Page 32 of The Drama King (The University Players Duet #1)
twenty-three
Corvus
The security system in the theater building's basement level had been upgraded three years ago, thanks to another generous Ashworth family donation. High-definition cameras with excellent audio pickup, ostensibly for equipment protection and student safety.
I'd discovered the administrative access codes during my sophomore year. A useful skill that had served our pack well in gathering intelligence on various targets. Tonight, it was providing an unprecedented view of the final stages of our campaign against the scholarship Omega.
I'd positioned myself in the small security office adjacent to the main theater, laptop open to the camera feed from Studio B-12. Dorian had texted me about the "rehearsal," and I'd known immediately what kind of performance he had planned.
The initial conversation was predictable. His revelation of institutional control, her outrage giving way to practical desperation. But it was the moment when her breathing changed that caught my attention, the visible shift when protest became something else entirely.
Her voice carried clearly through the audio feed. That sharp intake when he moved closer. The soft whimper when he touched her face. I could see the exact moment her resistance crumbled, rational mind surrendering to months of psychological conditioning.
"I can't," she whispered, and I felt my cock twitch with satisfaction at the desperation in those words. Months of systematic pressure crystallizing into this moment of perfect vulnerability.
"I know," Dorian replied, and then his mouth was on hers.
I freed myself from my uniform pants, stroking slowly as I watched her complete psychological surrender on the high-definition screen. The camera angle was perfect. I could see every detail of her capitulation, every moment of his methodical seduction.
"God, the sounds you make," Dorian's voice came through the speakers, rough with dominance and satisfaction as he worked her against the mirrored wall.
And she was making sounds. Soft whimpers and gasps that painted a vivid picture of her arousal despite her obvious internal conflict. The way she moaned his name when he found sensitive spots, the desperate quality of her breathing as his hands roamed her body.
"Please," she whispered, and I had to grip myself tighter to maintain control.
"Please what?" His voice was silk over steel, commanding even in gentleness.
"I need..." Her words were broken, desperate, caught between shame and desire.
"You need your Alpha to take care of you," he supplied, and I could see the satisfaction in his expression when she nodded frantically.
What followed was exquisite. Fabric rustling as her uniform came off, her sharp cry when he first touched her bare skin, the visible evidence of her body's betrayal even as her face showed conflicted emotions. My hand moved steadily as I watched him work her with skilled precision.
"So wet for me already," Dorian murmured against her throat, and I could see him reveling in the proof of her physical response. "Your body knows what it needs."
Her moans grew more desperate as he worked her with his fingers, building toward what was clearly an explosive climax. When she came, crying his name while her body shook against him, I had to bite down on my free hand to keep from groaning aloud.
But he wasn't finished. The camera captured everything as he freed himself, as she sank to her knees with a mixture of shame and desire written across her features.
"Open your mouth," his voice commanded through the speakers, and I watched her comply with reluctant hunger.
What followed was raw, primal. The visual of complete domination and conflicted surrender. Her obvious skill warring with her emotional turmoil, his growls of possession mixing with her muffled sounds of submission.
"Such a good girl," he murmured as she worked him, and I could see the way the praise affected her despite everything. "My perfect little Omega."
When he came, marking her with his release, the camera captured her swallowing obediently even as her eyes showed a complex mix of satisfaction and self-loathing.
The aftermath was almost more fascinating than the act itself. His gentle care, her conflicted responses, the way she pulled back emotionally even as he helped her dress. This wasn't just physical claiming. It was psychological warfare disguised as seduction.
By the time they began preparing to leave, I was analyzing every micro-expression, cataloging the complex dynamic they'd established.
Her surrender had been thorough but not complete.
There was still resistance in her posture, still defiance in her eyes even after her body had betrayed her so completely.
I was still stroking myself slowly, replaying the moment of her climax, when the security office door opened without warning.
Dorian stepped inside, his scent still heavy with satisfaction and lingering arousal, his uniform shirt partially unbuttoned.
His ice-blue eyes took in the scene immediately.
Me with my cock in my hand, the laptop screen still showing the now-empty studio, the evidence of my voyeuristic arousal impossible to deny.
"Well, well," he said, closing the door behind him with deliberate precision. "Enjoying the private screening, were we?"
I froze, caught in the most compromising position possible, my hand still wrapped around my shaft. Heat flooded my face, but I didn't try to cover myself. That would only make it worse.
"The security system provides excellent visual documentation," I managed, trying to maintain some dignity despite the circumstances.
"Excellent enough that you couldn't resist getting yourself off while watching me break her?" His voice was silk over steel, predatory satisfaction radiating from him in waves.
My cock twitched in my grip at his crude words, betraying just how much his dominance affected me even now. "Your technique was... methodical."
"Was it?" He moved closer, his Alpha presence filling the small space, making my submission feel inevitable. "Don't stop on my account, Corvus. Finish what you started."
"Dorian—"
"That's not a request," he said, his voice dropping to that commanding register that made my knees weak. "I want to watch you come thinking about how she looked with my cock in her mouth."
The humiliation of it, being caught and commanded to continue, sent dark pleasure spiraling through me. My hand began moving again almost without conscious thought, stroking myself while he watched with predatory interest.
"Tell me what you saw," he ordered, leaning against the door with casual dominance. "Every moment that made you so desperate you couldn't wait to get home."
"She fought it at first," I gasped, lost in the dual shame and arousal of performing for him. "You could see the conflict in her face when she knelt for you."
"What else?" His eyes never left my hand, watching every stroke with dark satisfaction.
"She hated how good she was at it," I admitted, my breathing becoming ragged. "Hated that her body responded even while her mind resisted."
"And that's exactly what makes her perfect," he said with possessive certainty. "The fight makes the surrender so much sweeter. Just like you're about to surrender for me, aren't you, Corvus?"
The possessive claim, the way he owned both the moment and my response to it, pushed me over the edge. I came hard, spilling over my hand while he watched with clinical interest, as if cataloging my submission for future reference.
"Good," he murmured as the last aftershock faded. "Now you know exactly where you stand in this new arrangement."
He pulled out a handkerchief and tossed it to me with casual dismissal. "Clean yourself up. And Corvus? Next time you want to watch my private moments, you ask permission first. Everything involving her goes through me now. Are we clear?"
I nodded, understanding the new hierarchy he'd established with ruthless efficiency. "Crystal clear."
"Excellent." His smile was sharp with satisfaction. "She's mine now, in the ways that matter. Remember that when you're planning your next move."
As he left, I remained in the security office, processing what had just occurred. The game had indeed entered a new phase. One where Dorian's personal investment in Vespera gave him unprecedented control over pack decisions.
But it also created new vulnerabilities, new pressure points that could be exploited by someone patient enough to wait for the right moment. Her continued resistance, even in surrender, was a crack in his armor he didn't seem to recognize yet.
The hunt was far from over. It was simply evolving.