Chapter 9 - Elias #2
I don’t even think—I just reach. My fingers curl at the waistband of his sweats, tentative for all of a second before he snarls low in his throat. One big hand snaps down into my curls, yanking my head back so my throat arches, mouth parted, breath ragged.
“Look at you,” he growls, rough, disbelieving, like he’s been waiting for this and dreading it at the same time. “Down on your knees already. You even know what you’re begging for, pup?”
“Y-yes, sir,” I rasp, voice breaking. My chest is heaving, my cock straining in my sweats, and I don’t care. Not when he’s looking at me like this.
He smirks—cruel, perfect. His thumb brushes my lower lip, presses until my mouth opens wider, a wrecked whimper spilling out.
I shudder, thighs trembling, cock twitching just from that. He must feel it in my whole body, because his smirk widens as he fists tighter in my curls.
“Then open wider.”
And I do.
Fuck. I do.
“Wider.”
The command drops like a blade, and I obey before I even know I’ve moved.
My jaw aches, lips stretched, breath hot, eyes burning up at him from the floor.
Damian doesn’t waste a second. He drags my curls tighter in his fist, pulls my head back just enough to watch me, then tugs my face forward until I’m pressed against the hard line of his cock through his sweats.
“Perfect,” he mutters, low and rough. “On your knees, drooling on my pants like a dog.”
“Y-yes, sir,” I gasp, my voice breaking around it, desperate.
And then he frees himself.
The sound of fabric shoved down is loud in the storm’s silence, and then he’s there—heavy, hot, flushed against my lips. My eyes roll back.
“Open,” he orders.
And fuck, I do.
He thrusts in slow the first time, just to make me feel it—his cock sliding past my lips, over my tongue, deeper until my throat convulses. My lashes flutter, drool spilling from the corner of my mouth, and he.
“That’s it” he rasps, the words broken, filthy. “Christ, you look right like this.”
The storm shakes the building, thunder cracking so loud the windows rattle, and Damian uses it as cover—driving harder, deeper, until I gag around him. His hand tightens, pulling my head down, fucking my throat like it’s his to ruin.
Tears blur my vision, spit spilling down my chin, my throat working uselessly as he takes me apart. Every gag makes him snarl, every choke makes him groan low, every time I try to breathe he forces me deeper.
“Take it,” he growls, his forehead pressing to the wall above me, his chest heaving, every muscle cut sharp in lightning flashes. “Breathe around it. Be a sweet boy and take your captain’s cock.”
My whimper turns into a moan. I don’t even know if it’s panic or wreckage or hunger anymore—I just want more. My hands clutch his thighs, nails biting through his skin, and I gag around him, choking, drooling, desperate.
He laughs. Low. Dark. Filthy. “That’s it. Wreck yourself for me. Make a mess of yourself on this floor.”
The storm howls outside. Inside, I’m on my knees, gagging around him, tears and spit and desperation dripping down my face. My cock aches in my sweats, untouched, throbbing, but I don’t care. Not when he’s snarling above me like this. Not when every filthy word makes me shake harder.
“Fuck, Elias,” he grits out, hips snapping, harder, faster. “If I let you breathe, you’ll thank me for it, won’t you?”
I nod as much as I can, gagging.
“Say it,” he orders.
I wrench free just long enough to gasp, broken and raw: “Th-thank you, sir—” before he shoves me back down, filling me again until I choke on it.
The storm rages. My body breaks. And all I can do is moan around him, obeying, desperate, ruined.
My throat is raw, drool slick down my chin, my knees aching from the hard wood floor. I’m trembling, gasping little breaths when Damian yanks me up by my hair.
I stumble, half-falling into his chest, dizzy and ruined. Before I can find my footing, he spins me fast, my cheek smacking against cold wallpaper as my chest slams the wall. His weight pins me there—broad chest pressing my spine, his cock hard and heavy against my ass through my damp sweats.
“Captain—” I gasp, but it comes out broken.
“Beg,” he growls against my ear. His hand grips the back of my neck, pinning me harder to the wall, thumb digging under my jaw. “You want me to fuck you? You’re going to beg for it.”
I whimper. My whole body jerks against him. My cock throbs, leaking in my boxers, untouched, needy. And I can’t hold it in.
“Yes, sir,” I babble, forehead pressed to the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “Please—fuck, please fuck me. I need it, I need you—fuck, I need you so bad—”
His chuckle rumbles low in my ear. His hips grind against me once, deliberate, cock dragging along my ass through fabric. My breath stutters.
“Pathetic,” he mutters. “Already crying for it. My filthy little rookie, begging to be split open like it’s the only thing you’re good for.”
“Yes, sir—God, yes—” I whine, throat burning, body straining against him. My hands slap useless against the wall, trying to hold myself up, trying not to collapse just from the words alone.
“Louder.”
I sob, shameless, desperate. “Please, Captain—please fuck me—wreck me—make me yours—I’ll do anything, just please—”
His hand slips down from my throat to my chest, pressing me harder to the wall, his other hand tugging at the waistband of my sweats. My legs almost give. My lungs collapse.
And his mouth curves against my ear.
“That’s better. That’s begging.”
The second those words leave his mouth, my knees nearly give out. My forehead presses harder into the wall, sweat beading down my temple, my body strung so tight it hurts. And then—finally—finally—he drags my sweats down.
Cold air bites my skin, my cock slapping free, aching, leaking, so hard it hurts. I moan shamelessly.
“Fuck,” I gasp, chest heaving, “please, sir—”
He doesn’t make me wait. One hand fists in my curls, jerking my head back so my throat arches, so my mouth opens on another broken whimper. The other shoves my sweats down to my thighs, his body crowding mine, his cock pressing hard against my ass through his boxers.
And then they’re gone.
