cyprian's throat locked with emotion. Those words…he tried to shake them off, but hope was an ugly beast.

Keep me.

He must have fallen asleep, because the next moment he opened his eyes, the dark sky was replaced by a blue one. The other planets were no longer visible, instead birds flew through the air.

“You’re awake.” Moargan’s arm was still wrapped around him, and he nuzzled the hair on the back of Cyprian’s head. “Your mind is like a labyrinth, aeon . A very confusing place to be.”

Cyprian blinked. “What?” Their hands were still connected, his body still full with this comforting buzz. “Were you there?”

Moargan chuckled raspily. “Not in the literal sense, no. You were mumbling in your sleep. Something about Nikkie and someone called Ichor?”

Cyprian grunted. “My oldest brother. I hate him.”

“And something about your hand. I think it hurt, so I tried to take the pain away.” Moargan traced Cyprian’s wrist with his fingertips. “The palming ritual is like an alliance between two people, but for Dariux. We haven’t had many of those unions yet, but we hope more will come.”

“You didn’t ask me for my permission.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“Of course you do, you arrogant ass.” Cyprian’s heart thumped violently in his chest, choked by the intensity of his own feelings and scared for possible retribution, and he bit his lip in an attempt to stop it from picking up further.

The retribution didn’t come. Instead, Moargan hummed in appreciation, inhaling deeply against Cyprian’s nape as he rolled his hips against Cyprian’s ass. Cyprian felt Moargan’s cock nudging his naked skin and stifled a groan. “ Aeon , don't be upset. I haven’t had to ask for a single thing in my life before, and at twenty-two I’m not planning on changing that habit. ”

“Last night.” Cyprian’s hand thrummed pleasantly where their palms touched. “You drugged me.”

“I did.” Moargan surprised him by turning his head over his shoulder so they were facing each other. He planted a soft kiss on his lips. “And you loved it, lover. My cute, lightweight. The tiniest bit of opium and my Royal Consort goes all soft and sweet. He lets me do everything I want to him and loves the fuck out of it. I wonder what would happen if I’d put some of those pleasure dispensers in the cubicle where we will be later as we watch my brother’s show. I bet you’ll go all feral on me.”

Cyprian flushed at the insinuation.

Brushing a strand from Cyprian’s face, Moargan’s smile softened. “But first. You have questions, I can feel them in your heart. Go on, ask.”

Cyprian hesitated. Part of him wanted to climb out of bed and hide from all the revelations and the emotions that were thrown at him. It had been his coping mechanism ever since he’d set foot on Helion. But the ugly beast of desperation clung tight, and he hated himself for the feeling of hope he felt. This is what he'd come for.

The truth.

And last night, some of that had been revealed. Perhaps it wasn't his truth—it felt impossible for him to be a Dariux— but the royal family confided their secret to him. They had let Moargan unite with him.

Cyprian let himself be rolled onto his back, let Moargan hover over him. The prince’s possessive hand was still wrapped over his and splayed above their heads, creating that wonderful buzz. But that was physical. Mentally, he was still searching. Moargan was right, he had questions. “So your father thinks I might be Dariux?”

Moargan hummed in agreement.

“It would explain my strange eyes.”

“You have beautiful eyes,” Moargan corrected.

“Do you think… What Aviel did was pretty amazing. Do you think I can do that too? Can you?”

Moargan shook his head. “I can’t. And I don’t know if you can. Would you like to?”

Cyprian smiled. “And burn the whole world if I felt like it? Hell, yes.”

Moargan chuckled, then dipped his head to lick at the sensitive spot on Cyprian’s throat. Heat built up in his stomach and he tried to wriggle free, giggling when Moargan latched on his skin. “Stop it! I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

They both laughed, Moargan’s lips being replaced by his teeth as he scraped them over Cyprian’s tender flesh and right at his mouth. They kissed slowly, sighing as their tongues connected.

When Moargan finally pulled back, they were both breathing fast. Cyprian was hard and brushing against Moargan’s erection. “Any other questions before we get ready.”

Cyprian’s gaze searched Moargan’s, the glorious amethyst eyes staring right back at him. Provoking him to ask the inevitable.

“How does a Royal Consort live?” He finally asked.

“Ahh…” Moargan wiggled his brows. “I thought you’d never ask.” He lifted both their hands for them to see, palm to palm. Pale and tanned. Small and large. Bare and adorned with rings. “From now on, we belong together,” Moargan explained. “You can feel me, reach out for me when we’re not physically together, and request my presence.”

