Chapter 21 Victor
VICTOR
Door’s open.
Those two words have been echoing in my head for the past hour. No hello, no explanation needed. Just the assumption that I’d come running. And here I am, proving him right.
I rub my hand over my face, feeling the stubble scratch against my palm.
The Victor who runs fight clubs, who commands respect with a look, who built his reputation on being the toughest son of a bitch in the room—that guy wouldn’t be sitting outside another man’s apartment with his heart hammering against his ribs.
But the Victor who can’t stop thinking about Theo’s body, who wakes up hard from dreams of sliding into him, who checks his phone fifty times a day hoping for a message—that Victor is already reaching for the door handle.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, stepping out into the cool night air.
The walk to his building feels both too long and too short.
My boots sound heavy on the pavement, each step carrying me further from familiar territory.
I haven’t told a single person where I am tonight.
Not Marco, not Ray. Nobody at the gym knows I disappear to the arts district several nights a week now.
In the elevator, I catch my reflection in the brushed metal doors. Same face. Same eyes. Same body that’s never hesitated to take what it wants.
So why does it feel like I’m shedding my skin with every floor I pass?
When I reach his door, I don’t knock. He said it would be open, and it is. I push it inward, stepping into the familiar space that smells like him—sandalwood and something distinctly Theo that I can’t name but would recognize anywhere.
The door clicks shut behind me, and I feel it again—that shift, that change that happens whenever I cross this threshold. Like I’m stepping out of one life and into another.
The bedroom door is ajar.
I push it open.
I stop.
My hand stays on the door frame. I don’t know when I grabbed it.
Theo is on the bed.
On his back, hips elevated on a pillow, legs hooked all the way back over his own shoulders with the ease of someone for whom this is completely natural—a flexibility that shouldn’t be possible and is, visibly, entirely comfortable.
His spine curves. His cock—hard, flushed, glistening at the tip—is level with his own mouth.
And Theo’s mouth is open.
He’s taking himself in. Lips wrapped around his own head, tongue working, the quiet private sounds of someone doing something for their own pleasure in their own space.
His eyes are closed.
He hasn’t stopped.
Blood rushes in my ears. The room tilts. I blink hard, but the image doesn’t change.
I’ve seen a lot of shit in my life. I’ve watched men get their faces rearranged in my ring. I’ve seen every kind of sex act at Julian’s parties. But this—this stops my breath in my throat.
I should back away. Give him privacy. But my feet won’t move. My fingers dig into the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.
The sounds he’s making—soft, wet, hungry—echo through my body, landing hard in my groin. My cock responds instantly, painfully, straining against denim.
There’s something about the arch of his back, the impossible geometry of his body, the self-contained circuit of pleasure that shouldn’t make me feel so fucking possessive. But it does. The realization that I hate seeing him pleasure himself. I hate that he doesn’t need me for this.
I hate that I’m standing here, struck dumb, watching instead of touching.
My breathing turns ragged. Loud enough that he should hear me, but he doesn’t. He’s lost in himself, eyes still closed, mouth still working, completely unaware of my presence.
I watch.
I can’t do anything else.
Theo’s hips roll slightly—a small, instinctive movement—and that’s when I see it. The black silicone base of a plug seated in his ass shifts with his motion. My cock jerks violently against my zipper, and I have to tighten my grip on the doorframe to stay upright.
The realization hits me like a sledgehammer. He prepared himself. He’s been ready, waiting.
My mouth goes dry. My heartbeat pounds in my ears, in my throat, in my cock. Every instinct screams at me to cross the room, to yank that plug out and replace it, to make him forget his own name. But I remain frozen, transfixed by the sight of him.
I hear my own breath coming faster, rougher. Theo must hear it too—there’s a slight change in his rhythm, an almost imperceptible pause—but he doesn’t stop. He simply doesn’t fucking stop.
The message couldn’t be clearer: he doesn’t need me here.
Something primal and possessive roars to life inside me. I’ve never wanted to claim someone so badly in my life. Never wanted to mark them, fill them, ruin them for anyone else.
Theo’s eyes suddenly open, meeting mine with startling clarity. He releases his cock from his mouth with an obscene pop, lips wet and swollen.
“Gonna stand there all night,” he says, voice husky, “or are you ready to fuck the cum out of me with your big Daddy dick while I suck myself?”
I cross the room in three strides, my boots heavy on the hardwood floor. My fingers twitch with the need to touch him.
“Did you start without me?” The words scrape from my throat.
Theo’s eyes don’t leave mine as he slowly releases himself from his mouth. A string of saliva connects his lips to the head of his cock before breaking.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come.” The challenge in his voice makes my blood run hotter.
I place one knee on the mattress, watching it dip under my weight. “Yet here I am.”
My hand finds the base of the plug nestled between his cheeks. I twist it slowly, deliberately, watching his pupils dilate as I work it in tiny circles.
“How long have you been plugged like this?” I ask, voice thick with restraint.
“Since I texted you.” His breath catches as I pull the plug a fraction of an inch out before pushing it back in. “Over an hour.”
The plug slides out with a slick sound that sends heat straight to my groin. Theo’s hole clenches around nothing, already missing the fullness.
I unzip my jeans, freeing my cock. It stands rigid against my stomach, already leaking at the tip.
“Wait,” Theo says suddenly.
I slow my movements. “What?”
“Same position,” Theo says. “But with you inside me.”
I go very still.
I understand what Theo is saying. I have, since the moment in the doorway, understood what Theo’s body is capable of. The image is already assembled in my brain with brutal clarity.
“You can do that,” I say. “While I’m—”
“Yes.”
A silence.
