Chapter 14: You Like To Watch Me
The decontamination shower had done little to wash the feeling away. It clung to Marcus like smoke, the phantom vibration of collapsing buildings still humming in his bones, the metallic taste of blood and terror still faint on his tongue. He dressed in simple grey sweats, the fabric straining over his thighs and shoulders, his hair damp. He didn’t go to the barracks. He didn’t debrief with Charlotte.
He went hunting.
The facility was a maze of sterile corridors, but his path was straight. He moved with a predator’s quiet purpose, the echoes of his footfalls the only sound. He found Daniel not in the observation deck, but in his small, book-cluttered office, the blue light of a computer screen washing over his face. Daniel was staring at a frozen image on the monitor—a satellite feed of the jungle crater, dark and raw against the green.
Marcus filled the doorway, blocking the light from the hall.
Daniel jumped, a flutter of pages as he quickly minimized the window. “Marcus. You’re back. Is everyone…?”
“Did you watch?”
The question cut through the pleasantries, blunt as a hammer strike. Marcus stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft, definitive click. The room shrank around his presence.
Daniel’s throat worked. He looked down at his keyboard, then back up, meeting that relentless gaze. He couldn’t lie. Not to those eyes. “Yes.”
Marcus took another step. The air grew thick, charged. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“It was a mission. The objective was—” Daniel started, his psychologist’s voice, a weak shield.
“Don’t.” Marcus was in front of the desk now, leaning over it, his palms flat on the surface. He loomed, his shadow engulfing Daniel. “Did you like watching me? Watching me destroy them? Crush them?” His voice dropped to a gritty whisper. “Devour those spineless fucks?”
Daniel’s breath hitched. His cheeks flushed. He looked trapped, fascinated, ashamed.
“It made me rock hard,” Marcus confessed, the words filthy and honest in the quiet room. “Being seen as the monster again. The big bad beast. Knowing you were watching me cause that mass destruction, those casualties, with such fucking ease.” He saw Daniel’s pupils blow wide, saw the quick, involuntary glance down at the sweats where Marcus’s renewed arousal was already evident. “But you know what got me the most excited? Knowing I was doing it for my baby. I was showing off. For you. Like an alpha proving his mate is safe, that any threat just gets erased.” He leaned closer, his breath hot on Daniel’s face. “I wanted to turn you on. Did I?”
Daniel trembled. The professional facade crumbled, leaving raw, exposed need. “I… I hated the death. I hated the destruction.” The words were a plea for absolution. “But you… you were such a beast. A force of nature. It was terrifying. And it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t look away. I loved watching you in your element.”
A wolfish grin spread across Marcus’s face, all teeth and primal satisfaction. “You have no idea how virile that makes me feel. How powerful.” He straightened up, circling the desk. Daniel swiveled in his chair, craning his neck to look up, up, up. Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder, the grip possessive, claiming. That hand had leveled a building hours before. “I’m ready to breed my mate right now. To claim him with these hands that destroyed and crushed. With this mouth that devoured. I need it. Do you?”
Daniel’s lips parted. He nodded, a quick, desperate jerk of his chin. “Yes.”
The green light.
Marcus moved. There was no gentle undressing. He grabbed the collar of Daniel’s crisp button-down and pulled. Buttons pinged against the bookshelves and floor. He yanked the shirt down Daniel’s arms, trapping them for a second before shredding the thin cotton undershirt with a wrench of his fists. His mouth was on Daniel’s neck, sucking a dark mark into the pale skin, biting down just shy of breaking it. Daniel cried out, a sound of pure surrender.
“Hands and knees. Now.”
Daniel scrambled, his pants and briefs shoved roughly down his thighs as he got onto the floor beside his desk. Marcus’s sweats were gone, kicked away. He spat into his palm, slicked his cock once, a thick, ruddy length already leaking. There was no more preparation. He didn’t ask.
He just pushed.
