Chapter 23
Dominic
Iswear the high from earlier spikes all over again. His heartbeat is a frantic little rabbit under my palm, and mine answers with a heavy thud that vibrates through both our chests.
He smells like my body wash, from the shower we shared this morning, and the cheap cinnamon gum he chews when he’s nervous; the combination wrecks me in a way thousand-dollar cologne never could.
He’s a fucking portrait—wide green eyes already glassy with need, lips parted, freckles playing connect-the-dots across cheekbones that flush deeper each time I breathe a little harder.
I drag my thumb along his bottom lip and feel the quake run through him. I know I need to dial this back a degree, or I’ll end up ruining him before we even start.
But Christ, I want to watch him splinter.
He’s naked except for the silver chain around his neck, cross lying flat against skin flushed rose.
My gaze drags over him with all the subtlety of a blowtorch: his pink-tipped cock, hard and dripping precum, the dusting of hair on his stomach, his thighs, trembling despite the illusion of stillness he tries to hold.
He squirms under the scrutiny, knees inching together, but I shove them apart with the rough nudge of my own thigh, shaking my head. “No hiding from me.”
He swallows, throat bobbing. “I know.”
I pull back and his eyes flick to my cock, but I pretend to ignore it. Then, I lie back on the bed, legs spread, cock resting heavy against my stomach, and I slap his leg. “C’mere. I want that ass in my face.”
His eyebrows shoot up like he can’t believe I’ve said that out loud, which is hilarious, because I’ve said way filthier shit with a knife in my hand before, but he obeys. He crawls on hands and knees, turns, and eases back until he’s straddling my chest.
The position forces his cheeks to part enough that I can see his hole flutter, and heat pulses through me so hard I bite down on my bottom lip. I groan, low and involuntary, and squeeze the meat of his ass just to watch it jiggle.
“Fuck, baby, look at you.” I blow a lazy stream of air across the sensitive skin, watching him shiver. “You clean yourself out good for me?”
“I… yes, Daddy.”
I bite one cheek, and he yelps. “Mmm, I love knowing you’ve been doing that because you hoped I’d fuck your tight ass.”
He makes a soft, pleading sound that shoots straight to my balls.
I slide a pillow beneath my head for better leverage, then grip his hips and pull him down until his hole hovers a breath above my mouth.
I spit once, deliberately messy, and watch the saliva drip down the cleft and run across dark pink skin. Then I dive in.
The first proper lick is obscene; my broad, flat tongue running from perineum to tail-bone, gathering salt and sweat and the faint tang of soap.
He cries out, his whole body jerking, thighs trembling around my ears.
I clamp my hands to keep him from wriggling away, and do it again, slowly tracing around the delicate ring with my tongue.
I smile against him when he starts to moan, lap at his rim again, then push the tip of my tongue inside just a fraction, feeling the muscle give.
“Fuck, Dominic…”
“Put that mouth to good use,” I mutter against him, words muffled.
He nods frantically and swallows my cock. I spear deeper, twisting my tongue, sucking gently, and he sobs, hips bucking down. Pre-cum leaks against my chest where he’s grinding on it, and it drags a curse from my throat.
I want to crawl inside him; carve myself into every tender place.
I pull back and spread the wetness with two fingers, then circle his rim in slick figure-eights while I suck his balls into my mouth. He shudders, thighs threatening to clamp down, so I smack the outside of his left leg and he relaxes with a whine.
“Need you loose,” I remind him, voice dark as I reach over to grab the lube from my nightstand. I slick up my fingers, and circle his tight heat again. “Gonna put my fingers in now, okay? Keep that mouth on my cock.”
“Please,” he begs.
I circle wider, letting the slick coat him, then press the tip of one finger past the ring.
He sucks in air, body tensing, but then I feel him push back.
The heat inside him burns—tight and perfect.
I work shallow and slow, placing my free hand on his hip to keep him steady.
Each time I slide deeper his breath hiccups, a sound halfway between whimper and plea.
“That feel good, Little Sin?”
“So good and full.”
“You’re going to feel a whole lot fuller soon.” I pump my fingers slowly, scissoring until the give around them eases, then hook them forward, searching. When I brush his prostate, he arches; a strangled sound tearing from his throat.
“There it is,” I purr, then dip my head to tongue at the rim stretched around my finger, feeling him clench greedily. “That little button that’ll make you scream.”
“God… yes… ”
I slide a third finger in, scissoring slowly again, pushing my spit deeper. He’s breathing in shallow pants, thighs still trembling. I keep my tongue working around my fingers until his legs threaten to give, then I pull back and bite the swell of his ass.
“Dominic—”
“Shh, let me play.” I withdraw, slick my fingers again from the bottle on the nightstand, and add a fourth.
His breath catches, but he doesn’t tense anymore; this fucking hole knows me.
I stretch him until I’m sure he can take me, until sweat beads on his neck and dampens the hair at his nape—until my own self-control starts to shred at the edges.
“Brendon, look at me.” He twists over his shoulder, cheeks flushed and eyes wild. “You ready for more?”
Instead of answering with words he pushes back, forcing my fingers deeper, chasing friction. I laugh, exhilarated, and continue to fuck him open with steady strokes, curling to drag over his prostate each time, and he’s making desperate little keening sounds.
I withdraw my fingers, ignoring his whimper, and pat his ass. “Not gonna let you come yet. Lay down, so I can put my cock in you.”
I roll us, man-handling him until he’s flat on his back, knees loose and shaking, while I shove pillows beneath his hips.
