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Said plans involved stripping you out of your black silk nighty he adores and burying his cock inside you til you are a whining tear stained mess below him. He never cared much for routine before, but sinking into your heat each night has become his favorite way to wind down before bed. Holding a satiated, cloudy headed you against his chest as the two of you drift off to bed. He’s growing more antsy as he taps his foot on the expensive hard wood floors, the mental image of you laid out in bed being the only to get him to push through. A growl of “Finally” leaves his lips when he’s told they’re about done, Ursula barks out something at him that he doesn’t hear as he makes his way back to his bedroom and could care less to have her repeat.

As he pushes open the door he finds you right where he left you. “Good girl bunny” he praises, with a slam of his door he’s on you.

Pressing you into the mattress of his large four poster bed, kissing all over your face and down your neck. You let out a small giggle and wrap your legs around his waist. The action pushes the black sweats he threw on before the meeting down a bit til they sit low on his hips now. “Missed you” he groans out against your neck, his hands already working at pushing up the skirt of your night dress to grab at the sides of your thighs and the plush of your ass. “Ty baby you were only gone for like 10 minutes” 

You squeal softly when he nips at your bare shoulder in response as he tugs your straps down off them. “S’ too long” he mumbled out before his mouth was on yours. “Need you” his hands frantically trying to strip you of anything in his way, tugging your panties down and off your legs. “M’ right here my love” You moan softly into the kiss as his fingers push at your pussy and part your folds to rub at your clit. “All wet and ready for me already? Fuck, such a good wife” he sighs out. Your pussy throbs at his words, your hips bucking up at his touch as he rubs faster circles on your bud. 

Your nails claw at his stomach, pushing up under the black t-shirt he had on to scratch at him before tugging down at his waistband. “Off please” you ask so sweetly against his lips and who is Titus to deny his love of what she wants. 

Reluctantly he pulls away from you to lay back and rid himself of his sweatpants. “Boxers too” you add, his eyes drift to you just in time to watch you pull your nighty off over your head, leaving you bared completely to him. He can’t help the shaky breath he lets out, he’s seen you naked numerous times and it never stops affecting him the same. His cock twitches in interest at the sight of your tits before he quickly rids himself of his boxers to free himself.

He’s back on you in an instant, pushing your legs up against your chest as his hands land at your hips, squeezing the flesh of your ass. He planned to tease a little longer but when you reach between your legs and grab at the base of his leaking cock, lining his tip up with your entrance. Growling lowly he inches forward to push all the way inside. 

The second your cunt is fully wrapped around his cock he can’t hold back any longer, using his grip on your hips he drives forward. “Titus!” you whine out at the brutal pace he immediately sets, your thighs pressing harder against your chest as he leans forward to peck your lips. “M’ sorry love you just feel so fucking good” he moans out, his hips snaping forward hard. With each thrust of his hips his cock is hitting right at that spongy spot deep inside you already. Leaving your head to go hazy and your eyes to go lidded, staring up at Titus in that lust filled, cock drunk way he loved. He tilts his head down to watch the way your pussy engulfs his cock before you are threading a hand through his curls and pushing his head back to look at you again. “Good boy” you gasp out breathlessly. 

A pathetic noise bordering on a whimper leaves his lips and his hips start to flatter. With a press forward so your legs are sandwiched between your bodies and his cock buries deeper inside you, he hides his face in the crook of your neck. “Bunny-” he whines out desperately hoping you understand. And you, ever in tune with your lover, claw at his back, your pussy clenching down hard around him. “Cum f’ me Ty” you whine.

With a strangled little moan Titus's orgasm crashes into him, his body shaking as he fills you up with ropes and ropes of cum. Your own comes not long after, your hips bucking up lightly against him as you ride out your high. Though just when you think he’s satisfied and tired out, his hips draw back again before snapping forward hard. With a broken gasped out moan you realize he is far from done with you. “Gonna keep in this bed til morning, got that my good little wife?”

And boy does he until you are both coated in sweat, having cum about 3 more times each and damn near pass out.

-

The Danforth estate was a monument of power, built on foundations of blood and sacrifice. To the world, it was a fortress of wealth - a grand hotel on one side of the grounds, the family home on the other.

It's stone walls encased everything like a gilded cage, hiding the outside world from the secrets within. 

"You're far too quiet tonight." 

Titus barely glances up from the cuff links he's removing, the gold catching the low light of the room. You stood on the marble balcony, hands resting against the railing as you overlook the now empty grounds before you.

The sun was setting, your mind deep in thought as you think over the near hunt. Dusk was approaching, and you couldn't help but wonder what tonight had in store for you.

What Titus had in store for you.

"Sweetheart?" He speaks again, a small hint of displeasure in his tone at your silence. 

You didn't turn around. You didn't have to. You feel the heat radiating off of Titus Danforth as he steps up behind you, his hands sliding familiarly around your waist as he pulls you against him.

He leans down, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin. 

The smell of his cologne engulfs you, and you relax against him, angling your head as he presses kiss after kiss on your bare skin until he reaches your ear.

"Don't pick the cellar tonight," He all but whispers, finally causing you to break into an airy chuckle. "It doesn't count as a good hiding spot if I find you drinking the vintage." 

"You took too long to find me," You counter, turning around slowly in his arms until your back is pressed to the railing. "And it was good vintage."

"It was mine."

"And now it's gone," Your hands press against his chest. "How tragic."

"And if I recall correctly," He laughs with you, low and warm, and you smile at the sound. "I found you within two hours."

Titus watched you intently, eyes sharp, amusement and something else underneath that was undeniably him.

Hungry.

You reach up to undo his top button, slowly making your way down until his shirt hung off of him. He was yet to dress into his hunting attire, still wearing the suit he wore for the gala you had both attended.

Goosebumps litter his skin instantly as the breeze hits him, reminding you both of the very public space you had chosen to have a conversation.

"You and I have very different memories of that night," You murmur, dragging your hands softly down his bare chest until they reach his belt. "Either way, you won, no need to gloat."

"You won too."

"Being fucked in the wine cellar doesn't exactly count as winning."

"I don't remember you complaining," Titus grabs your wrists before they can reach for his zipper. "Are you trying to distract me wife?"

"Tire you out seems like the more appropriate description," You shrug once. "Is it working husband?"

You say his title back like an insult more than a name.

He rolls his eyes. "Fucking you on the balcony now won't stop me from finding you later tonight sweetheart," He scoffs, but there's a playful edge to it. "Playing dirty is rather beneath you."

"I could be beneath you instead?"

Titus says your name in warning, loosening his grip on your wrist before he turns to walk back inside. You follow after him with a smirk, stopping to lean against the doorframe as you watch him shrug his shirt off his back.

He looks over his shoulder as he removes the rest of his clothing, his eyes darting over the white silk dress he made you wear for every hunt.

