Marked

The mahogany desk was cold against Seth’s feverish skin, a biting contrast to the suffocating heat radiating from Caesar’s body. The air in the room was thick, tasting of salt, expensive bourbon, and the heavy, floral musk of an Omega whose walls had finally crumbled.

Caesar didn’t give him room to breathe. He crowded into Seth’s space, his heavy thighs forcing Seth’s legs apart, staking a claim in the most primal language possible. He reached up, gripping both of Seth’s wrists in one hand and pinning them to the wood above his head. The movement arched Seth’s back, baring his throat and chest to the harsh, predatory light of the moon.

"Look at you," Caesar growled, his voice a low, rough friction against Seth’s ear. "The pride of the Li Vicus line, pinned to a Yale’s desk like a specimen. Your heart is racing so hard I can see it shaking your ribs."

"Shut... up," Seth choked out, his head thrashing back against the desk.

The "Flash Heat" was a physical ache now, a hollow, pulsing void that only the Alpha’s presence could fill. Seth’s glasses had finally fallen discarded on the floor, leaving his vision a blurred, dark smear of Caesar’s sharp features. He felt the Alpha’s free hand slide up his inner thigh, the heat of Caesar’s palm searing through the fine fabric of his trousers.

Caesar’s thumb found the sensitive dip of Seth’s hip bone, digging in with enough pressure to leave a mark. Seth let out a jagged, vocal ruin of a moan, his hips twitching instinctively, searching for friction.

"You want it that bad?" Caesar whispered, his lips grazing the pulse point in Seth’s neck. He nipped at the skin—not a mating bite, but a warning. A taste. "You want me to stop being a gentleman and treat you like the archaeology you love so much? Something to be unearthed? Something to be owned?"

"If you are going to do it, do it properly, Mr. Yale," Seth hissed, the word a confession that tasted like ash and honey. He stopped fighting the grip on his wrists and instead pulled against it, trying to draw Caesar closer. "Do it. Mark me. Break the glass."

Caesar’s composure snapped. The calculated billionaire vanished, replaced by a man driven by the intoxicating scent of crushed lilies and the sight of his rival undone.

He released Seth’s wrists only to grab his waist, hauling him flush against his chest. The contact was violent and electric. Seth’s legs wrapped around Caesar’s waist, his fingers digging into the Alpha’s shoulders, drawing blood through the white linen of his shirt.

Caesar buried his face in the crook of Seth’s neck, inhaling deeply, his teeth scraping over the scent gland that was practically weeping pheromones. The sound Seth made was no longer human—it was a high, desperate keen of total surrender.

The room was a blur of shadows and heat. The refined scholar was gone; there was only the friction of skin, the heavy thud of Caesar’s heart against Seth’s chest, and the terrifying, beautiful knowledge that after tonight, neither of them would ever be the same.

"Mine," Caesar murmured against his skin, the word a dark vow. "Tonight, and every morning after this, Seth. I’m going to make sure you remember the taste of a Yale better than any history you’ve ever read."

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