When he parted his lips, the surrender in that simple action made my cock throb painfully.
I shifted forward, pressing the tip against his mouth. "Open wider."
He complied, his eyes closing as I pushed inside, feeling the wet heat of his mouth envelop me.
"That's it," I hissed, one hand bracing against the wall above the bed, the other tangling in his hair. "Take it deeper."
He gagged slightly as I thrust forward, but his hands came up to grip my thighs, pulling me closer rather than pushing me away. The sight of him beneath me, eyes watering, lips stretchedaround my cock, sent a surge of possessive heat through my body.
"You're good at this," I taunted, voice rough with pleasure. "Had much practice serving huge Talfen cocks, Septimus? Or is it just mine you crave?"
His eyes flashed with anger, but he couldn't respond with his mouth full. The vibration of his muffled growl sent shocks of pleasure up my spine.
I pulled back, allowing him to gasp for breath. His lips were red and swollen, a thin line of saliva connecting us for a moment before breaking.
"Answer me," I demanded, gripping his jaw.
"Only you," he spat, the words sounding like they'd been torn from him. "Gods damn you, only you."
Beneath the hatred, beneath the shame, there was need so desperate it bordered on devotion. In these moments, with his defences stripped away, I could almost believe there was something more between us than just this brutal physical connection.
I thrust deeper, watching him struggle to take me, his throat working around my length. Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t complain.
"That's it," I murmured, watching him take me deeper. "Show me how much you hate this."
His eyes flashed with anger, but he didn't stop. If anything, the taunt spurred him on, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked harder. I tangled my fingers in his hair, controlling his movements, using him for my pleasure while he glared up at me with those burning eyes.
Gods, it was intoxicating—the power, the submission, the knowledge that tomorrow he would despise himself for this moment of surrender. And yet he gave himself to me completely,pulling me deeper into his throat until I had to pull back or risk finishing too soon.
"Enough," I growled, sliding down his body, feeling my cock wet with his saliva rub against his. He let out a frustrated groan.
I turned him over roughly, pressing his face into the mattress. He struggled briefly, instinctively, before yielding with a shudder that ran through his entire body. I ran my hands down the muscled plane of his back, feeling him shiver beneath my touch. I reached for one of the vials of oil already on the side table, coating my fingers liberally. I traced one slick finger down the cleft of his ass, circling his entrance teasingly. His whole body tensed, caught between the urge to push back against my touch and the need to maintain some illusion of resistance.
"Beg me for it," I demanded, pressing just slightly, enough to make him feel the intrusion without giving him what he truly wanted.
"Fuck you," he gasped, his face half-buried in the pillow.
I leaned forward, my chest against his back, my lips at his ear. "No, Septimus. I'm going to fuck you. But only when you admit how badly you want it."
My finger pushed inside him, just to the first knuckle. He bit back a moan, his body clenching around the intrusion.
"Gods," he choked out. "Just... do it already."
"Not good enough. Tell me what you want. What you need."
He was trembling now, whether from anger or desire I couldn't tell. Probably both. I watched the struggle play out across what I could see of his face—pride warring with desperate need.
"Please," he finally whispered, so quietly I almost missed it.
"Please what?" I pressed. He didn't answer, but his breathing quickened as I worked him open, adding a second finger, then a third. When I curled them just right, he let out a strangled moan, his hips pushing back against my hand.
"Look at you," I whispered, leaning over him, my chest pressed against his back. "So eager for it. So desperate."
"This is what you need, isn't it?" I whispered as I prepared him, perhaps more carefully than my words suggested. For all our brutality, I would never truly hurt him. "To be dominated. Controlled. Used."
He made a strangled noise into the bedding, neither confirming nor denying.
"You can pretend it's just about the pleasure," I continued, working him open with methodical precision, finding that spot inside him that made him jerk and gasp. "But we both know it's more than that. You need to submit, to surrender. To give up control to the very thing you claim to despise."
