Page 51

“What’s wrong, Niko?” Elliott asked. He quickly tossed the knife aside.

It clinked against the floor, landing near the discarded gloves.

His voice was hoarse and worn thin from his own exertion, though his tone was laced now with sincere concern, very much the opposite of how he’d spoken moments before.

“Are you alright? Was it too much? Niko, I’m sor—”

“No. It’s not that,” Niko said, clearing his throat. It ached slightly and he mourned the emptiness of Elliott’s absence. He could taste him still along the back of his tongue. “I just needed a minute. I was going to fucking come if you didn’t stop.”

He would rather be caught dead than let himself go prematurely again like he had during their first time together.

Elliott paused, his expression betraying blunt shock for a moment. Then he smirked, head tilting as his eyes narrowed. There was something deeply ravenous but patiently restrained in them now. “Just from that? From servicing me? You liked it that much?”

“Yeah, I— Yeah,” Niko mumbled. His face was hot and he knew he was flushing. He wiped his eyes and palmed at his damp cheeks.

“So, you want to keep going.” It was half question, half statement, Elliott's tone toying but laced with probing caution.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Then, maybe I should reward you for holding back so admirably,” Elliott purred at him. He was right back in character now—or maybe this was just how he was. Niko didn’t know and didn’t care. He was into it. “By letting you come when I fuck you.”

“Mmh,” was all Niko could manage.

A tinge of wary concern crept back into Elliott’s voice, deadly serious. This time, he outright asked. “Do you still want that?”

Niko might just go crawling over to the tossed knife and murder Elliott himself if this all stopped now, before reaching its climax. “Yeah, babe. I do.”

“Good,” Elliott said, his tone back to its silken taunt again. He reached out and stroked Niko’s hair. “Because I know you've been dying for this, ever since you started trying to earn my bounty.”

He was definitely back in character. Probably. Even if what he said was pretty much the truth.

In the end, the only characters they were playing in this game were themselves—just a fantasy version of their past, if things had gotten a little carried away.

The dangerous, slippery man who wielded a knife and face-fucked Niko until he cried was Elliott.

Which meant the pitiful man on his knees brought almost to rapture just from being used by Elliott was, truly, Niko too.

He couldn't hide behind the idea of a character, that this was a different Niko somehow, or maybe a different bounty hunter altogether, anymore.

They were both only exactly what they wanted to be.

Niko felt the familiar swell of discomfort and humiliation as the thought began to rise, so he pushed it all away. It was easier not to think about it.

Elliott crouched down, eyeing Niko in thought.

Then he reached out and stroked his cheek with such tenderness and warmth that Niko felt himself involuntarily leaning into his touch.

He then realized with a tinge of embarrassment that his cheek was still damp, and that Elliott was wiping away the last of his body’s reflexive tears for him.

“That’s better,” he said. “Now. I want you to take your armor off for me. I want what’s underneath it.”

The lightheadedness from before struck Niko anew.

He found himself reaching up thoughtlessly to unsnap his shoulder pads, then chestpiece, as he sank back onto his ass.

He could feel every distinct beat of his heart, each pulse vibrant through his body as it carried his blood where it needed to be.

Finally, he was down to only his clothing.

Elliott stared at him expectantly, but said nothing. Niko thought to strip it too, but hesitated, remembering the chastisement from before. “Should…” he started, tentatively, “should I take this off too?”

The other man’s lips curved upward and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re learning. Good. Yes, you can do that. It’s in my way.”

Niko did so, starting with his t-shirt, then awkwardly adjusted himself to pull his pants and boxers off. His legs were numb to the temperature, but his ass was painfully aware of how ice cold the simple metal floor of the training room was against bare skin. He couldn’t help but shiver a little.

Elliott stood suddenly and stalked off across the room, pausing before the locker Niko kept his duffel bag in when they weren’t out on a mission.

He dug through it, then came back, the near-empty bottle of lubrication in hand.

Then he sank to his knees, pushing Niko gently back to lay down.

The floor was just as shockingly cold against the bare skin of his back.

Elliott moved between Niko’s legs, pushing them so they were spread wide.

