I pin his wrists above his head with one hand, using my other to grip his jaw. “Beg for it properly.”
“Please, Daddy. I need you inside me. Need you to fill me up.”
Those words send liquid heat through my veins. I release him just long enough to grab the lube from his nightstand, coating myself generously before positioning at his entrance. I push in slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure as I stretch him open.
“Fuck,” I groan as I bottom out. The tight heat around me is almost too much. Each thrust forces small, desperate sounds from Theo’s throat. His eyes roll back, hands clutching at my shoulders, nails digging crescents into my skin.
“God, Victor,” he gasps between thrusts. “You feel so good inside me.”
He looks up at me through heavy-lidded eyes, a slight smirk playing on his lips. “I wonder what you’d feel like around my dick.”
My hips stutter to a halt. My entire body goes rigid.
“What?” The word comes out strangled.
“Your ass,” Theo continues, running his hands down my chest. “I bet you’d feel amazing. So tight around me.”
My brain stutters. The dominant haze that’s been driving me evaporates instantly. I’m frozen, buried deep inside him, but suddenly unable to move.
“I... No. That’s not—” I can’t even form a coherent thought.
Theo must sense my panic because his approach shifts. His voice softens as he traces patterns on my chest. “Why don’t you let me lick Daddy’s ass first? Show you how good it can feel?”
My throat constricts. Every instinct screams to pull away, to reassert control, but there’s something in his expression—something gentle yet challenging—that keeps me rooted in place.
“Get on the bed,” Theo says, his voice different now—commanding in a way I’ve never heard from him before. “On your hands and knees. Let me make you feel good.”
My first instinct is to laugh. To grab him by the throat again and remind him who’s in charge here. But something in his eyes stops me. There’s a wildness there, barely contained—like he’s been holding this part of himself back all along.
“I don’t—” I start to protest, but even to my own ears it sounds hollow.
“You don’t what?” Theo challenges, sliding from beneath me and standing beside the bed. “You don’t want to feel good? You don’t want to experience something new?” His fingers trace along my shoulder. “Or you don’t want to admit how badly you want to try?”
My heart hammers against my ribs. This feels like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing the fall could kill me, but unable to step away from the ledge.
“I’ve never...” The words die in my throat.
“I know.” Theo’s smile is both gentle and predatory. “Trust me.”
Trust. Such a simple word for something so fucking complicated.
I move slowly, feeling like I’m outside my own body as I position myself on my hands and knees in the middle of his bed. Me—Victor Kaine—on display like this. My muscles tense with the urge to flip over, to take control back.
“Easy,” Theo murmurs, his hand running down my spine. “Just breathe.”
What the fuck am I doing? This isn’t me. This has never been me. Yet here I am, positioned like prey, waiting for whatever Theo has planned. The bed dips as he kneels behind me, and I close my eyes, wondering what strange gravity keeps pulling meback to him, what force stronger than my own will keeps me here when everything I’ve built my identity on tells me to run.
“You have a gorgeous fucking ass, Victor,” Theo whispers, his breath hot against my skin.
Before I can process his words, I feel his tongue—warm, wet, insistent—licking a stripe across my entrance. My entire body goes rigid.
“What the fuck—” The protest dies in my throat as he does it again, slower this time, more deliberate.
“I’ve got you,” Theo murmurs against me, his hands spreading me wider. “Let me make you feel good.”
Every muscle in my body is tensed, fighting against the foreign sensation. This isn’t me. This isn’t what I do. I’m not the one who?—
His tongue circles my rim before pushing slightly inside, and something short-circuits in my brain. A groan rips from my throat, primal and uncontrolled.
