"I trust you, Jasper. Do you trust me?"
My heart hammered in my throat. “Yeah, I trust you.”
Diego looked at the katana leaning against the wall. Then he picked it up and held it out to me. “Prove it.”
The weight settled into my palm, and my shoulder screamed in protest. I knew this grip better than anything else in the world, better than my own heartbeat. I'd held this katana since I was fourteen and killed my first man with it at fifteen. The balance was perfect. The edge was sharp enough to shave with.
Diego stood there naked. The blade trembled until I tightened my grip. I brought it up slow. The wound in my shoulder burned with every degree of elevation, but I'd held this position through worse. The tip found the soft hollow under his jaw where the skin was thin and the carotid pulsed close to the surface.
One slip and Diego would bleed out on this concrete floor.
I forced my hands to remain steady and pressed just enough for Diego to feel the edge. He pulsed against the steel. The beat traveled into my palm like his heart ran directly through mine.
He kept his eyes on mine and trusted me not to kill him.
My cock thickened against my thigh. I held a blade to the throat of the man I loved, and the sick heat of it spread through me like poison. My stomach clenched around it and my hand tightened on the hilt.
"My cigarettes," I said. I could barely get the words out. "In my jacket pocket. Light one for me."
Diego reached for my jacket without breaking eye contact. The blade tracked with every movement. If he moved wrong, if I moved wrong—
He pulled out the pack, shook one free, then brought it to his lips and lit it with my lighter.
The flame caught and made his face glow in the dim room. He took a drag to get it going, cheeks hollowing, and fuck, even terrified I wanted him.
He held it up between two fingers.
I leaned down and let him put the cigarette between my lips. The filter was wet from his mouth, still warm, slick with his spit. I could taste him on it and I went fully hard.
I straightened up and took a drag. The smoke filled my lungs and the nicotine hit. My hands steadied.
I kept the blade exactly where it was, right against his pulse.
"Now get on your knees for me," I said.
Diego sank down. He hit the concrete with both knees, and the sound echoed in the quiet. Then he just looked up at me, jaw set, eyes wide. The dare in it was worse than fear. I knew what to do with fear.
I kept the blade at his throat with light pressure. "Take out my cock."
He worked the buckle with swollen knuckles, skin torn from the tunnel wall. The metal clinked loud in the room. He unzipped my jeans slowly and carefully. I strained against my boxers, fully hard and aching. When he freed me, the cold air hit, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth.
"Open," I said.
Diego opened his mouth.
I stepped closer and fed my cock between his lips. The heat of his mouth shocked me after the cold, wet and so fucking hot. I had to lock my knees to keep standing.
He started working me with his tongue, slow strokes along the underside that made me tighten all over, made my breath catch. He knew what he was doing, and the control undid me more than the sensation. When he bobbed his head, I pressed the blade harder against his throat.
He froze.
"I didn't tell you to move," I said.
Diego stayed perfectly still, mouth wrapped around me, tongue pressed flat against my cock. He held everything, even his breath.
I took another drag off the cigarette, held the smoke in my lungs until they burned, then blew it out slowly while I looked down at him.
Diego knelt there with my blade at his throat and my cock in his mouth, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.
