He turns his attention back to the couple

Ben’s eyes dragged back to Damian.

Damian had turned fully toward them now, dusting off his clothes like the chaos around him was nothing of note. He looked at Lauren and Derek for a second looking amused then back to Ben and Evie on the altar.

“Looks like it’s time to end our little fun here,” he said, voice dropping lower. “Can’t risk more and more uninvited guests coming in now, can we.”

He slipped his hands back into his pockets, that same smug smile settling into place as he stepped closer to the couple. The church stayed quiet except for Lauren’s grunts and the wet, futile sounds of the bridesmaids still grinding against unmoving bodies.

Evie’s finger kept moving inside herself.

Damian stopped right in front of them, close enough that Ben could smell the sex on him.

His eyes locked on Evie’s.

“Ready for the finale, sweetheart?”

Evie didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mouth stayed curved in that **** smile, finger still buried inside herself, moving in slow, helpless circles. Tears kept tracking down her cheeks, but her eyes stayed locked somewhere between Damian and the floor.

Damian spoke directly at her anyway, voice low and deliberate, like he was reciting something he’d rehearsed in his head a hundred times.

“I’m going to go stand near the door,” he said. “Your lovely groom here is going to walk you down the aisle to me and give you away. When I snap my fingers, you’re going to forget your entire life with him. You’ll forget about your stupid family, your ambitions or whatever shit keeps you away from me. You’ll be my devoted loveslave and girlfriend who exists only to love and care for all of my needs.”

He turned to Ben then, eyes flicking over the bunched dress in Ben’s hands, the panties still stuffed in his mouth, the way Evie’s thighs trembled beside him.

“Do you understand that, cuck?” Damian asked. “You’re going to give her away to me. That’s it. Simple, right?”

Ben had ****. His head moved on its own, once, a sharp nod. The motion felt like it ripped something inside him.

“Great,” Damian said. “I love it when people know their roles.” He paused, glancing at the two of them again. “Oh, and don’t drop her dress until you reach me. And you don’t stop touching yourself. You two look adorable doing that.”

With that, Damian turned and walked toward the exit doors. He stepped over a fallen piece of cake without looking down, ignored the bridesmaids still grinding futilely against silent guests, looked over at Lauren who was now hunched over Derek’s lap trying to hump him through his trousers while licking frosting off his neck. The chaos didn’t touch him. He reached the doors, pushed one half open just enough to lean against the frame, then turned back to face the altar.

Ben and Evie started moving.

Their legs carried them forward automatically, Evie’s heels in pantyhose sliding across the stone, Ben’s shoes clicking beside her. He kept the dress lifted high in both hands, fabric bunched against her waist, exposing her from the hips down. Her finger never stopped. His own hand, without any command from his brain, dropped to his crotch and started stroking himself through his trousers, slow and mechanical. The panties in his mouth tasted even worse now, soaked through with spit and shame.

At this point even Ben’s eyes were tearing up. Hot streaks burned down his cheeks. Was he really going to lose the love of his life forever? The woman he’d spent a year planning this day with, the one who’d laughed at his dumb jokes and fallen asleep on his chest after long days, the one who’d chosen him over everything else, she was about to be erased. And he was the one handing her over.

A few agonizing seconds later they reached Damian.

Damian was grinning wide now, arms crossed, back against the doorframe like he’d already won.

Ben stepped back. His hands finally let go of the dress. The white silk and lace fell in heavy folds around Evie’s legs, covering her again, but too late for modesty. The damage was done.

That was when Ben realized something.