The Mark of an Alpha (2 page)

His pup obviously had to think, to trawl back through his memories to find out what he'd automatically said yes to. “I want your hand there, sir."

Marsdon pressed a kiss against his shoulder in praise. He tightened his fist, squeezing his pup's shaft between his fingers to make him whimper his pleasure.

"You may come on your master's command."

"Thank you, sir."

"Not before, pup,” Marsdon warned.

"Yes, sir."

Suddenly it seemed like all the time he had left with his pup was slipping away while he stood around like an idiot and did nothing. He had to be inside his lover—right now. Marsdon fumbled at his belt as he walked across the room and snatched the lube from the table containing all the toys the club provided for its patrons’ entertainment.

Marsdon's hands were shaking as he scrabbled at his fly and pushed the material aside to free his shaft. He almost dropped the lube in his haste. For a few seconds, he had to force himself to stand completely still, staring down at the tube of lubricant.

Lube. Yes. That couldn't be rushed. Just because a werewolf would heal quickly, that didn't mean his pup could be treated roughly for no other reason than his master was in a hurry.

Marsdon slicked his fingers and slid them between his pup's cheeks as he stepped close behind him again. For a fraction of a second, his lover tensed, muscles clenching at the first touch. An instant later they relaxed, welcoming him. The submissive arched his spine, pushing back against the fingers that barely brushed against his hole.

"Easy, pup,” Marsdon said.

He settled his free hand on the other man's waist, gentling him down. His pup whimpered as he somehow managed to still his movements and let his master do as he pleased.

Marsdon slid a finger inside his lover, spreading the lube and coaxing him to relax around one digit and then around two, then three. Part of him wished he'd ordered the other man to prepare himself before his arrival, but another more feral part howled against that notion. The man was his. His to own. His to master. His to protect.

He was the one who made sure that nothing that happened between them would hurt him. He was the one who had the privilege of seeking out his lover's prostate and coaxing that growling little whimper out of his throat. No one else was allowed to touch his pup that way, not even the man himself.

The moment he knew he would be able to look himself in the eye afterwards and not call himself a bastard for hurting his lover with his haste, his fingers were gone. His erection pressed against the submissive's hole.

The other man pushed back against him. “Please, sir?"

No order could have attained a more obedient response.

The plea went straight to Marsdon's cock. Steadying the submissive's hips, Marsdon thrust into him in one perfect motion that saw him completely encased within the other man's body.

His pup whimpered, wriggling against Marsdon's hold on him as he tried to make his master move inside him. Marsdon held him still, making sure the other man gave himself time to stretch and relax around him before he finally started to rock his own hips.

The control required for slow, measured thrusts wasn't in him right then. It seemed like the world would steal his lover right out of his arms if they took even a moment too long. Marsdon pounded into him, hard and fast, holding onto the other man until his knuckles turned white with the need to keep the other man close, until he knew he would have left bruises on human skin.

His pup pulled at the restraints, moaning pleas for more. The sound slid down Marsdon's spine, combined with the tight heat surrounding his shaft and he almost came right then. Reaching around his lover's body, Marsdon quickly wrapped his fist around his submissive's cock once more and started to jack him off, hard and fast—just the way he knew his pup loved.

Every muscle in the other man's body knotted tighter and tighter as he fought to keep control.

"Come!"

His pup jerked in the restraints, throwing his head back as a half scream, half howl tore from his throat and echoed around the room.

Semen splashed onto the floor in front of them. The submissive's hole clenched even tighter around Marsdon's shaft, tearing Marsdon's orgasm out of him, as his hand milked the submissive's climax from his bound body.

Marsdon half collapsed against his lovers back, panting for breath and still buried inside his pup. He looked over the other man's shoulder, down to where his hand continued to work the shaft in his palm.

His pup whimpered, too sensitive to take real pleasure from the touch, but apparently still too desperate to feel the connection between them to want his master to stop.

