Chapter 7

7

ROBIN

A rsène is one of those casually sensual guys. You know, the type who can walk into a classroom wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt, and still look like he is about to hit the town. Not that that kind of garment is allowed in class at Saint-Laurent.

But still. He's one of those classical, handsome guys with dark brown hair, carelessly slicked back, revealing a proud, sculpted face. His forehead is prominent, adorned by curvy, thick eyebrows that match his equally dark eyes. Long lashes flutter as he peers at me from up close, from right across the glittering thread where I'm still hanging. With my face dripping with his spunk.

"Fuckkkk, Robin," he murmurs, then carefully reaches out and touches my face with his fingertips. He rubs his release into my skin, watching intently as he does so. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

"What? Come on my fucking face? Release me at once," I snarl, discomfort boiling up to the surface. Suddenly this entire evening, the drugs and hallucinations, the chase , followed by this sexual pent-up, has me feeling on edge. "I said release me," I repeat, but Arsène just watches me, his fingers still playing with his cum on my skin.

Ignoring my shaky sneer.

Steps behind me make me even more jumpy, but I have got nowhere to go as I'm still trapped in this fucking nightmare.

I want to go home.

Do you?

The desire hits so sudden that it catches me off guard. Not home home , not to my dad, nor my brothers. But somewhere else, somewhere where I can feel at home at last. Somewhere where I can paint, can get lost in my own world and feel safe.

"I can see it in your eyes," Arsène mumbles, carefully observing me. His thumb brushes my cheek and chin. "Your anxiety. Don't be afraid, papillon , I'm going to let you fly."

The sharp smell of acetone hits my nostrils, and I jerk away as far as I can, fear rattling through my nerves. My hands resume their pulling, a desperate search to break free from copper thread, when a sudden touch on my shoulder makes me cry out. I look at Arsène, whose face I can now admire in its full glory. A few of his dark strands are stuck to his forehead, curling up at the edges. He watches me with a smile, then flicks his tongue over his plush, full bottom lip, and I know.

He likes my fear.

"Relax," he purrs. "It's only Enzo. We're going to let you out now, and then he's going to escort us back to Monterrey castle."

"Back to…" Something slithers through my spine. Dread? Or perhaps it's a relief to know that this is nearly over? "Am I eliminated?"

What will school be like after tonight? Will Arsène go back to ignoring me after he's had his fingers in me? His cum on my face?

"I'm going to unglue you from the web now, sir," Enzo says from behind me, as if it's the most common thing in the world. "This might hurt a bit, but it doesn't hurt. The super glue, or Thor as we call it, mixed with thread is highly efficient."

"No shit," I growl, grimacing as I watch him work efficiently with cotton and acetone. He wasn't kidding, that shit stinks. He brushes over the bare skin of my fingers and wrists, while keeping a firm grip on my neck to prevent me from falling like I'm some wounded puppy. A wounded, naked puppy, I realize with flushing cheeks. Who's wearing a butt plug with a dead spider on it. A huge, dead spider.

I shudder.

,"Look at his ass and you're fired." Arsène barks from the other side, and I don't need to look at him to feel his prying gaze on me. "Twenty years of service or not." Enzo gives him a careful, "Yes, sir," while he gingerly works my palms, pulling me back a little while he works my knees to prevent me from falling back into the trap.

"Your boy is a little shaken up," he remarks sheepishly.

Really? I inwardly sneer. My mind is unsteady, with thoughts whipping by and a variety of sounds invading my brain. But a part of me is sobering up even further, realizing that this is part of the drug and its hallucinations. It's not real.

Not real.

My own hands are real though, as they fly down with a newfound urgency. While Enzo and Arsène are still talking about god knows what, I make quick work of getting my pants back on. And I've already taken at least ten steps before I hear footsteps behind me, hunting me once more.

"No!" I snarl accusingly toward the forest. Where are those green tentacles when you fucking need them?

Not real.

The grip on my shoulders is though. It's hard, thwarting me from escaping any further as I once more crash toward the forest ground. I wince, and the voices in my head swell in volume, before they disappear altogether.

Enzo grabs me back up and simultaneously puts the bottle of water at my lips, and I don't want to drink, but I'm so fucking thirsty, that that's exactly what I do. Desperate gulps that reinforce my ownership back over my unsettled mind.

