Chapter 23 - Elias
I’m vibrating.
Not just buzzing, not just twitching—full-on feral. Every nerve in me is sparking, every muscle wound so tight I feel like I might split apart just from standing here. Naked. In his kitchen.
I barely make it two steps in before he moves.
Big hands clamp my thighs, and suddenly I’m weightless. Six feet of hockey player lifted like I’m nothing, hauled into the air and dumped onto his counter like I belong there.
I yelp—loud, sharp—the second my bare ass hits the cold countertop. The chill shoots up my spine, making me jerk, cock slapping hard against my stomach, leaking already.
Before I can even adjust, he’s moving again. Calm. Deliberate. He stalks to the freezer, opens it, and pulls out a pack of ice.
My eyes go wide. My whole body jolts. I start scooting fast, scrambling back across the counter like the cold surface might swallow me whole. “N-no, sir—wait—”
He’s faster. Always faster. One hand clamps my hip, drags me right back to the edge. My heels dig against the cabinet, but it’s useless—he owns every inch of me.
Then the ice hits my ribs.
“Fuck!” The yelp tears out of me, my back arching hard away from it. The cold bites deep, shocking straight into the bruise until pain and chill twist together like knives.
“Hold still.” His voice is steady, low, cutting right through me.
My breath heaves, chest shaking, cock twitching like it doesn’t know if it’s supposed to die or come untouched from this.
“You’re going to hold this here,” he says, calm as stone, pressing the pack harder into my ribs until I yelp again. “While I fuck you. Are we clear?”
My eyes snap up to his, wide, desperate, drowning in the weight of him. My whole body jolts under the cold, but I can’t—won’t—say no.
“Yes, Captain,” I gasp, as I clutch the pack to my ribs myself.
The ice burns against the bruise, my body shuddering, but my cock is steel-hard, throbbing, aching.
Because of course I’ll hold it.
Of course I’ll do anything he tells me.
He stares at me. Just…stares. Like he’s reading every twitch of my ribs under the ice pack, every gasp that slips out, every bead of sweat on my temple. His mismatched eyes drag over me slow, clinical, assessing.
And then—Christ—he smirks.
That smirk. The one that curls at the scar, the one that means I’m in trouble. The one that means I’m going to love every goddamn second of it.
“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath.
He doesn’t even blink. Just turns, calm as ever, plucks a handful of ice cubes straight out of the tray and drops them into a bowl. A few. Not one. Not two. A fucking few.
Sets the bowl down by my hip like it’s casual. Like he didn’t just plant the devil’s own promise right beside me.
The sound that slips out of me is a whimper—wrecked, high, desperate—because he’s not even touching me yet. The anticipation alone is killing me, my cock twitching hard enough to leave slick on my stomach.
Then he grabs a bottle. Not water. Not milk. Something thick, amber, with the smell of oil that heats when it touches skin.
My eyes snap wide. “Cap…” My voice cracks, whiny, begging before I can stop it.
“Mhm.” His hum is low, deep, lazy—like he’s barely paying attention. But his eyes never leave mine.
Then his palm hits my chest, firm, steady, and pushes me back.
“Down.”
I fold instantly, ice pack still clutched to my ribs, spine pressing against the cold counter as he lays me flat. My curls stick damp to the steel beneath my head, my chest heaves, and my cock throbs against my stomach, already aching.
He sets the bottle down next to the bowl of ice. Unbothered. Collected.
And my whole body trembles, because I know—I know—he’s about to make me burn and freeze and beg until I forget how to breathe.
He decides to be the devil tonight. I can see it in the way his scarred mouth curves, in the way he moves slow, deliberate, like he has all the time in the world to wreck me.
One hand dips into the bowl. Ice clinks. My whole body jerks before he even touches me.
“Sir—” I gasp, already squirming, already hard as steel.
Then it hits.
Cold. Freezing.
The cube drags down my cock from tip to base, the shock so violent I yelp, hips arching up off the counter like I’ve been electrocuted. The ice burns and freezes all at once, slick water spilling down my skin as my length twitches helplessly against the touch.
“F-fuck—Cap!” I choke, voice cracking into a whine.
And he’s smiling. Watching me lose my mind.
Because at the same time—at the same fucking time—he slicks his other hand with the oil, thick and hot, and presses a finger inside me.
Cold against fire.
I scream. Not a word—just a raw, high sound tearing straight out of my chest as my body convulses, back bowing hard against the countertop. My cock spasms under the ice, leaking, while the oil burns warm as his finger slides deeper, opening me up slow.
It’s too much. Way too much.
Ten seconds. That’s all it takes.
Ten seconds of cold biting my cock and heat stretching me open before I’m gone—thrashing against the counter, begging so loud I don’t even know what I’m saying.