It was several long minutes later before Marsdon finally summoned up the will to step away from him. Tidying up his clothes, he walked over to that table where the toys were laid out, and stared blindly down at them.

"Sir?"

"I'm still here,” Marsdon said. He turned back to his lover. The other man's head was bowed, maybe in submission, maybe in fatigue. Or maybe he felt as defeated as Marsdon did right then.

Their last night together...

Marsdon cleared his throat. “Do you have a final request for your master, pup?"

"Leave your mark on me, sir."

Behind the hood, Bennett closed his eyes tighter than ever.

For once, the real world hadn't drained away while he offered himself to his master. The leather caressed his skin, the hood hid him from the world, but the safety and the comfort he'd found in submitting to the other man wasn't really there. He couldn't relax when he knew it was all going to be over so soon.

His master was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, the words came from right in front of Bennett's hooded face.

"Do you really believe I'd ever raise a hand to you?” The growl in his master's voice sent a shiver down Bennett's spine. Right then, he wasn't sure if it was from lust or fear of displeasing his master on this day of all days.

"No, sir,” he said, entirely honestly. He may never have set eyes on the other man, but he knew when he was in the presence of a true alpha. His master would never raise a hand to any wolf under his care. Bennett bit his lip.

"Just because the humans leave out whips and paddles for us to play with, that doesn't mean we use them. You're a wolf, pup. You know better than that."

"I... That wasn't what I...” Bennett swallowed, lacking the words to explain what he really wanted.

The dominant brushed their lips together very briefly, as if to reassure him. “Tell your master what you want,” he ordered.

Bennett lapped at his own lips, desperate to snatch a lingering taste of his master.

"Answer, pup."

"There's a knife in my bag, sir,” he blurted out.

His master wasn't impressed. His displeasure hung in the air and Bennett didn't need the freedom to use all his senses to feel the full force of it.

The air moved. The dominant walked away. Bennett held his breath. The hood covered his ears, making sounds muted and hard to distinguish. Perhaps the rustle of material was his master opening the bag he'd left on the other side of the room. Perhaps it was the sound of the other man picking up his coat and walking away in disgust.

Cold metal touched his lips. Bennett gasped. For a moment, the whole world froze. Dragging a lungful of air into his body, Bennett flicked out his tongue and tasted the blade.

"Carefully,” his master ordered.

Bennett flattened his tongue over the smooth side of the blade, gently caressing the metal with his mouth, until the other man took it away.

"It's silver,” his master said.

"Yes, sir."

"Have you ever been cut with silver?"

Bennett swallowed. “No, sir."

The other wolf was silent for a few seconds. Bennett waited for his master's verdict.

A sudden indrawn breath broke the stillness of the room. Bennett felt the air rush into his own lungs in response. The scent of blood floated into the air. “Sir?"

"It burns,” the dominant said. “Sharply at first, then it fades into a dull ache along the line of the wound."

"Sir, I..."

The other wolf chuckled. “Did you really think I'd cut you without knowing what I was doing, pup?"

"I didn't mean for you to..."

"They say the mark of silver never fades from a werewolf's skin,” the other man mused.

The scent of blood grew stronger. For a moment Bennett thought the dominant had cut himself again. Then skin brushed against his lips. Bennett kissed the skin, trailing his lips against the other man's forearm.

Moisture touched his mouth. He licked at the wound his master offered him to clean. Running his tongue along the broken skin, he could feel the heat the silver had left in the cut as it burnt the edges of the wound.

The mark his master had left on his skin formed an X shaped cross. Bennett whimpered as he trailed his mouth over the cuts, desperate to soothe any pain he might have caused his master by asking for this. The arm and the wound were taken from his reach long before he was ready to give them up.

"Tell me why you want this, pup."

"Because they say the mark never fades from a werewolf's skin, sir,” he said, softly echoing his master's own words.

"You want my mark on you?"

Bennett had to clear his throat before he could answer. “Yes, sir."

"Why?"

