He gasps, whimpering, already squirming beneath me. “Please—please, I’m—”
“You don’t come until I say,” I growl against his mouth, every word laced with threat and promise.
His body bucks hard, desperate, but I don’t let it move. I pin his hips to the wall with mine, cock grinding into his without any real stroke now—just unrelenting weight, heat, and denial. The sensation is still there—still goddamn perfect—but the rhythm is gone. I broke it on purpose. Took it back. His body was seconds from shattering, and I said no.
And now he’s fucking sobbing—not loud, not theatrical, just helpless. Gasping. Breathing like a man drowning two inches from the surface. “Rafe, please—I waited—four days—four fucking days—”
“I know,” I say, voice low and cruel, teeth sinking into his throat between words. “That’s why you’re going to wait one more minute. You earned me, halo—but you don’t get to come without permission.”
I slide my hand between us again—just the fingertips this time—and brush the head of his cock.
He shrieks.
I grin against his skin. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
He’s panting like I’ve got him on a leash and he knows he’ll die without my permission to breathe. Every part of him is twitching—thighs flexed around my waist, fingers digging into my shoulders, cock leaking against mine, pulsing like it’s about to give out from sheer desperation. I hold him there—tight—hips grinding in slow, devastating friction just to keep him pinned at the edge. He’s been close for minutes. I haven’t let him fall.
I drag my mouth up his throat, tongue sliding through water and sweat, biting lightly just under his jaw where the skin’s thinnest. He moans—high and desperate—and I press a kiss right over the tape mark, letting him feel the heat of it. Then I murmur—“Do you want to come like this, little halo…” Another kiss to his cheekbone, slow and mocking. “Or do you want me to fuck the thoughts out of your pretty little head?”
He loses it. “Shit! Rafe! You fucking bastard—fuck me—please!” The words tear out of him like gunfire. He thrashes, writhes in my arms, trying to grind down, rut into me, anything—but I’m stronger. I’ve always been stronger. I hold him exactly where I want him—body trapped between wall and muscle, twitching and undone and so fucking mine.
I smirk against his skin, licking a stripe from his neck to his ear, soaking in every tremor. “You’re not even thinking anymore,” I whisper, teeth grazing his earlobe. “Just drooling, crying, begging. You want me that bad, halo?”
He nods, frantic. “Yes—yes—yes, please, I waited, I was good—Rafe, fuck me—”
“Shhh.” Ipress my palm to his lower back, keeping him arched. “You’ll take me, sweetheart. You’ll take me and thank me. But not yet.”
He whimpers and I want to hear him break louder.
Without a word, I drag one arm from under his thighs, keeping him braced with the other, and reach up to the shelf built into the tile. The bottle’s there. Knew I’d end up slamming someone against this wall and fucking them until they cried. I didn’t know it would be him.
Julian watches me with wide, wrecked eyes—lips parted, chest rising fast, skin flushed to the collarbones. Water streams down his face like tears, and I want to see the real ones.
I flick the cap open, coat my fingers fast, rough, efficient. My other arm tightens around his back as he gasps, tries to squirm, tries to get ready.
“Rafe—Rafe, please—”
“Oh, you’ll get it,” I growl into his throat. “You’re gonna get all of it.” I reach between us, past our cocks, down to his ass, and find him already slick from the water—twitching, open, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment since the day I left.
My fingers press in. One, then two. No teasing, no warning. He screams, raw and broken, and I bite down hard on his neck to muffle it.
“Quiet,” I mutter against his skin, grinding my cock against him as I fuck him open on my hand—fast, deep, merciless. “You wanted it. Now take it. Let the whole fucking compound hear what a good boy you are.”
He sobs—his cock jerks violently, thighs trembling around my waist—and throws his head back so hard it cracks against the tile again. “Please—oh my god—fuck me!”
I pull my fingers out, slick and ready. I line myself up, and then I slam into him—hard, so fucking hard his scream shatters against the walls like glass. His arms fly around my neck, body locking up tight as the tile thuds behind him again. His heels dig into my back, sharp and desperate. He’s not ready, not fully stretched, not fully braced—but I don’t give him time. I take him like he’s mine.
Because he is.
“Rafe—Rafe—Rafe—” Just my name, over and over, a litany, a fucking prayer spilling from his lips.
I growl into his mouth and drive in to the hilt—full, deep, claiming. “Yeah, halo,” I whisper, starting to thrust with slow, deliberate force. “You stayed clean for this. You waited.”
He nods frantically, sobbing. “I did, I did, Idid—”
I slam in again, harder. “I know. So now…” Another thrust rips a wail out of him. “…you come when I say.”
He’s sobbing, shaking, voice shredded to ribbons—but he’s not breaking. Not really. He’s thriving. Every time I slam into him, his spine arches like I’m dragging his soul straight out through his skin. His cock is trapped between us, smearing slick against my stomach, twitching helplessly with every brutal thrust. He’s so fucking tight I can feel my own heartbeat pulsing inside him, buried deep, over and over and over again.