It was a simple garment, devoid of any zips or ties that would make your run constricting. Your feet were bare, the only other item on you being the very ring Titus had put on your finger just years prior. 

"You remember the safe word?" He asks as he steps into his walk in wardrobe, not even bothering to poke his head out as you hum your reply.

He yells out for a proper response, to which you say yes even louder.

It was the same every year. Every time someone new married into the family, they were made to participate in the games chosen by Mr Le Bail.

You didn't have to participate being a spouse, but that didn't mean you couldn't. 

He didn't let you regardless. The risk of you being hurt by the guest too high on his mind.

Last year, it was some nephew. 

This year, it was a cousin in the Danforth line that you actually knew and thoroughly disliked. She was every bit egotistical, and her new fiancee wasn't far off.

They had both made snide comments when you had married into the family - not being from wealth, and Titus was itching for the two to be wed and dealt with. 

He called your hunts 'practice'. 

Not that you were ever in any real danger, save for the bruises he'd leave on your hips or thighs once he'd find you.

For one night a year sometimes more,  when Ursula was away for business, his father tucked away with his care team on the other side of the wing and the staff all sent home early. 

You were his to play with.

You both had the entire estate to yourselves.

Titus steps back into the room. He's dressed for the chase, clad in his dark hunting leathers that flexed with every moment of his broad shoulders.

A knife was sheathed on his side, not that he ever used it on you - save for the many dresses he had torn apart in the past.

His thighs looked distractingly bigger now that he wore his gear, and you bite your lip to stop the smirk from forming on your lips.

He looked every bit the apex predator that his father had raised him to be, yet when his gaze landed on you, the hardness in his eyes shattered into something softer, something he reserved just for you.

"Are you bringing the tranq this time?" You ask, still leaning against the door.

Titus lets out a short, dry laugh as he shakes his head - the kind of laugh he only shared with you.

"No sweetheart, I'm not," He steps forward until he stands in front, his now gloved thumb reaching up and tracing the line of your jaw. "There's no fun in that," He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as you hum your agreement once again.

"Shall we go over the ground rules again?"

"No need, I remember, same as every year," You look up at him, heart fluttering in your chest. "Are you going to give me a proper head start this time?'

Titus doesn’t answer straight away.

Instead, he looks behind you, looking out to the vast stretch of forest that surrounds the manor. The woods will be completely covered in darkness in no time, the lights all switched off.

Dense and endless, most people wouldn't step foot out there alone.

Most people aren't you.

Most people aren't his.

Not yet at least. When his father finally croaks, the world will be his.

But Titus didn't worry for that just yet, his world stood in front of him, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered.

"Worried?" He says at last, voice calm despite the eagerness in his body. 

You scoff softly, an eyebrow raised. "Not the word I'd choose, you haven't told me yet what you want if you win, I'm curious."

If.

He always won. Every time. 

The longest you had managed to stay hidden was six hours - only because you had hidden in your bedroom of all places. A memory he brings up often at the silliness of it all.

He chuckles at the idea of not winning. 

"If?" He repeats, and he brings your head up with a tilt of your chin. There it is, that look. Focused and predatory.

The kind of look that made grown men falter mid sentence. The kind that made rooms go quiet when he enters. 

The kind that reminds everyone exactly who - and what - he is in this family.

"If," You say again, "If you win. Planning something are we?'

His mouth twitches.

“I’m always planning something.”

Usually your husband would tell you days before what he wanted his prize to be before a hunt. Usually it was something that ended with you bent over some balcony in a country you didn't know existed.

Other times it was fulfilling some fantasy Titus had where you were dressed in some ritualistic getup, a bride of the damned made solely for him.

Rarely was it something you didn't also enjoy. His prizes still left you with a belly full of fine wine or your pussy filled with him.

"Do tell though," He continues. "If you were to make it to dawn, what would you ask for? What would my love ask of me that I don’t already provide?"

The possibilities were endless. "If you make it to first light without me pinning you to the forest floor, what do you want?'

"Hm," You pretend to think, a small pout on your lips as he smiles at your expression. "I'm rather fond of the idea of tying you up, a little at my mercy."

"I'm always at your mercy."

"Not with your hands tied to the headboard you're not," You counter. "Tied up and aching, gagged even if you keep running your mouth. Maybe I leave you there until I'm ready? Maybe I use you until you can't take it anymore-"

"I'm struggling to see where I'm supposed to hate this idea," Titus interrupts you with a scoff of his own, eyebrows shooting up at the thought, his voice raspy. "You know I don't mind when you use me, Hell, you use my wallet and my cock all the time, I don’t complain.”

"Bullshit," You drag the word out. "You hate not being in control of everything."

He doesn't respond right away, and you know you've got him pinned. Titus enjoyed a lot of things, but after years of being a punching bag by his father and sister, he revelled in you being the one person he could order around. 

Not that you minded either. He never hurt you, never manipulated you like others tried.

"You said I could have anything," You remind him with a playful tilt of your head. "And I want you tied up and begging for me. Does the idea scare you?" "Terrifies me," He lies easily, eyes darkening with affection. "Being at your mercy seems to be the most dangerous position I could be in, I might never want to leave."

His sarcasm pissed you off. "Keep joking around like that Titus and I'll tie you up, leave you there for days, I won't even touch you."

"Bold little thing."

His watch beeps before you could cuss him out, the sharp sound immediately sending a thrill through you. 

Dusk was finally here, and you had until dawn to evade your husband.

"You get twenty minutes this time," He presses the side of his watch, a new timer being set. "I'm not cruel."

"Oh how generous of you," You roll your eyes as you go to move past him. "Bastard."

Titus catches your wrist before you can walk away, his thumb brushing over your pulse. Despite the confident look on your face, he could feel the consistent thumping of your heartbeat beneath him.

You were nervous.

You arch your brow, ready to tell him that he was cutting into your starting time. He leans down, lips brushing your ear as you swallow the words in your throat. "Be careful."

"You're the only thing out there that could cause me any problems." You murmur, but you nod against him nonetheless.

"Exactly," He inhales once, smelling the expensive shampoo you wore, his favourite. "I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."

"Cocky."

His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you that he could if he wanted too. He says your name in low warning. "Twenty minutes starts now.”

You pull back, meeting his gaze, hoping your expression looks amused. “Good luck old man."

For a second, just a second, something softer flickers in his eyes. Not the predator. Not the heir to everything. 

Just Titus.

Yours.

"I love you," He says, finally letting go of your wrist as he pecks your cheek. "Now fuck off."

"I love you too."

Without another word, you turn and run out of the room, your white dress fluttering around you as you turn the corner.

Titus watches until you're no longer in view, a smirk on his lips as he hears your laughter through the now empty halls of the manor.

—

The forest felt alive with the sounds of the night. 