Bennett looked down. Even hidden behind the hood, he couldn't look towards his master when he gave his answer. “Because after tonight...” he whispered. “I know what we agreed when we started this, sir. It all ends tonight. Just let me have something to remind me that I once had a master? Let me touch the mark you left on me and know I didn't imagine it all,” he begged, his desperation harder to hide with each word.

"This is real, pup. You never need to doubt that."

"Yes, sir,” Bennett whispered, trying his best to hide his disappointment.

Metal touched his cheek. Bennett's breath froze in his lungs.

"Where?” he asked.

"Wherever pleases my master, sir,” Bennett whispered.

The knife trailed down his face, the edge of the blade never touching him as the flat of the metal caressed his skin. It halted at the buckle that kept the hood in place, as if it would cut away his attempt to remain anonymous.

Bennett breathed a sigh of relief as the hood was allowed to remain in place when the knife resumed its journey down his chest. The cold metal circled his nipple, making the nerve ending peak and beg for attention. Lower and the knife traced the outline of his abs.

As Bennett held his breath, giving the knife a steady canvas to work on, it moved lower still. Metal brushed against the short black hairs around his cock. Bennett bit his bottom lip. Even as part of his mind screamed its objections to a knife trailing delicate little patterns against his cock, another more primitive part of him sighed its acceptance of whatever might happen next.

His master teased his foreskin with the blade. Against all reason, blood rushed to his shaft, coaxing him to slowly harden and offer his cock to the blade. The knife moved further back to stroke his tightening sacks. Bennett stayed perfectly still, not daring to breathe, not even daring to think.

Air moved against his skin. The blade traced a line along the outside of his thigh as his master stepped behind him and turned the knife's attention to his buttocks. Bennett forced himself to remain as relaxed as he could, to show his acceptance of whatever mark his master wanted to leave on him and wherever he wanted to place it.

Cold silver traced patterns up his back. Bennett concentrated on each movement of the blade, trying to fathom out a pattern, a message from his master, some clue to the other wolf's identity.

There was no message, no clue. The knife trailed up towards the base of the hood again. The flat edge of the metal tapped against the bone that marked the top of his spine.

"Here,” his master announced.

"Yes, sir.” Bennett dropped his head forward to give him better access.

"One last chance to change your mind,” the other man offered.

"Please, sir?” Bennett asked, knowing that he'd made his decision long before he put the knife in his bag, let alone offered it to his master.

His master pressed his lips to the spot in the most tender kiss Bennett had ever known. A moment later, a line of heat flared from the top left to the bottom right of that little spot where he so loved to be kissed. Bennett's breath caught in his throat. A moment later, another line crossed it, giving him the same mark he'd tasted on his master's arm.

The other wolf had told the truth. It burnt. Pure fire danced along the wound the silver left in its wake. Bennett forced himself to breathe as he relished the knowledge that the mark would last forever, even if his time with his master was about to be cut short.

"Thank you, sir."

A hot, moist tongue lapped at the back of his neck, cleaning the wound, coating the pain with pleasure until the two were so blurred together he couldn't swear to which was which. Bennett murmured his approval, pressing his chin into his chest as he offered himself to his master.

The dominant laved the mark again, his tongue tracing first one line and then the other, back and forth. Air brushed over the skin as his master paused to inspect his work.

"You are mine."

"Yes, sir."

"You'll never forget that now, pup,” his master said.

Bennett swallowed down his emotions. “Yes, sir."

Skin brushed against his lips. Bennett kissed it, searching for something he had no idea if he would be able to detect. There was no trace of blood left on the dominant's forearm, just the faintly raised skin of a scar in the shape of a cross.

Perhaps he wouldn't be the only man who would never forget.

"Thank you, sir. Not just for... I mean, for..."

His master moved around in front of him and offered him another kiss—a real kiss this time. He let their lips linger. He let Bennett taste him properly. Sliding his tongue into his master's mouth when the invitation was issued, Bennett tried to memorise every detail.