Chapter 7 Breach - 7

• Chapter Seven: When the Blood Hits the Sheets
• ⸻
• 02:03 A.M.
• Cain’s Emergency Safehouse
• It was barely a home—stone walls, reinforced doors, hidden in the hills outside the city. But it was secure.
• Cain kicked the door shut behind them and yanked Saxon into the living room.
• “Strip,” he growled.
• Saxon blinked. “Cain—”
• “I need to see,” Cain snapped, voice cracking. “Everything.”
• Saxon obeyed. Slowly. Carefully.
• Shirt off. Pants next. He stood there—naked, bloody, trembling—but eyes locked on Cain.
• “I’m okay,” he said.
• Cain stepped forward, ran his hands over Saxon’s chest, stomach, thighs—searching for damage, for bruises, for anything he missed.
• When he didn’t find any, he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around Saxon’s waist.
• He didn’t speak.
• He just buried his face against his skin.
• Saxon whispered, “Hey. I’m okay. I’m here.”
• Cain didn’t answer.
• He just held him.
• Until his fingers dug into Saxon’s hips and his mouth opened against his stomach in a desperate, open-mouthed kiss.
• Saxon threaded his fingers through Cain’s hair.
• “Fuck me,” he whispered. “Make it better.”
• Cain stood.
• And without a word, lifted him, carried him across the room, and dropped him onto the bed.
• He didn’t undress.
• Didn’t prep.
• He climbed over Saxon, pulled his legs apart, and slid inside him in one brutal thrust.
• Saxon gasped. “Cain—fuck—”
• Cain kissed him hard, cock buried to the base, body trembling.
• “You could’ve died,” he whispered against Saxon’s lips. “I would’ve burned the whole fucking world down.”
• Saxon wrapped his arms around Cain’s neck and clung. “Then don’t let me go.”
• Cain fucked him like it was their first time.
• Not rough—not punishing—but deep, steady, aching.
• He held Saxon close the entire time—no space, no air, just heat and skin and rage-born tenderness.
• Saxon came without warning, sobbing Cain’s name.
• Cain followed seconds later, kissing him through it, body shaking.
• When it was over, they lay there tangled—sweaty, bleeding, broken.
• But together.
• ⸻
• 04:22 A.M.
• Saxon lay on his side, watching Cain clean his hands at the sink.
• “You knew she was alive,” he said quietly.
• Cain didn’t turn. “I suspected.”
• “And you didn’t tell me?”
• Cain stared into the mirror. “She was dangerous. I didn’t want you thinking about her.”
• Saxon sat up. “She’s still in love with you.”
• Cain finally turned.
• “She’s in love with an illusion,” he said. “Not the man I am now. Not the man who’d kill for you.”
• He walked back to the bed, crouched down, and kissed Saxon’s knee.
• “I don’t love her. I never did.”
• Saxon cupped his face.
• “I know.”
• ⸻
• Elsewhere…
• Rena pressed a blood-soaked rag to her shoulder and grinned into the darkness.
• “Phase One complete,” she whispered.
• A man stepped from the shadows.
• Tall. Cold. Don Vincente.
• He handed her a folder.
• “Then let’s ruin them both.”
• ⸻
• 06:43 A.M.
• The video in high definition burned through their eyes.
• Cain stood frozen in front of the flat-screen, jaw tight, arms folded. Saxon was on the couch behind him, shirtless, lips parted, watching himself on the screen with wide, stunned eyes.
• The video played on loop.
• His back arched. His thighs spread. Cain’s hands gripping his waist. His moans filling the speakers.
• Grainy. Stolen. Obscene.
• It was them. Their first night in the safehouse.
• Cain didn’t need audio to hear it.
• Didn’t need visuals to know how he sounded when he came inside Saxon the first time after thinking he’d lost him forever.
• “You were mine before you ever knew what the word meant,” his voice snarled on screen.
• Cain shut off the TV.
• Saxon whispered, “That’s… online?”
• Cain nodded once.
• “Who has it?”
• Cain’s voice was ice. “Don Vincente.”
• Saxon’s breath hitched. “How?”
• Cain turned to him, jaw flexing. “Someone tapped the feed. Probably before we even got here.”
• “Your own system?”
• “I built this place to be untouchable,” Cain said darkly. “Which means whoever breached it knows me.”
• Saxon stood, pacing.
• “This is more than blackmail,” he muttered.
• Cain nodded. “It’s exposure. Humiliation. Psychological warfare.”
• “And you know what Vincente does to people once he’s bored with scaring them.”
