Chapter 30 #2
"I need you," he growled against my skin.
"Need to fuck you until you can't remember your own name.
Need to fill you so full of my cock you'll taste it.
But not..." He gestured at my damaged torso.
"Not like usual. I can't put you on your knees where you belong.
Can't fold you in half and fuck you like I want. "
"I can take it..."
"No." His hand wrapped around my throat, not gentle anymore but carefully controlled. "I'm not adding to that kind of pain. But I'm still going to wreck you. Still going to use this body until you're sobbing for me. Until you're begging me to stop and begging me for more in the same breath."
My cock hardened. All those years of service and a few filthy promises still reduced me to this. "Fuck. Yes. Please."
He stood, stripping quickly. When he was naked, his cock stood thick and heavy and already wet at the tip. The sight made me whimper, desperate and needy and everything I'd trained myself not to be with anyone else.
"Look at you," he snarled, fisting his length. "Si desperate. One look at my cock and you're practically drooling." He stroked himself slowly, letting me watch. "Is this what you want? Want me to split you open with this?"
"God, yes," I breathed, spreading my legs wider despite the pull on my ribs. "Ruin me. Make me yours."
He helped me out of my remaining clothes, his fingers digging into flesh as they revealed skin. I lay back on the bed, exposed and vulnerable. By the time I was fully naked, I was panting like I'd run miles.
"Fucking perfect," he said, standing over me.
"Look at this body. My personal fucktoy.
Every bruise is mine. Every mark. And I'm going to add so many more.
" He leaned down, teeth finding the bruise on my chest, biting down until I cried out.
"Going to cover you with my marks. My cum.
Going to make sure everyone knows exactly who owns this ass. "
He grabbed the lube but didn't warm it before pushing my legs apart. I gasped and clenched as the cold liquid dripped directly onto my exposed hole.
"Sensitive," he mocked, watching my reaction. "On your side. Now. Want to watch my cock disappear into that greedy hole."
I rolled carefully, and he pressed against my back immediately. His cock slid between my cheeks, hot and hard and perfect. I pushed back against him, desperate for more.
"Greedy," he observed, then shoved two fingers into me without warning.
I bit the pillow to muffle my moan. The burn was intense, exactly what I craved. He didn't wait, didn't ease me into it, just started fucking me with his fingers brutally.
"That's it," he encouraged when I started pushing back. "I know you can handle more. You took a bullet today. This is nothing." A third finger joined without warning, stretching me wider.
His fingers found my prostate and pressed against it mercilessly.
I was sobbing within minutes, cock leaking steadily, whole body shaking with need.
When he worked a fourth finger in, I nearly came right then, and I was pathetic for being reduced to this by four fingers, fifty-four years old and falling apart like I was twenty-two again.
"Please," I begged, dignity abandoned. "Please, sir. Need your cock. Need you to fuck me. Can't... can't take anymore."
"Sir?" He stilled. "You still remember your place after all this time." His voice dropped lower. "My distinguished right hand, reduced to begging." He twisted his fingers one more time, making me groan. "Because I'm going to remind you exactly who owns every inch of you."
He withdrew his fingers, and I whined at the emptiness. But then the blunt head of his cock pressed against me, and he didn't ease in. One brutal thrust buried him completely.
"Fuck!" He held still, breathing harshly against my neck. "Still so fucking tight. This hole was made for my cock. Like you exist just for me to fill."
He pulled out until just the tip remained, then slammed back in. The pace he set was punishing, each thrust driving the air from my lungs. The angle was perfect and devastating, his cock nailing my prostate with every stroke.
"This is what you are," he snarled in my ear. "Not my COO. Not my advisor. Just my personal cumdump. My hole to use whenever I want." His hand found my cock, gripping it roughly.
"Yes," I sobbed. "Yes, yours, your slut, your hole, anything, everything, please..."
"That's right." His teeth found my shoulder, biting hard.
"Mine. This ass is mine. This cock is mine.
Every fucking cell in your body belongs to me.
" His thrusts grew erratic. "Going to fill you up.
Pump you so full of cum. Then I'm going to plug you up and make you keep it all night. Make you sleep with my cum inside you."
"Please," I begged, so close to the edge. "Please, can I come? Need to come. Please, sir..."
His hand tightened on my cock. "Mine. This body nearly died today. This ass that's taking my cock so perfectly." His hand tightened on my hip. "You know what you are to me?"
"Tell me," I gasped as his energy shifted, welcoming the change.
