Chapter 20 Saúl
twenty
saúl
It shouldn’t be this easy. Or feel so right.
As Cam lost the tension in his muscles and his gaze glazed over, edging closer to the headspace I wanted him in, I… I needed a second. A second to close my eyes. To breathe. To ground myself.
Damian repositioned himself on the armchair behind me. I’d been around him long enough, I knew the move was intentional, meant to keep me rooted in the here and now.
It helped.
This wasn’t just a scene he was dragging me into under some strange sense of loyalty and friendly love I’d stopped questioning years ago.
It wasn’t like every other time where he pretended I was in charge, but he was the one ensuring everyone got what they were after.
It was what I needed, the reminder to get my head back in the game.
Things with Cam were different—they’d have to be—but right now, there was comfort in the familiarity of the setting.
Right now, he wasn’t my skittish vet with a more troubled past than I’d assumed when he first showed up at my back gate with a giant suitcase and little else.
He was a boy, a submissive man trusting me with giving him what he needed. He was showing himself more vulnerable than he ever had, and there was no way I’d do anything to cause him harm.
He was precious.
So giving, despite the shadows lurking, I’d gotten a glimpse of. And, this evening, he was consenting to being under my whim, to being pushed to the edge, all because it would please me. All because despite everything else, he still had wants and needs, and he’d chosen me to explore them with.
“As you pointed out…” I let my thumb graze against his sac, his balls pulling tighter as a soft shiver ran up his spine. I glanced up to see his toes curling. “I’m not taking the impact route with you. In fact, I’m not going to do anything you don’t beg me for.”
I had so many ideas, so many wants and needs of my own that involved his body and had me rocking forward, stifling a Neanderthal groan from slipping out of my lips.
But that would be another day. Today, I wanted his enthusiastic consent.
I wanted to take him to the point where all limitations disappeared, where he forgot all about propriety and didn’t have an option other than to do as I’d asked. To beg for what he wanted.
“Fuck.” Cam gasped, breathing getting labored.
I gave him a minute, then continued my exploration of his body.
It wasn’t soft, but it wasn’t rough, either, an appraisal without the implication that he was something delicate or fragile.
He was in some ways, but here, he was a god.
A thing of beauty. If I thought he’d break, I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this.
I wanted him—needed him—to internalize that distinction, to have the confidence that came from it.
“What do you want, Cam?”
His skin was hot to the touch, marked with sparse freckles and dots I dug my fingers into.
I wasn’t going to flog him, or even spank him, but I could tease the line of sensation for him.
With him. I could relish in the way his breath hitched every time, the way he arched toward the touch even though his face scrunched up with the sharper handling.
“Pinch me.”
I grunted, moving so that I had one hand bracing his leg against my skin, and the other stayed splayed over his abdomen. His cock was a fucking work of art. Slender but long, slightly curved to the left. And those fucking piercings…
“Pinch you where?” The question was posed before I grew too distracted, before I forgot what he’d asked of me and what we were supposed to be doing here.
Not that Damian would be one to care if we swerved plans.
Cam moaned in response. His eyes scrunched shut.
I forgot all about inspecting his body in favor of watching his face like a hawk. Like a predator reading everything there was to read about their prey.
“Pinch you where, Cam?”
“Please, Daddy.”
I smirked. “We have all night, darlin’.”
I could tease him with soft caresses and the tongue he’d asked for that long, and I wouldn’t be too bothered by it. There was something about going soft with a sub who was used to handling it rough. It was probably my core kink, if there was a name for it that wasn’t a mouthful.
Cam alternated between melting beneath my hand and tensing, waiting for a strike he’d soon realize was not coming until it was at his request.
His chest heaved up and down as he kept watching me, kept letting out wanton noises to—I supposed—spur me on.
My heart picked up when he licked his lips, when his mouth parted, and I knew he was about to give me the answer I’d been waiting for.
“Thighs, Daddy. Please?”
I hummed, repositioning us again so that I could use both hands to do as he’d asked. Teasing the skin of his inner thighs, I tracked his gaze as he followed the motion. His throat bobbed up and down as he prepared for it. “Here?”
He nodded right away.
“Words, Cam.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy.”
