Chapter 108: It’s Called Expanding Your Horizone

I was right when I said Reid would put on something stupid with that grin of his, because the moment he opened his media library, the titles that popped up on the screen made my chest tighten. Adult films. Not just standard ones, either—highly explicit, heavy stuff that felt entirely too loud and entirely too close to home in the dim, quiet penthouse.

​"Change it," I said, my voice cutting sharply through the sudden, low audio humming from the speakers. "I’m not watching this, McCoy."

​"Come on, Cap. Don’t be a prude," Reid murmured, leaning back against the base of the sectional right next to me.

"What do you mean by being a prude?" I flared at him. "Who sits at home and enjoys watching pornography for the fun of it?"

Reid smirked. "It’s called expanding your horizon."

"Call it any fancy title you want, it’s still the act of a horny 21-year-old who has nothing better to do than to watch skin-to-skin contact that doesn’t have to do with sport." I huffed, and he chuckled.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, this skin-to-skin contact is also a form of exercise," he dared to say, and my eyes flared with rage. There was everything wrong with this guy’s head. Seriously.

"In the end," Reid began as he tossed the remote onto the coffee table, deliberately out of reach, letting the movie play. "It’s just background noise. Besides, you said you wanted a distraction."

I didn’t want to watch it in the end, so I got up, but the moment I did, Reid said with a tone that was dead ass serious.

"If you leave now, Cap, I’m going to follow you, and I’m gonna fuck you until you pass out." I froze, his threat sending an involuntary squeeze down to my hole, and I looked back at him. There was a cocky smirk on his lips, and a dark look in his eyes that told me he wasn’t kidding.

So, he was threatening me like this now?

If I left, I would just be daring him to do whatever he wanted with me. And it would also seem like I was inviting him to do so, knowing he was capable of it.

I gulped and slowly began to sink back into the floor, but I didn’t admit I was scared—though my response already said that—I didn’t watch the porn. ​I just kept my eyes fixed firmly on the far wall, refusing to look at the screen where the flash of skin and low, heavy breathing began to fill the dark room.

I braced myself, expecting him to make a move immediately, to use the explicit atmosphere as an excuse to crowd into my space.

​But he didn’t.

​Reid just sat there, his shoulder lightly brushing mine, his gray eyes fixed on the television. The heavy, suffocating cloud of frozen pine around him remained steady, but as the minutes ticked by, the deliberate tension in the room began to take on a completely different weight.

​It was a psychological trap, and the kid knew exactly what he was doing. He was waiting.

​I tried to focus on my internal countdown, trying to map out my escape for Monday morning, but the sensory overload was total. The wet sound of slapping bodies and the occasional, breathless moan echoing from the high-end speakers filled the heavy silence of the penthouse.

​"Right there... it feels so fucking good..."

​The voice from the screen was raw, followed by a filthy, desperate plea that made my stomach do a violent flip: "Fuck my hole, daddy... Harder. Breed me."

​I gripped the fabric of my sweatpants, my knuckles turning white as I squeezed the thick cotton.

I kept my eyes drilled into the wall, refusing to look at the screen, but the auditory assault was impossible to block out.

Every explicit phrase, every rhythmic, wet thud paired with the dense, dark Alpha pheromones in the air, working on my body like a slow-acting sedative.

​My heart rate, which had settled after the Jenga game, started to pick up again—not from panic, but from a raw, biological response I couldn’t lock down.

I felt a sudden, heavy twitch against the fabric of my briefs, a sickeningly warm stir of arousal that made me pull my thighs closer together. I didn’t want any part in this. I hated the betrayal of my own body, hated how easily the atmosphere was overriding my pride.

​Beside me, I heard Reid inhale slowly, his chest expanding against my shoulder.

​Alphas could smell the shift. He didn’t even have to look at me to know that my defenses were fracturing, that the physical response had finally kicked in.

​The lazy, cocky smirk faded from his face, replaced by a sudden, heavy stillness. He turned his head slowly, his grey eyes dark and entirely focused on my body, tracking the tight line of my jaw and the uneven rhythm of my chest.

​"Cap," he whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, low register that vibrated right through the floorboards. "Your scent is changing."

My heart practically stopped as the accusation hung heavily between us, thicker than the frozen pine bleeding into the air.

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to admit that my body was reacting to the auditory filth blasting from the speakers—and to him.

"Shut up, McCoy," I managed to rasp, my jaw locked tight as I stared unblinkingly at the wall.

But Reid didn’t drop it. The stillness around him fractured, replaced by a sudden, predatory intent.

He shifted, his massive frame turning fully toward me on the floor. He didn’t grab me, not yet, but his large, warm hand slid slowly over the floorboards, his fingers lightly brushing against my thigh. The contrast of his heat against my trembling skin, even through the fabric of my pants, sent a violent jolt straight up my spine.

"Don’t lie to me, Cap," he murmured, his voice incredibly thick, vibrating with a dangerous, low rumble. "You’re sweetening. You can pretend you’re not looking all you want, but your body is telling me exactly what you need."