His eyes snap up to mine the second I step inside. Wide. Bright. A little pale, a little panicked—but glowing. Reckless grin tugging at his lips like he can’t decide if he’s about to combust or beg.
“Cap…” he breathes. “It’s everywhere.”
I shrug out of my jacket, slow, deliberate, never breaking eye contact. “Good.”
He blinks, throat working. “Good? They—they’re calling me your—your project, your—fuck, some are saying—”
“Mine,” I cut him off.
His breath hitches, body trembling even under the blanket. His fingers twitch like he doesn’t know whether to clutch the sheets or crawl to me.
“You don’t care?” he whispers.
“No.” I stalk closer, boots slow against the hardwood. “Let them write. Let them scream. Let them dig. You already belong to me. The world’s just catching up.”
His lips part, voice breaking. “Sir…”
I smirk. My hand fists into his curls before he can say another word, dragging his head back so those desperate eyes are locked on mine.
“You want to tell me again?” I rasp, low enough to burn. “Tell me what you told me two nights ago?”
His breath shatters. He nods so fast it’s pathetic, reckless. “I—I do, sir. I do, I do—”
My mouth crashes against his, stealing the words from his lips, swallowing the sound like it’s mine too.
Elias’s hair is wild, damp and dripping onto my shirt collar as his fingers tug clumsy at my tie. He’s already breathless, mouth parted like every second he’s near me steals his oxygen.
I let him get halfway. Knot loosened, fabric sliding down—then I pull my phone out of my pocket and shove it into his hand.
“Read them to me.”
His fingers freeze. Tie dangling off his knuckles, my phone heavy in his palm. “Wh—what?”
“Headlines,” I say, calm, low, final. “You said they’re everywhere. So read them. Out loud.”
Before he can argue, I push him back. One hand flat to his chest, firm, steady, sending him sprawling against the mattress. His legs kick uselessly, tangled in the sheets. His hair falls over his eyes, green burning through them when Igrip his waistband and strip his pants down in one brutal yank.
He gapes up at me, breathless. “Captain—”
“Read,” I growl, tossing denim to the floor, already dragging his boxers down after them. His cock springs free, flushed and leaking, twitching against his stomach as his other hand trembles with my phone.
His eyes dart between the screen and me. His throat works. “Uh—uh, okay, uh—‘Kade’s Pup? Rookie Mercer Protected or Possessed?’”
My smirk sharpens. I fist my hand around his cock, slow, deliberate, dragging one stroke that makes him choke on a gasp. “Keep going.”
His voice cracks, high and frantic, as the screen lights up another. “Um—‘Captain or Keeper? Damian Kade’s Leash on Elias Mercer—’ f-fuck—Cap—”
I stroke harder. His hips jerk up. He nearly drops the phone, fingers trembling so bad the headline blurs.
“Read,” I snarl again, teeth bared in a grin, squeezing tight until he moans. “Don’t stop.”
He scrambles. “—‘Ravens Rookie or Reaper’s Pet? Mercer’s Role Under Captain Kade—’ Oh my god—”
His head tips back, lips trembling around every word. His cock twitches in my fist, his free hand clawing at the mattress, the phone wobbling uselessly in the other.
And I—Christ—I’ve never seen anything prettier. My pup, naked, trembling, reading filth dressed up as headlines while I wring him out stroke by stroke. Every word a collar, every gasp a vow.
“Good boy,” I rasp, leaning low enough to scrape my mouth against his jaw. “Let them write it. Let them name it. They’ve got it right. You’re mine.”
