Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 419: The Reclamation [Win-Win]

The air in the glass room was still, charged with the unspoken history of the last few months. Dax’s thumb stroked Chris’ cheekbone, his eyes wide and filled with a tenderness that was both familiar and new. It was the look of a man who had waited, watched, and set aside his own desires to honor another’s healing.

"Chris," Dax murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Chris’s chest. "Let me touch you."

Chris’s answer was a kiss. He rose to his toes, one hand fisted in the front of Dax’s shirt to pull him down. Their mouths met, and it was immediately hungry, a collision of two months of enforced distance. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues and the soft, needy sounds Chris couldn’t hold back.

Dax’s hands, which had been gentle, suddenly tightened, one spanning Chris’s lower back to pull him flush against his body, the other cupping the back of his head, holding him in place.

Chris felt the months of celibacy and recovery melt away in a rush of pure desire. He wanted Dax with a ferocity that startled him. He wanted to be consumed, to be reminded of the man who was his alpha, his mate, and his husband in every visceral sense of the words.

Dax’s kiss grew more focused and sensual. He mapped Chris’s mouth, his tongue stroking and teasing, drawing out soft whimpers from Chris’s throat. One of Dax’s hands slid down from Chris’s back to his ass, kneading the firm muscle through the denim of his jeans. The possessive gesture sent a jolt straight to Chris’s groin, his cock hardening instantly.

"Dax," he gasped, breaking the kiss to drag in air. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

Dax didn’t answer. He simply bent his knees, wrapped one powerful arm around Chris’s thighs, and lifted him. Chris let out a startled yelp, his arms instinctively wrapping around Dax’s neck. The height difference was always exciting, but being lifted so easily, as if he weighed nothing, sent a rush of submission and desire through him. He was at Dax’s mercy, and he loved it.

Dax carried him a few feet to the bed, lowering him onto the crisp white linens with reverence that contrasted with the raw hunger in his eyes. He followed him down, covering Chris’s smaller body with his own, his forearms on either side of Chris’s head, caging him in.

"I’ve missed this," Dax growled, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve missed you."

"Me too," Chris breathed, arching up to rub against him. "God, Dax, me too."

Dax’s mouth found his again; he tugged the black t-shirt from Chris’s jeans, his fingers brushing the warm skin of his stomach. Chris shivered, his hips lifting instinctively. Dax made quick work of the shirt, his knuckles grazing Chris’s chest as he parted the fabric. He pushed the shirt over Chris’s head, his gaze drinking in the sight of him - the familiar planes of his chest, the silver watch glinting on his wrist, and the black leather of the collar snug against his throat. Dax’s eyes darkened with possessive pride at the sight of it.

Then his hands went to the button of Chris’s jeans.

The sound of the metal zipper sliding down was loud in the quiet room. It was a sound Chris had been craving, but as Dax hooked his fingers into the waistband, a cold wave of self-consciousness washed over him. He’d been so focused on Dax, on the need, that he’d forgotten. He’d forgotten about the changes.

His hand shot out, grabbing Dax’s wrist. "Wait."

Dax froze instantly, his head lifting. His eyes were dark with concern, the haze of lust clearing slightly. "What is it? Am I hurting you?"

"No," Chris said, his voice tight. He couldn’t meet Dax’s gaze, his eyes fixed on a point over Dax’s shoulder. "It’s... just... don’t."

Dax didn’t pull away. He simply waited, his body a still, warm presence over Chris’s. "Chris. Look at me."

Slowly, reluctantly, Chris’s eyes met his. He saw the question there, the confusion, and underneath it, a deep, unwavering love.

"What are you afraid of?" Dax asked softly.

Chris let out a shaky breath, his grip on Dax’s wrist loosening. "The... the scar. The... other things."

A look of profound understanding dawned on Dax’s face. He reached out with his free hand and gently traced the line of Chris’s jaw.

"Chris, my love, my moon." Dax’s voice was impossibly gentle. "You think I haven’t seen you? I’ve seen you every day for two months, Chris. I’ve seen you tired, I’ve seen you sore, and I’ve seen you hold our child and look more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you. Do you really think a few marks would change how I see you?"

Chris’s throat felt thick. "It’s different when... when we’re like this."

"Then let me show you," Dax murmured. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Chris’s temple. "Let me show you what I see."

His hand moved from Chris’s jaw, slowly trailing down his neck, his fingers pausing to trace the edge of the black leather collar. Below it, he could feel the faint, raised ridge of his own bite mark, a permanent claim on Chris’s nape. Dax stroked his thumb over it in a sign of ownership and reverence. He continued his path, over the collarbone, to his chest. He didn’t linger, didn’t give Chris time to flinch away. His fingers continued their path down over the flat plane of his stomach until they reached the low, faint line just below his navel.

Dax’s touch was feather-light, reverent. He traced the length of the C-section scar, his expression filled with awe.

"This," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "This is where you were brave. This is where you gave me everything. This is not a flaw, Chris."

Chris’s eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall. He watched, captivated, as Dax’s hand moved again, his fingers skimming over the faint silvery lines on his hips, the stretch marks that barely had marred his skin.

"And these," Dax continued, his gaze fixed on the marks. "These are proof that you carried a life. That you nurtured and protected our child. They’re beautiful, Chris. They’re as much a part of you as your eyes, your smile, and your brilliant mind."

He leaned down, and instead of kissing Chris’s mouth, he pressed his lips to the scar. It was a soft, warm, worshipful kiss that stole the air from Chris’s lungs. Then he moved, pressing another kiss to the stretch marks on his hip. And another.

Chris’s body, which had been tense with apprehension, began to relax. The self-consciousness was being replaced by a wave of overwhelming love and desire. This was his alpha. His mate. The man who saw not imperfections but evidence of their journey, of their love.

"Dax," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Dax lifted his head, his eyes burning with a renewed intensity. "I have been obsessed with you since the moment I met you," he said, his voice a low growl. "That never changed. If anything, watching you become a father, watching your strength and your love... it made that obsession a thousand times worse. I kept it under control because you were recovering and you needed me to. But you’re healed now, Chris. And I am done waiting."