"Everything," he growled, then his voice dropped to something filthier. "My lover. My partner. My personal whore. All of it. Everything." Another thrust, harder now, sending pain and pleasure racing up my spine. "The man I'd kill for and the hole I need to own."
"Yes," I sobbed, the crude possessiveness making my cock leak harder. "All of it. Everything you need."
"Fucking perfect response." His thrusts grew brutal, and my ribs screamed in protest. The pain mixed with pleasure until I couldn't separate them, each thrust sending fire through bruised bones and across my prostate simultaneously. "That's it. Take it despite the pain. Because of it."
I bit the pillow to muffle my cries as he fucked me harder. Every impact jarred my injuries, sent spikes through the bruising, but it grounded me and reminded me I was alive, that we'd both survived, that this pain was chosen rather than inflicted.
"I know it hurts," he snarled in my ear. "I can feel you tensing every time I bottom out. But you're taking it anyway. You need this as much as I do. Need to be used. Need to be claimed. Need to be reminded exactly who you belong to."
"Please," I begged, tears streaming from the overwhelming mix of sensations. "Harder. Make it hurt every time I breathe."
"Desperate slut," he snarled, angling his thrusts to nail my prostate while his chest pressed against my bruised back. "Come," he commanded, fist working my cock brutally. "Show me how much you love being used. How much you need the pain with the pleasure."
One more pump, and I came with a pathetic groan, vision narrowing to a single point, body convulsing around him.
The orgasm ripped through me with violent intensity, my ribs protesting every spasm, adding sharp counterpoint to the pleasure.
I was still shaking when he followed, slamming deep and holding there as he filled me.
"Mine," he growled, grinding deeper despite my whimper of pain. "Worth every scar. Every bullet. Every broken bone."
We collapsed together, him still buried inside me, both of us wrecked. My ribs throbbed in time with my heartbeat, each breath a reminder of what we'd survived. His cum started to leak out around his softening cock, and he made a disapproving noise.
"No," he said, reaching for something on the nightstand. "You're keeping it all."
I gasped as he withdrew and immediately replaced his cock with a plug, sealing his release inside me. The fullness made me whimper.
"Perfect," he said, turning me to face him. "Now you'll remember who you belong to. Every time you move. Every time you breathe."
His hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my swollen lips. The gentleness after such intensity made my eyes water again, and I teared up for a second time.
"Was that what you needed?" he asked softly. "To be used? Claimed? Reminded exactly what you are to me?"
"Yes," I whispered. "That was everything I needed. Everything I ever wanted."
"Good." He kissed me, deep and possessive but somehow tender too. "Because we're not done. I've got years of fantasies to work through. But first, sleep. You're going to need your strength."
I curled against him, our bodies fitting together. The plug inside me was his mark, his claim, one of many we'd left on each other over the years.
"When I thought you were dead," he said against my neck, voice low, "I realized there would be nothing left worth keeping."
I turned in his arms, ignoring the protest of my ribs, to face him. "I'm not sorry. Not for any of it." My hand found his face in the dark. "I'd burn it all again if necessary."
His fingers wrapped around my wrist. "That's why this works. We understand each other's damage."
The rain fell harder outside, drumming against the windows of the house that would now hold both of us. We'd built Spade Tower together, piece by brutal piece. We'd ended lives without hesitation when necessary. We'd crafted an empire on ruthlessness and calculated risk.
But this was what it came down to: his body against mine, his cum inside me, his claim renewed. Everything else was just infrastructure.
"I love you," I said, the words no longer foreign on my tongue after the night before Macau, after everything we'd finally admitted. They were still terrifying to speak and still necessary.
I pressed closer. The plug shifted inside me. Tomorrow, Xavier would take the empire we'd built. Tomorrow the world would watch Algerone Caisse-Etremont step back from Lucky Losers and let his son reshape what we'd created.
They wouldn't see this. They'd never know what we became in the dark.
We didn't speak of sons or empires or consequences.
We didn't speak of the woman I'd driven to her death or the years I'd stolen or the violence we'd both chosen when it served us.
None of that had changed. I was still the man who'd burned his world to keep him.
He was still the boy who'd caved in his stepfather's skull and felt nothing but calm.
We were the same creatures we'd always been. We'd just stopped lying about it.
His hand tightened on my hip. I let myself sink into the only truth that mattered: I would do all of it again. Every lie. Every cruelty. Every unforgivable thing that had brought me here, to his bed, with his mark inside me and his hand on my skin.
I'd told him I would burn it all again if necessary.
And I meant it.