Late last year, you had chosen the wine cellar in the main house. Earlier on, you had picked your bedroom. Your first year, you had picked the hotel.

Only once before had you picked the woods, and without the lights that usually lit the large labyrinth, you had nothing but shadow.

It was perfect.

You moved with a revered silence, your bare feet digging into the moss covered grounds, carefully avoiding dry leaves or sticks that could give away your location.

You weren't a hunter, you hadn’t trained for this, and you weren't tying to escape him out of fear, but out of devotion.

Titus loved the chased - loved the way you challenged him and didn't bend to his every whim like everyone else in his life.

The Danforth's owned everything. With a click of their fingers or a simple call, whatever they wanted was at their doorstep.

But for just one night, there was something Titus actually had to earn. Something he actually had to put in the skill and effort for.

The cold hits you the further you venture. You assume your husbands choice of clothing for you was intentional - it wasn't meant for this kind of weather or terrain.

You would be stupid to run around during the night in something so loose.

Yet, here you were. The silence was deafening in a place that was usually full of staff and security. Here, the air feels thicker, wilder, the anticipation of what was waiting for you making your hands feel clammy.

You don't run immediately, you walk - fast and deliberate, your mind running a mile a minute instead as you work through routes and trials in your memory.

You knew these woods well, but Titus was born here, raised on these grounds, even without the millions of cameras attached to every suitable surface, he would be able to find you.

Without a watch, it was impossible to know if your twenty minutes was up, but it was safe to assume your husband had begun his hunt.

You weaved between trees, doubling back once, twice, crossing a small stream without hesitation. The cold water bites at your skin, but you ignore it, climbing the opposite bank and continuing on. 

Just once, you want to win. Just once, you want to prove that you are more than capable of looking after yourself and being more than prey. 

Eventually, your feet begin to ache from the constant walking, and you're sure that it's been hours. You've put enough distance between you and the house, no longer able to see the empowering building from where you stand. 

With nothing but the moonlight to guide you, you tuck yourself into a hollow beneath a fallen cedar, tucking in the bottom of your dress to ensure it doesn't stick out and reveal your location. 

Your pulse has settled, the adrenaline you had running through your blood subsiding by the minute, replaced by the urge to rest.

Titus is good.

Too good to underestimate. 

But for once, he's not right behind you - nor finding you within hours. 

You didn't mean to fall asleep, but as the hours passed and the cold took over, your eyes had closed and the hollow had become your makeshift bed. You praised Satan for not being born a snorer, and the sound of the birds and insects lulled you into a sleep you didn't realise you needed.

The hunt lasted far longer than either of you expected.

Hours bled into the dark. 

In the distance, you hear the frustrated snap of a branch, and your eyes open immediately, your heart hammering at the sudden sound. You look around, seeing nothing from where you were hiding. 

Ignoring the twinge in your neck from your position, you hold your breath when you hear a low, guttural growl of a curse.

Titus was losing his temper. There was two hours until dawn, and he hadn't found a proper track in awhile. You had circled over your own footsteps more than once, a move he had taught you, and so he couldn't be mad. 

Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you adjust the way you're sitting carefully, hoping that nothing revealed your location to the hunter that was loose in the area.

He was used to being the master of his home, used to finding his prey within the hour. But tonight, you were becoming something he couldn't grasp. 

The thought made a thrill of pride bloom in his chest, he was both proud and pissed off that you had made it so far.

"No perfume tonight?" Titus' voice drifts through the trees, sounding much closer than you expected. "That's smart honey, that's usually the first thing that gives you up."

You don't move. You quieten your breathing even further.

"Although," He continues, and you can almost sense the way his jaw is no doubt clenched. "You're not as clever as you think, your tracks might be messy - sure - but they end up heading in the same direction eventually," His voice circles like a wolf. "I'm proud though, this is a good run time for you. Just… I'm getting a little bored."

He goes silent, his footsteps continuing as he stalks around. He knows you're here, he just doesn't know where.

The silence stretches until his boots come to a stop. 

"Aren't you cold out here sweetheart?" He starts again. "Gotta be, that dress doesn't leave much to the imagination. Beautiful on you though, shame it’ll be cut off soon."

The arrogance is back. Titus wants you to bite back, yell out some quip that'll reveal where you are, but you ignore the urge. 

He's right though, goosebumps were all over your skin, your nipples peaking through your dress as the chill of the night danced around you. 

Still, you didn't bite.

"I'll just buy you more, hundreds more, I don't mind," Titus speaks lowly again. You can picture him perfectly, the heavy stance he carries. "I'll buy you whatever the fuck you want."

The angrier he sounded, the hornier he was. He was getting beyond frustrated. Never had he lost a hunt, and although he didn't mind the idea of his little wife tying him up for once, the prize he wanted was far too great to miss.

It was apart of Mr Le Bail’s deal. A prize had to be claimed, no if's or buts, even if your hunt didn't count as a part of his usual style of business - but if there was something Mr Le Bail enjoyed, it was a game signed in blood and pleasure.

You couldn't win. Maybe next year would be your year.

With no rebuttal, Titus goes quiet, his footsteps getting quieter until you could no longer hear his boots digging in the moss.

You waited. Five. Ten.

You waited until you were sure the distance between you both was enough. This position hurt. You didn't mean to be cooped up in such a confined space for so long.

Emerging from the hollow, you wince as you stand to your full height, stretching your shoulders and arms until you release a small sigh in relief.

Your dress was filthy, little cuts on your arms and legs from the trees you had run through, but still you smiled.

Satan, you wish you brought a watch with you. It was impossible to know just how much time was left, but you knew that you'd made it far - judging by Titus' frustration.

You hitch up the straps of your dress before dusting off the dirt from your behind. 

Maybe the north side would be a good spot. 

You're deep in thought, planning your next move carefully.

Then - 

A voice. 

"You are just so beautiful."

You freeze. Your breath catches, not completely from fear, but from the sheer shock.

Slowly, deliberately, you turn your head, and leaning casually against a tree like he’s been there all along, watching you, is your husband.

He's smiling, beaming from ear to ear.

"You-"

"Hello darling." His voice is soft, almost fond, a stark difference to the mischievous glint that no doubt rests in his eyes.

You narrow your own eyes. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough.”

“So you knew I was hiding in there the whole time." 

“Oh yeah," He nods, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Wanted to see if you'd come out yourself or make me pull you out."

“Typical,” You straighten, masking the jolt of adrenaline with a cool expression. “You still haven't caught me Titus."

You bolt before he can reply. 

Your bare feet hit the earth with frantic speed as you run. You hear your name from his lips with an angered yell. He was running out of time.

You're grinning regardless. The more pissed off he was, the more you laughed as you ran. His heavy steps can be heard behind you, moving with a terrifying efficiency. 

He wasn't playing anymore, he had to catch you before the sun came up. 

Titus cursed at himself for not bringing the tranq gun. 