Cyprian nodded in understanding. His stomach coiled and his hand felt unstable. He had to get the words out. He rolled his lips and looked away. “So are we like…boyfriends now?”

Moargan chuckled at that. “Boyfriends?” He murmured suggestively. “I guess it depends. What would you like your boyfriend to do?”

Cyprian stifled a groan when he felt fingertips brush over his dick. “Perhaps, kiss me?”

“Kiss you? Like we did just now? You like that?”

Cyprian bit his lip and nodded. His cheeks felt hot.

Moargan leaned forward, brushing his lips against Cyprian’s. The Imperial slowly traced of his lips with his tongue, moaning as he did so, before placing a hand behind Cyprian’s neck and pulling him in. The kiss was slow but deepened when Cyprian opened for him. His stomach tightened with desire as he felt Moargan’s tongue inside, cock filling frantically.

Good light. Cyprian wanted him to put his hand around it and stroke him to bliss. He jerked his hips at the thought, surrendering when Moargan pushed him harder into his pillow. The kiss turned urgent, and he let the Imperial ravage his mouth that made him lightheaded. A hand slid down his throat and over his pecs, circling a nipple before tweaking it.

Cyprian moaned.

Moargan chuckled inside his mouth, the sound driving him crazy. His hand crept up and he let it draw over Moargan’s back and down to the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Can I—can I touch you?”

Moargan gave him a last peck on his lips and smiled. “Always, little aeon . Let me move up.” With Cyprian’s hand still lingering, Moargan crawled onto him, straddling his chest and reorganizing his pillow, making him lay straighter up. Then he pulled out his cock and pressed Cyprian’s fingers around it. He smirked when Cyprian pinched his lips in concentration and tightened his grip. His cock was heavy, flushed, and wet at the tip. Crawling a hand beneath Cyprian’s neck, Moargan pushed him forward. “You have no idea how long last night was.”

Cyprian opened his mouth and tasted the wet crown, moaning as the salty scent teased his tongue.

“Knowing that you were laying there, next to me. At my mercy. I can hear your heartbeat, little aeon , hear it beat like crazy for me. Suck my dick, lover, and drink it all down.”

Moargan thrust up and Cyprian struggled to accommodate the sudden intrusion. That made the Imperial laugh. The gems on his incisors flared violet and he tilted his head back and grabbed Cyprian’s hair to keep him still. Rocking his hips with powerful thrusts, he started to fuck Cyprian’s mouth.

Cyprian moaned as he sucked hard, feeling precum and saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth. His eyes watered when Moargan hit the back of his throat, and he gagged, intoxicated by the sight of Moargan’s grinding hips, his firm, tanned skin, and the abs that were clearly visible. He came with a snarl, filling Cyprian’s mouth and throat with his release. “Drink it, aeon . Swallow it all.”

He did his best, swallowing and pumping at the same time as he emptied every last drop of Moargan’s spent cock. When they finally stilled, Moargan let out a long, satisfied sigh and stretched his arms in the air, showing off his strong, sculpted chest and stomach. He smiled down at Cyprian and slowly pulled his softening cock out of his mouth.

“Hmm. What a way to wake up. I could get used to that.” He stepped off of bed and headed for the window.

Cyprian watched as Moargan lit a cigarette. His own cock felt painfully hard. “Moargan,” he begged. “I want, I need?—”

Moargan smiled and crooked his finger. “Come here then and feed me your dick.”

Cyprian’s knees almost buckled when he approached the window. Moargan sat slumped back against the glass and peered up at him with mischief in those amethyst eyes. He exhaled red smoke, flicked his cigarette away, then slowly slid down to his knees and opened his mouth. Waiting.

“Good light,” Cyprian choked. Then he leaned forward and placed the tip of his cock inside the waiting lips. Moargan hummed in approval, closing around Cyprian’s weeping erection. “I won’t last,” he rasped.

Moargan took him to the back of his throat in perfect, tight suction, then reached out to cup his balls. Squeezing and rubbing, they drew up in his hold. Cyprian moaned, feeling delirious, as he rocked back and forth in Moargan’s mouth. His hand searched for Moargan’s, and when they connected, the Imperial used his other fingers to stroke his dick faster and faster while his tongue flicked over his slit. The buzzing sensation started in the tips of his toes and trickled up to his head, making Cyprian’s eyes roll back. He came with a shout, desire like molten fire. Moargan sat back, cleaning his cock with lazy swipes of his tongue, until Cyprian felt his heart rate slow and turn back to normal.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped.

