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No sane person would want that, especially not one with the type of past he had.

But Calix wasn’t any saner than the two men aggressively fucking in front of him.

Aodhan gripped the back of the chair, face pinched as Titus drove into him over and over again, the slapping sound of their bodies coming together echoing in the small room.

He was toned, the muscles in his back rippling when he arched into a particularly hard thrust that shook the chair beneath him, scraping it against the hardwood flooring.

“Louder,” Titus ordered, his voice still even and clear, as though this was causing him no effort at all and he wasn’t pistoning his hips against the doctor like a demon straight from hell.

Calix expected Aodhan to make a witty remark, egg the director on a bit, but instead, he followed the command without any hesitation or pushback.

“Mercy,” Aodhan practically moaned his name, fingers flexing around the chair. “Let me—”

“No.”

“Please. I want to—”

“I said no, and that’s final.” Titus didn’t say or do anything else. He didn’t have to.

Aodhan stopped asking for whatever it was he wanted, groaning and calling out Mercy instead. That was all it took to get him to drop the subject, just a firm statement from Titus and nothing more.

It was a bit terrifying, how in control of it all Titus Mercer was.

If only Calix’s dick got the memo.

He wanted to blame the hook, but the sex toy was pressed in too deep to hit any of the spots he really needed. Mostly, he felt stretched and full—and sure, it didn’t feel bad, but it wasn’t enough stimulation to get him hard and leaking.

And yet…

Cal tore his gaze off the others and stared down at his traitorous dick. He was throbbing and more aroused than he should be. Hell, he shouldn’t be aroused at all . There was something so primal about what was happening in front of him, though—what was happening to him.

Monster.

He must be.

He didn’t want to be.

They were all insane, but he didn’t want to face that yet. Didn’t want to face his part in all of this.

Hated that they were making him.

“Spread your legs wider,” Titus commanded, making a sound of approval when Aodhan shifted into a better position for him to pummel.

When the two of them had slept together, Aodhan had been on top. Not only that, but he’d also been extremely good at it. Experienced. Did they switch positions to keep things interesting?

Almost as soon as he had the thought, Cal discarded it. There was no way someone like Titus would willingly give up control like that. They didn’t know each other well, but that truth was far too obvious to be overlooked.

“Do you want it, baby?” Titus purred, and it took Calix longer than it should to realize that Aodhan didn’t immediately reply like he’d been doing.

Frowning, he glanced away from where the director’s cock was pumping, gasping when he found Titus already staring back at him. He couldn’t help the shiver that overcame him when their eyes locked, and it was impossible to ignore the way Titus purposefully slowed, turning his thrusts almost languid.

“I could take care of you next,” the director continued, voice low and sultry, doing something strange to Calix’s insides.

“I’d be so good to you. We could take it nice and easy for our first time.

What do you think? Doesn’t that sound preferable, Detective?

Better than being strung up and forced to take a metal hook.

Or,” he reached forward and snatched a handful of Aodhan’s hair, yanking the doctor up, “would you rather I let him loose?”

Aodhan howled as the new angle drove Titus deeper into his body, but he didn’t resist, allowing himself to be resituated so his back was sealed against the director’s front.

His large cock came into better view, the curved tip rosy and flushed.

It glinted in the bright light of the room, wet and swollen.

“I could let him tear you apart with this,” Titus said, indicating Aodhan’s heavy member. “Give you that sting of pain you love so much. I’ll fuck you on his cock and make you both scream my name. Is that offer more appealing to you?”

Calix forced himself to shake his head, though he wasn’t sure who he was fooling. The precome dribbling down his shaft to paint his thighs certainly gave him away. But he held tight to his dignity, especially since it was already thin and the only thing he had left.

“Only a lunatic would give in to someone like you,” he snarled, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to break skin. Of course, that was a mistake, because the second the pain zipped through him, another wave of pleasure quickly followed.

What was wrong with him? Why was he always like this?

He’d gotten over his embarrassment about enjoying pain in the bedroom. It wasn’t like both of them hadn’t already seen him come apart on Aodhan’s cock while he bled for him. It was too late to regret or turn back the clock, so acceptance was the only option anyway.

