Page 7

Chapter seven

Nick

Viktor's cock was heavy on his tongue, hot and velvety against his lips. The bitter-salt taste of pre-come lingered as he took Viktor deeper, feeling the stretch at the corners of his mouth.

He hadn't planned this—hadn't planned to be on his knees in the damp earth of the forest, pine needles digging into his knees. Yet here he was, looking up at his nemesis, watching Viktor's composed facade crumble with each calculated movement

This was stupid. So, so stupid.

Yet here he was, on his knees, one arrogant werewolf coming apart above him. Nick's jaw ached, his pulse pounded, and his body—traitorous bastard that it was—throbbed with something dangerously close to want.

He looked up, meeting Viktor’s eyes. Dark. Wild. Barely restrained.

Nick smirked, because if he didn’t, he might start thinking about what he was doing. “Look at you,” he drawled, voice lower than he intended. “So damn desperate.” He let his fingers ghost along Viktor’s slick length, barely touching, watching the way Viktor’s stomach tensed in response. “Still trying to pretend you’re in control.”

Viktor let out a growl, low and warning, but Nick only grinned.

This was reckless. Insane.

And yet, he wanted to see how far he could push.

"What's the matter, Viktor?" Nick taunted, his voice a low purr as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over Viktor's hard cock. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nick smirked, his eyes locked onto Viktor's as he parted his lips, taking just the tip into his mouth. He teased, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head, his hands working the shaft with slow, deliberate strokes. Viktor's body was taut, muscles straining as he fought to maintain control. Nick could feel the power dynamic shifting, the upper hand within his grasp.

Nick wasn't new to this game. He'd never been the hottest guy in the room, not like Viktor with his movie-star looks and perfect body. Nick was all angles and attitude, nothing special at first glance. But that had just made him work harder—pun intended. He knew his way around a cock.

And now Viktor was coming undone above him. Mr. Perfect with his tailored suits and cold composure was breathing hard, trembling slightly as Nick worked him with practiced precision. It felt like victory—sweeter than any argument he'd ever won against Viktor.

Nick worked Viktor over slowly, deliberately, keeping the pace just on the edge of teasing. He could feel the tension in Viktor’s body, the way his muscles coiled tight, like he was fighting to hold himself back. It was exhilarating, knowing he could unravel someone like Viktor, someone who usually carried himself with such rigid control.

Viktor let out a low, guttural sound, his grip tightening in Nick’s hair. The rawness of it sent a sharp thrill through Nick’s spine. He should’ve been afraid—this was a predator, a werewolf barely restraining himself—but instead, it made his own pulse pound harder, made him press in closer, made him want to see just how much he could push before Viktor snapped.

Nick told himself this was still about control. About payback. About wiping that superior look off Viktor’s face and proving that Nick could handle him, that he could take what he wanted without losing himself in it.

But his body had other ideas.

Heat curled low in his stomach, spreading like wildfire, impossible to ignore. His own cock ached, betraying him, pressing insistently against the cool night air. He grit his teeth, willing the feeling away, but it was useless. Every growl that rumbled from Viktor’s chest, every sharp inhale, every shudder of barely restrained need only made Nick’s blood burn hotter.

This was getting dangerous.

Viktor’s thighs tensed beneath Nick’s hands, hard muscle flexing as the werewolf fought for control. The grip in Nick’s hair tightened, fingers digging into his scalp. He should’ve resented the possessive touch, but instead, it sent a shiver down his spine.

Suddenly, Viktor's hand fisted in Nick's hair, gripping tightly. Nick's eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of alarm shooting through him.

The air shifted. One moment Nick was in control, the next—yanked into Viktor's orbit. Viktor's fingers tightened, sending sparks of pain across Nick's scalp.

"You think you're so clever with that talented mouth," Viktor said, voice rough. "Let's see how you handle this."

Viktor's fingers tightened in Nick's hair, holding him perfectly still. Their eyes locked—Nick's defiant, Viktor's burning with dark intent.

"Open wider," Viktor commanded, his voice rough.

Nick complied, a last flicker of triumph in his eyes—still thinking he had the upper hand. Then Viktor pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching Nick's lips obscenely. He didn't thrust. Instead, he fed his length into Nick's mouth with deliberate slowness, one excruciating inch at a time.

Nick's confidence wavered as the first few inches filled his mouth. Viktor was bigger than he'd anticipated—thicker, longer, the veins along the shaft pulsing against his tongue. A trickle of uncertainty crept up his spine.

"Look at me," Viktor growled when Nick's eyes started to close.

Nick obeyed, gazing up as another inch disappeared between his lips. His jaw ached, stretched to capacity. Viktor was only halfway in, and already Nick was struggling.

A moan vibrated in Nick's throat—part protest, part unwilling pleasure. His naked body betrayed him, his own cock standing rigid against his stomach, pre-come beading at the tip despite his growing alarm.

Nick's jaw ached, stretched to its limit. Saliva leaked from the corners of his mouth, running down his chin. Each thrust pushed deeper, Viktor's cock filling his throat completely.

The forest spun around him. All Nick could focus on was the heavy weight on his tongue, the slick friction as Viktor used him. Rough pubic hair brushed against his nose with every thrust, Viktor's scent overwhelming him—sweat, arousal, and that distinctive cologne Nick had always secretly insisted he hated.

Nick shuddered. His nails bit into Viktor's thighs, his fingers twitching between pushing away and pulling closer. His own cock throbbed painfully, betraying him. Each brutal thrust sent conflicting signals: fear, anger, and a shameful, mounting pleasure.