“Oh, fuck indeed.” Moargan wiggled his eyebrows. “You were delicious. Now.” He got up and gave Cyprian a last peck on his lips. “Let’s get dressed for the arena.” He checked his multi-slate for messages.

“The arena?”

Moargan looked up. “Heliant’s Aureate. Or have you forgotten?”

“No, I just didn’t think you’d require my presence.”

He didn’t want to be present.

“You didn’t think I’d take my Royal Consort out during the weekend?” Moargan chuckled. “Everyone will be there. Plus, it’s free entrance for the public.”

“ Everyone ?” He had never been inside an arena. “What will actually happen to Theo?”

“Uh uh, pretty boy. Question time is over.” Moargan walked toward the dressing room and came back with a pile of clothes. “We need to get changed and ready. I’ve got you something special for the occasion.”

Tossing the garments on the bed, Cyprian swallowed as he looked at the leather pants, tank top, and white cloak. He remembered them well.

Seeing it laid out for him did funny things to his insides.

“Are you sure about those leathers? They seem a little tight.”

“They will be a close fit. Don’t worry though, you’ll only be wearing those for show.”

“W-what do you mean?”

Moargan looked smug. “You’ll see.” Putting on his outfit and white robe, he leaned in and brushed their lips together. “I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll see you in the kitchen, aeon .”

A fter being rushed into getting ready for today’s events, Cyprian had found himself in a slow display of supremacy. The Imperials controlled everything on Helion, including time. They seemed to have plenty of it, taking hours to enjoy time together in Moargan’s mansion. Refreshments were served while the royal family was scattered all over the house. Children were playing, while adults chatted loudly.

This was what a party must look like, Cyprian thought. He spent most of the time in the kitchen, silently watching Aviel as he bossed all the personnel around, clearly in his element. A few times he sent a golden wink in Cyprian’s direction, but other than that, he kept quiet, for which Cyprian was grateful.

He recognized a few members who had been present during their meeting the other day. Yure and Vandor were there. Talking to a stranger in uniform was Moargan’s cousin Kylix, entirely dressed in black. Milanov’s voice was loud and he was once more accompanied by his right hand, Zimeon. Luminary guards were posted all over the house and Cyprian even recognized the plainly dressed, quiet people as slaves.

A little later, the group finally headed toward today’s event. By the time they made their way inside the arena, every single stand of the venue was overcrowded. Loud music blasted through the speakers, and people carrying bags of snacks and drinks were chatting and cheering, as they waited for the spectacle to start.

The Aureate.

“Come on, lover, this way.” Moargan kept his hand in the small of Cyprian’s back as they made their way through the crowd.

The white cape fluttered around Cyprian’s shoulders, serene and free, a heavy contrast to the tight pants around his thighs. It made him feel sexy. Invincible, with the way the crowd stepped back to let him pass.

And uncomfortable.

They reached the door to the designated area for the Imperials and two Luminary guards stepped aside to let them in.

The lounge was made of a large, luminous space with several glass cabins. As Moargan handed him a drink, Cyprian watched as a handful of other Imperial’s entered. Some of them had been at the party back home, others were new faces.

“More cousins,” Moargan explained. “Some go to the academy as well, others are still at school or have already graduated. There are twelve of us in total.”

Kylix walked in and gave him a clipped nod before disappearing into one of the cabins with a dark-haired guy wearing an identical uniform.

“He always looks like he has just swallowed a gherkin,” Moargan muttered. “But he has a reputation when it comes to fucking.”

Yure and Vandor stood by the bar, talking softly and smoking a red cinder cigarette. They smiled when they saw them.

“Did you enjoy the party back home?” Aviel asked from behind.

“Sure,” Cyprian lied.

“Feeling uncomfortable around me, huh?” Aviel chuckled. “I get that a lot. Don’t worry. Now, let’s see what you’ve got.” Their gazes locked.

Cyprian felt his eyes burn, and though the other guy smiled, there was no amusement in his stare. It was molten gold, hard and intense.

A light bulb exploded, followed by another one.

A vision flickered through his mind. Stairs. So many of them. He felt like he was falling.

