“Jesus fucking Christ, Theo,” he gasps, clutching at the sheets.
I continue my ministrations, circling his sensitive rim with my tongue, dipping inside to gather more of my cum. Each thrust of my tongue makes Victor’s cock twitch against his abs, rapidly hardening again despite his earlier release.
“You like that, Daddy?” I ask between licks. “Like me cleaning up my mess?”
Victor’s only response is a strangled groan as his cock reaches full hardness again. I’m so focused on the task at hand that I don’t notice his change in posture until it’s too late.
With a speed that belies his size, Victor surges upward. In one fluid movement, he flips our positions, pinning me beneath his bulk. His eyes are wild, pupils blown with lust as he looms over me.
“My turn,” he growls, positioning himself between my legs.
Without preamble, he pushes inside me in one brutal thrust. I cry out, the sensation overwhelming after everything we’ve already done.
“We’re going to do this all fucking night,” Victor promises, voice rough as he establishes a mind-blowing rhythm. “Going to wreck you just like you wrecked me.”
Despite my earlier anger about being his secret, I can’t find it in me to care right now. Not with Victor moving inside me like this, not with the way he’s looking at me—like I’m something precious and dangerous all at once.
“No complaints here,” I gasp, arching into his thrusts as my spent cock hardens the moment he hits my prostate.
As he moves inside me, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that strips away pretense, I recognize truth in this moment that terrifies me far more than being his secret.
I’m not just breaking Victor’s walls. He’s breaking mine too.
29
THEO
Tonight, it’s just me, my equipment, and the track that’s been haunting me for weeks.
My fingers dance over the controls, adjusting levels as I listen to the bass line for the hundredth time. Still not right. I add a subtle reverb, then pull it back again. Getting closer.
My phone vibrates against the mixing desk. Victor’s name lights up the screen, and I feel that same catch in my chest I get every time, no matter how long we’ve been doing this.
“Hey,” I answer, turning down the monitor speakers.
“Can I come over?” His voice sounds tight, controlled.
I glance at the time display on my equipment. “Now? It’s 10 PM on a Wednesday.”
“Yeah.” Just one word, but I can hear something beneath it.
I hesitate. The track isn’t finished, but I know I won’t focus with Victor here anyway. “Sure.”
I lower the volume on my equipment and lean back in my chair. It’s been a month since my birthday, a month since Victor bottomed for the first time. A month of watching him discover this new side of himself—sometimes hesitant, sometimes hungry for it. Our dynamic has shifted in unexpected ways. He’sstill the domineering presence I met at Purgatory, but there’s a vulnerability now, a willingness to surrender that makes my chest tight when I think about it.
“You working on something?” Victor asks through the phone.
“Just that track I told you about.” I run my fingers through my hair, glancing at the incomplete mix. “It’s not coming together.”
“I could distract you for a while.”
I smile despite myself. “You’re good at that.”
We’ve fallen into a rhythm this past month—three or four nights a week, sometimes at my place, sometimes at his. He’s gotten comfortable enough to keep a toothbrush here. I’ve claimed a drawer at his apartment. The sex is still explosive, but now there’s this... comfort between us. Dangerous territory.
“I’ll be there in twenty,” he says.
“I’ll be here.”
