Vigilante

Elias had always played by the rules.

As the city’s official hero, he had a code. No killing. No excessive force. Always follow protocol.

Marcus had no such code.

He was a vigilante — operating in the shadows, taking down criminals with brutal efficiency. The public loved him. The police hated him. And Elias… Elias was obsessed with him.

They had been dancing around each other for months. Every time Elias tried to bring Marcus in, the vigilante would escape — but not before leaving Elias hard and frustrated in more ways than one.

One night, after a particularly brutal fight with a gang, Elias tracked Marcus to an abandoned warehouse.

He found the vigilante leaning against a wall, mask half-off, blood on his knuckles.

“You’re getting predictable,” Marcus said without looking up.

Elias landed in front of him.

“You’re getting sloppy.”

Marcus finally looked at him. His eyes were dark and intense.

“Am I?”

Before Elias could respond, Marcus grabbed him and kissed him. It was rough, angry, and completely overwhelming. Elias kissed him back just as desperately, months of tension finally snapping.

They tore at each other’s suits. Marcus shoved Elias against the wall and dropped to his knees, taking Elias’s cock into his mouth with single-minded focus. Elias groaned and grabbed Marcus’s hair, fucking his throat roughly.

When Marcus finally pulled off, he spun Elias around and bent him over a rusted piece of machinery. He spat on his fingers and pushed two inside Elias without much warning. Elias gasped and pushed back against them.

Marcus didn’t waste time.

He fucked Elias hard and fast, one hand gripping his hip while the other pressed between his shoulder blades. Every thrust was rough and possessive.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” Marcus growled. “Every time you try to arrest me. Every time you fail. You’ve been thinking about me bending you over and fucking you like this.”

Elias could only moan in response.

Marcus fucked him harder, the sound of skin slapping skin loud in the empty warehouse. When Elias came, it was with a broken cry, his whole body shaking. Marcus followed soon after, burying himself deep and filling Elias with thick ropes of cum.

They stayed like that for a long moment, both breathing hard.

Marcus eventually pulled out and turned Elias around. He pulled off his mask.

It was Marcus Kane — the billionaire playboy Elias had been investigating for months.

Elias stared.

“You,” he whispered.

Marcus smiled.

“Me.”

He kissed Elias again — slower this time.

“Still want to arrest me?” he asked against Elias’s lips.

Elias closed his eyes.

“No,” he whispered back.

Marcus smiled against his mouth.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

And Elias knew, with terrifying clarity, that he never wanted him to be.