Tragic King (The Dominant Bastard Duology 2)

“Mercy.” It was a whisper, barely audible.

No. No. Fuck.

Did he have to listen? He could pretend he hadn’t heard. If he was serious, he’d have said it louder.

Stop, you fucking monster.

He threw the belt away from him before he gave into his baser urges. The buckle smashed something glass he didn’t bother to look at. All he could see was haze, lust. Blood. Rubies of it adorned Rodrigo’s beautiful back. Severin gasped, shaking, wishing he was sorry but too fucking turned on to be sorry.

Was he supposed to regret making Rodrigo safeword?

Was he supposed to apologize?

He closed the two steps between them, watching Ro shudder and his muscles glide like water under his tattooed, welted, and bleeding skin. He pushed Rodrigo forward until his forehead met the wall, then propped a hand on the wall to either side of him leaning in to examine the blood.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned closer, breathing against skin that rose in goose bumps under his breath. The copper scent of the damage he’d done made him groan. He dipped a tongue against a bead of red, tasting what he’d wrought.

Rodrigo sobbed, choked, swore. There was the sound of drops hitting the floor, and Severin pulled back to watch Rodrigo’s dick pulse, dripping thick and white without so much as a touch, despite the elastic to stop it from happening and the angry red of his unflagging erection.

“Fucking pervert,” Severin mocked. “I could slit your throat and you’d fucking come for me.”

“I hate you.”

“Good.”

So much adrenaline still coursed through him that his hands shook. He wasn’t sure what to do with them. There was no hiding how weak Rodrigo made him.

“You want out yet?”

“No.”

“This was just a taste, Mr. Solis. Something to think about before you decide you really want more.”

“Yes, Severin.”

“You may remove the elastic, but you’ll stay naked while you tattoo me. If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you finish masturbating when you’re done.”

Rodrigo nodded, meeting his gaze with burning intensity as he carefully pulled the hair elastic off. As soon as that was done, Severin grabbed Rodrigo’s dick and wiped come away with his hand, loving the gasp of surprise and arousal it won him. He smeared the errant come across Ro’s face to give him a taste of humiliation for losing control. Rodrigo didn’t look ashamed, though. His gaze dipped to Severin’s mouth, lingering on a spot he could feel was still damp with a smear of blood.

When Severin settled back in the chair, Rodrigo lowered his worktable, then put on gloves and sank slowly to his knees in front of Severin. He looked good there. Right.

“You’re a pretty little bitch, Rodrigo. I think I’m going to enjoy owning you – especially since you probably won’t enjoy it much at all.”

Fury flashed in Rodrigo’s eyes, but it tamed slowly down to a burn that looked a lot more like desire than anger.

“What am I tattooing on you, Master?”

Severin shrugged, giving Rodrigo an arrogant smirk. “Surprise me.”

In beautiful script, Rodrigo tattooed the word “bastard” down his shin.

*

“Look at you, here without your service human,” Churchill mocked with affection, rising from the ocean view table to greet Severin. Church hugged him. Even when they were children his brother had never followed any of Severin’s rules, but it was probably good he hadn’t treated him like a hothouse flower. Severin allowed the hug, but pushed him away as it dragged into the fifth second or so. There was familial affection and then there was just being ridiculous.

Church reclaimed his seat and waved Sev down into the chair opposite him.

“I can’t believe you agreed to meet me for lunch – in public no less.”