Niko felt dizzy all over again and swallowed.

Elliott then bent forward and ran his tongue slowly up along the length of Niko’s needy, aching cock in one, long, sensuous lick.

Niko shuddered, barely able to keep himself from reaching out to grip the other man.

Then Elliott slowly swirled his tongue around the head of his cock, licking up the pre-come there.

He pulled away, sitting back up as he stared down at Niko. It nearly killed Niko not to beg him to give him more. To not leave him like that. But he knew that was exactly what Elliott wanted, and the stubborn, defiant side of him wouldn’t allow the other man the satisfaction.

Instead, Elliott said, “Do you want to touch yourself, Niko?”

“Yeah.” More than anything.

“I’m not going to let you.”

Niko bit down on another pang of anger. Of course Elliott was going to torment him. Yet, it all drove him into an even deeper, more urgently wild place. He felt feverish.

“In fact. I have something I want you to try on,” Elliott said.

Niko watched as he held up the pair of handcuffs—he must have swiped them from the duffel bag.

Niko froze again. This was, somehow, even more terrifying than the knife had been.

The knife had just been a prop. This was something more.

Anxiety coursed through him suddenly at the mere thought, his breath quickening.

Without the suit or chair, he couldn’t get around, couldn’t move his legs.

And now, Elliott wanted to take the free use of his arms, his hands.

It nearly sent Niko into a panic thinking about it.

He would have to rely completely on Elliott and whatever he chose to do with—and to—him.

He’d never given that sort of utter and complete power, nor profound trust, to anyone in his life. He had never planned to.

Elliott looked at him calmly. There was no pushiness in him, no insistence.

He had given to another long, patient pause that Niko recognized again.

He was letting him think on it, letting him be the one to decide.

He was giving Niko the unspoken power, in that way.

Niko could utter the stupid word again, could end this decisively before it went somewhere that was too much.

He trusted Elliott to honor it—he had, after all, immediately stopped what they were doing and changed up his entire attitude in concern the moment Niko had spoken it before.

Or he could try it. See where it took him.

He still had their safeword, even after agreeing.

He could still say it any time. He could stop it any time at all.

He searched Elliott’s eyes, which, despite their current positions of submission and dominance, held nothing but a quiet warmth. There was no threat in them.

Part of Niko wanted to push back against his gnawing fear and let Elliott have complete control over him in any way he wanted.

Something buried deep inside him outright ached for it—to give everything he had to Elliott.

To be owned by him, at the mercy of his whim and want.

It was the same feral desire he’d had back on Dainna.

The same impulsive need that had driven him to ask Elliott to take over and face-fuck him during their first night together.

Niko swallowed again, frozen for another moment, before barely nodding for him to continue.

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure?” Elliott murmured, barely audible.

They were still in their characters-which-weren’t-characters roles, and Niko had given him consent, yet Elliott still paused to double-check and make sure.

Appreciation and affection spread thick and warm through Niko’s chest, where his heart resided.

He loved Elliott profoundly in that moment—wholly, truly.

And he trusted him.

“Do it,” Niko said, confidence and warmth overcoming most of his fear. “I want you to.”

Elliott took Niko’s left hand in both of his, trailing his fingertips along its contours, scars, and calluses, then down along his wrist. Then he brought Niko’s hand to his mouth and pressed a long, soft, sensual kiss to it.

He wrapped one cuff around his tattooed wrist and sealed it closed with a click that immediately brought Niko back to the alleys of Uula, bewildered and freshly kissed by his enemy. And wanting so much more.

“Yes?” Elliott said quietly, looking to him again for consent. Niko nodded. He wasn’t afraid at all, anymore.

“Yeah.”

Elliott took his right hand and kissed it too, then pulled Niko’s arms up above his head.

He looped the handcuff chain around a thin metal pipe that ran along the wall—probably part of the electric or heating systems. Then he slid the other cuff around Niko’s wrist and clicked it closed.

A brief, light prick of anxiety rose in Niko again as he tried to pull his arms back down and found he couldn’t anymore, but he willed himself to keep calm.

Elliott watched him again for a moment, as though checking to see that he was alright. Niko nodded to him again.