Production had put them in one suite.
One bed.
One living room.
Cameras rolling twenty four hours a day in every space except the tiny master bathroom.
No windows.
No microphones.
Just a locked door and whatever noise they were stupid enough to make.
Julian lasted forty minutes.
Marcus’s scent saturated the air.
Heavy.
Warm.
Alpha.
It clung to the furniture and the sheets and the inside of Julian’s throat.
Every time Marcus shifted on the couch, the smell thickened.
Julian’s blockers were already fighting a losing battle.
He stood without a word and walked into the bathroom.
The door clicked shut behind him.
He braced both hands on the sink and tried to breathe through his mouth.
The lock turned.
Marcus stepped in and shut the door again.
The space was barely big enough for two grown men.
Julian turned.
“Get out.” Marcus leaned back against the door.
“You’re leaking.” “I’m fine.” “You’re hard.” Marcus’s eyes dropped.
“And your scent just spiked the second I walked in.
The cameras can’t smell you.
I can.” Julian’s jaw tightened.
“If they hear us—” “Then be quiet.” Marcus crossed the two steps between them.
His voice dropped to a near whisper.
“Hands on the counter.
Don’t make a sound.” Julian’s breath hitched.
“We can’t.” Marcus’s hands were already on his belt.
“We are.” He turned Julian around and pressed him forward until Julian’s palms flat against the cool marble.
Marcus worked Julian’s jeans open and shoved them down just far enough.
His own zipper followed.
The thick head of his cock nudged between Julian’s cheeks, already slick from earlier.
Julian’s whisper was strained.
“Lube—” Marcus spit into his palm, stroked himself once, and pushed in slow.
Julian’s mouth opened on a silent gasp.
Marcus’s hand clamped over it immediately.
“Quiet,” he breathed against Julian’s ear.
“They’ll hear you.” He sank the rest of the way in one smooth thrust.
Julian’s eyes squeezed shut.
The stretch burned in the best way.
Marcus stayed buried deep, breathing hard against the back of Julian’s neck, giving him three full seconds before he started to move.
Short.
Deep.
Controlled.
Every roll of his hips was careful.
The only sounds were the wet slide of skin and their uneven breathing.
Marcus’s hand stayed locked over Julian’s mouth.
His other arm banded around Julian’s waist, holding him still.
Julian’s cock hung heavy and untouched, dripping onto the tile.
He pushed back into every thrust, chasing more.
Marcus gave it to him, grinding in deep and slow so the only noise was the soft, filthy sound of his cock working in and out of Julian’s body.
Marcus’s voice was barely air.
“Still hate me?” Julian nodded against his hand, then shook his head, then nodded again.
His thighs trembled.
Marcus’s free hand finally wrapped around Julian’s cock and stroked in the same tight, silent rhythm.
Julian’s hips jerked.
Marcus tightened his grip over his mouth in warning.
The Alpha’s thrusts stayed measured, but the force behind them grew.
Sweat slicked both of them.
Marcus’s scent thickened until Julian felt drunk on it.
Marcus’s lips brushed the shell of his ear.
“You’re going to come without a sound.
Understand?” Julian’s answer was a shaky nod.
Marcus stroked him faster, still buried deep, still rolling his hips in that devastating quiet rhythm.
Julian’s whole body went tight.
His cock pulsed hard in Marcus’s fist.
Come spilled over the Alpha’s knuckles in thick ropes, dripping onto the floor.
Julian’s moan never made it past Marcus’s hand.
Only a broken vibration against the palm.
The clench of Julian’s body dragged Marcus over right after him.
Marcus buried his face in the curve of Julian’s neck and came with a silent shudder, flooding him in long, hot pulses.
His hips kept moving through it, slow and deep, milking every drop inside.
They stayed locked together, breathing through their noses, listening.
Outside the door the suite was quiet.
The cameras kept rolling in the other room, blind and deaf to what had just happened three feet away.
Marcus slowly pulled out.
Come slid down Julian’s thigh.
He turned Julian around, still keeping one hand near his mouth in case either of them slipped.
Julian’s voice was wrecked and barely audible.
“You’re going to get us caught.” Marcus wiped his wet fingers across Julian’s bottom lip.
“Then you’d better learn to stay quiet.” He kissed him once, hard and silent, then unlocked the door and stepped out like nothing had happened.
Julian stayed at the sink, jeans around his thighs, come cooling on his skin, heart slamming against his ribs.
On the other side of the wall the live feed continued, showing an empty living room and two men who were definitely not just acting anymore.
— The water challenge was supposed to be simple.
Jump the gap.
Grab the flag.
Smile for the drones.
Julian hit the pool hard on the second jump.
Cold water slammed into him and soaked straight through the scent-blocking patch on the inside of his wrist.
He felt it the second he climbed out.
The patch was useless.
Sweet Omega scent started seeping into the air around him, light at first, then stronger as his pulse climbed.
A camera operator’s head turned.
One of the sound guys sniffed and frowned.
Marcus’s entire body went rigid ten feet away.
Marcus closed the distance in four long strides, smile still fixed for the cameras.
His voice stayed low and pleasant for the mics.
“Julian needs a quick wardrobe check.
Patch came loose.” He grabbed Julian’s arm and steered him off the main set before anyone could argue.
Behind a wall of equipment cases sat a storage tent used for extra lights and cables.
Marcus shoved him inside and yanked the flap shut.
The second they were alone Marcus’s expression dropped.
“You’re flooding the whole fucking set.” Julian’s chest heaved.
“The water ruined the patch.
I didn’t—” Marcus crowded him back against a stack of hard cases.
“They’re already looking.
I can smell how interested they are.
You’re mine to handle.
Not theirs.” Julian’s laugh came out shaky.
“Possessive much?” Marcus’s hand wrapped around his throat, not tight enough to hurt, just enough to hold.
“You have no idea.” He crushed their mouths together.
The kiss was rough and claiming.
Marcus’s tongue pushed deep, tasting him like he was trying to overwrite every other scent in the tent.
Julian’s back hit the cases hard.
Marcus’s free hand yanked Julian’s soaked shirt up and off, then went straight for his belt.
“They’ll notice we’re gone,” Julian whispered against his mouth.
“Then we make this fast.” Marcus shoved Julian’s jeans and underwear down in one pull.
His own zipper followed.
“Turn around.
Hands on the cases.”