The New Mutants, Captive [pt. III]

Evan Daniels—Spyke—stood off to the side of the ballroom, his back against the cold marble column, fingers digging into the smooth stone as if it could ground him, as if he could anchor himself in anything that wasn’t this constant, aching pressure in his pants. His cock had been hard all day. Not just a passing stiffness, not the awkward teenage embarrassments he’d thought he left behind years ago. No, this was a deep, gnawing need that throbbed between his legs, screaming for release. His body burned with a heat that refused to fade, and it was becoming harder and harder to think, to focus on anything but the pulse of his own unbearable arousal.

He clenched his jaw, trying to distract himself. Trying desperately to ignore the scene unfolding in front of him—Julian, fucking Julian, lying there like a damn prince on the bed, his maid crawling seductively toward him. Her thong was still in place, barely, but tangled around her thighs in such a way that every move she made caused it to shift, showing off the slick, dark folds between her legs.

Her ass was round and tight, a perfect, supple curve that drew Evan’s eyes no matter how much he willed them to stay away. Every sway of her hips as she knee-walked toward Julian had his breath catching in his throat. She leaned in, her full lips pressing against Julian’s in a slow, deliberate kiss. Spyke’s cock twitched painfully, straining against the fabric of his pants. Her hand snaked down between Julian’s legs, wrapping around his dick with the kind of casual grace that made Spyke’s heart race faster. The rhythmic stroke of her hand was hypnotic, almost maddening in its simplicity.

Spyke swallowed hard, his throat tight. That could be you, the voice in his head whispered, and he hated how much it tempted him.

All day, that had been the hell of it. The maids—beautiful, willing, and so... eager—were everywhere. And it wasn’t like they were being **** to do anything. They smiled. They laughed. They said all the right things, reassured them that this was their choice, that it was their honor, their pleasure, to serve mutants in any way they could. All Evan had to do was ask. He could have one right now if he wanted—have her wrap her soft hand around his length, make him feel better, finally put an end to the constant, aching need that had been building in his core since the moment they were captured.

But…

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the rest of his friends, his comrades, the ones who hadn’t given in. Not yet.

Sunspot stood across the ballroom—the social glue holding everyone together. He was surrounded by other students, laughing and talking, all desperately trying to distract themselves from the oppressive fear that lingered like a dark cloud over everything. Roberto was good at that. He could charm his way through anything, keep people calm when everything else felt like it was falling apart. But even from this distance, Spyke could see the tension in his friend’s posture, the tightness in his jaw.

No one was unaffected.

Rahne, still in her fully human form, paced back and forth near the windows, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She couldn’t stop moving. Couldn’t stop fidgeting. The way her eyes darted around, her nostrils flaring slightly—it was obvious her wolf senses were going haywire. She was too on edge, her instincts warning her of danger in every shadow, every flicker of movement. But she wasn’t giving in. She was fighting. They all were.

Except for Julian.

Spyke’s gaze drifted back to the bed in the corner. The maid—his maid—was straddling Julian now, her small, pert breasts bouncing slightly with each movement, her dark skin glowing in the low light of the ballroom. She met his gaze as she rode Julian, her eyes locking with his, and smiled—so sweetly, like she was at some fancy gala, not fucking his friend in the middle of the room. Her body undulated, her hips moving in a slow, sensual rhythm as Julian groaned beneath her, hands gripping her thighs tightly. Her tight little pucker was visible, flexing as she moved, a tantalizing detail that only made Spyke’s cock throb harder. The whole thing was surreal. Like a dream. Or maybe a nightmare.

And God, he hated it.

He hated the jealousy bubbling up inside him—the stupid, irrational feeling that the Black maid should be with him, not Julian. Like there was some kind of unspoken rule that the Black guy should get the Black girl. It was such a ridiculous thought, but it kept creeping into his mind anyway, gnawing at him. He was better than that. He knew he was better than that.

But the truth was… he wanted her. Wanted the release, the escape. Wanted to bury himself in that soft, warm body and forget about the hell they were in, even if just for a few minutes.

Hisako, not far from him, was locked in an intense conversation with Pixie. Megan was wearing nothing but a neon green thong, her breasts completely exposed and jiggling with every animated gesture she made. Those fat, round tits swayed with every movement, catching the light in a way that made it impossible not to notice them. Damn it. Spyke’s mouth went dry, and he immediately looked away, ashamed of how much he was noticing, how much he wanted to notice. Hisako looked frustrated, clearly trying to get Megan to put some clothes on, but Pixie just smiled, unfazed by her own nudity, as if this was all completely normal.

And maybe that was the worst part—how quickly everything had started to feel normal. The luxury. The seduction. The willing submission of the palace staff. It was all so easy to get used to.

Too easy.

Prodigy sat alone in the corner, staring into the distance with that far-off look in his eyes that meant he was sorting through all the information his mutant powers were feeding him. He was quiet, withdrawn, but Spyke knew that wasn’t a good sign. David was probably taking in every detail, piecing together the scope of what Mark had done to them, but he didn’t have any answers. Not yet.

And Magik… Illyana was at the end of the room between them and the hugely muscular blank helmeted guards flanking the entrance, silent, her face set in a mask of cold fury. She was their unofficial leader here, the one with the will and experience beyond her years, forged by her time as the Queen of Limbo. Her blue eyes burned with the weight of everything she knew, the horrors she’d seen. If anyone could get them out of this mess, it was her.

But she'd given up on Julian...

And Evan knew that if he gave in, if he let himself go down the same path… she’d never forgive him.

She wouldn’t say anything. She’d let him do it. Let him make the mistake. But she'd hate him for it. She’d look at him the way she looked at Julian now—with disappointment and disgust. And that… that was something he couldn’t live with.

Spyke’s hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms as he **** himself to look away from the bed, from the maid’s bouncing ass, from the tight little pucker between her cheeks, from the soft, wet folds she spread as she rode Julian’s cock. His entire body screamed at him, demanded that he give in, that he take what was being offered to him on a silver platter.

But not today.

He’d resist. Today.

Because he was going to be an X-Man.

He could do this. He had to do this.