Chapter 16 - Damian
Christ, I could live off these sounds.
Whimpers. Moans. The gasps that claw out of his throat like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Every broken noise a prayer he doesn’t even know he’s saying.
My hand drags slow down the line of his spine, palm wide, deliberate, until it curls at the hem of his boxers. Thin fabric, damp with sweat and pre-come, clinging to his ass like it’s trying to hide him from me. Useless.
I hook my fingers under the band, tug it down an inch. Watch his whole body jolt forward, ass pushing back into the touch like he’s begging without words.
“Good boy,” My thumb strokes the dip of his hipbone, then pulls the fabric lower. Half an inch. No more. Just enough to make him squirm.
“Sir—” His voice cracks, desperate. “Please—I—”
I smirk, leaning over him, my breath hot against the sweat on his neck. “Please what, pup?” My hand slides down further, boxers peeling away slow, baring him inch by inch. “You want me to ruin you? You want my cock? Or are you just so starved you’ll take whatever I give you?”
He fists the sheets in both hands, knuckles white, ass arching higher. “Anything, sir. Fuck—anything—”
That’s better. That’s begging.
I palm his ass, rough, squeeze until he cries out, then drag my hand slow across the back of his thigh. Calluses scrape his skin, raise goosebumps in their wake. My other hand fists in his hair, jerking his head back so he’s forced to gasp into the mattress.
“You sound perfect when you beg,” I growl against his ear. “Like you were born for it. Like your mouth was made to choke on yes, sir, and nothing else.”
My cock throbs hard against my jeans, but I don’t free myself. Not yet. Not until he’s wrecked enough to forget he even has words besides mine.
I bare him to me, cock flushed, dripping onto the sheets. He tries to grind against the mattress, desperate for friction, but I clamp a hand down on his hip. Hold him still.
“Not yet,” I rasp. My thumb traces the bruise I left on his side last night. “You’ll come when I tell you. Not before.”
“Yessir,” he gasps.
My smirk sharpens. He’s learning.
I trail my fingers lower, brushing the inside of his thigh, watching the muscles twitch under my touch. His chest heaves, his legs tremble, his ass arches higher. Begging. Wordless, frantic begging.
“Say it,” I order. “Say exactly what you want.”
His voice cracks into a sob. “I want you, sir. Fuck—please, I want your cock, I want you to split me open, I need it, I need you—”
Perfect.
And I’m going to make him say it a dozen more ways before I give him anything.
“Again.”
Elias jerks like the word itself hit him. His throat works, lips parting, desperate.
“I—I want you—”
“Louder.”
“I want your cock—I want you inside me, I need—”
“Again.”
His fingers tear at the sheets, his whole body spent. “Please—split me open, I want it so bad—”
“Again.”
His curls are damp, sweat dripping down the curve of his spine. He’s choking on the words, raw and wrecked, but he gives me every single one of them.
“I need you, I need you, I’ll do anything, I’ll beg all night, just—I want your cock, I want to be ruined—”
Good.
I smirk slow, lean over his back until my chest brushes his damp skin, eyes steady as his body shakes under me. My free hand drags down between his ass, calluses rough, deliberate.
And then I push one finger inside him.
Just one.
He cries out like I split him in half. His whole body jolts forward, hips snapping against my hand, cock leaking against the sheets.
“That’s it,” I growl against his ear. My finger curls just enough to make him twitch, then stills. “One. And you’re already falling apart.”
He is already trying to grind back against me, but I don’t move. My hand stays there, buried just enough to make him lose his mind, no more.
“Pathetic,” I kiss the corner of his jaw sharp enough to sting. “Begged like a good boy, and this is all you get. One finger. You’ll take it, you’ll thank me for it, and you’ll learn how to suffer.”
His sob tears through the room, high and broken, his body straining helplessly for more. “Please, Captain—I need—I can’t—”
“You can,” I cut in, curling just a fraction. “And you will.”
His cry shatters in me.
My finger stays buried deep, curling just enough to make his back arch, then stilling again. I keep him trembling there—half-stretched, half-starved, cock leaking all over the sheets—until his breath goes hoarse.
Then I let my mouth find his ear.
“You gonna give me everything on the ice, pup?” I growl.
“Yes, sir,” Elias gasps, hips jerking back against my hand.
“You gonna shut your mouth and listen every time I tell you what to do?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You gonna bleed for me, sweat for me, take every drill I throw at you and keep skating till your legs break?”
“Yes, sir—fuck—yes, sir.”
My finger curls again, slow, deliberate. He cries out, clutching the sheets tighter.
“You gonna become the best center this team’s ever seen? Not Cole, not anyone else—you.”