He yells your name again,and you praise the heavy hunting gear for weighing him down. Your back is pressed against a tree as you hide again, your muscles screaming, your feet aching.

But still, the adrenaline fuelled your fire, the hunt doing nothing but make your love for your husband grow further and further.

The rhythmic, heavy crunch of his boots came closer as you pressed yourself into the tree. 

You could see the stream nearby, and you know that you'd have a home stretch if you made it over.

"I know you're near baby," Titus tried his best to mask the desire in his voice. His tone was teasing, rich and worst of all, close.

“We both know you didn't make it over the water, just come on out," You hear him take another step, no doubt checking behind another tree, his eyes scanning the shadows with an intensity that made your pulse jump. "If you come out now, I might even let you cum when I fuck your brains out."

Your mouth opened in shock at his words. He was baiting you again. Titus always made sure you finished when you both had sex - he was cruel, but never to you.

That's how you knew he was losing his cool.

When you hear his steps come closer, you run again.

A blur of movement follows you. You spin, just in time to see his arms come up as he lunges, and you twist sharply to throw him off balance.

Your shoulder hits his chest instead, and for a moment, it works. He stumbles, a grunt on his lips, and you go to run again when a large hand snaps around your wrist, pulling you back towards him roughly. 

You drive your knee up, he blocks it. You throw a hit, he counters. It’s messy, it's chaotic, it's you. It’s a dance he craves.

You twist, trying to break free, your other hand raising to push against his chest. Before you can push him away, Titus manages to grab your waist, and with quick kick at your legs, has you both falling to the ground beneath you.

The sudden loss of your footing has you gasping, and he rolls, ensuring you're stuck beneath his weight as he pins you beneath him. 

It was a familiar, grounding pressure, his breathing heavy but controlled. 

Still, you attempt to buck him off of you, but Titus sits up just enough to roll you over onto your belly roughly, one hand pressing the back of your head into the grass below, his front pressed into your back. 

His thighs straddle you completely, and he waits for you to stop your movements, lets you catch your breath as you realise you're well and truly caught.

"Nearly had it, didn't you sweetheart?" He rasps, his head leaning down to see your expression. His hazel eyes burned with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated lust. "You did good, just not good enough."

"Get the fuck off me." You hiss, attempting once more to move under him. Your ass brushes against his clothed cock, Titus having been hard the very moment he had first found you. He grunts again. 

"Shut up," He retorts, reaching down to push some hair out of your eyes. "No point having an attitude now," He pushes against you once more, eyes closing a little as his jeans feel tighter against him.

The hand on your head grabs at your wrists before you can protest, pinning them above your head. You moved against him at every chance. "Stop - stop fucking moving."

You oblige, turning your head to look at him clearer. "So," You breath, chest heaving. "Sun's not up, but you win fucker. What do…" You breath again. "What do you want?"

The witty, sarcastic mask he usually wore slid away entirely. He looked down at you with a seriousness that made the world around you fall silent.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly vow that shook you to your core. "You almost had it." He says again. 

"Almost doesn't count."

"No," He agrees. "It doesn't."

You feel his knife gliding gently up your thigh before you realise, and your breath is stuck in your throat once more.

You didn't even notice Titus grab it from it's sheath, and you feel yourself stiffen as the tip of the steel drags up and under your dress.

Never once has Titus cut you, he was messy when he wanted to be, but he was precise more often than not.

"That's a good girl," He whispers, feeling you completely stop your fidgeting. "Not so brave now, are we?"

The air between you was thick with the scent of the woods and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. Titus didn't move to let you roll over, instead, he settled his weight more firmly against you, his heavy hunting leathers pressing your thin silk dress into the earth.

The damp chill of the ground seeped through the fabric, but you barely felt it over the radiating heat of his body.

He looked down at you, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own. The shadow of his frustration was still there, flickering in the depths of his lustful eyes, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a terrifying, singular focus.

"Do you have any idea," He rasped, his voice dropping into a low, vibratory growl that seemed to rattle in your own chest. "What it does to me when I can't find you? When you just disappear?"

You so badly wish you could reach up and brush away the dark locks of hair that fell onto his damp forehead. Even in your state, you couldn't resist the spark of his fire. "Thought you liked the challenge."

He leaned down again, his face inches from yours, his gaze devouring every inch of your expression. "I love that smart mouth more," He let out a sharp, self deprecating huff of a laugh, his nose grazing your cheek as his knife slides higher.

"And I love you," He paused, his eyes softening into a look of such raw, unshielded devotion it made your throat ache before his jaw tightens. "But right now, I'm going to fuck you like I don’t."

"High praise," You huff out, ignoring the heat in your belly. "Makes me want to run again, see if you can catch me twice."

"Don't fucking dare," He warned, though there was no heat in it, only a possessive desperation. "You’ve had your fun."

You don't answer, your heart feeling like it was going to break from beneath your ribs at just how fast it was beating. This was the part that you enjoyed the most, not that you would ever tell him.

The part where the doting husband was gone, and just the man who wanted to collect his prize was left.

Speaking of, Titus was still yet to tell you what he wanted from you, but you were too turned on and too anxious for his next move to speak.

His knife stops at the dress band around your waist, and with a turn of his wrist, he cuts through the fabric like it was nothing.

The dress falls loose to the ground below, and Titus cuts through your bra and panties next, not wasting a single second more to get you bare before him.

"Titus-"

He lifts himself up off of you again, giving you just enough room to hoist you up by your hips as he lets your wrists go. Your clothing falls to the floor, and a protest leaves your lips as you're left naked and shivering.

Your hands press into the ground, the thickness of the grass running through your fingers as you attempt to gather your bearings. 

His jeans bite into your skin, his hands are rough on your body as he pulls you up further onto your knees. You struggle back, his knife thrown somewhere to the ground as you feel and hear him undoing his belt from behind you. 

Titus didn't bother taking his pants off, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to get his cock out. It slaps against his lower belly instantly, and he hisses at the feeling, pushing his pants down further until they banded around his thighs. 

He strokes himself once. Twice. He curses at the feeling.

“You love this,” He kicks your own legs apart with his knees, grinning as he sees the glistening mess between your legs waiting for him. "You fought back a lot for someone whose practically dripping."

"Shut up." 

He pushes your legs apart even further, your thighs burning now as you feel him right behind you. There's no check if you're ready, just a slap to your pussy with the tip of his cock before he buries himself inside of you in one quick thrust.

The air leaves your lungs, hands giving out as he fucks you into the ground. Your mouth opens in an attempt to say his name, but the only noise that comes out is a choked moan.

“You remember, fuck - what I told you,” He says in between his rough thrusts. “About what happens when I take over the family?"

You couldn't speak, focused on nothing but the grass your face is pressed into and the thick head of your husbands cock hitting that spot inside you with every push of his hips. 

