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“Fuck,” Craig gasps and presses his chest to the ground, making his body and self as low as possible, trying to present, needing to say he’s sorry.
His Daddy snarls behind him, dragging Craig’s hips upward and slamming back inside in one tight, gliding thrust that leaves Craig breathless for long moments as he tries to work his way through the sensations swamping him.
It’s a pounding from the start. Overwhelming and inescapable as Craig scrabbles at the ground, gasps and whimpers. He sobs with the need for his Dominant to come inside him. That will soothe, fill him up, and make the burn stop.
“Please, please,” Craig begs as his Dominant ruts again and again, taking him endlessly. The pleasure builds deep inside, radiating outward until his balls throb, so much tingling pleasure, and then there’s wetness as his own cock starts to drip, leaking everywhere, making it slippery under him. He looks down, shocked at the mess his own body is making. As if it’s easy when it’s never been easy to keep his body regulated.
Toxic buildup was always a problem. This is how it’s meant to be solved. How could they deny him this?
A sharp tug on his scalp demands his attention in the present, and he bares his neck for his Daddy, eager to be bitten again. His Dominant’s teeth clench tight, holding him still like he’s an animal being bred, so he can’t escape. So he won’t be able to breathe or swallow without being reminded that he was claimed everywhere.
Craig cries out in relief and agony as his Dominant comes, filling him up inside, his Daddy’s weight heavy on his back as he’s ridden flush to the ground, legs forced wide as his Daddy’s hips rock into him, milking his orgasm for as long as he can.
Finally, his Daddy licks at his neck, soothing him. His Daddy’s hand slides under Craig’s body, cupping his stomach gently. “You’ll swell up for me. I need that from you,” he rasps, and Craig tries to agree, but his voice is hoarse, and there’s a high-pitched little whine coming from deep in his throat, his mind and body reconciling what’s happened to him.
The trauma of a first claiming.
The reality of what they just did was intense and difficult. He’d known it would be. He’d wanted it. He’s fantasized and craved it, and he couldn’t have asked for a better first time. And yet, how many times was he warned that it’s hard to process?
He’d thought that was bullshit.
How many times had they been told there’d come a point where they might fight, where some part of them wouldn’t want to surrender to a Dominant, but that they would need to get through it and accept? A submissive partner needed to have faith that their Dominant would get them through the fight and uncertainty. The fear.
Craig had thought that was ridiculous. The men who had difficulty submitting weren’t really submissive, that was the problem, so far as he could tell. Those men had the body of a submissive but not the mind. The mentality. And that was their problem. Not Craig’s. That’s how confident he’d been.
But didn’t he struggle? Didn’t he fight right when he was getting filled up with his Dominant’s release?
“Don’t—” Craig whispers, unsure how to finish the sentence or how he even wants to. “Don’t let me go,” he finally says, and the cock in his ass grinds a little deeper, making him whimper in relief. And under that is need, stoked by his Daddy’s patient waiting and application of pre-release hormones. The moment his Daddy’s cock leaves him, he’ll want it back again. He might be frantic and desperate, and that’s when his Daddy will take care of him.
Give it to him again.
“I won’t let you go. You’re mine now,” Sam promises and kisses Craig’s cheek, gets Craig’s head turned, and plunders his mouth, hot and wet and demanding. He bites Craig’s lip until there’s blood, his hips still moving shallowly, little teasing thrusts as he strokes his cock inside Craig’s pulsing channel.
“I fought,” Craig confesses. “I didn’t want to.”
“You did well, sweetheart. You were so good. That was gorgeous,” Sam says, kissing his jaw. “You didn’t really fight. You were so accepting, sweetheart. I’m proud of you.”
Craig wants to believe him. But. “You didn’t knot me,” he whispers.
“It was your first time. You were at your limit, kitten. This was enough for you for now.”
“Maybe you didn’t want me enough?”
“No. My balls ache with it, and my dick hurts because I didn’t get to knot you. But I need you somewhere safe and comfortable for that. I don’t know how long it will last once it pops. I might just ride you all day and milk my knot with your hole. Keep you in my bed and full with me,” Sam says, and it feels like a challenge.
The Dominant is gauging his response.
“Oh,” Craig sighs, wanting and afraid, imagining it but scared already. Scared of his own desires. The prospect of that sounds exciting and frightening and glorious, even though it would be very difficult. Not something most submissives would want.
“That’s difficult for even the best boys.”
“I… I want to be a good boy.”
“Yeah? Knotted all day and weeping with it? Daddy staying inside you because it feels too good, and you won’t say no?”
He’s never been seen like this. Never questioned so directly on what he’d like. Is it in a file? Is that how good the tests are now? What if it’s a trick?
“My mouth, Daddy?” Craig offers, trying to change the subject.