But there was a difference in liking pain and being okay with this .

“Just kill me,” Calix growled. “Do it and get it over with.”

Titus’s disappointment was instant and so potent that Cal almost backpedaled and apologized. He didn’t speak to him again; instead, he turned his head away in a clear dismissal that shouldn’t have bothered Cal, but did.

Growing up, whenever Sister Grace had punished him, he’d believed her when she’d said it was because she loved him.

He’d believed her when she’d said she knew what was best, even when he begged her to stop and actually meant it.

Even when he didn’t want it. Now that he was an adult, he obviously knew better.

He understood that people who beat children never did it out of caring or love.

Just like people who kidnapped others or shot someone in the head without flinching.

Calix knew what they’d already done to him was inexcusable and unforgivable. Heinous.

He knew there were millions of others who’d grown up in similar circumstances to his that didn’t turn out the way he had. That didn’t lean into their past as a crutch or make excuses or try to pretend to be something they weren’t.

But it was easier when you were normal, wasn’t it? Easier when you could be angry over things that deserved your anger. Horrified by the things that were arguably horrific.

He knew there was something seriously wrong with him. Something disgusting and twisted and abnormal. Because sure, liking blood play and rough sex and BDSM and being tied up weren’t bad.

When it was between two—or more—consenting adults.

This wasn’t play. It wasn’t an agreed-upon scene. Nothing about this was legal, and no part of him should be straining against his bonds to try and get a little closer.

And yet he was.

When Titus started to strip out of his clothes, exposing honey-toned skin and a well-defined muscular physique, Cal couldn’t look away.

He tried, internally begging himself not to give in to this. Not to let on just how messed up he truly was, but it was like his eyes had a mind of their own. Like his entire body belonged to somebody else.

Someone who was a slave to lust and, clearly, prone to self-loathing.

But…It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be. No one was looking for him. No one cared.

No one wanted him. Even as highly ranked as he was, his commanding officer hadn’t tried to stop him from quitting once. The most he did was order him to complete one last case and that was it. So…even if all Aodhan and Titus wanted was to humiliate and torture him, wasn’t that still something?

Wasn’t that still better?

At least this time, he was attracted to his assailants.

“Good Light,” the words slipped out of him, quiet enough he didn’t think anyone else heard. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t honestly be that easy, could he?

The whole point of quitting his job was to escape, not only his shitty life, but himself.

He wanted away from everyone in this room, including Calix-pathetic-Valimir.

Something moved on Titus’s back suddenly, catching Cal’s attention and momentarily putting an end to his inner turmoil and contradicting notions.

“What…is…that?” He watched, completely engrossed, as a tattoo seemingly slithered into existence.

It was a snake with pearlescent scales that shimmered pink from certain angles when the light hit it. Though it was very clearly a tattoo, it moved as though real, sliding around from Titus’s left side, trailing up his back and down over his right shoulder.

“Ready to take all of me, little killer?” For the first time, Titus’s tone of voice altered, an edge to it, like he was close to losing that coiled control of his.

“Yes,” Aodhan groaned. He was shoved back onto the chair so he was bent over it, and he humped back eagerly, welcoming the next thrust.

The tattoo moved down Titus’s right arm, and Calix watched it, unable to look away as it traveled over the back of the director’s hand. He grabbed onto Aodhan’s shoulder, squeezing, and then the image of the snake rose up, separating from his skin.

The strike was swift, so fast Cal would have missed it if he’d blinked. The snake snapped forward and latched onto the side of Aodhan’s neck, teeth digging in.

Aodhan screamed and came at the same time, come shooting across the room as he jerked, caught between the chair and the director, who was still slamming ruthlessly into him from behind.

The snake let go and turned to Calix, hissing and showing off its blood-stained teeth. As soon as their gazes connected, a tingling rush seemed to pass between them.

Cal’s orgasm snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere, shattering any illusions he’d still had that he could resist this fucked up thing going on.

Shattering any hope of maintaining the lie he’d told himself every day since Nero Quinten stepped in front of his car.

That Calix was the victim.

And not just another monster waiting for judgment day.