Viktor pushed deeper, the head of his cock hitting the entrance to Nick's throat. Nick's eyes widened in panic. He couldn't—there was no way—!

"You always bite off more than you can chew," Viktor murmured, his voice a dangerous caress. "Now take all of me."

Nick tried to pull back, but Viktor's grip held him fast. Another inch slid in. Nick's throat constricted, fighting the intrusion. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, tracking down his flushed cheeks.

The pressure was immense, Viktor's cock stretching his throat, cutting off his breath for precious seconds. When Viktor pulled back slightly, Nick gasped through his nose, dizzy with relief and a strange, twisted satisfaction.

Nick forced himself to glare up at him, even as his entire body burned with something he couldn't name. He’s going to pay for this, he swore to himself. Just as soon as I can think straight again.

"Again," Viktor said, pushing forward once more.

Each time, Nick took him a little deeper. His throat learned to relax, to accept the invasion. His body surrendered before his mind did, until finally, impossibly, Nick's nose pressed against the coarse hair at the base of Viktor's cock. His eyes widened in shock. Viktor was inside him completely, thick and pulsing, the entire length buried in his throat.

The sensation was overwhelming—fullness beyond description, his senses flooded with Viktor's taste and scent. Nick couldn't breathe, couldn't think. There was only Viktor, only this, strong hands knotted in his hair and a pulsing cock on his tongue.

Viktor held him there for three thundering heartbeats, watching Nick's eyes glaze over. When he finally eased back, allowing Nick to draw a desperate breath, his smile was victorious.

Viktor's eyes burned down at him, pupils wide with need. "Look at that," he panted. "Finally found a way to shut you up."

Nick moaned around Viktor's length, the vibration making the werewolf hiss with pleasure. The power had shifted completely—Nick was no longer the one calling the shots.

And god help him, he was getting off on it.

Viktor's grip tightened in Nick's hair, his hips moving with a deliberate, punishing rhythm. Nick's eyes watered, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he took it all. Viktor looked down at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Always wondered how to shut you up," Viktor taunted, his voice a low growl. "Now I know. Next time you mouth off in a meeting, maybe I'll fuck that pretty little face of yours right in front of everyone."

Nick's heart skipped a beat, a strange thrill coursing through him at Viktor's words.

He thinks I'm pretty?

Viktor’s grip tightened, his green eyes blazing. His grip tightened in Nick's hair, his hips moving with a desperate, frenzied rhythm. Nick could feel the werewolf's cock swelling, pulsing with impending release.

You’re enjoying this too much.

That thought should have snapped him out of it. But Viktor was shuddering, his body tensing, his grip turning punishing as pleasure overtook him. Because of me. The realization slammed into Nick, dizzying, intoxicating. He had reduced Viktor—the snarling, insufferable werewolf, his biggest rival—to this. A mess of ragged breaths and shaking muscles, coming undone at his hands.

That’s a win, right?

Viktor's rhythm stuttered, his fingers tightening painfully in Nick's hair. "Fuck," he growled, the single syllable more warning than Nick got from most men—

The first spurt caught him by surprise. Jesus fucking christ. Nick swallowed desperately, trying to keep up with the volume. Some escaped, trickling from the corner of his mouth. He felt it slide down his chin, warm and viscous, and in his lightheaded state thought it might be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to him. Years of perfecting my technique, and I'm drooling come like a fucking amateur.

Viktor groaned above him, the sound so raw and unrestrained it sent a jolt straight to Nick's neglected cock. Another pulse, another desperate swallow. Nick's throat worked overtime, his focus narrowed to this one task. He would not choke. Would not sputter. Would take everything Viktor gave him, if only to prove he could .

When Viktor finally pulled out, Nick gasped, dragging air into his deprived lungs. His chest heaved, head spinning as oxygen returned to his brain. He could still taste Viktor on his tongue, could feel the residual fullness in his throat like a phantom limb.

"Fuck," Nick croaked, his voice wrecked, barely a whisper. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying for dignity and missing by a mile. "Do you always come like a fucking fire hose, or was that special for me?"

Even as he said it, Nick felt a perverse sense of accomplishment. He'd taken it all—well, most of it. The evidence of that glistened on his chin, but he'd managed the rest. His body hummed with a strange mixture of pride, violation, and desperate, unresolved arousal.

Viktor looked down at him, chest heaving, eyes still dark with the aftershocks of pleasure. "Most humans can't take it all their first time."

The casual ' first time ' sent a jolt through Nick's body. As if there would be others. As if this wasn't a one-time lapse in judgment in a forest.

"I'm not most humans," Nick rasped, his throat raw, his voice barely recognizable.

Viktor panted, his fingers lingering in Nick’s hair before they loosened, slipping away. They stared at each other, both getting their breaths back, the air thick with tension and uncertainty.

The fresh silence between them was suffocating.

Nick sat back on his heels, chest heaving, his lips tingling, swollen from use. He barely registered the cooling night air against his overheated skin. He was too busy staring at Viktor, and Viktor—damn him—was staring right back.

Nick’s mind scrambled for something, anything, to say. A joke, an insult, some razor-sharp quip that would put distance between them again. But nothing came.

What the hell happens now?

The answer that came to mind was wild, but inescapable: Whatever I want to make happen.

And right now, with his cock aching, he knew what that was.

Nick's voice was thick and raspy when he finally spoke. "Seems like I've made you come twice tonight, Viktor," he said, his voice laced with challenge. "If you don't want everyone at work tomorrow to know that you're a lousy lay, you better even the score."