Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Three
Oliver's body tensed like a coiled spring, the tip of his cock still pressed firmly against Grey's slick entrance, heat radiating between them. The mindlink's echo lingered in his skull—Rowan's voice, clipped and formal, followed by those echoing footsteps growing louder, closer. Oliver's heart hammered, every nerve alight with the dual pull of desire and dread, his shaft throbbing insistently against Grey's clenching hole, begging to plunge in despite the risk.

Grey sensed the shift immediately, the way Oliver's grip on his hip faltered, his breath hitching in shallow bursts. But Grey wasn't one to yield to interruptions, especially not now, with his body thrumming from the stretch of those fingers, his hole clenching around nothing, aching for more. He arched his back deliberately, pushing his ass back against Oliver's throbbing length, the head slipping just inside the rim with a wet pop that made Oliver groan low in his throat, the sound raw and guttural, vibrating through the air like a warning.

That did it. Oliver's restraint snapped like brittle bone under the weight of Grey's demand. With a feral snarl that rumbled from his chest, he slammed his hips forward, burying his cock to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The force drove the air from Grey's lungs in a sharp cry, a mix of pain and ecstasy ripping from his throat as the thick shaft stretched him wide, filling every inch until his vision blurred at the edges. Oliver's balls slapped against Grey's taint with the impact, the wet smack resounding in the chamber. Grey's hole fluttered around the intrusion, walls gripping tight as if trying to pull Oliver deeper, the burn morphing into a searing pain that made his toes curl against the cold stone floor.

Oliver didn't give him time to adjust; he gripped Grey's waist with bruising force, fingers digging into the firm muscle there, leaving red imprints that would bloom into marks by morning. He started pounding in, each snap of his hips driving deeper, the slap of skin on skin drowning out the world beyond. Grey's body jolted forward with every thrust, his braced arm straining to hold him steady against the wall, the rough stone scraping his palm raw. Lube squelched around Oliver's pistoning length, easing the way as he rutted like an animal unleashed, his pace relentless, hips pistoning with mechanical fury. Grey pushed back to meet every thrust, ass cheeks rippling from the impacts, the motion grinding Oliver's cock against that sweet spot inside him, sending jolts of electricity racing up his spine.

Grey's hand fisted in the furs beneath him, knuckles white as he clawed at it. Pleasure coiled tight in his gut, his cock twitching untouched, smearing the floor with his slick pre-cum in erratic spurts. Each plunge stretched him further, Oliver's girth dragging along his sensitive walls, the friction building a pressure that made Grey's thighs quake. He bit his lip to stifle another moan, but it escaped anyway, muffled and desperate, his head dropping forward as sweat dripped from his brow onto the furs.

Oliver leaned over him, chest pressing against Grey's back, the heat of his body enveloping Grey like a second skin. One hand slid up Grey's side, tracing the ridges of old scars, while the other wrapped around to grip Grey's hip, pulling him back harder onto each thrust. "Yes...," Oliver grunted between pants, his voice rough with possession, teeth grazing the shell of Grey's ear before nipping sharply. The word sent a shiver through Grey, his alpha instincts warring with the submissive thrill of being taken like this, owned in the most primal way.

The chamber door creaked open. Rowan strode in, boots thudding on stone. He raised his torch toward the two figures entangled in sex—the flickering light casting their writhing shadows large and exposed across the walls. He froze mid-step, gaze locking on the scene before him: Grey bent over the bench, face contorted in pain and bliss, mouth parted on a silent gasp, Oliver buried balls-deep inside him, hips stuttering only for a heartbeat before resuming their relentless rhythm. Rowan's breath caught audibly, a sharp inhale that cut through the wet sounds of their coupling. His eyes widened fractionally, the stoic mask cracking as shock warred with something darker—anger, perhaps, or jealousy—in his stare, pupils dilating in the dim light.

Rowan's hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing as if debating whether to draw his blade or something else entirely. He took a half-step forward. Grey's head snapped up at the sound, golden eyes meeting Rowan's across the room, mockery flashing in their depths even as Oliver's next thrust punched a groan from his lips. He didn't stop pushing back, didn't yield; if anything, the exposure fueled him, his hole clenching tighter around Oliver's cock, drawing a ragged curse from the man behind him.

Oliver faltered for a split second, his rhythm breaking as awareness crashed over him, but Grey's grip on his thigh tightened, nails breaking skin, a silent command to continue. Oliver's eyes flicked to Rowan, wide with guilt, but the heat of Grey's body, the slick drag of his walls, pulled him back under. He thrust harder, deeper, as if to stake his claim in front of the intruder, his grunts growing louder, more animalistic. Pre-cum leaked steadily from Grey's untouched cock now, the tip flushed dark and swollen, bobbing with each impact.

Rowan didn't speak at first, his chest rising and falling in measured breaths, but his gaze raked over them both—lingering on the way Oliver's muscles bunched with every drive, on Grey's arched back glistening with sweat, the way his hole stretched obscenely around the invading shaft. A low rumble built in Rowan's throat, not quite a growl, but close, his boots scraping the floor as he took another step closer.