"It's nearly time to fly," Arsène muses from where he's crouched down beside me. He's already so close, and this frantic attempt to escape has drained the little energy that was left inside of me. I surrender.

The next second, he's all over me, as if he can feel the shift inside of me. Arsène's arms around my shoulders. His chest pressed against mine as he puts us both up and back onto our feet. Despite the white school shirt and his black cloak, I can feel his muscles flex when he presses me closer, inviting my chin and face into the crook of his neck. He's a little taller than I am, and we dip and curve perfectly in one, smooth bow of lines.

Those thoughts are a slap to my face, and I shove them aside, shove him aside as well. At least, I try to, the gesture making him look down with a frown before he pulls me effortlessly back in his strong hold.

"Don't run away from me anymore, papillon ," he hums inside my ear, and I shiver. "You should be celebrating, you won the Wicked Chase. We will be celebrating. Soon now. Isn't that what you wanted? Why you came out here tonight?" Painting a wet circle with his tongue on my neck, he hums, "To piss off your daddy and your brothers." Suddenly, he spins me around, catching me off guard, and presses our lips together. "You've done so well, papillon , but next time you run away from me, I'll keep you like a wrapped up larva for my little friends to play with."

"Next time I run away from you?" I echo when he pulls back. Fuck, it's like my mind is playing tricks on me once more. "You drugged me, chased me down into these woods, only for me to get trapped into some giant spider web…" I halt, panting. I am still standing there, in his arms, feeling my defenses crumble. "Y—you kissed me, put y—your fingers in my ass, and, and…"

"Made you come?" Arsène lands a solid slap on my ass cheek, making me jolt in surprise. "Left a plug in your ass?" He gives me another whack. It stings, despite the thin layer of clothing. Fuck, it really stings. He keeps his hand on my ass while his mouth finds the back of my neck, and he gives my earshell a lazy lick when he muses, "Came all over your face? Yeah, we both won the Wicked Games, my little butterfly."

"I'm not little," I huff, clenching my jaws, though that's barely the point and we both know it.

His hand brushes over the small of my back, keeping me close. Tight. "But you are young. You're just starting out on your journey. You've always been trapped. Was it tough to live a life perpetually comparing yourself to your big brothers? They have their own business now in some city up north, if my intel was right?"

"Lille, yeah." I sigh. His comment bites, making my thoughts spiral inwards once more as I skim my heart on how the true implication of his words make me feel. He's right. I've always compared myself to my older brothers, was always the third wheel. That wasn't just my feeling…it was true. I wasn't like Dad, I was like her . Like Mom. The source of our broken family.

Arsène leads me by his hand through the forest, and I find myself letting him. Perhaps I am more like a wounded pup than I thought. I sure feel exhausted, and that plug isn't helping. My ass feels weird, causing friction with each step I take, keeping me on edge. Or perhaps it's simply the thought of that dead spider decorating the insides of that glass end of the plug. Ugh.

The forest is quiet aside from the gentle breeze and the sounds of the woods. An owl hoots, and our feet occasionally crunch over small branches as we slowly make our way back to the castle. The air soothes my mind though, and I'm definitely sobering up, despite still feeling a little absent. Arsène's thumb brushes the back of my hand, causing a pleasant buzz in my core.

"I paid for tonight to be my victory," he confesses when we nearly reach the football fields that form the gate toward the meticulously maintained inner court of Saint-Laurent.

"Wait…what, what does that mean?" I ask, frowning.

Arsène brushes a wild branch aside and leads me onto the garden path. "That means that my family is a prominent member of the Alpha Fraternarii." He flashes me a wicked smile, shrugs as if to apologize for what he just confessed, then presses his hand into the small of my back, pushing me forward. "I wanted to win. Because I wanted to have you."

"But you don't…" I clear my throat, my eyes straight ahead and onto the slowly revealing contours of the castle. "You don't know me."

Behind me, Arsène chuckles. His hand is still on my back, still urging me to keep on moving. "You keep on saying that, but what's there to know? You are prickly and reserved. You are creative, intelligent and interested in plenty of subjects, but when someone gives you a compliment, you become snappy and distant. You fascinate me."

