Chapter Three - Behind The Mask

They stumbled through the crowd, past the bathrooms, down a dim hallway. More like Carter stumbled, and the stranger strode confidently ahead, leading the way.

The stranger pushed open a door marked “Private”, some kind of office with a desk and a leather couch, then he locked the door behind him.

In a flash, they were kissing, and it was nothing like kissing a woman or kissing Sophie. This was aggressive, demanding, all heat and hunger and barely controlled lust as the man fucked his tongue into Carter’s mouth.

Carter grabbed fistfuls of the stranger’s jacket, desperately pulling him closer, feeling the wide expanse of rock-solid muscle underneath, pouring all his rage and pain and fear of the unknown into the kiss.

“Need you,” Carter gasped. “Need to forget…”

“Fucking perfect.” The stranger’s voice was rough as he pushed Carter’s jacket off his shoulders and gazed at his body, leaving him to wonder what he was supposed to do with that compliment.

Their clothes disappeared in frantic movements, buttons scattered across the floor as both men got too impatient and simply ripped their shirts off.

The stranger’s mouth traced down Carter’s chest, his body pinning Carter's to the wall with overwhelming force, pausing to bite at his collarbone hard enough to leave little red marks on his pale skin.

Carter hissed at the pain-pleasure of it, arching into him, biting his lip to keep from begging for more like a horny teenage virgin.

He was five foot six himself, tall enough in his own right and muscular enough, but he felt so small next to this man. He felt consumed.

“Tell me what you want,” the stranger demanded, his hand sliding down to palm Carter’s cock through his pants.

“Everything,” Carter breathed, giving in to the madness. “I want everything.”

The stranger made a sound low in his throat, satisfaction or hunger, or both. He turned Carter around, pressing him face-first against the desk. Carter heard the clink of a belt, the tear of a condom wrapper and his heart hammered against his ribs.

“You’ll need to be more specific than that, pet. I have never had to force anyone to fuck them, and I’m not going to start today.”

Carter tried to get the words out, but he couldn’t. He could feel the familiar burn of shame crawling up his cheeks again, shame at wanting a fellow man more than he'd wanted anything in — fuck.

He couldn’t catch his breath. He was torn between wanting to run far and fast, and wanting the stranger so deep inside him they could never separate again.

“I need to hear you say it, doll.”

Carter felt his hands wrap around his neck from behind, like he fucking owned him. Good God, he was done for.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carter knew that soon this dream would be over.

He would return to reality in the morning, and he would spend the rest of his miserable life chasing the feeling of this man’s hands on his body, so much so that every sexual encounter he ever had would pale in comparison to this.

He folded faster than a pack of cards.

“Fuck me.” Carter whimpered. “P… please.”

“Last chance to say no,” the stranger said, his hand warm on Carter’s lower back.

“Please just… Make me forget. Please.” The stranger had reduced Carter to a pathetic, blubbering, pleading mess, and he fucking loved it.

Carter gripped the edge of the desk, breathing hard while slick fingers worked him open, prepping him slowly.

It had been so long since he’d let himself have this; years, maybe.

Sophie always said she never needed sex to feel close to him, and patient gentleman that he was, Carter had respected her wishes and resorted to taking care of his own sexual frustration privately.

A small dildo hidden in a locked cabinet where no one could ever find it. The occasional morning spent jacking off in the shower with his eyes shut and his imagination doing the heavy lifting.

The few times they did have sex, he’d always been the one in control, always the one doing the taking.

But not this time.

It turned out that one huge stranger in a black mask was all it took to send all that repressed want and desire spilling out of him.

The stranger worked him open with one slick finger, and Carter winced first, then relaxed, then pushed back with a desperate whimper until the stranger was satisfied.

Then he positioned his cock against Carter’s hole and pressed inside in one slow, devastating thrust, and Carter stopped thinking entirely.

“Fuuuuuuck,” he gasped softly, his forehead pressed against the cool wood of the desk. The stretch burned, perfect and overwhelming, and he felt so full he could’ve cried.

The stranger gave him a moment to adjust, his hands gripping Carter’s hips hard enough to bruise, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re doing so good. So fucking perfect.”

Then he moved, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, and Carter saw stars.

“Yes,” Carter moaned. “God, yes, just like that…”

The stranger set a brutal pace, each thrust hitting the spot inside that made pleasure shoot up Carter’s spine. One hand fisted in Carter’s hair, pulling his head back, while the other reached around to stroke his cock in time with the movement.

It was too much. The alcohol, the emotion, the sheer physical intensity of being taken apart like this. Carter felt tears prickle his eyes, from pleasure or pain or grief, he couldn’t tell anymore.

“Mine,” the stranger growled in his ear. “Finally mine.”

Then his mouth found the curve where Carter’s neck met his shoulder, and something changed in the air around them.

The warm, woodsy scent of him grew stronger, flooding Carter’s senses until there was nothing else in the world but that scent. His skin prickled with goosebumps, and his heart beat impossibly fast.

Mate, came the thought, from somewhere deep inside Carter’s own chest.

It wasn’t a voice exactly, it was more like instinct.

It felt as though he’d spent his whole life searching for something and had now, finally, found it.

Mine. His. Mine.

Carter barely had time to process the strange thought before he felt sharp teeth rip into his neck.

What the hell?

He cried out as a sharp wave of pleasure-pain sent electricity crackling down every nerve he had, blinding and total, like being struck by lightning.

The mark burned where his teeth sank in, and Carter’s whole body shuddered.

The air between them hummed with a feeling both ancient and alive, and for one wild, completely insane second, Carter felt the stranger’s heartbeat as if it were his own.

They were one mind, one flesh, and one soul.

Mine. His. Mine.

Then the stranger released him, and Carter shattered. He came with a broken cry, his whole body shaking as pleasure whited out every thought. The stranger followed moments later, driving deep one final time with a harsh groan.

For a few seconds, there was only heavy, laboured breathing while the stranger stayed inside him, his forehead pressed between Carter’s shoulder blades.

Then he pulled out carefully, and Carter turned on his shaking legs. The stranger was dealing with the dripping condom, his mask still in place.

“That was…” Carter started.

The stranger looked up at him, and maybe it was the angle, or the way the dim light hit his face, or maybe it was just that Carter’s mind was clearing from the orgasm, but suddenly that familiar feeling of recognition rushed back.

The stranger reached up, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead, and the mask, loosened by effort and movement, slipped off.

Carter’s entire world stopped.

Dark eyes. Sharp cheekbones. That mouth curved into the evil, vicious smirk he saw in his nightmares.

Dallas Cross stared back at him, and Carter couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but stare frozen in horror… because he’d just… they’d just…

No!