Chapter 24

“Here, let me help you with that.” Madden took the purple helmet out of Berga’s hands and settled it over his head, taking his time to adjust the strap before clicking it into place. “There’s a comms built in, so we’ll be able to talk while we ride.”

“Worried I’ll crash and destroy another one of your precious babies?” the Butcher taunted. He’d refused to change into racing gear aside from the helmet and gloves, insisting he didn’t need them. Since he’d been so close to the edge when Madden had arrived at Void Manor, he didn’t want to push and let it go.

Even if he’d been fantasizing Berga dressed in one of his racing outfits for days.

Next time.

“The only precious baby I’ve got here is you.” He shut Berga’s visor with a click and laughed. The two bikes he’d chosen for them were old, still in great condition, but not models he’d driven for a while. Since this was just for fun, he figured it was best to avoid all the bells and whistles and just keep things simple. “Don’t think that means I’ll go easy on you though. When you inevitably cry, I’ll wipe your tears.”

“That so?” Berga adjusted his leather gloves, not seeming the least bit intimidated despite their obvious difference in skill level. “Too bad. I won’t make the same promise. When you start whining like a little kid, I won’t feed you any candy to settle you down.”

Madden couldn’t help but laugh at that. The Butcher was always so creative with his word choices. They kept things interesting and more often than not, Madden found himself bringing random things up in conversation just to see what his Mad Scientist might respond with.

He wanted to ask how things had gone with Baikal, but now wasn’t the right time. He’d wait until after, once they’d both blown off steam and there was no longer any lingering fear that Berga might slip away from him again. The abyss, that’s what he called it, right? A sort of darkness that overtook everything else around him, blocking out reality so he was forced to only focus on the girl in pink and the blood that came along with her.

He'd realized that was what Berga always referred to the hallucination of his sister as. The girl in pink, or the girl in the pink dress. He never called her by name. On some level, he had to realize that the image he saw and his actual sister weren’t the same. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“Are we going to do this or not?” Berga had already tossed a leg over the white and purple bike he’d been assigned. His head was turned toward Madden, but with the helmet on it was hard to tell for sure if he was looking at him or not. His voice came in loud and clear through the speaker inside Madden’s own helmet though, and he gave a thumbs up before climbing onto the hoverbike set next to him.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” Madden offered, flicking on the machine between his thighs and sighing in satisfaction when it purred to life beneath him.

“Not a chance,” Berga stated. “But I may be up for altering the stakes.”

“Yeah?” Did that mean his talk with Void had gone well after all? It’d been hard to tell when Madden had entered the manor, especially when Baikal had merely nodded in silent hello from the doorway before walking off. “What were you thinking?”

“Let’s keep things simple,” he suggested. “ Whoever wins chooses the position.”

“Position, huh?” Madden played dumb. “What we talking about here, Butcher?”

“We’re obviously fucking after this.”

He snorted. “Obviously.”

“Hurry up and agree before I change my mind.”

“All right, all right,” he held up a hand in defeat. “I agree to the new terms. Of course. I can already picture how I’ll pose you to my liking later.”

Berga clicked his tongue. “Don’t get too cocky, baby. ”

“Pretty sure that’s my line.” Madden pointed to the counter at the side of the street. “Have any questions before we start?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve been here before, Mad King.”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“Just hit the start button.”

Madden obliged, clicking the small button on his multi-slate that would start the timer he’d pointed out. Large neon letters appeared on the screen then, starting from five down. He got ready, still debating with himself whether or not he’d go easy on the Butcher at first. He was so caught up in it, he almost didn’t notice when the counter reached zero.

Berga took off before him, easily gliding down the road with no apparent issues with controlling the bike .

He’d chosen helmets with comms in them so he could talk the Butcher through things, but as he sped after him, it became more and more apparent his guidance wasn’t necessary. When Berga leaned into the first turn, lowering himself closer to the ground than most established racers, a prickle of suspicion stabbed at Madden.

“Jekyll,” he purred into the comms as he pulled up beside him, gaining ground only to lose it again. “Something you want to tell me?”

“Now you ask?” Berga’s voice was steady.

There’d been no way for him to know the Butcher was familiar with hoverbikes, let alone this good at navigating one. He’d never so much as seen the other man riding around on the back of someone else's, let alone driving on his own. This was definitely a case of his hubris getting the best of him.

And here he’d thought he’d have an excuse to comfort Berga and make him feel better afterward. Turned out, he was the one who was going to need “comforting”. He almost laughed. Actually, recalling their changed stakes, this might not be so bad after all. He could still show Berga what his mouth was made of. If they’d still been racing for the right to publicly announce their relationship, he might have felt pressured and upset about this potential loss.

“You tricked me.” They were more than halfway through the course now, and it was clear Madden was going to have to pick things up if he wanted to win. “Why are you so good at this? ”

It was…

Sexy as hell.

“Want me to slow down for you?” Berga teased.

“No, keep going, baby,” he let out a low whistle, “I don’t mind the view from back here.”

In response, Berga seemed to stick his ass out even more. “That’s good, because you’ll be seeing more of it later.”