“I want you to fuck it out of me,” Theo says, completely matter of fact, completely without shame, holding my gaze. “And I want to swallow it.”
My cock jerks violently, a surge of pre-cum slicking the head. I’ve never been so turned on by an idea in my life. The thought of watching Theo take himself in his mouth while I’m buried inside him—it’s almost too much.
“Fuck.” I fumble in the nightstand for lube, squeezing a generous amount onto my palm.
I slick my bare cock. He’s already open and ready, but I take my time positioning myself at his entrance. I push forward, watching his face as the head of my cock breaches him. The tight heat of him steals my breath.
“Fuck, baby,” I groan. “You’re still so tight even after wearing that plug.”
Theo moans around his own cock, the vibration visible in his throat. The sight is fucking otherworldly—his body folded nearly in half, his lips stretched around his shaft while my cock disappears into him. It’s the filthiest, most impossible thing I’ve ever seen.
I grab his thighs, spreading them wider as I establish a rhythm. Each thrust pushes him deeper into his own mouth.
“Look at you,” I growl. “So fucking dirty. Taking your own cock in your mouth while I fill you up. So slutty and hungry for dick.”
His eyes roll back as I hit that spot inside him. I can feel it against the head of my cock—that bundle of nerves that makes him shudder. I angle my hips to slam against it with every thrust.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I pick up speed. The room fills with obscene sounds—the wet suction of his mouth, the slap of my hips against his ass, my own ragged breathing growing louder.
“You like that, don’t you? Like me using your hole while you suck yourself?” I tighten my grip on his thighs, knowing it will leave finger-shaped bruises. “Answer me.”
Theo makes a muffled sound of agreement around his cock, his eyes locking with mine. The sight of him—so vulnerable yet so in control of his pleasure—drives me wild.
I drive deeper, harder. My balls slap against him with each thrust. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, but I’m not ready to finish. Not yet. Not until I’ve fucked him senseless.
“Nobody else gets to see you like this,” I pant, driving into him without mercy. “Nobody. Fucking. Else.”
With each word, I slam my cock deeper. Theo’s body jerks with the impact, but his mouth never leaves his cock. His throat works as he swallows his own pre-cum, and a possessive hunger roars to life inside me.
Theo suddenly releases his cock from his mouth with a gasp, his chest heaving. His lips are swollen and wet, eyes glazed with lust as they lock onto mine. I slow my thrusts, feeling his body clutch around me.
“Don’t stop,” he pants. “Fuck the cum out of me, Daddy.”
My hips stutter, then drive deeper.
“I want to taste myself,” he continues, voice rough and desperate. “Make me explode in my own mouth. I need to drink my load while you’re inside me.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Every filthy word from his mouth makes my cock throb harder inside him. The image he’s painting—him swallowing his own release while I’m buried to the hilt—nearly sends me over the edge right there.
“And then,” he says, eyes wild and demanding, “I want yours too. Down my throat or all over me, I don’t care. I’m hungry for cum tonight, Daddy.”
My hands tighten on his thighs, fingertips digging into muscle. The raw need in his voice unleashes something primal in me—something I didn’t know existed until Theo dragged it to the surface.
“Fuck, baby,” I growl, picking up the pace. “You want Daddy to feed you? Make you take two loads?”
Theo nods frantically, already taking himself in his mouth again. His flexibility is fucking inhuman. The sight of him sucking his own cock while I pound into him—I’ve never been harder in my life.
I angle my hips, making sure I hit that spot inside him with every thrust. I can feel his body tightening around me, getting closer.
“That’s it,” I pant, driving deeper. “Take what you need. Show Daddy how hungry you are.”
I drive into Theo with savage force, angling my hips to hammer directly against that spot that makes him wild. Each thrust is deliberate, punishing. The way his body trembles tells me I’m hitting it perfectly.
“Take it,” I growl, sweat dripping down my chest. “Take every fucking inch.”
Theo’s eyes roll back as I pound his prostate relentlessly.
His lips tighten around his own cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucks harder.
Then his entire body goes rigid. I can see the exact moment it hits him—his eyes fly wide open, locking with mine as he makes a muffled sound of pleasure. He’s coming. In his own fucking mouth.
I watch, unable to look away, as his throat works, swallowing pulse after pulse of his own release. My cock throbs dangerously inside him. Every muscle in my body tenses as I fight against my own orgasm. Not yet. Not fucking yet.
Theo finally releases himself with a gasp, lips glistening. His eyes are glassy, almost feverish as he looks up at me.
“More,” he pants, voice wrecked. “Please, Daddy. I need more. Need your cum too. Please.”
The desperation in his voice, the hunger in his eyes after he’s already gotten off—it unravels something in me. I pull out abruptly, my cock slapping heavily against my stomach, angry red and leaking.
“Open wide,” I command, fisting myself roughly. “Show Daddy how hungry you still are.”
Theo obeys immediately, unfolding his body and stretching forward, mouth open, tongue out. His submission is eager. I grip his hair with my free hand, positioning his face exactly where I want it.
“Fuck,” I groan as the pressure builds. “Here it comes, wildfire. Take it all.”
My orgasm rips through me like a lightning strike. I aim the first thick rope onto his waiting tongue, the next across his cheekbone, and another across his lips. Theo moans, swallowing what landed in his mouth, then eagerly licking his lips to catch more.
Before the last pulse subsides, I crush my mouth against his. The kiss is filthy—all teeth and tongue, the taste of both our cum mingling between us. His hands clutch at my shoulders as he kisses back with equal ferocity, moaning into my mouth.
This man is going to ruin me, and in that moment, I really don’t care anymore. He’s extraordinary, beautiful, mine.