Daniel shouted, a sharp, ragged sound as the broad head forced its way in. It burned, a glorious, tearing stretch. Marcus didn’t pause, didn’t gentle. He gripped Daniel’s hips hard enough to bruise and seated himself to the hilt in one relentless, driving shove, burying himself in the tight, clenching heat.
“Fuck! Daddy!” The word was torn from Daniel, a sob.
“That’s it. Take it. Take what I earned for you,” Marcus growled, already pulling back and slamming home again. The pace was brutal, punishing. Each thrust rocked Daniel forward, his palms scraping on the carpet, his forehead pressing against the cool wood of the desk leg. The slap of skin on skin, the wet, filthy sound of penetration, filled the small office.
Marcus fucked him like he was still Titan, like he was conquering. One hand fisted in Daniel’s hair, yanking his head back, arching his spine. The other hand splayed possessively over the small of his back, holding him down, keeping him open. The angle was deep, merciless, each plunge hitting that bright, sinful spot inside Daniel that dissolved thought.
“You watched me swallow them,” Marcus grunted, his rhythm a steady, devastating piston. “Now feel me fill you up. Gonna pump you so full, baby. Gonna mark you inside and out.”
Daniel was babbling, a stream of choked-off pleas and curses. “Yes, yes, God, right there, please, Daddy, more, it’s so deep—”
Marcus’s control snapped. His thrusts lost their rhythm, becoming erratic, animalistic. He drove into Daniel with frantic, hungry bucks, his balls slapping against slick skin. A guttural roar was torn from his chest, a sound that belonged on a battlefield, not in this quiet office. He came, his orgasm a volcanic eruption, spurting jet after hot jet deep into Daniel’s clenching channel. He held himself there, pulsing, grinding, as Daniel shook and screamed beneath him, his own release painting the carpet in sticky stripes untouched.
But Marcus wasn’t done. The energy, the virility he’d spoken of, was a live wire. He pulled out, turned Daniel onto his back on the floor, and was on him again before the sensitivity could crest into pain. He kissed him, a devouring, messy kiss, tasting himself on Daniel’s tongue. He fucked him into the floorboards, Daniel’s legs hooked over his shoulders, his cries muffled against Marcus’s shoulder.
The second climax was slower, a deep, rolling tide that had Marcus shuddering, his big body trembling as he emptied another staggering load, mixing with the first, until it was seeping out around his still-hard cock, dripping onto Daniel’s thighs.
Round three was against the desk, Daniel bent over it, papers scattering. It was slower, deeper, almost tender in its intensity. Marcus wrapped a massive arm around Daniel’s chest, holding him flush, whispering filth and praise into his ear as he moved in long, grinding strokes. “My good boy. My perfect mate. Look at you, taking all of me. So pretty, leaking my cum already.”
When he came this time, it was with a broken sigh, a release that felt like surrender. He stayed inside, soft, for long minutes, nuzzling the sweat-damp hair at Daniel’s nape.
They slid to the floor, a tangle of limbs in the wreckage of clothing and furniture. Daniel was covered—his stomach, his chest, his throat were streaked with white. More leaked from his used hole, a warm, persistent trickle down his thigh. He was boneless, wrecked, beautiful.
Marcus gathered him close, heedless of the mess. He kissed Daniel’s temple, his eyelids, his swollen lips. “I love you,” he murmured, the words raw, unfiltered. “My Danny. My everything.”
Daniel, spent and shattered, curled into the furnace of his body. He traced a finger through the spend on his own chest, then brought it to his lips, meeting Marcus’s eyes. “I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “My monster. My Daddy.”
In the silence, under the cold blue glow of the forgotten computer, they held each other. The beast was sated. The keeper was claimed. The line between destruction and devotion had never been thinner, nor more binding.
The line between destruction and devotion had never been thinner, nor more binding.
Time pooled and thickened in the quiet office. Daniel’s breath slowly evened out against Marcus’s collarbone, the frantic hammer of his heart settling into a worn-out, contented rhythm. He was adrift on a warm sea of endorphins and spent passion, his body a map of aches and wet, cooling stains.
