Chapter 11

11

MA?L

" I s this your place?" Thurel's gaze widens when he enters my shared dorm. His hazelnut eyes take in every centimeter of the black and white features that portray the apartment I share with my cousin and best friend. A huge, black leather couch stands in the middle of our communal living area, framed by glass side tables and a white, glossy coffee table that stands on an equally white, fluffy rug. The alabaster walls are decorated with black framed posters of some of the most famous artists France has had over the past decades—Serge Gainsbourg and Brigitte Bardot.

"Hmm." Keeping him cradled in my arms, I slowly make my way to my personal wing.

"My shared room is nothing like this," he pouts. "You even have a kitchen?"

"I wouldn't call it a kitchen, but yeah, it has a fridge."

He snorts. "That fridge is bigger than the one we have at home." It is a big fridge, truth be told. One of those immense, ‘70's fridges my best friend was adamant on having.

"We have literally a quarter of what you guys have. Wait, nooo—" I open another door, revealing a spacious bathroom with a tub, and he turns around in my grip, looking every bit the delectable guy he is. Hazelnut eyes that radiate wonder, his pouty lips slightly frowning. "You're not going to tell me that this is your private bathroom, right?" I smirk, and Thurel glowers. "That's so unfair."

Dropping him down onto yet another white, fluffy rug, I start peeling off his school uniform. "But it's practical, not even you can deny that. Especially in moments like these." He lets me get to work. First goes the navy blue jacket, followed by the crisp white shirt, before I make quick work of the buttons of his pants. And all the while Thurel is still babbling, limbs absentmindedly bending into the way I want to give me space.

"I really wanted to have a single room when I got here, but they told me they didn't have one. Turns out that was a lie, I met another student—no, two —who have single rooms since I have been here. That Pascal guy sure has his favorites, and apparently I'm not one of them."

Sliding his pants over his sculpted, long legs, I grumble, "Hell no, you're not his favorite. You're mine." Okay, that comes out a little possessive, and judging by Thurel's soft grin, he knows it too. Leaving him in nothing but his boxer briefs, I move to the tub and turn on the faucet, dribble a bit of eucalyptus oil in the running water while checking the temperature.

"Yeah, well, maybe, but—" When I turn over my shoulder, I catch his flushed cheeks. So fucking sweet. He clears his throat, turning away. "Can I use your toilet?"

I nudge my head toward the only other closed door. "Sure. Right over there."

"Thanks." He practically jogs away, locking the door behind him.

I take the moment of silence to fill it up with the flicking sound of my lighter, bathing the dim light under a golden sprinkle of candlelight.

"Jazz or classical?" I ask. From behind the door, a toilet flushes, then Thurel clicks the door open.

"Sorry?" He frowns.

"Jazz or classical?"

"Jazz is a nice change. Mamie —" he coughs the rest of his phrase away, blushing up to the tips of his ears.

"Yes?" I drawl, choosing a playlist on my phone. "What about her?"

"Nothing," comes the muffled answer.

I look up with a frown. "Oh, you thought I don't know about her? Or about your parents, who passed away in a car accident when you were very young?" Circling my arms around his chest, I let my fingers dig into his skin as I pull him back and flush against me, my nose pressing against his temple. His chestnut strands tickle my neck when I lean in, brushing my mouth over his. Flutters shoot through my stomach at the featherlight touch, despite my body being tired of the earlier exertion. There's no way that I can get it up again. Right?

This touch is not meant to be sexual though. It's…strangely intimate, with the way I have bowed my front alongside the curves of his nape. We fit from head to toe, like the perfect match.

Can he feel it too?

"The background check," he huffs, though his voice void of venom. No, my sweet Thurel sounds exhausted. "Is there anything you don't know about me?"

"Your mind," I reply swiftly, pushing him gently toward the tub. Dropping my hands toward his sides, my fingers crawl around the waistband of his underwear. "Your dreams." I slowly shimmy them down, exposing his hardening cock to the cool air. The final remainder of his clothes pools onto the floor and with a heavy swallow he steps out of it. I unclick the collar from his slender neck, not wanting to risk it getting any stains because of the water, then take his hand and lead him inside the tub. "I want to know what goes on in your heart. In your brain."

Watching him ease into the white, clawfoot tub, I wait until he gets comfortable, before he gazes up at me from behind drooping eyes. Yeah, definitely exhausted. Cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted, his hair darkening under the water.

"You are perfect." My voice is gravel with wonder. Thurel gives me a bashful smile in return. "Remember when I said I am a gentle lover who craves control?" I ask.

"Yes?"

