I ran a hand through my hair, trying to reset my head, but the thought lodged deeper: if I understood how “discipline” actually worked here—who administered it, who watched, what it was for—I might start to understand the fear behind the people’s eyes. And, witnessing the abuse of his followers would be another nail in Malachi’s coffin.
I stood and crossed the room, stripping out of my robe, and pacing slowly as I pieced it together. Discipline wasn’t a private thing here. It couldn’t be. A control system only works if everyone knows about it and sees it.
Which meant there were procedures. Schedules. Witnesses.
There had to be a way to see it firsthand, or at least to get Elior to talk more about it. Gently. The kid folded open like a flower with even the slightest warmth; it wouldn’t take much to get him to keep explaining.
And he would think he was helping me alongmy own spiritual path. Sweet, earnest thing that he was.
I caught my reflection in the small mirror bolted to the wall and huffed a half-laugh.
Jesus. I was getting turned on by a boy who blushed when he asked if I’d eaten breakfast.
“Get it together, Jace,” I muttered. “You cannot fuck the cult leader’s son.”
No matter how much my dick throbbed from imagining him on his knees, mouth open wide, eyes both a little scared and a little excited. I bet he’d do anything to please me. Maybe even take me down his throat once I’d trained him a bit.
“Fuck,” I grunted, cupping myself through my underwear. I hissed at the pressure, continuing to grind my palm against my thick bulge as I kept up the fantasy.
Urges that I thought had been suppressed years ago came to the surface. Maybe I could tie him to the bed, cut off his robe and anything underneath, watch him cry and squirm as I played with his body.
I pulled my briefs down, groaning as I fisted my cock. I took a second to spit in my hand, then used that to ease the glide. A drop of precum beaded at the tip, and as I rubbed my thumb against it, I pictured how Elior would look if I fed the salty liquid to him. Would he like the taste? Would his eyelids flutter shut inbliss as I pushed my finger into his mouth? Or would he struggle—need me to grip his chin and force his jaw open?
I pumped my dick faster, feeling the pressure rise in my balls.
Would his nipples and cock be just as rosy as his cheeks? What about his hole?
I knew it had to be untouched, unless Elior himself had played with it, and I had a feeling he didn’t. Fucking hell, it’d be so tight around me as I broke him in.
“Fuck, oh fuck—take it, baby,” I moaned, my abs clenching as I imagined fucking into him and drawing out breathy little moans from his lips, the pleasure rising higher and higher.
I bit my cheek as my dick jerked and sprayed my load onto my hand and abdomen, wishing like hell I was filling his ass instead. I kept pumping for just a little longer, riding the aftershocks until I was sated.
Once my balls were empty, I fell back on the bed, breathing heavily.
I flung my clean hand over my eyes and groaned.
Dammit.
7
Elior
Walking the edge of the compound used to be a quiet thing, a time for me to connect with the Light and clear my mind.
I used to love the stillness of it—the rustle of the dry grass, the morning sun warming the back of my neck.
But now… now there was Jace.
And I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t different. I couldn’t pretendIwasn’t different.
Every morning for the past few days, he’d followed me out here, giving me a minute by myself before he caught up. And every morning, my chest would do that ridiculous fluttering thing, like a sparrow trapped behind my ribs, beating itself silly just because he smiled at me.
I shouldn’t enjoy it this much.
I knew that.
Father hadn’t given explicit permission for us to walk together. Members weren’t supposed to speak freely with me unless he said so—not even the new ones, especially not the new ones. But… well…