“Telling me you’re going to have me take you from behind?” Madden grinned, excitement already bubbling through him. “Can’t say no to that tight body of yours.”

“If you tried, I’d—”

“Melt my entrails,” he interrupted, “yeah, yeah. I got you, baby.”

The Butcher won.

Madden pulled to a stop next to him, having only lost by a few centimeters. He was grinning like a madman when he pulled his helmet off. “Where did you learn to ride?”

Berga removed his helmet and then slipped off the bike. “Kazimir and I used to a lot when we were younger. Baikal thought maybe it would help if I had somewhere else to put my energy that wasn’t studying or a lab.”

“Did it?”

He shrugged. “It didn’t hurt. Does riding help you with your problems?”

“It helps me clear my head,” Madden said. “So, in a way, yes. Come on. ”

He led them into the nearest garage, making sure their bikes were properly stowed. That distracted him long enough for the Butcher to shut and lock all of the doors, and by the time he turned back around and realized, the man was already halfway out of his clothing.

“What are you doing?” Madden asked, though it was fairly obvious.

“Winner gets to choose how it’s done,” Berga reminded, tossing everything and straightening to face him completely in the nude. His dick was already semi-hard, as though the anticipation alone was turning him on. “I want it done there.”

Madden quirked a brow when he pointed toward one of the somewhat rusted metal benches against the far wall.

“I want you to work on me,” Berga stated, walking backward toward it. “Pretend I’m one of your broken machines. I could be a busted sex robot who needs a finetuning.” He planted his palms on the edge and lifted himself onto the table in a move coyer than Madden was aware he was capable of.

“A bet’s a bet,” he drawled, pulling off his gloves. He took his time with it, stripping out of his outfit teasingly, liking the way Berga’s gaze tracked every motion he made as he drew nearer. “But we’ve been over this already. You aren’t a robot, baby.”

“What am I then?”

“You’re my Mad Scientist.” He pushed his pants and boxers down, exposing his hard cock. “And I’m your Mad King. ”

“That so?” Berga spread his legs, smirking devilishly while Madden moved in between them and danced his fingers up his thighs.

“Tell me you want me.”

“Look down and see for yourself.” Berga was at full mast now and already leaking for him.

“Tell me anyway,” Madden insisted. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you.”

“Again.”

“I want you to fill me up and make me scream.”

“Remember when you told me to become obsessed with you?” Madden shifted his touch, sliding his fingers over the sensitive inner flesh of Berga’s thighs. He came close to touching his balls a time or two, always pulling away just before contact could be made. “I want to map your entire body and commit it to memory. I think of you when I’m awake and dream of you when I’m asleep. You’re my damn multi-slate wallpaper background.”

“No shit?” Berga seemed surprised and Madden chuckled. “When did you take a picture of me?”

“Once when you were sleeping. I’ll show you later. My point is, I’m already there, baby. If this isn’t obsession, I don’t know what is. I want to take you apart and sear my name over every single piece of you, so that no matter which angle you’re looked at, everyone who sees you will know you’re taken.”

“That’s descriptive.” Berga tilted his head. “I think I understand how other people feel when I start talking about my experiments.”

“Too far?”

“Yes,” he grabbed onto the back of Madden’s neck, pulling him in closer, “but also no.”

The kiss was like everything else about the Butcher, chaotic and wild. Warmth bloomed from the center of Madden’s chest as tilted Berga’s hips so he could find his entrance, their tongues dueling all the while.

He fingered him a bit first, but didn’t drag it out, knowing the Butcher would prefer a bit of pain with his pleasure. As soon as he had him writhing on the table and was confident he wouldn’t tear him, Madden lined up his cock and drove home, swallowing Berga’s cry.

The Butcher fell back, head whacking against the wall, but he didn’t seem to notice or care, his eyes squeezed shut as he gasped.

“Tell me we’ll figure out how to convince Baikal and the Brumal later.” He was taking advantage, knew that Berga was always more susceptible when he was getting a good fucking, but he couldn’t help it.

Madden hadn’t been exaggerating. There was this burning desire within him to mark the Butcher and make his ownership known, and in order to do that, they needed to solve this problem with the mafia and their mistaken assumption they had a claim to his man.

Berga was his .

“Madden.” Any disapproval in his tone was chased off by a moan as he was thrust into with more force.

“Tell me,” Madden demanded, holding him tightly so he wouldn’t slip away as he worked them both into a frenzy. “The way your body is gripping me, I can tell it doesn’t want to ever let me go.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Berga replied, eyes opening onto his, maybe so he could see the sincerity in his gaze. “There’s got to be a way.”

“And if we can’t find one?”

“We’ll make one,” he growled.

Madden’s climax caught him off guard. He groaned and bottomed out, spilling into Berga’s heat. Before he could finish or the Butcher could complain about not getting off himself, he pulled out and dragged the other man off the table.

He repositioned him over it, his ass high in the air, and then thrust back in, his cock already getting the memo and hardening.

“I’ll never get over how you need a mere three seconds before another round,” Berga said.

“Complaining?”

“Not at all.” He pushed back onto him. “Fuck me until I can’t feel anything other than the marks you give me.”

“Light.”

A bet was a bet.

Madden was always good on his word.