The car moved through the evening traffic, the city lights blurring outside the window. Julius sat in the back, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He was still shaking from rage.
He felt like a fool. He had stood in that office and practically begged Harrison to take him. He had thrown his pride away, and Harrison had looked at him like he was a problem to be solved later.
"I can't fuck you like some slut," Julius whispered to himself, the words tasting like poison in his mouth.
Who did Harrison think he was? He had spent weeks acting like Julius was his prize, marking him with pheromones and pulling him into his world. Then, the moment Julius gave in, Harrison stepped back.
As the car turned a corner, Julius leaned his head against the seat. That was when he noticed it.
The smell.
It was faint but undeniable. Harrison's scent.
It wasn't just in the room anymore. It was on him. It was stuck in his suit, clinging to his skin, and tangled in his hair.
