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“Tell me the rules.”
“Green means go, yellow is slow down, red you stop immediately. You can fuck me, hit me, abuse my mouth, anything. I like it rough, and I don’t mind bruises and marks but don’t draw blood. And considering you’re new, no breath play other than with a blowjob, where I’m in a position to stop you. Too risky for now.”
He could’ve mentioned his aversion to golden showers and scat play, but that would only scare Roman off. If he had no experience, those wouldn’t be the first things on his mind anyway.
“Okay. Um, condoms?”
Was he serious about fucking Caleb? Oh yes, please let it be so. “Only if you need to. I’m negative and on PrEP.”
“I haven’t had sex in…” Roman sighed. “Too long. And I was negative on my last test.”
“Then bare is fine.”
“And I control your orgasm?”
“I won’t come without permission, Sir.”
“I don’t know why I find that so incredibly hot, but I do.”
“So, are we playing?” He held his breath as he waited for Roman’s reply.
“I shouldn’t. I can think of a million reasons why I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist right now. You were right. I do need to let go, to unleash some of this anger inside me, these negative emotions. Just… How will I know when I go too far?”
“You’ll know when I say yellow or red. And I will, Sir. You have my word on that.”
Caleb’s pulse quickened, excitement thrumming through him. The prospect of surrendering to Roman’s tentative grip on control, of guiding him into this dark, carnal dance, was intoxicating.
“All right, then. I’m in.”
The energy in the room shifted into an electric charge that raised the hairs on Caleb’s arms. Roman squared his shoulders, a storm brewing in the depths of his brown eyes.
“Strip,” Roman said without any of his previous doubts.
The single word was a touchstone for Caleb, a command that resonated deep within him, and a shiver rolled down his spine. He complied without hesitation, peeling off his simple T-shirt while Roman followed the motion with his gaze. He kicked off his sneakers and shed his workout pants and underwear, leaving him bare and vulnerable under Roman’s scrutiny.
“Good.” Roman’s tone held approval but also something else. A rough edge that spoke of burgeoning dominance.
Caleb stood still, waiting, every nerve ending alight with the promise of what was to come.
Roman rose, his pants tenting with his erection. “Turn around. Hands against the wall. Present yourself to me.”
Obediently, Caleb turned and leaned forward with his palms flat against the cool wallpaper. The position left his ass exposed, raised for Roman’s inspection—and whatever else he decided to bestow on him.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” Roman growled, the sound primal and possessive. “Your ass is a work of art. So perfectly round and firm.”
As Roman stepped closer, Caleb closed his eyes, intensely aware of his presence, and his entire body grew taut with anticipation.
Slap!
Roman’s hand landed on Caleb’s flesh with a resounding smack, the sting blooming across his skin in a delicious wave of heat. Caleb gasped as the sensation ricocheted through him—pain intertwined with pleasure.
“Like that?” Roman asked in a gravelly whisper laden with arousal.
“God, yes.” Caleb breathed out, pushing back against Roman’s next blow. “Please, Sir. More.”
Any other Dom would’ve punished him for begging, but Roman didn’t. Maybe it didn’t even occur to him. Then again, he hadn’t told Caleb not to speak, so was he technically disobeying?
Another slap, harder this time, struck the same spot, the impact reverberating deep into Caleb’s muscles. His knees trembled, but he held his position, craving the controlled brutality Roman delivered. He relished the burn that spread like wildfire, the sharp contrast between the warmth of his punished skin and the chill of the air.
