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“Daddy, please? Please?” he begs, the words quiet and uneven. Craig’s on the edge of falling apart.
“Shh, almost,” his Dominant whispers roughly. He grips the back of Craig’s neck hard; there’s a clumsiness to his movements, the brush of his cock is hot as he rubs it against Craig’s hole, and his breathing has picked up. He wants to be inside Craig, but he’s making himself wait, and Craig can feel his own body responding to that urgency, his hole clenching in anticipation.
That combination of clenching and emptiness is too much, too difficult to endure, and Craig drops a hand down between his legs and rubs behind his balls where he’s getting swollen and receptive, needing something inside to rub up against his gland.
“Daddy,” he breathes, just a hint of sound, but it’s enough to get Sam’s attention.
“What are you doing, baby?”
9
“Stop me. I can’t,” he pleads, even as his cock slides through his own grip, the ring of his fingers, the sensation enough to change the focus of Craig’s attention away from his Dominant and to himself.
And that way lies misery. He’s meant to submit, to keep his Dominant’s needs foremost in his mind and heart. His own hand rubbing himself is selfish and not what he needs. It can send him into a drop if he isn’t careful and ruin his mood for days. He didn’t mean to touch himself, isn’t sure how he started, but he did.
Just one second of distraction, and he started touching himself. Craig whines in frustration and rubs harder, unable to stop now that he’s started. He needs help.
And then it’s worse. He looks down at his cock and his balls, how bizarre they look, dark in color and swollen, the skin shiny with how puffed up it is. He looks like a Dominant. That’s always his first thought. He looks as needy as a Dominant feels.
Craig whines again in distress. His hips shove forward as if he wants to mount, as if he has the same desires a Dominant does.
And that is wrong.
“Enough,” Sam says, kissing him on the side of his face, pressing up close, and then he’s lifting Craig’s hand away, placing it on the wall in front of them. Craig knows he needs to stay there. Hands off.
“Fuck. Thank you! Thank you,” Craig gasps but can’t settle down, hips twitching, wanting to thrust. He glances down, and that’s another mistake. His cock bobs, a sharp zing of discomfort radiating through his balls now that he isn’t touching them. He shivers and turns his face toward his Dominant’s neck. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to. I couldn’t help it. They kept me caged, and that was easier, but now I’m not, and it just happened. Please don’t let me, Daddy.”
His Dominant goes still at that revelation, just a warm protective blanket behind him. He touches Craig’s back and arms, firm caresses that help calm him down and settle his breathing.
“Did you like your cage, sweetheart? Did that make your submission easier?”
Craig laughs bitterly. “It made my life easier. I get distracted, and that isn’t what I want to do. This is about you. And I want to be good for you, of use, and if I’m thinking of myself and my own… cock, then my focus is on the wrong place.”
He hates using the word “cock” for himself.
He’s surprised his Dominant. Craig isn’t sure how he knows that, but it’s true.
“Sweet boy. You are perfect, you know that? It isn’t your hand you want there, it’s mine. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good boy,” his Daddy growls and presses his hands more firmly against Craig’s, keeping him pinned to the wall so Craig understands that no touch is coming. This is denial. This is what it’s meant to be.
Craig thought he’d had his fill of denial, that given the choice, he’d never ever want to be denied again, but it’s different when it’s his Daddy doing the denying. When his Dominant is denying him to keep Craig’s focus where it belongs. His Daddy needs to come, that’s what matters. This doesn’t feel like denial. It feels like another form of submission—the purest form. It feels like love.
Tears fill his eyes at the realization of how much he’s giving, how much he’s needed. “It’s perfect. Don’t let me,” Craig whispers.
“Tell Daddy. Are these balls full? Do you need to come?” his Daddy asks, voice gentle and patient, willing to take the time to let Craig languish in the beauty of his denial.
“I don’t know. It’s difficult.”
“I bet it is. They’re so small, aren’t they? I think they’re perfect. Just adorable. And you’re so hard, baby. You need to come, too. I can see how badly you need it. You’ve needed a hand on you for years. But we can’t do that right now, can we? And you know what else? My boy isn’t going to get a hand on his cock to help him come this time. Not yours or mine. That isn’t what you need. Ask Daddy what you need.”
It takes two tries to speak. “What do I need?”
“You need to be mouthed. Warm and soft and gentle. Daddy will take care of you that way when it’s time. Keep being good, and then you’ll get yours. But first, you have to submit, and Daddy has to get his. Fix it in your mind, sweetheart. When I’m pleased and sated, when you’ve given me everything I need, then I’ll take you in my mouth and worship you until you’re crying for Daddy to stop.”
“Yes, Daddy,” he says, finally letting himself believe it’s real, but he feels the need to apologize again, so he repeats, “I’m sorry.”
