Blaze POV
I wake up with the worst headache I’ve ever had in my entire fucking life. It feels like my head got slammed into a wall and then run over by a truck. The sun is burning straight through my eyelids before I even open them.
“Close the curtains, baby,” I mutter, reaching across the bed for Dylan.
The spot beside me is empty.
I crack my eyes open and see him sitting in a chair across the room, staring at me. The second I open my mouth to ask what’s wrong, everything from last night floods back.
“Fuck.” I groan, dragging a hand down my face.
“Yeah. Fuck. Now you’re awake, I’m gone.”
“What? No. Wait.” I try to stand up too fast and immediately sway, falling back onto the bed like an idiot.
He sighs and looks at me. “Why me?”
“I’m not understanding what you mean.”
“I mean exactly that,” he says, voice tight. “This club was full of guys you’ve fucked. A lot of them. I’m not like a single fucking one of them.”
I stare at him for a long moment. “Come here.”
“No, Blaze.”
“Get here. Now.” My voice comes out as a clear command.
He huffs but eventually walks over. I grab him and drag him onto the bed so he’s straddling my lap. “Are you really fucking jealous right now?”
“Not jealous. Confused,” he mutters. “There were plenty of your exes here, Blaze. They all looked the same, well built, tall, covered in tattoos. Nothing like me.”
“Not exes. I never did relationships before you.”
“Whatever. The point is, I’m nothing beside them.”
“You’re fucking everything,” I growl, gripping the back of his neck and pulling him closer. “You’re the first guy I ever fucked outside of a damn contract.”
He rolls his eyes. “But I’m nothing like them.”
“Which I fucking love.” I hold his gaze, making sure he hears me. “I won’t lie, I never went for small guys before. Never felt the pull. So yeah, you’re nothing like them. And that’s a good thing. That’s why I want you.”
I can see the insecurity all over his face, and I get it. If I was in his shoes, watching a bunch of my partner’s past fucks parade around, I’d be losing my mind too.
“People have a type,” he says quietly.
My eyes practically roll out of my head. “Yeah, and my type is you. Stubborn, stuttering, pain-in-my-ass you. The guy who makes me want more than just a quick fuck and a contract. The guy who makes me want to claim someone for the first time in my life.”
He stays quiet, but I feel some of the tension leave his body.
I tighten my grip on his neck and pull him down until our foreheads touch. “You’re different, Dylan. And that’s exactly why you’re mine.”
“Still, people have types, b-because that’s who they are drawn to.”
“Types are selective. Those guys aren’t ones I met outside of the business. They aren’t ones I got to know. They might be good for fucking but anything past that and no, they’re flat and boring. You’re the opposite.”
“So I’m not good for fucking?”
Shit. “I didn’t mean that. I meant outside of fucking you’re the opposite to them.
” I groan, trying to straighten my thoughts through the hangover.
“Look, they were just fucks, let’s just be straight.
Because that’s all I wanted, I never went deep enough.
But I knew none of them interested me outside of fucking. ”
He stays quiet and watches me.
“I rarely socialised with them outside of sex. You… I got to know you as a person.”
“So that’s why you began to pursue me? Because of the conversations?”
“No, I wanted to fuck you from day one just from seeing you.” I’m making this more complicated.
“I wanted you from the first moment I saw you. Yes, you look different from them, but I was never physically attracted to them like I am to you. I picked bigger guys because I knew I could be rough and I knew they could take it.”
I let that settle for a second.
“I’m not fucking small, Dylan. So if I ever used a man at the business, I made sure he wasn’t small because yeah, I’m a fucking sadistic beast and I thought no one small could handle that. You could.”
He huffs. “This whole thing is fucked up.”
“Yeah, but I get where the guys were coming from. You had already fucking run to Titan if things got fucked up. They needed to be sure.”
“Could have just asked,” he grumbles.
“Asking doesn’t tell them what you would do if I pissed you off. Yeah the whole thing was a shit show, but it stops this week bullshit where we can’t be together.”
Nodding he goes to move but I stop him.
“I should go.”
“What?” Is that a fucking joke?
“I n-need to sort out a job, where to live.”
No he doesn’t. He’s freaking out. “Scared of commitment?” I ask with a laugh, trying to keep it light.
“N-no I just… I don’t have anything sorted.”
“Bullshit. You know you can stay here. You’re running. That’s what last night was, right? And this morning? You’re running because now your father’s out of the picture and the guys have accepted it, you don’t know how to act.”