“Yes, sir,” he gasps.
“Say it louder.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You belong to me on ice, too. Don’t you?”
“Yes, sir—”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I belong to you, sir! I’m yours, I’ll give you everything, I’ll do anything, just—”
Good.
My eyes burn as I drag a second finger in beside the first. Slow. Deliberate. Stretching him wider until his scream tears through the room, high and desperate.
His body writhes against the sheets, trembling, choking, wrecked—but he takes it. He always takes it.
“Perfect,” I twist my wrist until both fingers curl deep.
The words detonate through him, his sob turning into a moan, his whole body clenching tight around me like he wants to drag me deeper.
And I let him.
I give him more.
“You’re gonna give me every faceoff clean, aren’t you?” I growl.
“Yes, sir,” he gasps, desperate.
“You’re gonna skate through pain. Through blood. Through anything I put you through.”
“Yes, sir—fuck—yes.”
“You’re gonna keep your mouth shut with the press. No dumb rookie chirps that make me waste my time cleaning up your mess.”
“Yes, sir,” Elias breaks, his chest pressed flat to the mattress as his hips strain back against me.
I curl my fingers just a little—sharp enough to make him cry out, sharp enough to remind him who’s inside him.
“You’ll listen to me every single second on the ice. You’ll take every drill, every punishment, every order, until you’re the center this team deserves.”
“Yes, sir, yes, sir—”
“Louder.”
“YES, SIR!” His scream cracks, his body arching so hard the sheets rip under his nails.
Good.
“That’s it,” I rasp, grinding my palm against him while my fingers push deeper. “That’s my good boy.”
The words detonate through him. He’s wrecked already—hips shaking, cock dripping into the sheets, throat torn raw—but still he gives me every answer. Still he folds for me.
I thrust slow, deep, merciless, every curl dragging another broken yessir from his throat. Every promise carved deeper into his body. Every whimper proof that I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
“You’ll give me everything,” I growl, low against his ear. “On the ice, off the ice, in this bed—everywhere. Won’t you?”
“Yes, Captain,” Elias moans. “Everything. I’ll give you everything.”
And only then—only after he’s said it enough times his voice is gone—do I drive faster. Harder. Opening him, stretching him, wrecking him just enough to make him shake.
He’s right there. Shaking. Trembling.
So I reward him.
My palm grinds against him, slow and deliberate, until he’s clawing uselessly at the sheets, every muscle in his body jerking.
“Come for me, pup,” I order. “Show me how good you are.”
He shatters.
The sound he makes is broken, strangled, loud enough to rattle the walls. Hot spurts hit the sheets under him, his thighs trembling, his back bowing so hard I have to pin him down by the nape just to keep him from snapping in two.
“Good boy,” I drag every last drop out of him until he’s nothing but a wrecked, sobbing mess under my hand.
When he finally collapses, boneless, sweat-soaked, his body convulsing around my fingers, I let him breathe. Just for a second. Just long enough to think it’s over.
Then I rip my hand away.
The loss tears a scream out of him—raw, desperate, already begging before he knows the words are out of his mouth.
I don’t give him time to recover. My jeans hit the floor in one motion, my cock already hard and aching, dripping with need. I drag the head across his ass once, slow, filthy, just to hear him gasp again.
“You wanted this?” I snarl, hands heavy on his hips.
“Yes,” he whimpers. “Please—Captain—”
“Then take it.”
I slam into him. One brutal thrust, burying myself to the hilt, splitting him open around me like he was built for it. His scream breaks high and sharp, his body convulsing, his throat raw with the sound of it.
I rumble low, my grip bruising his hips as I drag him back onto me, deep, deeper, relentless.
“That’s right,” I snarl, hips snapping harder. “Take your captain’s cock.”
And he does. Screaming. Shaking.
He’s screaming into the sheets, raw and wrecked, and I don’t let up. My hips brutal, every thrust a warning and a promise. His body clenches, milks me like he was made to take it.
I lean down, mouth at his ear, teeth scraping. “Keep mouthing off in that locker room, pup,” I snarl, grinding deep enough to make him choke on the sound. “And I’ll bend you over the goddamn benches next time. Let the whole team see you crawl.”
He gasps, his hands clawing at the sheets like they’ll save him. His ass jerks back against me like the idea makes him harder.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I rasp, hips snapping harder. “Every single one of them watching while I fuck you open. Hollywood with his goddamn smirk, Petrov stone-faced, Brooks crying in the corner.”
“Fuck—” he sobs, his body undone.
“Say it,” I growl, hand locking on the back of his neck, pinning him down as I ruin him. “Tell me you’d take my cock in front of all of them.”