The lamp’s on low, but bright enough that I can watch his face—and fuck, I need to watch.
I need to see every flicker of want and nerves as I slick a condom down my laddered cock.
The six stainless-steel bars are wet and gleaming from his mouth, and Brendon’s eyes go wide, throat working as he swallows.
“Breathe,” I rasp, pumping once just to keep my head from spinning off. “Feel how smooth the piercings are? They’ll massage your walls, not rip you up. I’d never hurt you, Little Sin… unless you beg for pain.”
A shaky laugh tumbles out of him. “Already begging in my head, Dom.”
“That’s my good boy.” I drizzle on more lube, fingers trembling because I’m two seconds from losing my goddamn mind, then line up. I brace one hand beside his head, the other guiding myself to his slick, twitching hole. “Tell me if it burns.”
The blunt, pierced crown kisses his rim and he gasps, fingernails scoring my shoulders. I push a hair deeper and pause to let him breathe. His lashes flutter; color blooms high on his cheeks. “Holy—fuck—feels… thick.”
“Breathe, baby. You can take it,” I grit, forcing myself to inch in, ridge by ridge, each bar dragging a guttural moan out of both of us. “You’re doing so fucking well taking Daddy’s cock.”
His head thrashes against the mattress, sweat-darkened curls sticking to his forehead. “Shit… Dominic… don’t stop. I can handle it.”
Another slow press, another bar slipping past that tight ring. He clenches, then opens, and suddenly half my shaft is inside, heat strangling every shred of my self-control. I huff air out through my teeth, hips trembling.
“Fuck, you’re still so tight. Clamp down again and I’m gonna blow before we start.”
“Maybe I want that,” he pants, trying for bratty, but it comes out needy as hell.
“You’ll get it when I say you get it.” I sink the rest of the way in, balls nudging his ass, piercings settled snug inside that perfect heat. His back arches; a wrecked sound tears from his chest. I hold still, palms framing his flushed face and making him look at me. “Talk to me.”
“Green… Full,” he mumbles, eyes glassy. “Good… different. Can feel every bar.”
I draw out an inch, then slide back, keeping it shallow so he can acclimate. My cockhead drags over his prostate and he jolts, lips parting in a silent curse. I do it again, a slow grind, watching his cock leak against his stomach.
“Fuck… Dom—do it harder.”
I snarl, bending to capture his mouth while my hips snap forward, a firm thrust that punches a whimper right out of him. I swallow it, tongue sliding filthy, then pull back just enough to watch him unravel.
Every forward drive ends with metal rungs scraping that bundle of nerves; every retreat has him chasing, greedy for friction. His thighs start to shake even harder, muscles fluttering around me in slick, gripping pulses.
“Hands,” I order, and he laces his fingers behind his knees, holding himself open like the prettiest offering I’ve ever been given. Sweat glistens on his chest and the crucifix over his heart rises and falls too fast.
I thumb the head of his cock, smearing precum, then stroke him in time with my thrusts—slow up, brutal down—until his moans turn high and desperate.
“Dominic, please… gonna…”
“Not yet.” I clamp a hand at the base of his shaft, squeezing until his release stalls. He sobs, and I pound into him harder—pace punishing, bedframe rattling. Each slam lands wet and obscene, the room thick with the slap of skin and Brendon’s broken pleas.
I feel the telltale flutter, the frantic tightening around my cock again, and let go of his dick. “Now—milk my cock, Little Sin. Come for Daddy.”
He detonates—back bowing, shout ripped from his throat as stripes of cum paint his stomach. His ass clamps down around me, squeezing so tight stars burst behind my eyes. I drive twice more, wild and reckless, then I surge forward, spilling into the condom with the vicious growl of his name.
For a while, there’s only our ragged breaths and the creak of the mattress settling. I ease out carefully, peel off the condom, tie it, then toss it toward the trash. Brendon’s still shaking, eyes glazed, lips parted. I stroke his thigh, gentle now. “You good, Little Sin?”
He nods, a dazed smile tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know it could feel like that.”
I grin and lean down to press a slow kiss to his temple. “That was just round one. Next time, we’ll see how many of those bars you can count with your walls before you pass out.”
His laugh is breathless, sated. “Fuck… you’re insane.”
“Yeah, but I’m your kind of insane now,” I murmur. “You still green, baby?”
A beat of silence, then a sleepy hum. “Greener than the fucking Grinch.”
I laugh, shake my head, and hold him tighter. Outside, rain starts to tap against the windows, soft and steady. Inside, I hold the man who cleaned himself out and stretched all alone just to be ready the day I decided to claim what was already mine.
I know I’m already beyond saving. I’m buried too deep, addicted beyond reason.
“You still got me?” he asks in a sleepy tone, and my heart feels fucking full that he’s still asking me that. I know it’s not because he needs reassurance anymore: it’s just become our thing.
“You know I do,” I answer, knowing what he’s going to ask next; I don’t even try to stop myself from smiling.
“Promise?”
I hook his pinky finger with mine, press a kiss to the top of his head, and breathe in the scent of sweat and sex and Brendon Lane. I promise myself that the monster he welcomed inside tonight will guard this fragile, filthy, perfect thing with every brutal instinct it owns.
“Pinky promise, baby.”
He hums, already half-asleep on the comedown, fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on my chest. “’Kay… Love you, Beast.”
The words land like a blade straight through the ribs, and he’s out before I can ask him if he meant it—heartbeat steady against my side, body limp and utterly sated. I lie there listening, one hand over his heart, and vow none of his demons will ever get past me again.