Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 316: Provocation

[Warning - Spice ahead]

Steam clung to his skin as Chris stepped out of the shower, water still tracing slow paths down his shoulders, a towel slung low around his hips. He half-expected Dax to be there already, waiting in the warm haze like a promise he’d been making all evening.

The suite was empty.

For a moment he frowned, listening. The room held only the muted hum of the palace at night and the faint echo of running water... from the other bathroom.

Oh.

A slow smile curved his mouth.

He padded across the carpet, following the sound, and stopped at the open doorway. Through the steam, he could make out Dax under the spray, head tipped back, water darkening his hair, and the lines of his body relaxed in a way that rarely happened when the world was watching.

Dax sensed him before he heard him. He lowered his chin slightly and turned just enough for one dark blonde brow to lift in quiet inquiry.

A question without words. ’What do you plan?’

There was no alarm in it. No tension. Only a glint of interest and an amused awareness that whatever mischief Chris had in mind was, for the moment, entirely allowed.

Chris leaned against the doorframe, arms folding loosely, eyes bright with intent and laughter.

"Am I interrupting," he asked lightly, "or am I exactly on time?"

Dax’s mouth curved, slow and dangerous, in that familiar way.

"That," he said calmly, "depends on what you intend to do next."

Steam drifted between them, softening the edges of the room and turning the moment into something hushed and intimate.

Chris’s smile widened "I was thinking," he said, voice light, "that it’s unfair for you to get all the warm water and solitude."

Dax studied him for a heartbeat, water tracing down his shoulders, that single raised brow still in place, the glint in his eyes obvious now with amusement, permission, and something far more dangerous held carefully in check.

"Bold," he murmured. "And?"

Chris pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, just close enough for the heat and the faint scent of soap and steam to mingle. "And I thought I’d remind you," he added softly, "that I’m not done being your distraction tonight."

Dax’s expression shifted, the calm deepening into something intent, possessive in a way that didn’t need words.

"Very well," he said quietly. "Proceed."

Chris stepped into the steam, his smaller frame immediately swallowed by the heat and the shadow of the man before him. Dax didn’t move, just watched him come, his eyes heavy-lidded and patient. The water sluiced over Dax’s broad chest, darkening the trail of hair that arrowed down past his navel, and Chris’s gaze followed it, his own breath hitching.

’He’s enormous.’ Chris knew that long ago, but the thought still hit him from time to time.

Dax’s cock, resting half-hard against his thigh, was a thick, veined length of flesh, flushed a deep pink at the broad head. Even soft, it was impressive. Chris knew its weight, its taste, and the way it filled him completely. He dropped the towel from his hips, letting it puddle on the tile.

"You’re staring, little moon," Dax murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the steam.

"Admiring," Chris corrected, his own voice a little breathless. He moved closer, the spray now hitting his back, plastering his hair to his skull. The difference in their heights was a thrill he’d never tire of. He had to tip his head back to meet Dax’s eyes. He saw the understanding flicker in Dax’s gaze, the possessive gleam that made Chris’s own slick begin to seep, a sweet, fresh note cutting through the clean soap and alpha scent.

Dax’s hand came up, not to pull him in, but to cradle his jaw, his thumb stroking over Chris’s damp cheek. "What do you admire?"

"Your patience," Chris said, and before Dax could reply, he sank gracefully to his knees on the warm, wet tile.

The world shifted perspective. From here, Dax was a colossus. Water dripped from the defined ridges of his abdomen, beaded on the thatch of dark blonde curls at the base of his cock, which was now filling rapidly, thickening and rising under Chris’s fixed attention. The scent of him intensified, a musky wave that made Chris’s head swim and his own hole clench in empty, needy pulses.

He didn’t touch it yet. He just looked, drinking in the details. The broad, smooth crown was already shimmering with a bead of clear pre-cum, the heavy sac was drawn tight, and the prominent veins mapped the shaft. He leaned forward, his nose brushing the inside of Dax’s thigh, inhaling deeply. The scent was overpowering and addictive.

"Chris," Dax said, the word a soft command.

That was all the permission he needed.

Chris turned his head, nuzzling the length of him, feeling the hot, silken skin over iron-hard flesh. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to the side of Dax’s shaft, tasting clean skin and salt. Then, with a glance up to meet Dax’s burning gaze, he opened his mouth and took the broad head inside.

Heat. Weight. Taste. The flavors burst on his tongue: salty, musky, uniquely Dax. A low groan echoed above him, vibrating through the cock in his mouth. Chris moaned around it, the sound a vibration of its own. He relaxed his jaw, letting his saliva mix with the precum, easing the way as he began to sink down.

It was a stretch. It always was with this man. The thick girth pressed against the corners of his lips, against the roof of his mouth. He used his tongue, swirling it around the crown, licking into the slit, coaxing more of that slick saltiness. His hands came up to grasp Dax’s hips. He could feel the immense power coiled in the Dax’s body, the absolute stillness that was a form of control.

He took more, sinking until the head nudged the back of his throat. His eyes watered. He breathed sharply through his nose, the steam-filled air doing little to cool the fire in his blood. He pulled back slowly, his lips clinging, then plunged forward again, setting a slow, deep rhythm.

One of Dax’s hands settled on the top of his head, fingers tangling in his wet hair. The possessiveness of that touch sent a jolt straight to Chris’s cock, now fully hard and leaking against his own stomach.

"Good," Dax breathed, his voice ragged at the edges. "So good for me. Take it. All of it."

Encouraged, Chris increased his pace, his head bobbing, his throat working to accommodate the relentless thrusts. The sounds were obscenely wet, muffled by flesh, and punctuated by Dax’s increasingly rough grunts. Chris’s world narrowed to this: the taste, the stretch, the heavy weight on his tongue, the hand in his hair, and the overpowering scent.

He felt Dax’s thighs begin to tremble. The rhythm stuttered. The hand in his hair tightened.

"I’m going to come," Dax growled.

Chris intensified his efforts, hollowing his cheeks, sucking hard as he took Dax as deep as he could.

With a raw, choked shout, Dax came.

The first pulse was hot and sudden, flooding Chris’s mouth with a bitter-salty rush. He swallowed instinctively, his throat working, taking it all. Dax’s hips jerked shallowly, fucking into his mouth through the climax, and Chris held on, milking him with his lips and tongue until every last drop was spent.

Slowly, Dax softened in his mouth. Chris gentled his suck, licking him clean with tender, worshipful strokes before finally letting him slip free with a soft, wet pop. He stayed on his knees, panting, his lips swollen and glossy, looking up.

Dax was gazing down at him, his chest heaving, his expression one of awed, satiated possession. The water beat down on them both, rinsing away the evidence. Without a word, Dax reached down, his hands under Chris’s arms, and hauled him effortlessly to his feet.

Chris’s body was pliant, buzzing. He was turned abruptly, his chest pressed against the cool, tiled wall. Dax’s big, hard body molded to his back.

"My turn," Dax murmured into his ear, with a raspy voice.