I pinched hard, but not as hard as I could, letting my fingers graze his cock as the aftermath of the treatment had him bucking forward.
He wanted to scream, and I wanted to savor the sound, but I wanted to pace things, and I wanted to keep my word even more.
So, before he could test the soundproof quality of the dungeon, I swallowed the sound in my mouth, tongue piercing through his mouth while he tried to groan and cry out and, eventually, give in to attempts of humping against my denim-covered leg.
The fabric couldn’t be gentle on his uncut cock, but there was no sign of discomfort or complaint on his face.
“Good boy,” I repeated the praise. “Do you understand now, Cam? I will give you everything. You just have to ask for it.”
The boy pulled back to get some air, and I let him, the sway of the swing amplifying the distance between us for a second that felt much longer.
He breathed heavily for two, three, four seconds. His nostrils were flared and his eyes watery when he glanced back at me.
“I don’t want a ruined orgasm, Daddy.”
“No?” I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock, teasing the velvety skin. “And what do you want?”
“I…” Cam licked his lips again. I thought about showing restraint, but my own need won out, reaching forward to drag that bottom lip of his between my teeth, pulling until a hiss slipped out of him. “I want you to keep—I want to be milked dry.”
Fucking hell.
He was going to be the perfect boy I’d convinced myself didn’t exist for me, wasn’t he?
No. I shook my head. Jumping ahead was not going to do us any good. It wasn’t fair on him, either—or me.
“You want me to keep touching you when you’re so oversensitive it hurts, is that it?”
Cam nodded, his head resembling one of those bobble toys. “You two wanna see me cry? Give me dry orgasms until I can’t take it anymore.”
I didn’t know how it made me feel that he remembered Damian was here, that he brought him into the fold. I couldn’t tell if there was a name for the tightness that swirled in the pit of my stomach.
I ignored it.
Instead, I brought my lips to his again, pressing and keeping him close.
There were no thoughts as I wrapped a hand around his cock, or as he thrust his hips up and started using it as a FleshJack.
I supposed I could let him do that for now.
It wouldn’t keep me from having me beg later, and I was more interested in consuming every piece of him, in obliterating every sense until only I existed, and only I was the one who was molding his body and his reality.
“Daddy, I’m close.”
I doubted I’d been touching him for less than a few minutes.
My chest expanded with a caveman sort of pride.
He had said he wouldn’t last, and I’d acknowledged the reasons why, but talking and seeing were different beasts.
As he’d said, Cam wasn’t a good actor. He wasn’t saying the words or making the sounds because a porn video had said it was how subs were meant to behave.
“Good boy,” I encouraged. “That’s it.”
A bead of sweat trickled down my temple.
Cam wasn’t sweating, but I didn’t doubt he’d be there soon.
His skin flushed so fucking nicely, and I wasn’t doing more than jacking him off.
Hell, I was barely setting the pace, but it seemed that just the awareness of me being there was enough to make him act the way he was—
“Daddy.”
—desperate for the kind of release that went beyond the physical orgasm that took over his body and had him coating my hand and his stomach with strings of cum while he gasped my name.
My honorific.
“Tell me again what you want, Cam.”
I knew I had his consent, his more than enthusiastic agreement to make him tear up and leave every sense of propriety at the door.
Making him say it was the kind of head game that had had Damian push for an edging scene in the first place.
It was more about Cam than about me or anyone else, but it was about me too, about the twirls of pleasure I wasn’t supposed to feel when the sub beneath me grew aware of the debauchment and humiliation that came from being as explicit as I was demanding of him.
“Want you.”
Cam moaned out the word, head softly lolling to the side, resting back against the leather.
I bent over just enough that I could lick a stripe up his jaw, that I could keep him grounded here, with me.
If I focused on the physical aspects, grounded him there on the steps we had agreed to take, I didn’t have to stop and think about how those two words could hit, about the meaning I wanted to read into them.
“How do you want me, Cam?” I pressed. Cam hissed when his balls hit the buckle of my belt. I didn’t let up, but I was not going to torture him by playing with that sensation—not when he hadn’t asked it of me. Not yet. “How do you want me to make you come again, darlin’?”
“I—” Cam took a gulping breath, throat working overtime. “Will—Will you suck me, Daddy?”
He didn’t have to ask twice.