"Answer me." Titus orders, reaching down to grab at your hair and pull you up roughly. Even through the aggressiveness of it all, you can't help but smile through perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

"You said, you - mppf," You can't help the squeal that leaves your lips as Titus grips tighter. "Shit, you said you would g-give me the world."

"I did," He nods behind you. "And I will."

His gaze drops briefly from your face to your pussy, watching the way his cock disappears inside and the way you grip him like you didn't want to let him go. 

"But first," He says, his voice low and breaking, his own control wavering as he becomes lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "I"m going to give you something - something that's mine," He groans. "Fuck, you feel so good."

You wiggle your hips against him, trying to meet him halfway as he picks up the pace. His hands connect with your hips, gripping too tightly, bringing them down to meet his thrusts whether you were able or not.

His words barely register, too overcome by pleasure and the building orgasm in your lower belly.

Titus' smile doesn't waver, even as he grunts your name like a prayer for Satan. "My prize," He says with a harsh thrust, his hips stilling for a moment so you can pay attention. You can't even whine at the sudden stop, eager to hear what your love wants. "Is an heir."

Your breath catches, the words settling between you, heavy and deliberate. 

Not a demand. Not a question.

Your husband thinks for just a small moment that you'll oppose, tell him to get off of you and to fuck off, but his eyes close with a moan when he feels your cunt clench around him. 

He wouldn't force you, even if the deal with Mr Le Bail meant you'd have to relent eventually.

But the idea of Titus filling you over and over, being the one to carry the future of the Danforth line did nothing but make you gush.

You nod over and over, hands squeezing at the grass again for leverage as you try to push against him once more. 

You had both talked about children in the past, seeing as it was something that you inevitably would have to do once joining his family.

But when you were intimate, he wore protection.

Or was quick enough to pull out and finish down your throat.

Titus’ role in the world was far too important to be clumsy, especially when a baby in the family would open up a new member for the cult. You hadn’t been ready for that then, he didn’t think you were ready for that.

You were ready now. He knows it now.

Never had you exactly planned when it would be done, seeing as his father was still alive and controlling everything.

Ursula didn’t want children, refused to marry even out of fear that a man would try and take control over what the family had worked so hard for.

Titus on the other hand, loved nothing more than the idea of seeing you big and heavy with his child.

Already he was possessive of you, worried constantly that some other wealthy bloodline would try find some clause in the book of Mr Le Bail that meant they could take you from him.

But if you were properly claimed? No one would dare.

You were made to be his. You were meant to be his.

"I accept," You cry out, nodding more as you all but beg for Titus to move. "Fuck! I accept, move Titus, please."

He obliges with a grin, his hips pressing against yours again, his balls slapping against your clit with each move.

Beads of sweat coats his forehead as he speaks, telling you just how good you feel, how beautiful you're going to look when you're pumped full of him.

Your ass bounces against him with every move, a sight Titus never gets tired of seeing. His hand smacks at the skin, spanking your flesh until his handprint shows, even through the leather he wore.

It only makes you moan louder.

Titus' head lulls back as he bites his lip, and he adjusts the way he ruts deeper into you. Your name escapes his lips anyway, your pussy fluttering around him as he grips your hips even tighter.

Just the image of you swollen with his child, his heir, is enough to nearly make him cum - and with the way your moans turned into breathless sounds, he knew you weren't too far away. 

It’s all too much. His rough thrusts, his desperate words, the exposure to everything. You’re unravelling, skin hot as your thighs quiver. “Titus, please. I’m close, I’m-”

Your legs give out, your stomach and breasts pressed to the ground as his weight is completely on you once again. He feels almost deeper at this angle, and he ruts into you even messier than before.

His head dips down to your ear, lips biting at the skin as he moans. "C’mon sweetheart," He whispers. "Be good for me, want to feel it."

Your release comes within seconds of feeling Titus' voice in your ear. Hot and heavy, your vision goes as you tremble beneath him. "Fuck - fuck, Titus." 

He just nods, his eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrow. "I know baby," His words sounded muffled against your cheek as he fucks into you, riding your orgasm out as his balls tighten. "Fuck."

His cock twitches relentlessly, his hips pressed flush against your ass as he cums.

His hips stutter, his hands leaving your hips to rest beside your head, his fingers seeks yours as they entwine, Titus thrusting up into your leaking cunt until he's left spent and twitching.

He buries himself to the hilt, a cry on your lips at the feeling.

He stays there, gathering his breath until his cock softens, pressing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach from his position. "You okay?"

Your thighs hurt, your hips felt tight, your pussy - still full of him, felt sensitive. Still, through it all, you grinned, your cheek still pressed into the grass while the other received kisses. "Mm."

"That's not an answer," Titus rubbed his nose against your skin, gloved fingers squeezing yours tighter. "Words Mrs Danforth, use them."

"M'fine," You manage to murmur, feeling incredibly full. The prospect of carrying the future leader of the world making your belly flutter again. "Just, feels too good, and you talk too much.”

There you are.

"Still feel like doing another runner?" He quips, looking up to see that the sun was just starting to rise. Dawn was here, and you had no clothes.

"Fuck off and carry me home before someone sees us."

Titus chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out, a gasp leaving your mouth. If anyone else spoke to him like that, they'd never be seen again - but with you, he revelled in it.

He fixes his pants, tucking himself back in before he lazily fixes his zipper. He doesn't bother with his belt, knowing it'll just be off again when he helps you bathe.

He'll clean you up, have you dressed in your designer pyjamas and in bed before any staff in the manor wakes up - he always does.

Someone will come out and find his knife, throw out the torn clothes and make no mention of it to anybody.

For now, he watches as you roll onto your back, your hair a mess, small cuts on your face, stomach and breasts from where you had been pressed into the ground.

He didn’t dare look further down, he knows that if he sees the way you leak, leak with what he gave you, that he’d take you again then and there.

You looked beautiful like this, fucked out, eyes tired, body shivering and quivering ever so slightly.

Yet, you still beamed up at him, hands reaching up for his support, eyes full of that love and warmth you gave no one but him.

His eyes dart to the wedding ring on your finger, a blooming sense of pride at being the man to put it on you, and now a difference sense of pride fills him, knowing you now could carry something else that belonged to him.

It was early, far too early to be excited - he knew that, but a deal was a deal with Mr Le Bail, and he knew it wouldn't be too long until he heard the news.

He helps you to your feet, catching you before your legs give out. You're lifted bridal style, pressed flushed to his chest as your feet dangle. You're completely exposed, a naked prize whilst he walks completely dressed. 

"Fine," Deran murmurs, cleaning up the cards and chips. Craig collects the beer bottles and Pope grabs a wet rag to wipe down the table. You hand the younger two containers of the leftovers you guys had for dinner.

"It was nice seeing you guys. Be safe out there and don't do anything stupid," you kiss each of their cheeks.