Snaking that same hand around my waist, he stops us, spins me around before taking my chin between his fingers, forcing me to turn and look at him. His eyes glitter with mischief. "Always hiding behind that gorgeous, light copper hair. I wanted to see what was underneath it. Your pretty eyes—" His fingers skid up, leaving burning traces in their wake as he reaches for my eyelids that flutter under his soft touch. "Your nose." Fingertips tease the tip of my nose, and I must have closed my eyes, because when his lips ghost over my own, goosebumps scatter freely in surprise. "Your mouth," he murmurs, then drops his mouth onto my own. I shiver and let him press his wet, full lips onto my own. He moulds our flesh together, teasing and brushing, before he mutters against my mouth, "I want you, and in my world, that's enough reason to go out there and claim you."

The words make me pull back, unsure whether I should be appalled or flattered. "So what, you just take what you want?"

Arsène lets out a dramatic sigh. "Why do I feel like we're going in circles here?" Grabbing the mask from my hand, he gestures to me to turn around so he can tie the knot in my nape, making the lace cover my upper face once more.

"Maybe because we are?" I grit out. "You can't just barge into my life and choose me." Turning around, I catch him sliding down his own copper mask.

"Why not?" He seems genuinely surprised. Pulling my strands tight in my hand, I let out a frustrated huff.

"Because you just can't. Not even you, rich and all."

"Because I don't know you?"

"Yeah, for starters. And because…" Crossing my hands in front of my chest, I tilt my chin and give him a glare. "You haven't even asked me what I want."

"What you want?" He huffs out a laugh. An annoying, smug as fuck laugh. He takes a step toward me, and before I understand where this is going, he has already wrapped both arms around my waist and pulls me in, snug to his warm, black cloak. "I know you want this," he purrs, pressing our foreheads together. Our lips are close, his breath warm, his hips glued against mine, steadied by his firm grip. "I know you want someone to take control. To own you."

My swallow is thick, but bile remains. I feel a little lightheaded, but this time it has nothing to do with the drugs. I don't think so at least.

It's his words.

"You're right," he continues. "I don't know you well. But tell me something, papillon , how well do you need to know a person to know they feel like they might be right for you?" He drops a peck onto my lips, then, while I'm still forming a stuttering retort, takes my hand and pushes me forward, nearly making me trip over my own damn feet. "Come on now, you don't want to be late for your own party." He chortles out loud, slings an arm around me and pushes me close to his side, then drops his head shortly onto my head as if we're suddenly best friends. "The very first time I saw you was in the library."

Sudden discomfort boils over, making my hackles rise. "I don't care where you met me," I snarl. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap like that." I inhale, then let out a shuddery exhale. Fuck me, he is right. I can't seem to communicate like a normal person. Squeezing his hand, I mumble an apology.

He squeezes back. "You looked so handsome. I needed to have you. And this was the best way."

"What is the best way? Make me your prey, drug me and then claim me?"

He seems to like my assessment. "Exactly."

We walk through the door held open by Enzo, who doesn't seem taken aback in the slightest by this cruel admission. Me, on the other hand, I'm flabbergasted. "That's not very romantic, is it?"

Arsène lets out an amused snort. "Oh, I can be very romantic. Haven't had any complaints so far. I just like to hunt. And you have been on my mind ever since I saw you."

"We're second year students," I let out.

"Not a problem. I have a spacious dorm for the two of us."

"That's not what I meant." But my heart hammers treacherously at those blunt words. "When did you see me that first time?"

"On November second last year." Rather than taking me to the impressive double-case spiral stairs, he guides me through the narrow corridor of the castle, with its heavily adorned framed photos. Hundreds of students from various years, some even over one hundred years old, stare vacantly back at us.

My eyes widen at his confession. "That's practically eighteen months ago!"

"Hmm," he hums.

Enzo leads us to the South Wing, but we barely enter the hall when he surprises me by moving a large, metal knight aside, revealing a door. It carries the same ochre-coloured wall paint as the rest of the wall, but under the bodyguard's hand, the nob cracks and the door opens with a tired, screeching sound.

"I'm a patient man, mon papillon . Come now, and come home."

"What do you mean? I don't—stop. Stop . Please." Grabbing him by his wrist, I look down at the dark stairs. I'm afraid, the feeling so foreign, so unwanted, that sweat breaks out on my skin.

I dealt with fear a long time ago, and it's not welcome right now. Yet here it is. And now that I have acknowledged it, it won't go anywhere. Deep and heavy, it sits in my gut. "This is going too fast. I don't understand." My hands tremble, and Arsène must notice, because he grabs hold of my shoulders and pulls me flush against him.