• Cain’s face darkened. “He breaks them.”
• ⸻
• 07:02 A.M.
• The safehouse had two levels.
• The bottom floor was designed for rest.
• The top floor was designed for war.
• But beneath that—hidden in the walls, only accessible by Cain’s biometrics—was a door.
• Behind it?
• A room with no windows. No light unless turned on. No echoes.
• Just bondage rigs, padded floors, steel walls, and a single mirror bolted to the ceiling above the black leather bed.
• Cain had only ever used it once.
• Long ago.
• With Saxon.
• The first time they’d needed to forget the world.
• ⸻
• 07:15 A.M.
• “Get on your knees,” Cain said.
• Saxon blinked at him.
• They stood in the entrance of the room—bare concrete, flickering lights, a faint chill that clung to the skin.
• Saxon didn’t hesitate.
• He dropped.
• Cain walked behind him slowly, stripping his shirt as he spoke.
• “They’re watching us,” he said. “Waiting for us to fall apart. To crack. To run.”
• He crouched, unbuckled Saxon’s pants, yanked them down and off.
• “But you know what we do instead?”
• Saxon’s voice was soft. “We burn bright.”
• Cain pulled his belt free with a sharp, cruel sound.
• And bound Saxon’s wrists behind his back.
• Then he guided him to the padded bench.
• “Face down,” he murmured.
• Saxon obeyed.
• Cain spread his legs wide, knelt between them, and pressed a kiss to the back of Saxon’s thigh.
• “You want to be ruined?”
• Saxon breathed, “Yes.”
• Cain reached into the nearby drawer.
• Chains. Lube. A collar. Blindfolds.
• He took the collar first.
• Wrapped it around Saxon’s neck. Latched it.
• Then the blindfold.
• And then he spread Saxon open, slow, dragging his fingers between the cheeks before spitting and pushing three fingers inside all at once.
• Saxon screamed.
• Cain growled, “Take it.”
• “Fuck—Cain—”
• “Take every inch, Saxon. Every piece of me. Let them see what I do to you.”
• Saxon was shaking, moaning, the leather creaking beneath him as he squirmed.
• Cain replaced his fingers with the fat, blunt head of his cock.
• No warning.
• He slammed in.
• Saxon choked on air, the collar tightening as his body jerked forward.
• Cain held him in place with one hand on the back of his neck and fucked him hard, without rhythm, without sanity—just pounding, furious, raw thrusts.
• He was taking Saxon.
• Claiming him.
• Not for Don Vincente.
• Not for the cameras.
• For himself.
• “Mine,” Cain snarled. “Even if they leak every inch of you to the world, you’ll still crawl back to me.”
• Saxon moaned into the bench. “Yes—yes—I’ll always come back—”
• Cain grabbed the chain between the collar and yanked. “Louder.”
• “I’m yours—I’m fucking yours—break me—ruin me—”
• Cain lost it.
• He pulled out, flipped Saxon onto his back, wrists still bound, body shaking—and then shoved back inside, holding his hips in a bruising grip.
• Saxon arched.
• Sweat dripped down his chest.
• Cain kissed him—hard, filthy, tongue shoved in deep.
• They fucked like the world had ended.
• Saxon came untouched, face twisted in something between agony and devotion.
• Cain followed seconds later, biting into Saxon’s chest, spilling inside him so deep it felt like his soul bled out too.
• They collapsed on the padded mat.
• Breathless.
• Ruined.
• Safe.
• For now.
• ⸻
• 08:45 A.M.
• Cain cleaned Saxon in silence.
• Unbound him slowly. Unbuckled the collar. Kissed the bruises.
• “You okay?” he whispered.
• Saxon stared up at him with the softest eyes.
• “I’ve never felt more alive.”
• Cain pulled him close. “I’ll protect you. Even if it kills me.”
• Saxon nodded.
• But somewhere deep inside his chest…
• He knew Cain was already dying.
• Piece by piece.
• Because love wasn’t enough to stop a war.
• ⸻
• 10:00 A.M.
• Unknown Location
• Don Vincente leaned back in his chair, replaying the latest feed with a pleased smile.
• “They’re cracking,” he said.
• Rena, seated beside him, sipped from her wine.
• “He’ll kill you if you get close,” she said.
• Vincente chuckled. “He won’t get the chance.”
• He turned the monitor off.
• “And when I finally touch Saxon…” His voice turned molten. “He’ll beg for more.”
• Rena didn’t smile.
• She looked at the screen once more.
• And whispered, “We’ll see.”