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Caleb complied and parted his lips, breath quickening. It was more than lust. It was trust, surrender, and something far more dangerous, something Roman didn’t want to think about too much.
He sank into Caleb’s mouth, and as Caleb closed his lips around him, he moaned with relief. Fuck, he needed this. They both did. Maybe the latter realization was what had sent him over the edge, the deep knowing of how much Caleb craved this.
After a few careful thrusts, he pushed in deeper, forcing himself to the back of Caleb’s throat. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, but he didn’t move, sitting completely still as he allowed Roman to use him, abuse him even.
Caleb looked up through his lashes. His blue eyes had darkened to stormy seas, heavy with desire, signaling not only acquiescence but hunger for the intensity Roman provided. There was no falter in his movements, no hesitation in his breath—only the purest form of submission offered willingly.
“Good, so good for me,” Roman said. The praise spilled from him in a litany as old as time itself. Caleb’s eyes, cloudy as they were, lit up like a beacon, a clear sign of the joy he took from serving.
“Fuck, I needed this.” Roman moaned as Caleb’s throat closed around him again. “Needed this so much. Need you.”
He babbled, his mind shutting off in a way that would scare him if it didn’t feel so amazing. Everything else faded, leaving only Caleb and him. He pulled back, allowing Caleb to suck in a few raspy breaths, then shoved his cock back into that eager hot mouth, that slick, tight throat.
Roman’s hand found its way into the chestnut tangle of Caleb’s hair, a firm grip that asserted more than control. It claimed possession. The shift was subtle, the air thicker with something unspoken, a silent dare for Caleb to accept or reject this new level of roughness.
But Caleb embraced it, and his body went slack as he allowed Roman to move him, use him, fill him until he was gasping for air. Sheer power surged through Roman’s veins. He was controlling Caleb’s air supply, the very oxygen he breathed. How had he never realized what a thrill that gave? He wrapped his left hand around Caleb’s throat as he pushed the boy’s head forward with his right hand, pinning him on Roman’s cock. Fucking perfection. Absolute filthy perfection.
Caleb’s tongue was both weapon and benediction as he worked, seeking Roman’s pleasure with the focus of one well versed in the art of giving. The sensation built—a crescendo of heat and need that coiled tight in Roman’s belly. He grappled with control, maintaining the threadbare restraint that kept him from tumbling into the abyss of desire.
“Like that, yes…” Roman’s voice fractured on a gasp as Caleb sucked him deeper. This was domination in its purest form: command and obedience in an effortless dance they acted out together. As the pressure mounted, Roman’s world narrowed to the here and now, to the man on his knees and the intoxicating rush of authority that came with every command obeyed. He set the rules, and Caleb followed, eager and willing.
Jesus, he was almost high with the beauty of it. He was pushing boundaries, exploring depths of dominance he hadn’t known existed within himself. Each bob of Caleb’s head, each muffled moan from Roman, each grunt of dominance and sigh of submission carved away at his composed facade and revealed the man beneath, the one who craved this power. What did it mean, this rush from steering Caleb’s actions, from seeing him respond with such fervor?
He lost track of time as he surrendered to the need inside him, to the seductive hum of power coursing through his veins. He commanded, and Caleb obeyed. Caleb offered, and Roman took. And when Caleb sent him right to the edge, Roman let go, spilling into his mouth as his moans echoed through the empty hallway.
Caleb suckled him until he was spent and clean, then let Roman’s cock slip from between his lips. He remained kneeling, his head bowed. He was so goddamn stunning.
Roman tilted his chin up, and Caleb eased back, his breaths coming in short bursts, lips swollen. His clouded gaze held a question, a silent inquiry that Roman wasn’t sure he was ready to answer.
He pulled Caleb to his feet and, on impulse, pressed a kiss on those throbbing lips. “Thank you. That was…perfect.”
“You’re welcome. Sir.”
Sir. There was that word again. How was it possible to crave and hate a word at the same time?
He straightened his spine, forcing the world back into focus, trying to fit himself back into the skin of the man who wielded power in courtrooms, not in the intimacy of what felt like an illicit tryst in a dimly lit hallway. “I have to go.”
“I understand, Sir.”
“I don’t mean to be…” He gestured vaguely.
“It’s okay, Sir.”
It wasn’t, but Roman didn’t have the will to continue. He tucked himself away and took a step back. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Caleb exhaled slowly. “You will. And thank you.” Each word was saturated with sincerity. “For everything.”
What was Roman supposed to say to that? The same “You’re welcome” as Caleb? It sounded cliché and hopelessly inadequate. He opted for honesty instead. “I loved every second.”
“So did I.” Caleb shifted his weight from one foot to the other, the eagerness in his stance palpable. “I’m here, Sir. For whatever you need.” The promise hung between them, tethered to the unspoken hope that there would be a next time.
Roman swallowed, the taste of control bittersweet on his tongue. “I can’t promise there’ll be another time.”
The statement came out forced, pushed past lips unwilling to spill that truth. It wasn’t Caleb’s willingness that unsettled him, beguiling as it was, but the hunger in himself to take everything Caleb was offering and then more.
“I know. But I’ll be there anyway.”
With a final nod, Caleb turned and walked away, his steps measured and deliberate. He looked back, a silent vow etched into his gaze, then slipped around the corner, leaving Roman alone in the silent hallway that suddenly felt cold and empty.