Then Aviel blinked and the intensity was gone. He took a drink, patted Cyprian’s shoulder, and strolled away. Cyprian watched as he clicked his fingers and disappeared in one of the cabins, followed by another guy a second later.

With a heavy sigh, Cyprian tipped his glass to the bartender. The woman silently filled up his glass.

“Is it always this busy?” He asked. Sliding off the towel from her shoulder, she started cleaning glasses.

“Yes. Aureates are popular. You’re not from here?”

“I—no.”

Was he?

Suddenly Moargan stood next to him. “Are you coming, lover? Helianth’s about to enter the arena.” He leaned across the bar, grabbed a bottle and two glasses, winked at the bartender, then pointed his chin to a cabin.

Cyprian followed. He’d barely stepped inside the small cubicle when Moargan kicked the door shut.

“Welcome to my little spot,” Moargan smiled. “Humble, but with the best view.”

Cyprian looked around. Aside from a couch and ropes that fell from the ceiling, the place was empty. But the view of the entire arena was sublime.

The stands were bulking with cheering people, flags, and music. “How many of them are there?” Cyprian asked as he pressed his nose against the window.

“I don’t know, about twenty thousand?”

“Wow. So many. And they’ve all come to watch this Aureate?”

Moargan came to stand next to him. “Love how our language rolls off your tongue. They have. Now, show me your hand.” Moargan dribbled a bit of oil onto his fingers and rubbed them on his hand, inspecting the palm and fingers. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

“No, not anymore.” Cyprian opened and closed his fist a few times, his gaze still on the crowd. They were close, yet so far away, only mere glass separating them. He watched as a mother strolled by, two children holding her hands, laughing and chatting to her friend.

“Nowhere?” Moargan winked, then slid the iced bottle down Cyprian’s spine to the curve of his ass. Despite the cloak, a cold trail lingered when he lifted it away, and Cyprian bristled when blood pumped south.

Moargan looked up. “I know. I’m such a tease. Come on, aeon . Let’s get you comfortable.” Positioning himself at Cyprian’s back, he handed him a glass, then leaned in. “After all, the show is about to start.”

Cyprian shivered. “People can see us.”

“No, they can’t. It’s opaque glass, one-sided visibility.”

Cyprian’s gaze flicked up at the outside movement. Soldiers entered the field, with a struggling prisoner between them. “There’s Theo,” Cyprian breathed. He felt pity for the blond man.

“There he is, indeed,” Moargan hummed. “That means Helianth will be out there soon.”

A band followed the soldiers onto the field and started playing a song. It didn’t take long for the crowd to pick up and vividly sing the lyrics.

“The Helion national hymn. You should learn it, too.”

When the song finished, the crowd gave a thundering applause. The soldiers bowed in unison, then marched away, leaving Theo all alone, a shivering heap. He was dressed in a purple jumpsuit and looked so small, with the way he looked up at the crowd, his blond curls shining in the sunlight. His gaze was morphed into one of pleading as if he truly expected any of those beasts here to have mercy on him.

“There he is, our mouthy thief,” Moargan mused. “Not so mouthy anymore.”

Aluminum casings unrolled, showing huge holo screens, projecting an image of the Imperial, looking as charming as usual. He smiled down at everyone.

“Dear fellow Helions.”

The crowd roared.

Moargan trailed his fingertips under Cyprian’s shirt, skidding over his bare skin.

Milanov Zephyranth held a speech about values and traditions and made every single attendant promise that they’d look after each other.

And then, just when the crowd had left another massive round of applause, Helianth came walking out and onto the arena.

The sound erupted.

He looked handsome in a sleeveless, white cloak that fell to his knees and was tied at the waist by a golden belt. His blond hair was tucked away in a high bun that revealed the string of earrings.

Cyprian tried to wriggle free from Moargan’s mouth as he laid open mouth kisses on his throat. “Stop it, I need to concentrate on this. What’s Helianth going to do to Theo?”

“That depends on his prey.” Moargan looked outside as well. Their cheeks were together, the touch intimate and sweet, a strong contrast to the burning desire Cyprian felt between his thighs. “He could fuck him. Kill him. Make him a soldier. What would you do? ”

Cyprian blinked. “What?”

“The guy stole something important to you. What punishment would you give him?”

Cyprian thought of it. “Well, I wouldn’t kill him for it, that’s for sure.”

“Okay. Fuck him? Does he look fuckable to you?”