Craig smirks and sends a wink your way, "No promises." You shake your head at him and walk out to the porch. You and Pope watch the guys head out and once they're driving away, you close the door.

You and Pope work in comfortable silence as you finish cleaning up the kitchen and dining room. Pope then follows you to your bedroom and sits on the edge of your bed.

He patiently waits there while you get ready, he watches your every move. Not in an obsessive, creepy way. But more in reverence. He still can't believe that, despite everything you've learned about him, you still want him around. You're so sweet, understanding, and caring. He doesn't deserve you and yet, he's selfish. He can't help but be attracted to your radiance.

After brushing your teeth and doing your skincare, you approach Pope. You straddle his legs and his arms wrap around you.

"Did you enjoy your night?" you ask softly, hands running through his dark curls.

He nods, "Yeah. Thank you for inviting them. It was-It was nice to feel...normal."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you had fun," you lean in a press your lips to his. You and Pope have been teering on some tension for a while now. You've given him teasing looks, his hands would run up your thighs and he'd pull away. He's been holding back. For what reason, you're not sure, but you don't want him to.

So you decide to make the first move.

"Touch me, Andrew," you murmur against his lips and he obliges. His hands slip under your sleep shirt. They run up your back and then move to the front. His hands stop just under chest and you grip his wrists, guiding his hands up further.

His thumbs graze your nipples, causing your breath to hitch, "More," you beg.

You slowly rock yourself on his lap, feeling him grow hard underneath you. You kiss him more, deeper. The desire you've had for him, building up.

"Andrew," you whimper his name and it sounds so beautiful from your lips, but...he still feels wrong.

He breaks the kiss and you look at him. Your pupils are dilated, your want for him clear on his face. And his face? Filled with hesitation and guilt.

The expression sobers you up immediately, "Oh," you climb off him and go to sit beside him instead, "I'm sorry. We don’t have to-"

He shakes his head, “No, it's-I want to. I really do. It's just-It's been a while and I don't-"

You slowly nod and place a hand on his thigh, “It's okay. We can keep going or stop. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

“Okay. Let's keep going."

You slowly lean in and wait. He meets you halfway, lips meeting yours again. You two fall into bed, kissing each other, hands gripping at each other.

"Shirt off," Pope mumbles against your lips and you quickly do so. You toss your shirt off to the side and Pope grabs at your breasts again.

"Your turn," you say with a chuckle, tugging his shirt up and off him, the garment joining yours on the floor.

You feel his hand slide towards your shorts, "Can I-"

"Please," you practically beg. His hand slips into your shorts and along your slit.

Your own hands graze along the button of his jeans, "Can I touch you, Andrew?" you whisper.

He nods and you work on undoing his jeans just enough to pull out his length. He's hard and fills your hand well. You pump him a few times and he lets out a shaky breath, "I-I don't-"

You stop and pull away, "It's okay. We don't have to do anymore." You sit up and he continues to lay there.

He rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling, shame written all over his face, "I'm sorry."

"Andrew, it's okay."

"It's not. It's not okay! I just-Fuck!" he tucks himself back into his pants and moves onto his feet. He begins to pace your room, "You don't understand how fucking sad it is! I have a beautiful woman who wants to sleep with me and I want to sleep with her and yet the thought also feels so-so wrong! It feels wrong! And I don't know why!"

You grab your shirt and slip it back on. You then rush over to him and grab his arm, seizing his pacing, "You've gone through a lot. It's okay if something as intimate as sex feels weird for you."

"I want to make you happy."

Your heart breaks from how sad he sounds, "You do. In other ways. Sex isn't the only way to make me happy, Andrew. You've made me happy with how you listen to me, when you visit me during lunch, how you help me out with errands. Just having you around makes me happy." You cup his face and make him look at you, "I never want you to compromise your comfortability to make me happy."

You see tears welling up in his eyes. You see sadness but also...relief.

He wraps his arms around you and you take him in. You hold him as he cries, whispers of apologies against your shoulder.

"Don't be sorry," you reassure him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Andrew. And I mean it."

You two eventually move back to the bed. His head lays on your chest and your fingers draw circles on his back.

"Feels nice," he murmurs.

You give a light giggle, "Yeah?"

He nods, "It's soft. Gentle."

You’ve known Titus Danforth your whole life - you’ve loved him, you’ve loathed him, you’ve done everything in between. As one of the lesser Families, you weren’t subjected to quite the same rituals as him. Your family worked to serve the others. Do the grunt work, and be spared from the hunts and challenges.

Protection and networking with the most powerful people in the world.

Your parents hadn’t planned on you falling in love with the Danforth heir.

As teenagers, the Danforth twins sought you out, as one of the only other people their age at each boring dinner party. Ursula became a confidant, Titus a lover.

He was your first everything.

If it had been up to you, he would have been your only everything.

But the third daughter of a second-tier family was never going to cut it. Not when Titus stands to inherit everything once his father passes.

By your twenties, he’s actively seeing other people. In private, he insists that it’s all for show, to appease his father, but you’re not so sure. You’ve seen the paparazzi pictures - full of the most gorgeous women in the world hanging off of his arm each night.

It eats you alive.

Of course, you still come when he calls.

When he turns up on your door, bloodied and bruised from a tough hunt, you tend to his wounds and kiss it better. When he invites himself into your bed, you let him do it each and every time.

When he tries to teach you self-defence, you laugh in his face.

I don’t do hunts.

You might someday.

Your only shot of that happening would be if Titus marries you. An event which looks less and less likely with each passing day. Sure, Titus has never married - unusual for a Family member well into his thirties - but he’s also made no attempt to solidify whatever it is that he has with you.

Instead, he has rules.

If you won’t learn how to throw a punch, you have to know how to keep yourself safe in a world like this. Even knowing Titus puts you at more risk than most people.

And he’d never forgive himself if something happened to you.

*****

You think you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. Ankles crossed, you glance over at Tony, and try to tell yourself that you know him.

You’ve already been out on three dates, you’ve been in his apartment before, and you’ve seen his Instagram account.

He’s not a catfish.

And yet.

After meeting on Hinge and chatting for a few weeks, he’d taken you out for dinner, and things had looked hopeful. You were out to get over Titus once and for all, while he was ready to get back into dating after his divorce a few years back.

When Titus had asked who you were meeting that night, you’d told him it was a friend from college.

The lie tastes bitter in your mouth, but it’s a necessary evil. Titus always gets strange whenever another man is in your life. You didn’t see him for a whole year while you were dating your college boyfriend. Of course, he was on your doorstep the very night that you broke up.

Quite how he knew, you’ll never know.

You’re never going to build something new if he’s hovering over you at all times. Date two with Tony had been at some upscale bar - exactly the kind of place Titus would usually take you. You hate that it makes you like him more.

