Chapter 20

“Faster.”

Berga bent backward, bracing himself on Madden’s thigh as he picked up the pace. He’d lost track of how many rounds they’d already gone, but the sun had long since started its descent, and there was only a faint light still coming in from the windows. His left hand held onto the Mad King’s bicep, the muscle taut beneath his hold.

Since when were muscular guys his type?

Maybe they weren’t.

Maybe it was just Madden.

He rode him hard, thoughts piecing together only to fragment seconds later whenever that massive cock scraped against his inner walls just right. Sex had never been this amazing before. But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was it wasn’t just about the sex.

It would be less complicated if Berga could say otherwise. If he’d grown addicted to Madden’s smell and the sound of his moans. If Berga could blame this as some awakening, some realization that he actually liked to bottom after all, he would, but he wasn’t the best at lying, not even to himself.

He’d only caught the tail end of the conversation with Kelevra, but it’d set something off in him anyway, a panic to rival the one he’d felt at the Docks the other night. There may not have been any hint of the girl in the pink dress—yet—but it was obvious Berga needed to settle some things.

Only, the second they’d started talking about it, he’d realized he was still too confused to do it. He couldn’t tell Madden he wanted to date him because he wasn’t sure he really did.

Berga wanted him. Full stop.

But could that be enough?

Madden had been willing to roll over and take it up the ass for him even though that wasn’t his preference either. Was that what a relationship was? Was it compromise? If Berga agreed to date him just to keep him around, to keep him from leaving, was that compromise as well, or was it something else ?

Manipulation?

What was manipulation really?

Impression and a spiked drink?

A white lie told to suppress a hungry, inexplicable longing?

“You’re thinking too much, Butcher,” Madden scolded. “That makes me feel like I’m not good enough for you.” He flipped their positions, pinning Berga on his back in an instant, his cock buried deep all the while. Once he’d settled completely over him, arms at either side of Berga’s head, elbows pressed against the space between his neck and shoulders to keep him in place, he started moving again.

Madden fucked him hard enough the bed shook and Berga momentarily lost the ability to think straight for the millionth time that day—Night? Was it night already?

This wasn’t what he’d intended at the Docks. But what if one taste, one touch, wasn’t enough?

Was this a punishment?

Or a reprieve?

If he agreed to more and the truth got out…He reached up and brushed his fingers through Madden’s hair, the silky strands featherlight. Probably the softest thing he’d ever felt in his entire life. Even softer than the man’s cherry lips.

“What’s—” he had to suck in a sharp breath when Madden dragged his thick crown over Berga’s prostate, “What does dating look like to you? What’s your definition of it?”

“Nervous?” Madden hooked a thumb against Berga’s chin and forced his head to the side. He planted his open mouth on the side of his neck and sucked hard enough Berga’s hips jerked. “I’ve never been in anything serious either, remember? We’re both new to this. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” he denied. He was…uncertain. Those weren’t the same thing.

“All right.” He reached between them and caught Berga’s dick, but he didn’t stroke him. Instead, he tightened his fingers around his girth enough that it sent zaps of pleasure pain spearing through the Butcher. His teeth found Berga’s left nipple then, and when he bit down, Berga saw stars.

“Tell me,” Berga somehow managed to demand, but Madden merely hummed against his flesh and bit him again.

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re thinking too much, Mad King,” Berga parroted. “That makes me feel like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Touché.” He pulled back to grin down at him as he continued to pound Berga’s ass. “This hole is perfect, baby. It’s like you were made for me. Made to be fucked.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m not.” Madden pressed against one of the hickeys he’d left on Berga’s side, gaze intense as Berga moaned for him at the contact. “It’s like you’re my hoverbike, and I know all the right buttons to push to get you to do what I want. Know all the right ways to touch you to get you to purr and vibrate for me.”

“I’m not a robot, but I’m still a hunk of metal, is that it?” Berga wasn’t offended either way. It was actually sort of cute, mostly because if there was one thing he’d always known about the Royal, it was how much he loved hoverbikes.

No one had ever compared Berga to something they loved before.

No one had ever told him he looked badass covered in blood or asked him to stay with them before either.