Grabbing a fresh washcloth from the top drawer, I return to the tub, sink to my knees and wring out the fabric after I soak it in the warm water. Starting at Thurel's feet, I slowly make my way toward his knees and thighs, rubbing the cloth over every single part of his body. His throaty purr is audible, and when I peek up to watch his face, I catch the bliss carved onto his features, his eyes closed and his lips curled into a satisfied angle. His chest rises and falls in a regular breaths, making it look like he's asleep.

He's not though, judging by the way his cock fills and becomes hard when I use the cotton to stroke him from tip to base, where I fondle his balls carefully.

"In the bedroom, I dominate." My clothed hand strokes back up, teasing his slit in short, faster pumps that make his breath catch. He opens his gorgeous eyes, his hazelnut stare surprisingly light and wide. Standing up, I reach his balls with my free hand, cupping and rolling them gently in my palm while my hand keeps on stroking. Our eyes are still locked on each other..

"In the bedroom, I rule over my pet's pleasure." Thurel arches his back and lets out a strangled moan, and I ease a little on my touch, not wanting him to come so soon.

"In the bedroom, I want to taste you. Cherish your flavor with my mouth and tongue."

"Ugh." He slaps at the cloth.

"Uh uh," I click my tongue, and he reluctantly retreats his hand, much to my satisfaction. "In the bedroom, I control your pleasure, mon ange . I need your obedience, your devotion. I fucking crave it." Going a little easier on him, I let go of his balls and reach for the white, fluffy towel, then take my time brushing his stomach up to his chest with all its enticing dips and curves. Thurel is gifted with a lean shape and long, strong limbs.

"What if I don't want something?" He asks as he gets up and lets me help him out of the tub when I pull a towel around his shoulders. "I have never given anyone so much power."

Focusing on drying him off in an attempt to keep that stupid grin off my face, I contemplate my answer. Fuck, it's a yes. He wants this as much as I do. He really is my fucking match.

"You'll give me everything, sweet Thurel. I'll be your universe. And you'll be mine." Guiding him toward the bedroom, I gesture to the kingsize bed with its white, satin sheets and pillows. "We can talk about everything, discover each other as we go. Crawl onto the bed, baby." He obeys immediately, dragging himself over the ornate sheets and toward the pillows. "We can experiment, discuss what we like, what we don't like. Turn around for me, ange . Present your cock to me." Thurel hesitates just a second, before he slowly shifts, positioning himself flat on his back, head on the pillows, hard cock already close to my waiting mouth.

"I-" Thurel's breath catches when he sees me on my knees. No other words leave his mouth. I take my time, caging him in with my thighs, then spread the flats of my hands on his knees, squeezing as I drag them higher and toward his sensitive crotch. "During Initiations with the brothers, you will be mine to play with in public."

"No…"

"No sharing, no humiliation," I continue, then lean in and swipe my tongue over the leaking crown of his dick. Thurel shudders, but his face keeps on shaking.

"Everybody will know," he breathes, sounding horrified.

"Know what?" My tongue darts out and I start lapping at his slit, licking and humming as the tangy flavor of his pre-cum hits my tastebuds. Thurel writhes on the sheets, eyes drooping, face flushed, his body trembling. "How you are my pet?" I supply. "My lover, and the sweetest boy of them all?" I close my lips around his tip, then suckle him inside my mouth. Thurel moans, and his knees buckle, hips bouncing off the bed. Bobbing my head with a loud hum, I make a show of playing his weeping cock like the master I am, a proof of how he will be treated in my care, then pop off with a lewd plop. "You're all of those, Thurel. You are mine."

"Your boyfriend?" His question sounds hesitant, but when I look up over his glittering, pale body to catch his gaze, I am surprised by the intensity radiating in them.

Determination, pride, arousal…. He's fucking stunning.

Catching his gaze, I lap at his slit once more, making him moan on a shiver. "Boyfriend, lover, my world. I got to choose, and I chose you. Now you are a brother of the Alpha Fraternarii, so you have become my reality. My future. I can't wait to explore all about you." I hollow my cheeks when I take him back in my mouth and all the way to the back, opening my throat until his throbbing cock leaks in the soft tissue of my palate. Thurel's moans become more urgent, his hand landing in my hair. And then he climaxes, and thick spurts of his release coat my mouth and throat. I drink him down with greed, my sweet Thurel.

Mon ange.

Tonight we played the Wicked Chase, and he won. And I got to claim my prize. And he is the sweetest of them all, his taste divine.

Placing Thurel into the crook of my neck, I drape the sheets around us. He murmurs something, but I can't make out what he says. It doesn't matter. We'll have the rest of our lives to figure it all out.

The end.