" Dis-moi tout ."

The simplicity of his words make me nearly snort. Nearly . Because there's nothing simple about this. "How can you just say the things you say?" Pulling back to look at him, I feel strength from my own words. "How can you do what you do? Spiders, and webs, and drugs, and chases." Inhaling deeply on a shudder, I need to collect my thoughts before I can share them with him. Ironically, he waits patiently. "You had me trapped in a web for fuck's sake, the entire night! You crawled after me, you t—touched me…"

"And you liked it?" His voice is light as a feather, his fingertips on my swollen crotch barely registering. I jerk away, glaring down, embarrassment crawling through the pit of my stomach, making my cheeks heat. I just came, how is it possible that I'm hard again?

"I—no. I don't, this is not me." He meets my scowl with the slightest of smirks on his lips. On those sensual, delicious lips. " You did this," I snap, "You did this to me." Touching my forehead with a brush of my fingers, a fresh surge of panic rushes through my body, only to go numb once it hits my mind. That fucking drug still rules my brain, albeit with ups and downs. I yank my free hand out of his, scowling, and seriously considering bolting away once more. "You gave me something, I can't—I don't…"

I wouldn't get far.

"I did, butterfly, and you look so fucking sexy like this. Confused and trapped, nervous and aroused. You look like you're all mine."

His words make my stomach flutter.

I won tonight's Wicked Chase.

What will I tell my dad? My brothers?

"That look," Arsène muses, nudging my fingers away by placing his own hand against my forehead, rubbing it gently with his palm. "What is it that really scares you? Hmm?" His lips brush my ear. He has pulled me sideways against his front, leaving my eyes to scan the corridor. Perhaps keeping up the illusion that I can get away. When I don't answer, he moves his hand back onto my crotch, bringing a jolt of desire through me. I hiss at the touch, then tighten my jaw. His lips caress my lobe, then I feel them suckling it on a hum. Oh, fuck… I fist my hand, my eyes glued to the wall. "That I'm a guy? Is that what scares you?"

I give him a forced shake of my head. My tongue feels like it has dried up inside my mouth, caused by the same heat that's now licking through my insides.

"Then tell me what it is, papillon ." He gives Enzo a slight tilt of his chin, then cups my stiff cock through my pants. I let out a moan, unable to keep it down. My eyes must have slid closed, but they snap open when his strong hands grab my arms and pull them behind my shoulders, tight and nearly painful in their severe hold.

"This!" I shout, wriggling and sputtering as I am once more held captive. "Get your hands off of me!"

A rough laugh in reply.

"You trapped me," I finally manage, the words sounding thick and croaky.

"Hmm, I did," Arsène rasps. "And you liked it, didn't you?" He moves us a little further, then turns me around, my back hitting the wall.

"No, I—" My eyes quiver as the truth hits hard. I did. Yes, I'd been terrified before. But looking back, the suspenseful invitation, the NDA I had to sign in order to partake, the promise that I'd been chosen by someone, it had started something foreign inside of me. Then tonight, the masks, the hallucinations, the chase, that web. Arsène's touch. Something close to desire.

"You remember," he purrs, and when I open my eyes I flinch when I see that he's sunken down to his knees. "I see how your cock flexes beneath your clothes. Do you remember how much you wanted it? Don't be ashamed, my sweet butterfly. My tragic artist. I'll give you everything you need." And while I'm still sputtering, he's already moved on to unbuttoning my pants, leaving me staring down as the remainder of my garment falls onto the floor in a puddle, leaving me naked from below the waist. "Now, why don't you put your cock in my mouth, Robin? And I'll suck it real nice for you." He looks up from beneath his lashes, making my movements stutter. One of my hands lands on his dark, slick hair. The strands feel even softer than I could imagine, and I inhale greedily, enjoying the texture on my fingers, the picture of Arsène sitting there, his mouth in front of my hard, throbbing cock, as he waits for me, a glorious combination of copper threads and embroideries and full, wet lips.

"Is it that easy, huh?" I ask.

His mouth slowly curls into a wicked smile. "Sometimes it is, mon papillon . Sometimes you know in a fraction of a second."

"But what about the rest? What about all the other things we don't know yet?"

