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Chapter seventeen

Sailboat

“Get on your knees,” Elliott said, a victorious smirk tugging one corner of his mouth upward now. Niko stared at him for another silent moment. “I’m collecting on my raincheck.”

There was a long, odd pause between them, something electric and deeply tense.

Elliott had made this more real, had crossed a line into something dangerous by bringing the knife to Niko’s neck.

Yet he wasn’t hurting him with it at all, either.

He hadn’t pushed it far enough to draw blood.

And they’d discussed the safeword to stop this roleplay if he wanted to.

Especially for what comes after , Elliott had said.

He’d made it very clear that exit still applied now.

Niko searched his eyes, and Elliott did the same, merely waiting.

Niko realized what he was doing now—granting him a moment to put a stop to this if it was too much, if he were too uncomfortable. The question hung silently in the other man’s eyes, and he even saw Elliott’s eyebrows quirk up, as though to ask: Well?

Niko would play along. He acquiesced, giving the other man a subtle nod and slowly sinking to his knees.

Elliott still held the knife to him, though more loosely this time, the blade no longer even touching his skin.

He reached out and stroked Niko’s hair, then slid his hand down along his jaw to cup his chin.

He gripped it firmly, forcing Niko’s attention and gaze fully up on him now—as though Niko had anywhere else he wanted to look right then.

“You’re going to do something for me, hunter,” Elliott purred. “You’re going to pleasure me until I’m satisfied. And then I’m going to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. Does that sound good to you?”

Niko swallowed. He was dizzy, both fully immersed in the roleplay and separately aware of what it was—pretend.

The mere idea of this ever really potentially happening drove him wild.

He wished, on some level, that it had, absurd as it all was.

The idea of Elliott besting him like this in their former cat and mouse games and then taking it further—using him as a fucktoy—made him salivate.

He knew Elliott saw it, too. It must have shown in his expression; the other man’s lips curled upward wickedly as he gazed down at him now.

“Good boy,” Elliott said.

Niko let out a sharp breath, looking away. Those words were too much. He felt his body turn to liquid inside the suit. All but one part, which remained hard as a rock.

Elliott pressed the flat end of the knife against Niko’s cheek and gently directed him back to face him again. “No. I want you to look only at me while you do this.”

Niko couldn’t even speak. He barely nodded, hoping it got his agreement across adequately.

“I’m going to be rough with you,” Elliott said, tilting his head.

“Because I think you can take it.” His fingertips wandered the length of Niko’s jaw again, before settling into and running through his hair.

Then he tightly grabbed a fistful of it, and wrenched Niko’s head back.

Niko grunted at the handling, but instead of any sort of complaint, he found he loved it.

It spoke to everything his body craved right then, to every anticipating need.

“Unzip me,” Elliott said.

Niko’s gaze dropped from the other man’s face to rest on his crotch instead.

He was eye level with it, perfectly positioned.

Elliott was clearly just as much into this as he himself was—if the bulge that strained against his dark jeans was any indication.

Niko reached towards him but hesitated, thick, armored gloves still covering his hands.

He began to unlatch one, when Elliott pressed the knife toward him again. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

Niko froze in place, briefly at a loss. “It’s going to make it harder to—”

“Ask me, then.”

A flare of defiant rage shot through Niko, white hot as fire.

But with it came something else, too—he felt absolutely drunk with desire in a way he never had in his entire life.

He warred between telling Elliott to go fuck himself for trying to control him or deferring to the command he’d given. It certainly hadn’t been a request.

He finally glanced up at Elliott, hoping the intensity of his scowl communicated some of the disobedience he felt. “Can I,” he said flatly.

“Can you what?” Elliott snapped at him.

Asshole. Niko ground his jaw, biting down on lashing out at him. He felt feverish—a bizarre mixture of stubborn frustration and utter delight that made for a wild combination. “Can I remove my gloves so I can unzip you?”

“Since you asked so nicely, I’ll permit it,” Elliott said.