A practical, buzzing thought eventually broke through the haze. He blinked, looking down at the ruin of his clothes, the shimmering traces on his skin. “Oh, God,” he murmured, his voice shot. “What am I supposed to do now? I’m stuck here. I’m a… I’m a mess.”
Marcus shifted, the movement causing more of his release to seep from Daniel’s body. He looked utterly unbothered, a king resting in his conquered territory. “You’re not stuck, baby. I’ll carry you.”
Daniel’s eyes went wide. “What? No. To where?”
“To the communal showers,” Marcus said, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world. A dark, possessive delight sparked in his gaze. “Down the main hall. Past the rec room. It’ll be good for them. Good for everyone to see you like this. Covered in my seed. My mark all over your skin. Still leaking it out of that perfect, well-used hole of yours.”
The sheer, brazen audacity of it stole Daniel’s breath. “Marcus, that is a catastrophic idea. That’s… we can’t. I have a position here. A reputation!”
“You have me,” Marcus corrected, his voice a low rumble. He sat up, the muscle in his back and arms rippling. He seemed larger now, fueled by a different kind of power. “I want them to see. I want Cole to see. I want Elena to see. I want every last soul in this concrete shithole to know exactly who you belong to. Who your heart beats for. Who fucks you this good and keeps you this safe.”
Before Daniel could formulate another protest, Marcus moved. He stood in one fluid, powerful motion, then bent and scooped Daniel up. He didn’t cradle him. He hoisted him, effortlessly, over one broad shoulder, Daniel’s bare ass in the air, his own spend glistening there. Daniel let out a yelp, dangling, his world upended.
“Put me down! This is insane!”
“It’s honest,” Marcus said, striding toward the office door. He was still gloriously, unapologetically naked, his cock swinging heavily, partly hard again. He didn’t reach for his discarded sweats. He didn’t care. The cool air of the corridor kissed his skin, and he felt invincible. He felt like a complete stud. An alpha who had just ravaged his beautiful mate and now wanted the whole world to witness the aftermath.
He kicked the door open wider and stepped out into the bright, sterile hallway.
Two technicians wheeling a cart of sensor equipment froze, their jaws slack. A silence deeper than any vacuum swallowed the hum of the vents.
Marcus paid them no mind. He adjusted his grip on Daniel’s thigh, his palm broad and warm, and began walking. The slap of his bare feet on the linoleum was a steady, confident rhythm. Daniel, after a final defeated groan, went limp. He stopped fighting. There was a strange, terrifying liberty in the surrender. He closed his eyes, focusing on the solid muscle of Marcus’s shoulder beneath his belly, the possessive strength of the arm banded across the back of his thighs.
They passed the open door of the rec room. Inside, Vince was slougging on a couch, scrolling a tablet. Malik was at the small table, meticulously disassembling a sidearm.
Vince glanced up. His eyebrows climbed. A slow, wicked grin split his face. “Whoa. Bringing home the groceries, big man?”
Malik looked over. His expression, usually so solemn, softened into genuine, approving amusement. He gave a slow, deliberate nod.
“Just showing my appreciation,” Marcus called back, his voice booming in the hall, rich with pride. “My boy watched me work today. He deserved a proper reward.”
Vince let out a sharp, appreciative laugh. “Damn right he did! Look at that! That’s a claimed man!” He whooped, a loud, echoing sound.
Malik raised a hand, a casual salute. “About time everyone got the picture. Walk proud, brother.”
The encouragement fueled Marcus’s stride. He carried his prize past their open door, a living testament. He felt Daniel’s quiet shiver, not from fear, but from something else—a raw, exposed vulnerability that was its own form of strength. Every step was a declaration. He could protect. He could provide. He could ruin landscapes and then worship the one beautiful thing he’d found in the wreckage. Physically, romantically, emotionally, carnally—every facet of his brutal being was now dedicated to the man draped over his shoulder.
He turned the corner toward the shower bays, his destination clear, his hold unbreakable.