“You’re my boyfriend,” Madden corrected. “What does dating mean to me? It means we do stuff like this,” he gyrated his hips and squeezed Berga’s dick a little harder, “and we tell each other when something is wrong. It means we rely on one another and we never, ever abandon the other. It means I’m yours, Butcher, just like you claimed the other night. And it means you’re mine. Most importantly?”

Madden reared up, hand shifting down to capture Berga’s balls as his thrusts increased, his cock spearing into him until Berga’s toes were curled and his entire being felt like it was hovering over a precipice about to explode.

“We don’t do this with anyone else,” Madden concluded. “No one fucks you but me. I fuck no one but you. That’s non-negotiable. Remember, you aren’t the only one who knows how to destroy someone’s insides. You cheat on me? It won’t end well, for you or the person you let see you naked. ”

“Threats?” Berga’s voice was reedy, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, and his hands clung to the blanket beneath him so hard his knuckles might pop.

They both knew, despite his comment, who was in charge here.

And it wasn’t him.

That should enrage him and make him want to fight back, but it didn’t.

It made him want to wrap his arms and legs so tightly around Madden, fuse the two of them together, so there’d be no escape for the Mad King. No way for him to break his promise—because this was a promise.

“I’m possessive of my things, too,” Berga warned.

“That’s fine,” Madden said. “I’m obsessive. You’ve seen my boathouse.”

If he was referring to all the hoverbike posters on the walls, the big glass case full of racing trophies, and the various helmets set about like decorations, then yeah. Yeah, Berga had seen them.

“So?” Madden finally loosened his grip and started to slowly rub Berga’s dick. “Are we dating, Butcher?”

He liked the idea of there being no one else for the Mad King. Of being his only one. Of knowing that, not only was there a person out there that belonged to him alone, but also that there was someone who wanted him badly enough to give up all others .

Berga wasn’t wanted.

He was feared.

Revered by some.

Tolerated by others.

A necessary evil, all would say.

But wanted?

The Butcher was wanted, and Berga just so happened to be the Butcher, but if the title was stripped away, no one would hold on to him.

No one would need him.

Was this his chance? Was it real?

Berga lifted long enough to wrap his arms around Madden’s neck, pulling him back down with him so their faces hovered close together as the Mad King took him. “Call me whatever you want,” he breathed against his lips, “boyfriend, lover, it doesn’t matter.”

“What matters then?” Madden asked, and it was clear from the way his voice tightened that he was close.

“Become obsessed with me, Mad King,” Berga said, exposing himself in a way, making himself vulnerable. “Prove it’s as you say. That you want me, no matter how dirty or filthy I can be. Prove you’ll never leave, and I will never hurt you. No matter what becomes of us in the future. If we decide to end this, or—”

“Enough.” Madden kissed him, roughly, his tongue flicking into his mouth in the same harsh claiming motion of his hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me start by proving just how much I like you dirty. How sexy I find you when you’re covered in spunk and my load is leaking from your hole.”

He bit down on Berga’s bottom lip, not bothering to be gentle.

A burst of copper hit his tongue, but before he could panic that there was blood on him, Madden pressed inside of him and pumped his fist and then he was falling.

The orgasm rocked through Berga, making him forget all about the bit of blood as his vision winked in and out and he screamed Madden’s name, writhing on the bed. He tightened around that intruding cock and felt the moment the Mad King joined him, a rush of warmth exploding against his insides.

He lost track of time, had no clue how long they stayed like that, spasming in each others arms, but suddenly Madden was lifting and pulling away. Berga made a sound of protest, opening his eyes to frown up at him.

Madden merely chuckled, settling back on his haunches. Then he trailed two of his fingers through the mess Berga had made on his chest and brought them to his mouth. He sucked on them, that smile never wavering. “You taste fantastic, baby. Like sexy sin. Tell me, Berga. Tell me we’ve settled it between us. Swear that from now on, no one else gets this taste but me.”

Berga found himself nodding before he’d even fully processed the command, already so eager to agree with the way Madden was looking at him .

Like he was precious.

Like he was coveted.

“Only you,” he whispered, and when he held out his arms and Madden immediately fell back into them, he felt that last prickle of uneasiness dissipate within him.

