Primal (Wrong Side of the Tracks 2)

This would be his life now. No matter how horny violence and danger made Dane, his brain remained semi-rational, and while being held captive worked fine as a sexual fantasy, the reality of Dane’s situation scared the shit out of him.

Despite the pain and the fear for his own life, the touch of sharp canines made Dane’s cock pulse with sick excitement. And then it occurred to him.

He sensed teeth.

And a mouth.

Jag was no longer wearing a mask.

Chapter 5 – Dane

Jaguar was… Well, his body matched his face.

Even now, flushed and snarling, he was exquisite.

And since Dane got to see him from up close, nothing was blurred or out of focus. Some of Jag’s long brown hair stuck to his wet skin, making him appear like a true wild man. His large masculine nose fit his symmetrical features and contrasted with the lusciously long dark eyelashes which made the striking bright eyes stand out more. His lips were twisted into a scowl, yet no less biteable because of it. There was no roundness to his face, only harsh lines and edges, from the sharp jawline to the high cheekbones.

When Dane noticed the blood on Jag’s teeth, his heart skipped a beat at the thought of it being his. But while his nape hurt from the biting, it didn’t feel like Jag had broken skin, so maybe the red stain on perfect teeth was the result of Dane elbowing him moments earlier?

Regardless, Jag was a beast in human form if Dane had ever seen one.

“I… I’m sorry,” Dane muttered, and showed his open palms in a gesture of submission.

What would happen now?

Would he be rolled over and fucked in a display of dominance?

He really should not imagine that.

“What do you think you're doing?” Jag growled at him, and got right in his face, slamming one hand in the dirt next to Dane’s head. “You’re obviously slower, weaker, and still wounded!”

Dane shivered and looked up at him with one eye, still curled up. “I— uh...” Did it mean the punch and attempt to run would have been okay in Jag’s book if Dane were strong enough to fight him off? “Yes. I’m just scared of you,” he admitted to feed Jag’s protective instincts. If he had any.

It must have worked, because after several long huffs, Jag got off him, no doubt watchful of Dane’s every move. “I guess I’ll have to leash you until you’re accustomed to me. Get up.”

Dane raised his head, glancing at him with a sinking feeling in the chest. “Please, no. Maybe we could go see my family together?” he proposed, rubbing his elbow, where the fall must have torn off skin.

Jag got up, and somehow, the dirt sticking to his wet body only made him seem more imposing. “If you ever think you’re stronger or smarter than me, try running again, but I’ll keep a closer eye on you from now on. This is your only warning.” The finality of his words extinguished the remainders of Dane’s arousal.

It was a strange challenge to put in front of a man Jag wanted to keep, but Dane still asked as he got up. “Warning?”

Jag pushed him forward. “Try it again, and I’ll punish you. Looks like I gave you too much slack. You’re too tempting for your own good.”

Dane would have laughed if he wasn’t so terrified. Him? Tempting? He’d always considered himself a middle shelf product at best. A solid five. The guy most people only hooked up with when their first choices didn’t respond.

Still, as Jag shoved him along the ravine between piles of junk, worry tinged with lust prompted Dane to ask, “How would you punish me?”

Jag growled when he spotted the mask and picked it up without saying anything. They both knew what its presence on the ground meant. Dane wasn’t leaving. Ever.

“Dane. I have ways to make you pliant, so don’t test my patience. Now wash. You’ve wasted enough water already,” Jag grumbled and shoved Dane back under the shower, but didn’t follow him.

Dane tried not to think much about the stickiness between his buttocks and rubbed the water into his flesh, washing away the dirt and sweat. A part of him believed he still had a chance to run, but Jag was wary of him now, and had already proved himself effective at chasing Dane down.

Maybe the cops would find him here somehow.

Dane stole glances at Jag, and now that he could see the man's face, two things were obvious—he was stupidly hot and not very good at hiding his emotions. He even muttered something to himself as he pulled on dirty jeans, scowling like a kid who’d got his favorite toy taken away. He watched Dane like a hawk nevertheless.

Once Dane was done washing himself, Jag turned off the water, and led him back to his shack with a firm grip on Dane’s arm. The sweet scent of fire and pancakes that greeted them inside was like something out of a surreal dream.