Caught by the Mad Alpha King Chapter 331: Experience

Chris let out a low, exhausted groan at that, head tipping back against the cushion, every nerve still humming and far too sensitive for the calm authority in Dax’s voice.

"Oh, this is absolutely your fault," he muttered. "Every single part of it. You leave, you provoke, you co back slling like night and trouble, and then you say things like that as if I’m supposed to be reasonable about it."

Dax’s answer was a quiet, warm laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest. He shifted closer and simply gathered Chris up, arms closing around him with effortless strength, pulling him against his body until there was no space left for indignation to breathe.

"I didn’t hear you complain," he said mildly, amusent threaded through every word.

"That’s because you’re very distracting," Chris shot back, even as he lted into the hold, his forehead resting against Dax’s shoulder. "It’s a tactical disadvantage, you know. I could have been a perfectly well-behaved consort tonight."

"Unlikely," Dax replied, still laughing softly. "You were born incapable of ’well-behaved.’ You rely required ti to realize it."

Chris huffed, a sound halfway between a laugh and a grumble. "You turned into this."

Dax’s arms tightened a fraction, protective, possessive, and utterly pleased. "No," he murmured into Chris’s hair. "I just gave you permission to be yourself."

Chris was quiet for a second, then sighed and relaxed fully against him, all mock outrage dissolving into warmth.

"...I hate that you’re right."

Chris was quiet for a heartbeat, then the reality of what he had just done - and, more importantly, what he had sent - seed to catch up with him all at once.

He shifted in Dax’s arms, suddenly restless.

"...I need your comm."

Dax arched a brow. "You already have my attention. What more do you want?"

Chris squird, reaching past him toward the device on the table. "No, I an your actual comm. I need to delete sothing."

"Delete what?" Dax asked mildly, though his hold tightened just enough to keep Chris from wriggling free.

Chris shot him a look. "You know exactly what."

A beat.

"The channel," Chris muttered. "Or at least the history. Or... fine, just that one file. Preferably all copies of it. Permanently. From existence."

Dax’s mouth curved with dangerous amusent. "Ah. Regret."

"Not regret," Chris corrected quickly. "Delayed dignity."

He tried again to reach, fingers brushing the edge of the table, but Dax simply shifted them both, settling back against the cushions with Chris effectively trapped between his chest and one strong arm.

"You sent it," Dax said calmly. "Unprompted."

"You provoked by choosing the toy and then daring to send proof." Chris’s eyes narrowed, the warmth in his expression giving way to sharp, suspicious calculation. "Which raises a very important question."

Dax’s brow lifted a fraction. "Does it now?"

"How did you know exactly where it was in the catalogue?" Chris demanded. "Page, section, item number. That ans you didn’t browse. You already knew that by heart."

Dax’s mouth curved, slow and unapologetic.

Chris leaned back just enough to look up at him, clearly scandalized. "So tell , Your Majesty. Was it... approximately your size? Larger? Smaller? And how, precisely, do you know this?"

The grin Dax gave him then was pure nace.

"I have an excellent mory," he said mildly.

"That is not an answer."

"It is when you consider how many things I am required to rember."

Chris stared at him for a long second, then let out an incredulous laugh. "You are telling that while I was busy being ’chemically polite’ and pretending not to have urges, you were quietly cataloguing equipnt like this for future reference?"

Dax’s arm tightened around him, possessive and entirely unrepentant. "I was ensuring preparedness."

"For what?"

"For you," Dax replied, without hesitation.

Chris opened his mouth to retort, then stopped, thrown off just enough by the blunt conviction in Dax’s tone. He looked away, muttering, "That is unfairly sweet for how incriminating it is."

Dax only chuckled, resting his chin briefly against Chris’s hair. "And you, my bold little moon, are very fond of discovering just how prepared I am."

Chris tilted his head, studying him from the corner of his eye, suspicion sharpening into sothing playful and pointed. "You either had thoughts I don’t want to know with in them," he said, "or... you used them before with soone else, and now you’re just trying to look impressively knowledgeable."

Dax’s answer ca too quickly. "I have not—"

The denial faltered as a laugh broke through it, low and warm, entirely unconvincing.

Chris froze, then slowly turned to face him. "You laughed."

Dax attempted to recover his composure. Failed. The corner of his mouth twitched again. "That is not an admission."

"That is absolutely an admission," Chris said, poking him in the chest. "You just tried to sound mysterious and experienced, and then your own amusent betrayed you."

Dax raised a brow. "Are you jealous?"

"I am... evaluating the historical record," Chris replied primly. "And finding it annoyingly extensive."

Dax’s arms tightened around him, more protective than defensive, laughter softening into sothing fond. "You are the only one who gets to interrogate like this and survive. But you’ve avoided a question of your own. You said you’d only ever been with beta won, and yet you handled that... demonstration with remarkable confidence."

Chris blinked at that, then slowly turned his head to look up at him.

"...Excuse you?"

Dax’s eyes were warm with amusent now, not the cold, predatory focus from the docks, but sothing far more personal. He didn’t loosen his hold, only shifted slightly so Chris was more comfortably against his chest.

"You said you’d only been with beta won before," he went on calmly. "And yet you handled yourself with... impressive confidence tonight."

Chris tilted his head back to look at him, one brow lifting. "Are you accusing of hidden experience, Your Majesty?"

"I am accusing you of competence," Dax replied calmly. "Which, in your case, is more dangerous."

"That’s called imagination," Chris said. "And ten years of hiding what I was. You think that doesn’t build... theory." He paused, barely containing a laugh. "And a bit of practice before being with you." He had the gall to grin.

Dax’s eyes narrowed a fraction, in that focused, predatory way that ant he was filing the information away rather than dismissing it.

"Practice," he repeated softly.

Chris’s grin turned unapologetic. "Theory alone doesn’t make you that confident. You don’t spend ten years being chemically restrained and emotionally cornered without... thinking. Testing limits. Learning how your own mind and body work, even if you’re doing it in secret."

Dax studied him for a long mont, then huffed a quiet, amused breath. "So the shy, careful consort was an act of self-preservation."

"Survival strategy," Chris corrected. "Very different."

"And now?" Dax asked.

"Now," Chris said lightly, "I have a king who refuses to underestimate and an alpha who keeps daring to be bold and then looks surprised when I am."

The corner of Dax’s mouth lifted. "I am not surprised. I am... taking inventory."

"That sounds ominous."

"It is ant to be reassuring," Dax replied, deadpan. "Everything you are, everything you’ve learned, everything you might yet discover - none of it exists outside my awareness. Or my interest."

Chris’s eyes softened despite himself. "You’re being territorial again."

"I am being attentive," Dax countered. "There is a difference."

"Liar."

Dax’s low chuckle ward the space between them. "Perhaps. But you don’t seem inclined to escape my jurisdiction."

Chris leaned back against him, content, smug, and entirely unrepentant. "I’m just saying... you shouldn’t underestimate what ten years of suppressed imagination can produce."

Dax’s arm tightened possessively around him. "I am not underestimating anything. I plan to use it later."

"I didn’t forget, Dax. Delete the video."

"No."