Date three felt more domestic: a quiet Italian spot downtown where he split his tiramisu with you and told you the truth about his marriage ending. They were on good terms, but after five years together, there was just no spark anymore.

No red flags.

No psychotic exes.

Just a lonely man, looking for companionship. The exact way you are.

"So," Tony had said, setting his wine glass down on the table. "For next time, I’m thinking hike. More of an activity - to see how we gel outside of the wining and dining.”

You’re a little surprised. Tony doesn’t seem like the hiking type. Maybe he’s just trying to appeal to your interests. “Yeah, that would be nice. Any thoughts on which one?”

“Ah, let me surprise you, okay? I know a great one quite nearby. Incredible sunsets.”

An instant alarm goes off in your head, ringing with Titus’s voice. Never let a guy you barely know take you to a second location, let alone isolated woods, without a pin dropped. Unfortunately, your most recent experience with Titus involved watching him stick his tongue down some model’s throat ‘for the sake of appearances’.

You haven’t spoken to him since, despite the many texts and voicemails left.

Titus doesn't get to dictate your safety metrics anymore - not when he’s the one who left you stranded in this emotional limbo.

Patience wearing ever thinner, you consider Tony’s words. “Not even a hint?”

“Wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?”

Over the next week, you tried in vain to get some more information out of him, to no avail. He wouldn’t even tell you what type of terrain it was likely to be.

Sneakers are fine, don’t overthink it.

He’s picking you up at 4:00 AM, so that by the time you drive out to the trail, the sun will be beginning to rise, and you can catch the views from the top.

In theory? Super romantic.

Titus only hikes if there’s the promise of murder at the end of it.

Tony has a normal-person job, and you’d be able to leave all the LeBail business behind you with him. Which is how you end up in his car when it’s still dark, trying to discern where he’s taking you. You’re pretty familiar with all the trails in the city’s vicinity, and this highway doesn’t lead towards any of them.

You’re trying to ignore the anxious buzzing in your stomach, making polite conversation until Tony asks, “So, did you tell anyone what you were doing today?”

An answer slips out before you can consider your words. “No.”

Shit. Why did you say that?

“Well, I mean-” You stall a little, unsure of what to say, but suddenly desperate to get out of the car. “Think we could stop for coffee on the way? My treat.”

“Nah,” He shrugs. “I’d rather just get there, if that’s okay - we still have a decent drive, and I don’t want to miss the sunrise.”

Your mind races through the geography of the area, desperate to find a logical explanation for this route. None exists. The highway is empty, swallowed by the thick fog of the pre-dawn hours, and his profile in the dim glow of the dashboard looks sharper and colder than it did over tiramisu.

"So," Tony says, his voice abruptly slicing through the quiet. The sudden shift in tone makes you jump. "You never finished telling me about that project at work. The one with the crazy deadlines?”

"Oh. Right," you lie, your throat dry. You force out a brief anecdote of your awful boss, leaving out how you’d rather be having your worst day at work than be here with him right now.

Five minutes tick by. The road narrows. The highway lines fade from bright white to a weathered, neglected yellow. Every instinct is screaming at you to do something. Anything - before it’s too late.

"Hey, Tony?" you say, keeping your voice light, aiming for casual but landing on brittle. "Actually, could we pull over at the next gas station? Or even just a rest stop? I really need to pee. Especially before we start a hike.”

Tony doesn't look at you. His grip on the steering wheel doesn't shift, his knuckles white against the dark leather.

"Nah, we're making great time right now," he says, a small, dismissive shrug of his shoulder accompanying the words. "There’s nothing out here for miles anyway. You can just do it when we get there. It won't be long.”

The dismissal hits you like a physical blow. You can do it when we get there.

You have to let someone know where you are. But who?

You’re not sure that any of your friends are even awake right now. Except…

Titus.

It always comes back to him. You weigh up your options - the smugness when he realises that he has to come and rescue you again. That he can mingle with movie stars and socialites, while the only men that are interested in you turn out to be losers and psychopaths.

When the alternative is death, the decision seems easy.

You slip your phone out of your pocket, and click on Titus’ number. You don’t even tell Tony you’re making a call.

Come on, you think. Please pick up. Please still be awake.

Please please please please please please-

“Hello?”

His voice is groggy and tinged with sleep, and the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

“Mom!” You say immediately, barely sparing a glance at Tony. You’ve already decided that if Tony is as dangerous as you worry he might be, then phoning another man is not a good idea. “I’m so sorry to call so early, but I saw that you’d called last night.”

“What? It’s Titus, kid. Is everything okay?”

Your heart is thumping against your chest as you will him to catch on. “I know! It’s been too long - but I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. Just thought I should tell you that Dad’s gift is ready to be picked up. I was thinking maybe you could get it, since I’m hiking today.”

There’s a moment of dead air on the line, and for one agonising second you worry that he’s hung up, or you’ve lost signal. You stare straight out the windshield, watching the headlights cut through the pitch-black void, praying that the sharp, calculating mind that makes Titus so formidable in the LeBail circle is firing through his sleep-deprived haze.

"Hiking," Titus repeats. The grogginess vanishes instantly, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp focus. His tone drops an octave, all business now. "Where exactly are you?"

"Exactly! The weather is supposed to be beautiful," you say, your voice bright, breezy, and entirely unhinged from the terror clawing at your throat. You slide your thumb down the side of the phone, blindly feeling for the volume buttons, desperately trying to click them down so Tony can't catch the low rumble of a man's voice.

"Give me a location," Titus commands. His voice is low, but you can hear the rustle of sheets, the sudden shift of weight as he swings his legs out of bed. "Drop a pin right now if you can. What road are you on?”

“The cell service isn’t great out here, Mom,” You reply, continuing to smile even though your cheeks ache from the effort. “But I’ll try and send some photos! We’re headed east, so I think the views are going to be really great.”

"I can't track your signal," Titus says, his voice cutting through with an urgency that scares you. "The connection is degrading. It's dropping to a single bar. I need landmarks, or you need to get out of-”

“Is everything okay?” Tony interrupts, and you flinch slightly.

“Fine,” You chirp. “Sorry - it’s my dad’s retirement party tonight, and I just needed to tell my mom to go grab his gift.” Turning your attention back to the phone, you swallow. “Gotta go, mom - I’ll call you later? Bye, love you!”

Titus’ voice comes immediately. “Don’t hang up the phone-”

You don’t. Instead, you drop it to your lap, with the screen turned inwards so that Tony can’t see. “Sorry about that.”

Tony’s foot hits the brake, and the sudden deceleration jerks you forward. The car swerves right, leaving the asphalt of the highway behind, replaced by an uneven dirt trail.

"Wow, it’s really dense out here," you say, forcing your voice to stay loud and clear for Titus. "It looks so dark under all these massive oak trees. And that dried-up creek bed back there - is that part of the state park border, or are we on private property now?”