Arsène moves up his mask a tiny bit to give himself more space to manoeuvre, then sticks out his tongue and licks at my crown, lapping up pre-cum with hooded eyes and a husky moan. Desire sizzles inside my body, thick and heavy. "We'll learn as we go. Don't we always? By becoming a brother in our brotherhood, you have the world at your feet. Want to become an artist? You can, because you'll always have more than enough clients. By becoming mine, you'll get whatever your heart desires. Want me to crawl after you, sedate you, then fuck you?" He flicks once more at my slit and I let out an uncontrolled groan that makes him smirk. "At your service," he whispers. Then he places his entire mouth on my tip and suckles lightly, making my eyes roll back and my toes curl with pleasure.

"Oh, fuck," I gasp, searching for leverage with my hand. I find a pillar close enough and hold on for dear life as Arsène licks the underside of my cock, sliding his mouth all the way down. He captures one of my balls and suckles on it lightly while his other hand fondles the other one, making them heavy as arousal sizzles through the pit of my stomach. Then he pulls back, licking and sucking my shaft as he slowly, teasingly makes his way back to my glans. It's oozing pre-cum once more, and when his tongue circles around the head, I let out a long and unhinged moan. His eyes open, and his gaze sparkles when he catches me watching, mouth agape, unable to hide my emotions. They are raw and bare, out there for him to snatch up and keep. The thought should scare me, should be enough for me to bark out some bullshit and bolt, but I can't. My defenses have crumbled and this is all that's left of me.

"Your mouth is so skilled," I let out. He must have done this a thousand times.

Arsène pulls off my cock with a soft plop. "It's because it comes naturally, you'll see. And yes—" He slides his tongue over my shaft, while the fingers of his other hand reach between my legs and crawl toward my ass, "I have a lot of experience. But you have nothing to worry about. I chose you, remember? A choice I don't take lightly. Besides, the brotherhood likes to fuck. And if you ever want to play with someone else, you can." He suckles at my crown while his fingers grab the plug, sliding it deeper into my ass until it hits my prostate. He hums when I let out a hiss, followed by a moan, then picks up the sliding rhythm of the plug that matches his tongue and mouth. It feels fucking divine. Biting my lip, I try to contain myself, but the sounds of pleasure keep slipping through.

"As long as we play together, mon papillon ," Arsène adds. Keeping his mouth open for my tip to nestle on his tongue, he looks up at me. The plug mercilessly drives onto my g-spot, and I can already feel my body preparing for my climax, toes curling and balls drawing up. He doesn't need to ask, I know what he wants. And it makes my body throb with the need to come. He plunges the plug another few times forward and then I erupt on a startled cry, body shaking and cock emptying inside Arsène's mouth and on his tongue. I can hear him humming and slobbering around my glans through the buzzing in my ears, hear my own mewls and whines as I slowly come down from my high. When I open my eyes, I catch him licking my cock clean, the sight making me want to get hard again instantly, though that's not going to happen. But fuck, he's so gorgeous. The most popular guy at school, a member of the elite. And he's on his knees for me, after having told me that he chose me.

Me. Robin Pinault, third son of Marie-Pierre Pinault, Directeur Général of the National Police.

Arsène wants me .

"Now then," climbing back onto his feet, Arsène slides his mask back in place, then makes sure to reorganize my pants for a second time tonight. "Shall we go downstairs then? It's past time and our brothers must be feral by now."

The smile he sends my way is wicked and cruel, and like the prey I am to him, I feel my guard rising in trepidation. "Past time for what?"

He raises a brow. "Well, for your initiation, of course."

"Initiation?" I echo, dully.

"You're about to become part of our brotherhood, mon papillon . We talked about this?" He grabs my hand, and I feel his bodyguards rounding up behind us as we make our way downstairs. Cornering me.

"Where are we going?" I ask when we reach the basement. It's quiet here, and damp. My heart rattles wildly in my chest.

Arsène squeezes my hand, then lets go, only to show me the palm of his hand. Two pills are displayed. "Time for another little game. Trust me?" He shoots me a wink.

No! My fingers linger as I take them in.

"Are they any different?"

"Yes. One is white, the other one is black."

I snort and he snickers in return. "Yeah, I can see that. But are they?—"

He clicks his tongue. "Just the colour." When I slowly reach for the black one, he cocks his head. "Really? I would have sworn you to be more of a white-pill boy."

"Fuck off."

He lets out an obscene laugh, watching me swallow the black one down with a sip of the water Enzo hands out to me.

"Attaboy. Now, come, my butterfly. Let's make those wings fly."