Fabric hits the floor. His hand leaves my hair, palms heavy on my hips, holding me against the wall like I’m prey.
“You want to be fucked, pup?” he growls, low and lethal in my ear.
“Yes, sir—God, yes—” My fingers scrabbling against the peeling wallpaper, trying to hold myself up, trying not to come untouched.
“Then take it.”
He slams into me.
I scream. A raw, broken sound that gets swallowed by the storm outside. My whole body jolts forward against the wall, arms buckling, cock dragging wet across the cold paper as Damian buries himself in me with one brutal thrust.
He doesn’t give me time to adjust. Doesn’t give me air. Just pulls back and slams again, hips snapping, cock splitting me open like I was made for it. My hands claw useless at the wall, my body bending, breaking, melting around him.
“Captain—” I choke, “fuck—so big—”
“Good pup,” he snarls, teeth scraping my ear. His grip bruises my hips, dragging me back onto him every time he thrusts, harder, deeper, relentless. “Taking me like you were made for it. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To be ruined on my cock?”
“Yes, sir—yesyesyes—” Drool slicks my lips. My cock bounces against the wall, leaking, smearing the paper wet.
He fucks me harder. Brutal, filthy, unforgiving.
His chest is a furnace pressed to my back, his breath hot against my neck, his growl vibrating through my bones.
The storm rattles the glass, thunder booms, but all I hear is the slap of his hips against my ass, the low rasp of his voice when he spits into my ear—
“Mine.”
And that’s it. That’s all it takes.
I come undone, screaming, my cock painting the wall, my body convulsing so hard I nearly collapse. My vision whites out, my lungs stutter, my legs shake so bad I’d fall if he wasn’t holding me up.
He doesn’t stop.
He fucks me through it, dragging every last spasm out of me until I’m whimpering, shaking, wrecked against the wall. And then, with one last brutal snap of his hips, he buries himself deep, groaning low as he spills inside me.
I sob his name into the peeling wallpaper, my body melting, ruined.
“Perfect pup.”
I’m still shaking when he lifts me. My feet barely leave the floor before Damian’s arms are under me, iron and sure, and I’m being carried across the room like I weigh nothing. My cock’s still dripping, my thighs trembling, and I’m limp in his grip.
Except I’m not. Not really.
Because he’s still inside me.
The stretch is obscene, the fullness unbearable, every step he takes rocking his cock deeper as if to remind me that my body belongs to him now. I whimper, head falling against his shoulder.
“Captain—” My voice cracks, raw. “Please—”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to.
The bed creaks when he lowers me, but he doesn’t let me go. He follows me down, pressing me into the mattress, chest to chest, pinning me with his weight. My legs fall open automatically, desperate, aching, trembling around his hips.
And he moves.
Slow. Deep. Deliberate.
I sob. A broken, shameless sound. My body’s too raw, too wrung out, every nerve fried from the wall and the storm and the way he split me in two. But slow is worse. Slow drags it out. Slow makes me feel every inch, every grind, every ounce of ruin.
“Sir—” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into damp skin. “I can’t—fuck—”
“You can,” Damian growls, his lips brushing my ear with every thrust. “You will. You’re going to take me again and again until you learn the difference between panic and obedience.”
My brain short circuits. My mouth spills filth, begging, promising things I don’t even understand—just to keep him moving, to keep him pressed inside me.
“Please—fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop—”
He doesn’t. He rolls his hips slower, deeper, grinding his cock against something inside me that makes me scream. My back arches off the mattress, my hands clawing at him, my thighs trembling around his waist.
My body clenches, oversensitive, ruined, but desperate to obey.
I don’t even know when the storm outside eases, when the thunder dulls and the lightning fades. Because all I can hear is him. All I can feel is him. My whole world is Damian Kade’s weight, Damian Kade’s cock, Damian Kade’s voice dragging me through every broken breath.
And I come again, spilling between our stomachs, crying out into his shoulder.
I barely survive it. My chest’s heaving, my cock’s still twitching uselessly, my whole body trembling under his weight. I think maybe he’s going to let me go. That I’ll get to breathe, collapse, drown in the aftermath.
But he doesn’t let go.
Not of me. Not ever.
He pulls out slow, cruel. My body clenches around nothing, desperate, undone, already aching to have him back inside. My arms flop uselessly against the mattress, too weak to hold onto him.
And then—fabric.
The sheets.
He’s tearing them from the bed, ripping them into strips like they’re nothing, the sound loud in the quiet room. My stomach flips, a new kind of panic threading sharp through my ribs.
“W-wait—sir?”
He doesn’t wait.
One of his hands slams my wrist to the headboard, the other binding me fast with white fabric. The sheet bites rough against my raw skin, tight enough that I can’t twist free, can’t even try. My pulse thunders in my throat, half terror, half the kind of need that makes me shake harder.
He ties the other wrist just as fast, arms stretched above me, my chest open, my body helpless. I squirm once, just once, and the knot holds tight.
Damian’s face hovers over mine, hair damp. His lip curls in a smirk as he drags his fingers down my arm, slow, deliberate, until they rest against my fluttering pulse.
“You thought we were done?” His voice is rough gravel, cutting straight into me. “Pup, the night’s only halfway over.”
He leans closer, lips brushing my jaw, his breath hot against my ear. “You begged to be ruined. You said yes to every filthy thing I told you. Now you’re going to prove you meant it.”
“Yessir,” I gasp, hips jerking helplessly against nothing. “Please—please, I’ll prove it, just—fuck—”
His hand fists tight in my curls again, yanking my head back until my throat’s bared, my body stretched tight under him. His mouth hovers over the pulse in my neck, teeth grazing.
“Good.”
I shudder, bound and helpless, cock already hard again, and I know—I’m not making it out of this bed alive.