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

Outside both men were facing each other, waiting for the crowd to finish their loud, mutual countdown.

When they finally reached one, they were met with silence.

Moargan whistled low. “For how he hates the Aureate, my brother sure is good at it.” He used his hands to wriggle Cyprian out of the tight leathers.

“Don’t.” Cyprian tried to slap his hands away, but Moargan held on tight. The leather finally dropped to the floor, followed by his underwear.

“You’re painfully aroused for someone who keeps on complaining,” Moargan remarked, sounding smug.

Cyprian kept his gaze straight ahead. He didn’t want to miss a moment of the horrifying, unrolling scene, and most certainly didn’t want to acknowledge how that affected him. Moargan was right. He was hard.

Outside, the two guys still stood in a face-off, one dressed in white, the other in purple. One in full control, the other trembling.

It seemed to last forever, but finally, Helianth made a move. A faint move.

It was enough for Theo to let out a gasp and run away. He headed straight for the closed doors and started banging on them. “Please!” He cried out.

The crowd cheered.

“Please,” Moargan mimicked, mouth back on Cyprian’s throat. “Poor lamb sure got himself caught up in the wrong game.”

Cyprian was startled when Moargan slid down his back, down to his knees, burying his face between his ass cheeks. “Give me a debriefing, will you.”

Cyprian’s gasp turned into a moan when Moargan spread them apart and nuzzled his crack. “This is—” Losing his balance, he thwacked forward and planted his palms against the window. Pleasure thrummed inside his body.

Helianth started walking after Theo, a stroll that reminded him of what had happened to himself at Moargan’s mansion. He had been terrified. At least he had been alone. He couldn’t imagine how it must be for Theo to be watched by a troop of hungry wolves, some of those his friends.

Helianth’s eyes flashed and he snarled, showing off the purple gems in his mouth.

Cyprian gasped at the sudden change. “I think—I think he’s going to kill him.”

“Already? Why do you think so?” Moargan’s tongue probed deeper inside Cyprian’s hole, and he groaned at the wicked mixture of pleasure and obscenity.

Theo, who had started running away from Helianth, repeated his begging for forgiveness in a slur of words of praise for the Imperial. Words that were ignored.

“Push down on my tongue, aeon . Fuck my tongue with your hole.”

Cyprian couldn’t help but obey, desire had gripped him in its clutches.

“Why is he so cruel?” he moaned, rocking his hips back and forth.

Moargan pulled off. “Because it’s in our nature. Dariux’s live for cruelty. I wonder what special enhancements they gave you.” After a final pass, Moargan stood. Cyprian heard the material rustle, knowing—craving—what was to come. The bottle of lube clicked open, and he smelled the vague scent of almonds. His heart thundered with anticipation, eyes glued to the scene, to where Theo had slid down to his knees, panting heavily. He hissed at the intrusion of Moargan’s fingers, forcing himself to relax into the touch. When Moargan pressed his prostate, he mewled against the glass, creating fog from a desire on its brilliant surface.

“Theo has given up,” he whispered. “There’s no way out.” Something tugged at his chest. His cock jolted.

“Has he?” Moargan lifted the back of Cyprian’s cape and shoved it aside, giving him full access to his bare ass.

Cyprian felt his cockhead press against his hole and squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation. The burn was intense, followed by the stretch. More burn, then a feeling so full he could barely breathe.

“He is begging,” he choked out, and he arched his back to give Moargan more space, his nose pressing against the glass.

Moargan hummed against his throat. “And you, little aeon ?” he murmured. “Are you going to beg?” Slowly, Moargan pulled back, until his cockhead was the only part left in Cyprian’s ass. Then he thrust back in, making Cyprian feel as if he was going to fly through the glass wall. Turning his head, he flinched at the sudden coolness as it touched the searing skin of his cheek.

Moargan chuckled. “Come on, beg me, and I might make this pleasurable for you too.”

Outside, Theo held up his hands. “He made me do it!” His words were muffled through the crowd, but somehow Cyprian heard them loud and clear.

Helianth held up his hands and everything stopped. Then, he took off and ran for Theo, an elegant flutter as he dove over the field, eyes flashing as he kept the audience in a chokehold. Theo barely had time to realize what was happening, his movement sluggish when he saw the large Imperial coming for him. Theo got up and fled, crying out as he did, the sound imitated in a cruel mockery by the audience. He ran circling the arena, but Helianth closed in on him and grabbed him by his neck, dragging him toward the center of the arena. He dropped him down and tore open Theo’s purple jumpsuit, growling when his prisoner tried to escape. It was useless, Helianth’s grip too tight. A final howl tore through the audience, and then Helianth started brutally fucking Theo.