He glances around the room, looking lost. “I j-just… I’m not sure who I am, what I… how I should…” He groans and rubs his face.
“You’re not sure what to do. You did relationships that never went below surface level and now you’re faced with this, a real relationship, you don’t know how to act around me.”
He nods slowly. “A-and sitting on your f-fucking lap isn’t helping me feel comfortable.”
“Tough shit. You’re staying here.” I grasp his hips, but he really does look uncomfortable. I want to just let him run, even if it’s only for a few hours, but I know it won’t help.
He needs to understand these feelings. Accept them and stay.
I push him so he’s standing in front of me. “Strip.”
“W-what?”
“I said strip, little rabbit.” I stand up and walk around him. He looks fucking petrified, like we’re back at the very beginning. “You’ve done it for me before so many times, so strip. I didn’t forget the promise from last night.”
I reach around and stroke my fingers along his cock, feeling it twitch and start to harden under my touch. His body shakes and he stares at me with wide eyes.
I don’t like that he’s gone backwards. It’s like before we really fucked. I nod at him and his hands shake as he begins to remove his clothes. As he does, I strip out of mine too, just to ease some of his worry.
I’ve got his lists, and I’d love nothing more than to utilise every single thing on them, but I told myself that when he finally agreed to let me claim him as far as the club was concerned, I’d make sure he knew he was different.
Pushing him back onto the bed, I fall over him, my cock lined up with his. I stroke a finger slowly up his length, gathering the bead of pre-cum at the tip, then bring it to my mouth and lick it off while holding his gaze.
Grabbing the lube, I pour a generous amount over my cock and my hand. I guide his hand to my cock, watching intently as his fingers wrap around me and start stroking, a little hesitant at first but growing more confident.
My other hand, slick with lube, slips between his legs. My fingers brush teasingly against his hole, rubbing slow circles before pushing inside. He groans, hips lifting toward me, chasing the sensation.
I work him open carefully, taking my time, building up to three fingers, curling them just right to make him whimper and tremble beneath me. Reaching forward, I grasp his cock and press it against mine, guiding his hand so he’s stroking us both together.
I fucking love how his cock looks against mine, significantly smaller, but that contrast just does something to me. It makes me want to fuck him harder, want to watch him come undone while I’m buried deep inside him.
Moving, I let my fingers slide out of him before taking my cock from his hand and pressing it against his hole. He moans loudly, grinding against me desperately. I push forward, the thick head of my cock stretching him open as it slides inside.
Grabbing the lube again, I drip more along his cock. “Keep stroking, baby.”
His body shudders, but he obeys, his hand moving over himself in shaky strokes.
I push deeper into him, giving him a moment to adjust before I thrust deep and hard.
My pace quickly speeds up, hips snapping forward as I grip his hips and lift him just right, making sure I hit his prostate with every single thrust.
The sounds he makes are fucking perfect, broken whimpers and moans that go straight to my cock. I don’t want to stop. I want to keep fucking into him, carving my brand into his soul, owning every inch of him.
But I have a plan.
So I pull out of him suddenly. He whines, thrashing beneath me, chasing my cock, but I move fast, taking his hand off his dick.
He pants, staring up at me with wide, desperate eyes as I shift positions and slowly lower myself onto his cock. His eyes go wild the moment the head pushes inside me. There’s not much pain. Then again, he’s smaller, so that makes it easier.
Panic flashes across his face and his breathing turns ragged, almost hyperventilating. I grab his face with both hands and kiss him hard. “Calm down.”
I keep moving slowly, rolling my hips in gentle circles as I sink down onto him again, taking him deeper. The stretch is there, but it’s manageable. Good, even. But Dylan looks anything but calm.
I’m confused as hell by the panic on his face. I stroke my thumb gently across his cheek, trying to ground him. “Hey, breathe. What’s wrong?”
His hands grip my thighs tightly, body trembling beneath me. “I-I-I… you’re going to be d-d-disappointed,” he stutters, voice cracking. “I’m not… I’m not like them. My c-c-cock is smaller. You’re used to bigger, better… I won’t feel good for you.”
The insecurity in his voice hits me hard. It’s not just about being small in general, this is deeper. He’s comparing himself to every guy I’ve been with before, convinced he’s lacking.
I keep riding him slowly, gently, rolling my hips in a soothing rhythm as I lean down closer, still stroking his face. “Dylan…”
“I won’t be like the others,” he mumbles, eyes glassy, clearly overwhelmed. “I c-can’t be.”