Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 181: The balcony (Win-Win)

Dax pushed open the balcony doors with a swift, powerful movement, letting in the cool night air and the heady, intoxicating scent of their passion. The capital city of Altera stretched out before them, a sprawling metropolis of lights and shadows, a testament to the power and wealth of their kingdom.

He carried Chris to the edge of the balcony, his strong arms supporting the omega with ease. Chris’s body was still trembling, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he clung to Dax, his fingers digging into the alpha’s shoulders.

Altera stretched out before them: a glittering sprawl of steel and glass, domes and high-rises, the quiet roar of traffic and neon. It looked endless from here, power, wealth, and history lit up in white-gold and blue, the capital pulsing like a living organism. Somewhere out there, press drones still hovered. News anchors whispered about them. Flashbulbs blinked like artificial stars. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

None of it mattered.

Dax’s voice broke the quiet, low and rough with reverence.

"Look at it, Chris."

"This is ours," he murmured. "All of it. The crown, the war, the headlines. The future."

He finally turned his head, nose brushing against Chris’s temple.

"And I’ll burn it all if anyone tries to take you from me again."

Chris didn’t lift his head right away. He just exhaled, slow and shaky, a sound that might’ve been a laugh if he hadn’t just been thoroughly ruined in both body and soul.

"Romantic," he rasped, his voice still hoarse from screaming into a pillow.

Dax said nothing, only adjusted his grip, cradling him closer like Chris weighed less than a threat.

Chris let the silence stretch just long enough to be petty.

"Should I be flattered you remembered I exist," he murmured, "or mildly concerned that you’re fantasizing about citywide arson before the knot’s even gone down?"

Dax’s laugh was soft and dark, low in his chest.

He leaned over Chris, his broad chest blanketing Chris’s back, his mouth finding the shell of his ear. "You thought you were finished being punished for your teasing?" His voice was a dark caress. "The night is young, my little moon."

His hands smoothed down Chris’s sides, possessive and firm, before gripping his hips. The height of the balustrade was ideal, angling Chris’s body just right. Dax’s own arousal, already hard and dripping anew, pressed against the cleft of Chris’s ass.

Dax’s grip tightened on Chris’s hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh until they left bruises. The omega’s body responded instinctively, arching back against the alpha, a silent invitation for more.

Chris’s breath hitched as Dax’s cock pressed against his entrance, the alpha’s length hard and insistent. "Dax... not here," Chris protested weakly, his voice a breathless whisper. "Someone might see..."

Dax’s chuckle was low and dangerous, a promise of deliciously wicked things to come. "Let them," he murmured, his voice a dark caress against Chris’s ear. "Let the whole kingdom see what it means to be mine."

Dax seated himself in one slow, relentless glide, burying himself to the hilt, and held there, letting Chris feel every inch. The cool breeze danced over their heated skin, making every sensation crackle with intensity.

"You feel that?" Dax growled, his voice thick. His hands tightened on Chris’s hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh. "The whole kingdom is down there. But all you can feel is me."

He pulled back, almost all the way out, the friction drawing a choked sob from Chris. Then he drove back in, a sharp, punishing thrust that made Chris see stars.

Each thrust rocked Chris forward against the balustrade, the hard marble a contrast to the deep, internal heat Dax was stoking within him. The new bonding mark on his neck throbbed in time with Dax’s movements, a constant, pleasurable reminder of his ownership.

"Is this what you wanted?" Dax grunted, his own breath coming in ragged pulls. He leaned forward, covering Chris’s body with his own, biting gently at the fresh mark. "All night with your sly looks and your tempting scent... you wanted me to lose control. To take you like this."

"Yes!" Chris moaned, the word torn from him. His vision was blurring, his world narrowing to the feeling of Dax splitting him open under the moonlight, the scent of their passion swirling away on the night air.

Dax’s hand slid around from his hip, down the quivering plane of Chris’s stomach, and wrapped around his aching cock. The touch was thrilling. Chris bucked wildly against him, a scream caught in his throat.

Dax stroked him in time with his thrusts, a rough, perfect touch. "Come for me, little moon," he whispered, his voice a dark promise against Chris’s ear. "Let the city hear who you belong to."

The dual sensations were too much. The deep, filling thrusts, the skilled hand on his cock, the cool air on his skin, and the possessive words in his ear all melted into a tidal wave that broke over him. Chris came with a raw, unfiltered cry that echoed into the night, his release spilling over Dax’s fingers and onto the stone below as his body clenched violently around Dax’s pounding length.

The rhythmic drawing of Chris’s climax was Dax’s undoing. With a final, guttural roar that was pure Alpha triumph, he buried himself deep and pulsed inside him, his own release hot and endless, flooding Chris, marking him from the inside out all over again.

He collapsed over Chris; both of them spent and trembling, held up only by the stone balustrade and the remains of Dax’s strength. Their harsh breaths fogged in the cool air.

Dax nuzzled the bonding bite, licking softly at it. The low purr started in his chest again, a sound of pure, primal satisfaction. He was still buried inside Chris, softening, their scents intertwined and carried away on the breeze.

Dax’s breath warmed the shell of Chris’s ear, his chest firm against Chris’s back, his hands cinched tight around his hips.

Chris tensed in the weary, incredulous way of a man who had absolutely reached his limit and was still being handled like a favorite toy.

"Dax," he rasped, shoulders trembling. "If you think I’m surviving a round two on a balcony..."

He didn’t finish, because Dax’s quiet, fond laugh was enough to make every remaining nerve in his body threaten mutiny.

"Alright," Dax said, voice deceptively calm as he finally, finally, started to ease them away from the marble rail. "Let’s get you back to bed."

Chris made a very quiet, very ungentlemanly noise.

"I swear," he muttered, voice hoarse and flaring with resentment, "I am going to ruin your life for this."

Dax’s grip only tightened, a smile playing across his lips as he shifted Chris into his arms again in a bridal carry, naturally, as only Dax could be.

"You already did," he said, utterly unbothered, "somewhere between the balcony and the knot."

Chris kicked him. Lightly. Weakly. Mostly out of principle.

"I hope you trip."

"I hope you recover quickly," Dax murmured as he stepped back into the suite, the balcony doors swinging shut behind them on a gust of air laced with ozone and musk.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft underglow from the wall sconces and the gold-threaded sheets now half-torn across their massive bed. The scent of them had soaked into the very fabric: spiced rum, clean rain, sweat, and something newer, richer, forged in blood and bond.

Chris’s voice dropped as he glanced toward the bed. "If you put me down and say something like ’round two,’ I will launch your laptop out the window."

Dax adjusted his hold, lifting Chris higher against his chest as he approached the bed like royalty who had never heard of footmen.

"Noted," he said dryly. "Round three, then."

"Dax."

"I’ll wait five minutes."