The cheers that erupted from the crowd stirred up Helianth’s fire, making him drive his cock into Theo with more force. Helianth grasped onto the prisoner's neck, choking off his air as the sounds of slapping skin filled the arena. The crowd was enraptured. They all stared as Theo gave in more with every thrust.

“He’s turned him into a needy slut. Baby brother’s got character, I love it,” Moargan rasped. Then he continued thrusting, circling Cyprian’s leaking slit. The touch left little crackles of electricity.

“Moargan,” Cyprian moaned.

He needed to come.

Desperately .

“You feel so good, beautiful. So hot and tight. I’m about to explode. And when I do?—”

“Please.” Peering through his hooded eyes, Cyprian saw how Helianth had Theo on all fours, his head locked back between a strong arm as he pumped into him. The holo screen showed the couple from up close, showing how Helianth’s amethyst eyes flared with mania as he fucked his prey. The audience cheered.

“What was that?” Moargan teased. “Is my aeon begging his lover? What are you begging me for?”

“Please,” Cyprian choked. “I need it. I need to come. Please, make me come.”

Moargan suckled on his neck, nipping the skin until it broke. “Good boy.” He traced his finger over Cyprian’s swollen shaft. “Look at that eager cock, Cyprian. Look how much it leaks for me. It is violence you crave, lover. Deep down inside of you.” And then his firm grip was on Cyprian’s cock, and Cyprian’s breath stuttered in desperation for release.

Hands and hips worked in sync as Moargan thrusted rapidly.

When he finally reached his peak, it felt like a warm, glowing relief the way it rushed through Cyprian’s core. He moaned, overtaken by pleasure, body trembling in Moargan’s hold. He never wanted to leave those strong hands.

Moargan shifted bringing him to his front, and Cyprian nestled himself against his chest, chin resting on Moargan’s collarbone. He stood like that, content, his back toward the outside spectacle. He’d seen enough cruelty for the day.

“Perhaps this is the biggest punishment,” Moargan mumbled. He, unlike Cyprian, was still staring outside. He peeked down, a small smile on his lips. The holo screen projected Theo’s blissful expression as he was cruelly manhandled. “He doesn’t want to love it, but he can’t resist my brother. Even while being disgraced out in the open for the whole arena to see, he can’t hide his desire.” Moargan brushed a lock behind Cyprian’s ear. “Because Dariux’s are irresistible. All those gorgeous guys I’ve messed with here.”

“Because you are conceited, is what you mean.” The comment stung.

Moargan lifted his glass and winked at him. “That too, lover. That too.”

They settled on the couch, half-naked. Moargan lit a red ember cigarette while Cyprian slowly finished his drink. They watched in silence as Helianth finished inside Theo’s ass, then turned his prey around to let him clean his cock with his mouth. When they finished, he yanked him backward until he hit the sandy surface and sprawled onto his back, completely wiped out.

“Do you do this often?” Cyprian asked. Moargan was making him feel insecure, earlier glow disappearing swiftly. He readied himself for the answer.

“Which part are you referring to? Watching an Aureate, or messing around with a gorgeous guy?”

That…Cyprian licked his lips, chest tightening. He didn’t like that thought. He hated that thought. “Yeah,” his voice sounded weak.

“Yeah to which one?” The tips of Moargan’s lips ticked up in amusement.

“Nothing.” Cyprian looked away.

“Ahh…I see. You’re thinking of me taking anyone else here. Are you jealous, little aeon ?”

“Of course not,” Cyprian grumbled. It made him feel disposable, so damn disposable.

Moargan’s grin widened, eyes flashing maliciously.

Cyprian should say something, anything , to clarify this conversation, but he’d always been bad at saying how he felt. His mind would go blank and his words would be a river of stutters. “I—I…” he began, but before he could continue, there was a firm knock on the door.

“Imperial Moargan?” Someone called out. “There’s been an attack!”

“What?” Moargan grabbed his discarded clothes as he jogged for the door and yanked it open.

“Yure’s boat,” Vandor boomed. His golden hair was ruffled the only abnormality to the otherwise always perfectly behaved junior general. “They exploded the boat.”