I can’t even hide the smirk that slides into place at his attempted ferociousness. “Only if you begrealnicely.”
He may thrive on getting under my skin and thinking he has the upper hand, but I get off just as much as he does when I push him to that point. Elias likes to pretend he has restraint. Likes to pretend he can avoid me and deny this electricity between us. Pushing him into his bratty territory is foreplay to me, and as much as he likes to deny it, the flames roaring in his gaze tell me it is for him too.
He loves this shit as much as I do, even if he’ll never admit it. The tit for tat, back and forth jabbing matches… he craves it.
Steam starts to fill the small, enclosed space as he stands there, unmoving, probably unsure where to go from here. But that’s where I come into play now, isn’t it? He needs me to be the boss. Tell him what to do so he can pretend he doesn’t want to. I bet if I could get inside his mind right now, he’d be silently begging me to order him around.
And who am I to deny the boy what he wants but is too afraid to ask for?
“Take off your clothes,” I order him, reaching behind my neck and pulling off my own shirt, letting it fall to the ground.
His eyes widen, but he quickly schools his features as he crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head. “No.” The word is dripping with defiance. He probably really thinks he’s doing something. “Get out.”
Grabbing his chin between my thumb and index finger, I jerk his head up until his angry gaze meets mine. “Now, Elias,” I growl.
“I hate you,” he grunts.
“Sure, you do.” I chuckle. “Now, be the good fucking boy I know you can be, and take your fucking clothes off before I rip them off you myself.”
Finally, he comes to his senses and kicks himself into gear. Uncrossing his arms, he grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it off before moving to do the same to his pants. When they pool around his ankles, I notice he isn’t wearing any underwear.
“Such a dirty fucking boy you are.” Elias’s cheeks pink up as he stands there, waiting for his next instruction. “Remove my pants for me,” I tell him.
Timid hands come to my waistband. Before he shoves them down, he nuzzles his nose into my chest hair, eyes falling closed as he inhales deeply. When he peels his eyes open and gazes up at me, his pupils are blown. Biting down on his plump bottom lip, he works my pants down my thighs, dropping to his knees as he does. This is only the second time I’ve seen him from this angle, but I don’t think it’s one I’ll ever get tired of. It’s what every one of my filthy dreams is made of.
My half-hard cock bobs in front of his face. When he peers up at me, I wish I could take a picture of this moment to look back on forever. He’s so beautiful and obedient. It’s like he was designed specifically for me, and me alone.
“Do you want to touch me, Elias?”
He nods.
“So, do it.”
Much like with my chest hair, he buries his nose into my groin, inhaling my scent deeply. His eyes hood, getting heavy before they close, like my pheromones are euphoric to him. The way his body reacts so viscerally to me will never get old. He can’t even hide what I do to him, and I live for it. My hand flies to the back of his neck, holding him to me when his tongue slips out, dragging across one of my balls.
It makes my toes curl and my heart race.
Fingers gripping his dark locks, I yank him until he’s gazing up at me, eyes wild. “Up.” One single word—an order. My chest swells as he listens immediately, raising to his feet. “Get in.”
He goes and I follow. The spray is hot; almost too hot, but it feels good. Water pours down his body, droplets covering his lashes. I can’t get enough of it. I’m torn between wanting to rip him to shreds and take him right now and wanting to draw this out as long as possible.
Grabbing the shampoo, I uncap it. “Turn around.”
I pour a quarter-sized amount into my palm, lathering it up between my hands before bringing them to his hair. His body melts into my touch as I massage the shampoo into his scalp. Soft moans and broken sighs sound from him, and when I turn him and begin washing out the suds, his cock is rutting out, so hard it probably aches with a need to be touched.
But not yet. Boys who have been naughty have to wait.
I reach for the blue loofah on the wall and his body wash in the caddy hanging from the showerhead. Starting with his chest and shoulders, I clean his body with the weight of his gaze on me the entire time. Neither of us says anything, but the silence is booming.
Working my way down, his stomach dips when I drag the soapy sponge over his belly button. The lower I get, the harder his breathing comes out. By the time I drop to my knees and begin working on his legs, he’s practically panting. I know it must be killing him to not touch himself, especially when his hand comes to my shoulder, nails digging into my flesh. The bite of the pain causes my own dick to throb; the need to sink into him once and for all is almost too much to handle.
Instead of cleaning him where he wants me the most, I spin him around and get to work on his back. Again, starting with his shoulders, I make sure every inch is clean before going lower and lower, until I’m once again on my knees. I drop the loofah, choosing to use my hands instead to massage the body wash into each ass cheek before slipping into the crease.
Elias’s entire body tenses at the exact moment I feel it. My pulse races, the sound deafening in my ears as I clench my jaw so hard, I’m surprised I don’t crack a molar. “What do we have here?”
He goes to turn to face me, but I don’t let him. Instead, I shift him so his front is plastered against the shower wall as I stand and box him in. My finger slides through the sticky mess coming out of his hole as I fight the urge to leave the shower and hunt that fucker down.
My hand connects with his ass, the sound reverberating in the shower. He hisses, the water I’m sure making the sting worse. “What the fuck was that for?” he asks obtusely.