* * *

“This is going to sound crazy,” Berga’s voice cut through the mostly dark. The two of them had cleaned up and gotten ready for bed and were now lying side by side. “But do you want to borrow a shirt to sleep in?”

Madden laughed next to him and then rolled over, tossing an arm around Berga’s waist. He didn’t pull him in or try to cuddle, merely left it there so there was some contact and otherwise kept to his side of the bed. “You’re funny, Butcher.”

“What’s your aversion to shirts anyway?” He’d always been somewhat curious.

“They make me feel stuffy.”

“That’s it?”

He seemed to consider it more thoroughly and then said, “My mom is really strict with us at home. She’s on the High Council and runs Odell Holdings, while my dad works on the board at Void Tech. Appearances have always been super important to them, and when we were younger, Rebecca and I weren’t allowed to dress however we liked. It was always a three-piece suit and tie. ”

“You look good in a suit,” Berga stated.

“I look good in everything.”

“How modest.”

“Anyway, it probably started there? My own little rebellion of sorts? Whenever I was home and knew we weren’t going to an event, I’d walk around shirtless. Because I was usually doing sports or in training, my parents let it slide. It became a habit after that.”

“My parents are…also strict.”

“Your parents sound like assholes, actually,” Madden corrected, and there was a bitterness to his tone that hadn’t been there when he’d been talking about his own. “You don’t give your kid the type of extreme trauma you have if you’re a decent person. I’m admittedly confused, though. I thought I’d heard that you and your family were close?”

“Let’s just say your mother isn’t the only one who cares about appearances.” His family was also upper-class, though they weren’t Royals. They owned and operated the planet's largest real estate investment group, Obsidian Swift. “My mother was born into the mafia. She’s worked closely with the Voids all her life. To her, the fact I was chosen by Baikal for his Satellite is my only redeeming quality. Close?” He snorted.

“If you don’t even like them, why do you care what they think of you?” Madden asked. “Just because they’re your parents?”

“For the most part, I don’t anymore,” he said. “We see each other at events that I’m forced to attend, but I spend more time with Flix’s family than I do with them, and that works just fine for us. It’s just…I can’t forget the way my father looked at me that day.”

Berga lifted a hand and rested it lightly over Madden’s wrist, needing to make a connection himself all of a sudden to help stay grounded. He never talked about this with anyone, not even his best friend. Didn’t really understand why he was so willing to do so now. Why, whenever Madden asked about it, it suddenly seemed easier to bring up.

“I’m not the reason she tripped,” he began, voice lowering. “But I could have tried to stop her fall. If only I’d reached out and caught her…Maybe it would have made a difference.”

“Why didn’t you?” It didn’t sound like he was judging him for it.

The corner of Berga’s mouth tipped up in a humorless half-smirk. “There was blood on my hands. I didn’t want to ruin her dress and get scolded. Isn’t that ironic?”

“You were a child,” Madden pointed out. “You reacted the same way most six-year-olds in that situation would have. If it’s anyone’s fault that you hesitated, it’s your parents. And you aren’t just a part of the Satellite, you’re the Butcher. The second Canham realized you were at my place the other night he started practically drooling over you.”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“I’m not,” Madden insisted. “I’d pretty much decided then and there that if you didn’t kill him, I was going to for having the audacity to covet you in front of me. He didn’t bat an eye at the idea of attacking a Royal, but the second you showed up, he turned into a preteen lusting after his first crush.”

It was weirdly nice hearing that someone wanted him that badly, even if it was mostly about sex. It was still more than Berga had had in the past, and he wanted to hold onto it. Wanted to hold onto the feelings Madden brought out in him.

“If you need help with anything in the future,” Berga said, “let me know.”

Madden grinned at him. “Will do, Butcher. But now, you should get some rest. If the doctor finds out how we spent the day, she’ll have my head.”

“I’d like to see her try.”

“Down, Butcher. It’s Ledger’s mom. The goal is not to elicit a war because we’re together, remember?”

Couldn’t argue there.

Finally, Madden tugged him in and tapped his forehead lightly against his. “Sleep, baby. Our problems will still be there in the morning, I promise.”

“You’ve been making an awful lot of those.”

“And I intend to keep every single one.” He grinned. “You do the same.”

“Of course.” Berga didn’t intend to lose the Mad King.

Maybe he never had.