“I own this land with a couple of buddies - that’s why it was such a surprise. Nobody else gets to use these trails, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Great. Your heart sinks a little further.

The car crawls forward another hundred yards before the headlights illuminate a heavy, rusted iron gate blocking the road. A thick chain and a massive padlock hold it shut.

Tony cuts the engine. “Just gotta unlock it.”

He pops the door open, and you consider your chances of making it if you start running now. Probably not great. Through the windshield, you watch his silhouette move into the beam of the headlights, his hands working at the heavy chain.

You whip the phone out of your pocket, bringing up the screen to check the call status, ready to scream a real landmark to Titus.

No signal.

Call failed.

You think you might cry.

All you can do is pray that Titus has enough information to find you. Nails digging into your palms, you force another smile at Tony, as he drives you further into the woods.

After what feels like a lifetime, he pulls into an opening, and you immediately start cataloguing all the information you can.

There’s another truck down at the end - hopefully a vehicle they leave here. Because if it’s not, you potentially have another assailant to deal with. The ground is a pale, hard-packed dirt ringed by towering, skeletal trees that completely shut out the sky. Dead leaves carpet the edges, and directly in the centre of the clearing sits a massive, looming stack of logs. They’re piled easily ten feet high - thick, weathered trunks of pine and oak, rough bark peeling away.

“You bring all the girls up here?” You joke feebly.

“Only the really pretty ones.” He offers a small, boyish grin that, just yesterday, you would have found endearing.

Getting out of the car, you note the direction of the highway. It’s past about fifty metres of woodland, but you hope you could make it in a sprint. Maybe if you catch Tony off-guard. “How long do you think the hike will take?”

“Maybe an hour? Hard to say - but we shouldn’t rush.”

Terrifyingly, the cold Tony of the car ride is gone, and he’s back to date one Anthony. Maybe the LeBail paranoia has finally eroded your sanity, twisting a sweet, outdoor surprise into a psychological thriller. Maybe he really is just a corporate guy who wants to show you a sunrise. Maybe you’ve been mis-reading it all, and actually-

Out of the corner of your eye, peaking out from under the logs, sits a shoe. A New Balance trainer, pale pink, and far too small to be a man’s.

The illusion of Date-One Anthony shatters into a thousand jagged, lethal pieces. The normal job, the Hinge profile, the vulnerable story about his divorce - it was all bait.

"Hey," Tony says, the heavy thud of his car trunk snapping shut behind you. You hear his footsteps crunching on the gravel, moving steadily closer to your back. "I grabbed the backpack. You ready to head down the trail?”

If you were to run now, he would undoubtedly catch you. He’s taller, stronger, and far more familiar with this place than you are. Your only option now is to bide your time. “Shall we take a pre-hike selfie? Compare it to the top?”

Your camera is open already, and you snap a few blurry shots of him. If you don’t make it out of this, at least your evidence might stop it happening to other girls.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” He laughs. “We can just do one at the top Ladies first.”

He gestures down the trail, and you have to fight back a wave of nausea. This is it. You’re going to die, all because you wanted to get back at Titus for seeing other women.

What a silly thing to lose your life over.

You’re hyper-aware of each and every footstep, checking for service at every possible second. Still nothing. “I’m actually kind of tired,” You try, one last time. “Didn’t sleep too well-”

“We’re here now.” Tony’s tone invites no conversation.

You turn to keep an eye on the trail behind you, pretending to adjust the collar of your jacket, and the air leaves your lungs completely.

A shadow is moving through the trees. It isn't an animal. It’s a man, wearing a dark canvas jacket, stepping silently off the main dirt track and into the brush, mirroring your pace. The driver of the mud-caked truck.

You have to get out of here. Now.

Biding your time is no longer an option. If you walk any deeper into these woods, you will be sandwiched between them, entirely cut off from the fifty meters of woodland that separates you from the highway.

You don't say another word. You don't make an excuse. You think you might die if you do.

Instead, you pivot on your heel and break into a blind, desperate sprint toward the direction of the highway.

"Whoa, hey! Where are you going?" he calls out, his tone mimicking normal, polite confusion for a split second. But as the distance between you grows, the fake concern twists into a venomous, roaring rage. "Hey! Stop! Get back here!”

You don't look back.

"Marcus!" Tony screams, his heavy footsteps crashing through the brush behind you, terrifyingly fast. "Marcus, she's running! Cut her off! Grab the bitch! I fucking told you she knew something!”

Your lungs burn like hot ash as you charge through the final thicket of briars. The trees begin to thin, and through the tangled branches, you finally see it: the steep, gravel embankment leading up to the highway. You know you only have one shot to get up. Tony is hot on your heels, and any mistakes will mean that you’re not making it out of these woods.

You throw your weight forward, scrambling on all fours, your fingers clawing at the gravel to pull yourself up.

"Get back here!" Tony’s voice is a guttural roar directly behind you.

Just as your hands find the flat edge of the highway shoulder, a hand wraps around your ankle, tugging harshly. His nails dig sharply into your skin, pinning you to the dirt. The sheer terror infuses your muscles with a sudden, feral strength. You twist your body, kicking backward with your free right heel as hard as you can. Your shoe connects squarely with something solid - maybe his nose, maybe his jaw, you don't care.

He grunts, his grip slipping just enough. You wrench your ankle free, scrambling the last two feet over the lip of the embankment and onto the cold, hard pavement of the highway.

You stumble to your feet, spinning around. Tony is already rising over the crest of the hill, his eyes wild, sweat slicking his hair, Marcus just a few paces behind him in the shadows of the treeline. You are trapped on an empty road with nowhere left to run.

And then, a light.

From around the corner, a car appears. It blinds you, but you know that if you can’t get this person to stop, there is no doubt in your mind that Tony and his friend are going to drag you back into the foliage and kill you.

You don’t realise that it’s a Danforth sedan until it screeches to a halt a few feet away, door swinging open immediately.

The moment Titus leaps out of the car, the adrenaline that was keeping your legs moving completely evaporates. Your knees buckle, and you burst into heavy, violent tears, the raw sobbing racking your entire body as the pure terror of the last hour finally crashes down on you.

"Titus, oh my god-"

He closes the distance between you in two long strides, his powerful arms wrapping around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. He holds you with a crushing, protective grip, one hand cupping the back of your head, pressing you into his shoulder.

"I've got you," He mutters, his voice a low, vibrating rumble against your ear, thick with what might be worry? You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Titus worried before, even after twenty-five years of friendship. "I've got you, sweetheart. You're safe."

Safe.

You blink through your tears, looking over his shoulder toward the edge of the embankment where Tony had been standing just a second ago.

The shoulder is empty.

They're gone.

It should fill you with relief, but all you can feel is a complete and utter dread. They're still out there.

mhmmmmm part two perhaps with some smut and titus dealing with tony and marcus?