Oliver's hand slid down to grasp Grey's leaking cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, thumb circling the slick head, drawing a shuddering gasp from Grey. The added stimulation made Grey's knees buckle slightly, his free hand shooting out to steady himself on the bench, but he held Rowan's stare, unashamed.

Oliver's balls tightened, the coil in his gut winding tighter with each plunge, Grey's walls massaging him relentlessly. He leaned down, biting Grey's shoulder hard enough to mark, muffling his own building cries as the edge approached.

Grey's climax hit first, crashing over him like a wave as Oliver's fist pumped his cock faster, the dual assault too much to withstand. He came with a roar, seed spilling over Oliver's hand in hot pulses, splattering the furs and his own thighs. His hole spasmed around Oliver's length, milking him with rhythmic squeezes that tipped Oliver over the edge. Oliver buried himself deep one last time, groaning as he flooded Grey's ass with cum, the warmth spreading inside as his hips jerked erratically.

They slumped together, breaths ragged, Oliver still sheathed inside Grey as aftershocks rippled through them. Oliver pulled out slowly, deliberately, letting Grey feel every inch slide free before he stepped back. His cock was still half-hard, slick with lube and come, glistening.

Rowan's eyes burned into the pair, the silence stretching taut like a bowstring—until he finally stepped back, voice low and edged with ice. "I'll wait for the Alpha in room three. I have important matters to report."

He bowed stiffly to Oliver, who stared at the floor in guilt and missed the venomous glare Rowan unleashed on Grey: a protruding vein pulsing in his neck, eyes rimmed red with loathing.

Grey's ass throbbed with agony so fierce he craved plunging it straight into a tub of ice to numb the burn. But when Grey caught that loathsome glare boring into him, his lips curled into a slow, wicked smirk.

He leaned back against the bench, deliberate—spine arched, thighs spread wide, one knee hooked lazily over the edge. Cum still leaked thick and slow from his stretched rim, trailing down his crack, pooling shamelessly beneath him. No hiding. No shame.

He let Rowan see every glistening drop of what had just been claimed—and exactly who had claimed it.

However, Rowan turned and walked away. Rowan’s footsteps were already gone, swallowed by the corridor.

Oliver didn’t bother covering up—just stood there, chest heaving, looking down at the Alpha sprawled out before him like he’d just won something.

“That was a nice fuck,” Oliver said, voice low and rough, a lazy smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d open up so pretty for me, Grey. All that growling and snarling, and then you just… took it. Let me slide in deep, stretch you wide, pound right against that spot until you were shaking and leaking all over yourself.” He dragged a hand down his own abs, smearing the mess, eyes never leaving Grey’s. “Felt fucking good burying myself balls-deep in an Alpha for once. Hearing you choke on my name instead of the other way around.”

“Clean up and leave through the front gate” Oliver added and put on his pants and walked out shirtless, ignoring Grey's curses and swears.



Oliver walked into Room Three, just as Rowan had instructed, and quietly shut the door behind him. The moment his gaze met Rowan’s, the air in the room seemed to grow heavy and suffocating.

Silence stretched between them for a long moment before Oliver finally tried to break it.

“Rowan, look. I’m so—”

Rowan cut him off before he could finish the apology. “You don’t need to explain.” Rowan’s voice was low, almost gentle. He leaned back against the table, arms folded loosely. “It’s all for the plan, isn’t it?”

He tilted his head slightly.
“Grey bent over and taking it? Never thought I’d witness that in this lifetime. You gutted his pride like it was nothing.”

A beat.
Then Rowan laughed — short, sharp bursts that didn’t reach his eyes. He pressed a knuckle to one tearing-up corner, then the other.

“You committed,” he said, grin thin. “I’ll give you that.”

Oliver didn’t move. The laughter felt like a blade held too casually. Rowan could flip from ice to this in seconds, and it never felt normal.

The tightness in his chest eased, just enough. A reluctant half-smile tugged at his mouth.

Rowan wiped his face once more, amusement fading fast. The grin dissolved into something steadier, almost solemn.

“I believe everything you do is part of our plan.” His voice dropped, measured. “To make them regret every year of hardship they forced on us. Every bit of suffering. And to avenge the ones we lost just so we could finally breathe free.”

He paused, eyes steady on Oliver’s.
“Cassian most of all.”

He leaned forward slightly, closing the distance without moving his feet.

“That’s why I trust you with this. Completely. No hesitation. Because Cassian trusted you enough to die for it. The least we can do is make sure it wasn’t for nothing.”

Oliver felt the knot in his chest shift—not loosen, exactly, but tighten. Cassian’s face flickered behind his eyes: the last push, the door slamming shut, the blood splattering as Oliver ran.

Soon, Rowan vanished, reappearing in a dark alley with the aid of magic.

A cloaked figure stood waiting in the shadows, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as Rowan spoke to him through their mindlink.

The moon slowly shifted across the sky, its pale light spilling into the alley and brushing against the stranger’s face.

And that face… was very familiar.