Niko unlatched the gloves and tossed them aside. They landed on the ground with two solid clanks and rolled slightly before coming to a stop. He half expected Elliott to chastise him for overstepping by throwing them, but the other man said nothing, except, “Well?”

Niko reached towards his fly and unbuttoned, then unzipped it slowly. He wanted to be ornery back at him, wanted to take his sweet time. Like he didn’t need this so badly it made the very marrow of his bones feel aflame with ecstasy. Like he didn’t feel the desire might consume and kill him.

“Pull me out,” Elliott said.

Niko just as slowly slid his hand beneath the elastic waistline of Elliott’s underwear and pulled him free.

It was hard to breathe now. He felt so good in his grip.

He wanted to pump and stroke him until Elliott came on his face—an impulsive need.

He started doing just that, letting his hand grip and work Elliott’s cock, when to his surprise the other man batted his hand away sharply.

“No.”

“ Elliott ,” Niko protested before he could even think better of it.

“Elliott what?” He looked down at Niko now, gaze displeased, regally cool.

It was a rhetorical question—Niko searched for any sort of comeback that wouldn’t make his situation worse than it already was, but fell silent instead.

On his knees and with an assassin’s lucky knife to his throat, he was hardly in a position to argue.

He found he liked it that way. In spite of everything he thought he’d known about himself.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Niko knew exactly where this was going. A chill of exhilaration and pleasure rippled up his spine and webbed through his whole body. He opened his mouth slowly, his gaze rising to meet Elliott's own.

Elliott gripped him by the hair again, prying Niko’s head back, then pushed himself in.

All the way in.

Niko choked on him. There was no building up to it this time, no preparing himself or relaxing his throat—Elliott wasn’t fucking around when he’d said he was going to be rough with him.

Then he showed Niko mercy, pulling himself free again.

Elliott’s cock glistened with his saliva, and Niko wanted it back inside him.

“You can take it, Niko. I’ve seen you do it before.

You were so good at swallowing my cock.” He pushed himself in again, relentless, before Niko could answer.

He tried to brace himself this time, but still gagged slightly.

Elliott thrust again and again into his mouth, pushing the entire length of himself in before pulling out, pausing only occasionally to give Niko a few seconds to gasp for breath.

Soon, Elliott’s own breaths were emerging from him as his telltale, soft, low moans as he used him. A visceral, electric thrill jolted through Niko at knowing he was enjoying himself so much.

Niko was enjoying himself, too.

“Mmm, like that,” Elliott groaned, his voice low and silken, given to his pleasure now. Then he said it again. “You’re being such a good boy for me.”

This time, Niko let out an involuntary moan, the sound strangled with his mouth taken up completely. Goosebumps covered every inch of his skin. He wanted to melt into Elliott. He’d never felt like this, not in his entire life. Not in any other experience, not with any other lover.

He would have never let any other lover come close to doing this to him, either. Not by any chance in hell.

It felt so fucking good, though, Elliott filling him again and again, making him take it all, making him choke on his cock while he gripped him roughly by his hair.

He did it hard, and he did it quickly. It bordered on too much—but that was what Niko liked most about it.

His body responded reflexively, gagging on him until his eyes brimmed with tears and Elliott pulled out, a string of glistening saliva connecting them as he gave Niko another few precious seconds to recover.

Niko wanted none of that. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Elliott’s hips, planting his hands on his ass, then pulled the other man forward to force him all the way back in, greedy to swallow the entire thing. He needed it, couldn't get enough.

Niko was starving.

Elliott emitted a breathless moan. “I didn’t say you could—”

Niko grunted his answer, unable to speak. He could feel the seep of tears dampening his cheeks now, all involuntary bodily reaction. He wanted— needed —to touch himself, but was stuck beneath the thick armor. He knew Elliott probably wouldn’t let him anyway.

It didn’t matter. He liked everything about this so much—to be used, to be sloppily face-fucked, existing in that moment only to serve Elliott however he wanted it—that the next time he took in the other man's full length after pausing for a breath, he began to panic and reached up to grip Elliott’s leg tightly.

He pulled away from him, then turned his head to the side, wiping saliva from his mouth.

“S-sailboat.”