“Please, sir—please, I can’t—I can’t, I’ll do anything, I’ll behave, I’ll be good—fuck—please!”
The ice drags up again, cruel and slow, my cock twitching so hard it smears slick against my stomach. His finger curls inside me at the same time, oil burning, opening me wider, deeper.
My scream shatters into a sob. My heels drum against the cabinet. My hands clutch the frozen weight against my ribs like it’s the only thing keeping me alive.
And he’s steady. Calm. The devil himself, destroying me with ice and fire like it’s nothing, like I was made for it.
“Please, Captain,” I beg, eyes rolling back. “Please, I’ll do anything—anything—just don’t stop—don’t stop—”
The devil doesn’t rush.
He doesn’t slam into me, doesn’t snap the leash tight in one violent tug. No—he drags it out, slow, merciless, like he wants to prove just how easy it is to ruin me with patience alone.
I’m caught between fire and frost, and he knows. He knows exactly how far gone I am, how every sound ripping out of me is a promise he hasn’t even asked for yet.
“Say it,” he murmurs, low and calm over my wrecked gasps. “Say you’ll never talk back to me again.”
“Yes, sir!” I sob instantly. My cock jerks under the cube, leaking, dripping down my stomach.
His smile cuts sharper. “Say you’ll never whine at me in front of the team.”
“Yes, Captain—I swear—I won’t, I’ll never—fuck!” The words fracture into a scream as he presses a second slick finger in, oil searing hot where the cold still bites.
“You’ll bleed yourself dry on the ice if I tell you to.”
“Yes, sir, yes—I’ll bleed, I’ll crawl, I’ll do anything—” My voice breaks into another stutter, body bowing so hard I slam my shoulders against the counter.
The ice slides over my tip again, water pooling down my stomach. His fingers twist inside me, scissoring, opening me wider while the cold makes me cry out high and raw.
“Say you’ll take whatever I give you,” he growls, low enough to shake through my ribs.
“Yes, sir!” The sound rips out of me, shameless, wild, desperate. “Anything—you can do anything—please, sir, I’ll take it all—”
“Say you’re mine.” His mismatched eyes pin me down like nails.
I choke, eyes rolling back as the word shreds out of me: “Yours! I’m yours—I’ve always been yours—please, Captain—”
I can feel it in the way his fingers curl deeper, the way the ice drags slow over my twitching cock, the way my whole body convulses under the clash of heat and cold, obedience and need.
He’s tearing promises out of me, and I’d give him more. Anything.
I’d sell my soul just to hear him say good boy again.
The ice drags down me one more time, sharp and merciless, while his fingers twist deeper, burning me alive from the inside. My tears streaking hot down my temples.
I’m begging. Wrecked. Saying yes to everything, promises spilling out so fast I don’t even know what I’ve agreed to.
And then—suddenly—the ice is gone.
So is his hand inside me.
I whimper, high and broken, chest heaving as my body spasms around the absence.
But then—then—he’s there.
His cock drives into me in one brutal thrust, splitting me open raw, claiming me harder than the cold ever could. My scream ricochets off the cabinets, my back arching clean off the counter as my ribs seize under the ice pack I’m still clutching to my side.
“Cap—fuck—!” The sound rips out of me, cracked and wrecked.
“Hold it,” he snarls, hand locking on my hip, slamming me down onto him deeper, harder. “I said hold the ice, pup.”
I do. God help me, I do. My knuckles go white around the pack, the cold biting into my ribs while he ruins me from the inside, thrusts relentless, grinding against the spot that makes me see stars.
“Good boy,” he growls, his chest rumbling against my ear as he leans over me, every word carving me open. “Say it again. Say who you belong to.”
“Y-you, sir!” I pant, nails clawing at the counter as my body convulses under him. “Yours—I’m yours, Captain—fuck, always yours—”
His pace snaps harder, hips brutal, every thrust driving me back into the counter until I’m nothing but sound and sweat and trembling obedience.
“You bleed for me on the ice.” His words are steel, his cock grinding deep enough to rip the air from my lungs.
“Yes, sir!”
“You beg for me off it.”
“Yes, Captain—fuck—yes!”
“You’re mine everywhere.”
“Always—always!”
And then he slams deeper, hard enough to rattle the cabinets, and the sound I make isn’t human anymore—it’s worship.
Every thrust hammers me flat against the counter, cold biting my ribs, fire tearing me open inside. I can’t breathe, can’t think—just sob out yes, sir every time his cock slams into me.
I’m right there. Right on the edge. My cock is leaking all over my stomach, twitching with every snap of his hips, every growl that rumbles against my skin.
“Don’t you dare,” he snarls against my ear, his thrusts sharp, merciless. “Not until I say.”