CHAPTER 207: CHAPTER 207: POWERPLAY (2)

[WARNING - Spice ahead 🙂]

Chris moved closer, the undone shirt sliding further down his arms as he stepped between Dax’s knees. The king’s breath deepened in anticipation, that massive frame going taut as a bowstring the second Chris dropped to a slow kneel in front of him.

The sight of Chris sinking to the floor hit Dax with such force that his head went back against the sofa for a moment. If he looked at Chris now, there wouldn’t be any restraint left in him.

"Chris..." His voice sounded wrecked.

Chris looked up through his lashes, expression maddeningly composed.

"You’re still not allowed to touch," he reminded him, tone soft but edged with control.

Dax’s fingers curled into fists against the cushions. The gold rings he wore caught the low light, gleaming sharply as his hands tightened, knuckles paling, metal biting softly into skin as if the jewelry itself was straining with him.

Chris reached for the buckle of Dax’s expensive belt, the metal clicking softly under his fingers. He was slow and careful, which only made Dax’s pulse hammer visibly in his neck.

"Do you know what you look like right now?" Dax asked, his voice as rough as gravel, his ringed hands staying obediently anchored at his sides.

"Enlighten me," Chris murmured, sliding the belt free and setting it aside on the carpet with a quiet thud.

"A miracle," Dax whispered.

Chris’s smile tilted. "Flattery already? You must be nervous. Did you think I would let you melt my brain without consequences?"

Dax let out a low, breathless sound, his ringed fingers flexing once, metal catching the light again as if even the jewelry betrayed the strain of holding himself still.

And Chris, thoroughly delighted by the sight, continued.

Chris let his fingers trail lightly along the open waistband, watching the way Dax’s breath stuttered once, just enough to betray how close he was to losing every shred of composure. The rings on Dax’s fingers glinted again as his hands clenched harder, the gold biting faint half-moons into the sofa fabric.

"Careful," Chris murmured, lifting his gaze to Dax’s hands. "If you tear the upholstery, Killian will make me sit through the lecture."

Dax swallowed hard. "I’m trying."

"Trying what?" Chris asked, voice low, almost teasing.

"Not touching you."

A small, satisfied sound escaped Chris, barely more than breath, but it sent a visible shiver down Dax’s spine. Chris leaned closer, letting his shoulders brush the king’s knees, just enough contact to make Dax’s hands twitch involuntarily, the rings catching the light as his fingers spasmed toward him before he forced them back into place.

"You’re obeying very well," Chris said, his tone warming. "Better than I expected."

"That’s not helping," Dax hissed softly.

"It’s not meant to."

Chris hooked two fingers just inside the waistband and tugged downward slowly. Dax exhaled like someone had punched the air out of him, the sound low and helpless, his hips tensing beneath Chris’s touch even though he stayed completely still where Chris had put him.

His rings scraped against the sofa as his fingers curled again, betraying just how hard he was fighting to stay obedient.

"Chris..." His voice was barely more than a rasp now. "I don’t think I can..."

"Yes, you can," Chris murmured. "Because I told you to."

Dax’s eyes closed for a moment and when they opened again, the hunger in them made Chris’s pulse quicken in answer.

"You’re enjoying this too much," Dax said, breath uneven.

Chris smirked. "What gave me away? The kneeling or the self-control torture?"

Dax let out a combination of a growl and a laugh. "The part where you look like you’re dismantling me for sport."

"Good." Chris tugged the trousers lower, his movements slow. "Because I am."

Dax’s hands fisted even harder, the metal catching the light with each tiny movement.

"If you don’t want me to break the rules," Dax warned, voice dangerously low, "you need to stop looking at me like that."

Chris glanced up at him again, eyes bright, lips tilted in a slow, devastating smile.

"Oh?" he asked. "And how exactly am I looking at you?"

Dax’s answering breath shook. "Like I’m the only thing you want."

Chris leaned forward until his cheek brushed the inside of Dax’s thigh, his mouth close enough for Dax to feel the warmth of every syllable.

"That’s because you are."

The king choked on a sound and his rings dug so deep into the sofa that Chris was almost certain there would be marks.

"Still," Chris murmured, lifting his head just enough to meet Dax’s eyes, "you don’t touch."

Dax nodded sharply and quickly because he was one second away from snapping, and Chris knew.

"Good," Chris whispered. "Now let me finish what I started."

Chris’s hands were gentle yet firm as he slowly pushed Dax’s trousers down, revealing the alpha’s hard, thick cock. The sight of it made Chris’s mouth water, he wrapped his hand around the base, feeling the pulse of Dax’s need against his palm.

Dax’s breath hitched, his body tensing as if every muscle was coiled and ready to spring. His hands were still clenched into fists, the rings on his fingers digging deeper into the sofa.

Chris leaned in, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of Dax’s inner thigh. He could feel the alpha’s shudder, the way his body responded to the slightest touch, the barest hint of contact. It was intoxicating to have power over the massive, dominant alpha.

He traced a path up with his lips, soft kisses that made Dax’s breath come in ragged gasps. When he reached the base of Dax’s cock, he looked up through his lashes, meeting the alpha’s dark, intense gaze.

"You’re so beautiful like this," Chris murmured, his voice low and husky. "So needy. So mine."

Dax responded with a low, feral growl that reverberated throughout the room and directly into Chris’s core. His hands twitched, the rings scraping against the sofa as if he was still fighting the need to turn the omega around and fuck him senseless on the rug.

Chris took his sweet time, his tongue tracing a slow, sinful path up the length of Dax’s cock. He could taste the alpha’s need, the salt and heat of him. He swirled his tongue around the sensitive head, feeling Dax’s hips jerk in response.

"Chris..." Dax’s voice was a broken plea, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. His hands were white-knuckled, the rings biting into his skin.

Chris took him into his mouth, slow and deep, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked. He could feel Dax’s cock pulse against his tongue, the way the alpha’s body tensed, and the way his breath caught in his throat. This sense of power and control was intoxicating.

He bobbed his head, taking Dax deeper with each pass, his hands stroking and teasing together. Dax’s low, guttural moans filled the room, creating a symphony of need and desire. His hips began to move, a slight, involuntary thrust that Chris met with a soft, encouraging hum.

One of Dax’s clenched fists on the sofa suddenly moved. Long, elegant fingers, adorned with gleaming gold rings, slid through Chris’s short, black hair. The touch was firm. Chris could feel the alpha’s need, the desperate hunger that pulsed through his touch, and it sent a shiver down his spine despite Dax’s moving.

"Chris," he said, voice rough but controlled. "You think I’m falling apart."

Chris paused, surprised by the composure behind those words. Dax tilted his head slightly, watching him with eyes that carried hunger and amusement in equal measure, as if he could flip the entire dynamic in an instant but chose not to.

"But I’m just letting you have fun," Dax continued.