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But Caleb needed more.
The thought hit him with blinding clarity. If Roman wanted to be a good Dom, he had to provide Caleb with what he needed, which went beyond a rough blowjob. Clenching his teeth, Roman pulled back and caught his breath while Caleb did the same.
Roman would need guidance, training. He wanted to learn everything he needed to be the Dom Caleb deserved. Later. For now, he’d fly by the seat of his pants—which he was still wearing. Caleb had undressed, but Roman had only unzipped and taken his cock out and was otherwise still fully dressed.
He stepped back, sat on the bed, and beckoned Caleb closer with one crooked finger. Caleb didn’t rise but crawled forward, and somehow, that drove Roman even crazier. He dragged his face up and leaned in to kiss him, nicking his bottom lip with his teeth until he encountered the coppery taste of Caleb’s blood on his tongue.
“Jesus, the things you do to me,” he growled. “I want to… I need to…”
Caleb looked up, those blue eyes filled with trust…and love. “Yes, Sir.”
With a swift motion, Roman yanked Caleb over his lap. He rested his hand on his back, taking in Caleb’s vulnerable position, the lean muscles of his back tapering down to where his ass presented itself as an offering.
Wait, was that…?
“You’re wearing a plug?”
“Yes, Sir. For your convenience. I’m prepped, lubed, and ready to be used.”
Fucking hell. Roman licked his lips, literally drooling at the sight. “Good boy. Such a good boy.”
Shit, he couldn’t wait to bury himself inside Caleb, but first, he had something else planned. He carefully removed the plug and threw it on the floor. Then he raised his hand and brought it down hard. The slap echoed in the room, a sharp smack that shot straight to Roman’s groin. The red imprint of his hand blossomed across Caleb’s skin, a mark of possession. A shiver of dark pleasure ran down Roman’s spine. He did it again, harder, and again, each strike a testament to his burgeoning hunger.
Caleb moaned beneath him, raw and uninhibited. It pierced the haze of Roman’s arousal, grounding him in the reality of what they were doing, what he was doing. But instead of halting, the sound urged him on, stoking the fire of his desire.
“More?” Roman’s voice was ragged.
“Please, Sir.” Caleb gasped. “Need more. Hurt me, Sir. Please. Want to suffer for you.”
That single plea shattered the last of Roman’s restraint. He unbuckled his belt and tugged it free. Folding the leather in his hands, he measured its weight, the potential for the sweet agony it held. He brought the belt down across Caleb’s ass, the leather biting into his tender flesh. Caleb jerked, uttering a strangled cry, and a surge of primal satisfaction rose in Roman. He hit him until he was sweating with the effort. The red welts from the belt crisscrossed the earlier handprints, painting a picture of discipline and desire.
Roman’s breath came out in ragged heaves as his chest expanded with raw, untempered need. His cock was leaking, throbbing painfully, but he ignored it. This wasn’t about him anymore, but about Caleb, about giving Caleb what he needed.
“Is this what you want?” Roman punctuated each word with another strike of the belt.
“Yes, Sir, oh god, yes,” Caleb chanted, his body rocking with each impact, riding the edge of pain and pleasure with a grace that left Roman in awe.
With every lash, Caleb’s moans crescendoed, a symphony of surrender that sang to Roman’s soul. This was power. This was control, wielded with leather and skin, an exchange so potent it bordered on sacred.
“God, you’re perfect,” Roman growled, almost guttural. He hauled Caleb up by the waist and tossed him onto the bed like a master would claim his prize.
Caleb landed with a soft thud. His skin shimmered with a sheen of sweat, and his eyes…goddamn, his eyes were pools of pure, unadulterated trust. They locked on Roman, waiting, needing, begging.
“Please, Sir…” Caleb’s plea was a whisper, but it echoed in Roman’s head like a siren call.
Roman yanked Caleb down by an ankle and flipped him so he was bent over the edge of the bed, his ass at the perfect height. Heat radiated from the skin, accentuating the bright red marks of his handiwork. What a beautiful sight.
He pushed Caleb’s legs wide. “Ass up.”
Not a second of hesitation.
Roman sent his pants to his ankles, followed by his underwear, then bent over Caleb. “I’m gonna fuck your blistering ass until I come, and then I just may do it all over again because it’s gonna feel so goddamn hot and tight around my cock. And you can’t come, my perfect boy. Not until I say so.”
Never had a “Yes, Sir” sounded sweeter.
Without preamble, Roman thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt inside the tight heat of Caleb’s body.
A guttural roar tore from his throat as he claimed Caleb with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. The room filled with the sweet music of flesh slapping against flesh, Caleb’s moans, and the creak of the bed frame keeping time with Roman’s brutal pace. Each thrust was a declaration, a claiming, as much as it was a surrender to the need consuming him.
