Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Paul

As he asked, I’m naked, on my knees, waiting for him. My heart hammers in my chest with anticipation, every second stretching unbearably as I keep my gaze fixed on the door. When it finally opens, he steps in, the sound of the lock clicking shut behind.

Damian looks devastatingly good in his tuxedo, the tailored lines hugging his body like a second skin. His dark eyes rake over me, and the smirk that curls his lips is pure satisfaction. Slowly, he shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the couch without looking. His fingers undo his tie, the black silk slipping from his collar and landing next to the jacket.

“Look at you, so pretty and waiting just like I told you,” he says, his voice deep, a low rumble that slides straight to my core. “Naked. Obedient. Ready.” He stalks toward me, unbuttoning his shirt with swift, practiced movements. “You’re such a good boy for me. Such a good fucking boy.”

My body reacts to his words instantly, the heat pooling low in my stomach as I keep my eyes on him. His shirt falls open, revealing the strong planes of his chest, but he doesn’t waste time teasing. Damian doesn’t do slow. He pulls his belt free with a sharp snap and undoes his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. His cock springs free, hard, and thick, and my mouth waters at the sight.

He grips the base as he steps closer, the head brushing against my lips. “Open,” he commands, his voice rough with need.

I obey, my lips parting without hesitation. He slides into my mouth slowly, his hand tangling in my hair as he feeds me inch by inch. “That’s it,” he groans, his fingers tightening in my hair to hold me in place. “Take it all, my good boy. Let me feel that pretty mouth.”

The praise hits me like a drug, and I let my tongue move against him, my head bobbing to take him deeper. He guides me with firm but controlled motions, setting a pace that has my jaw aching and my pulse racing. His cock fills my mouth completely, his taste and heat overwhelming me in the best way.

“You look so good like this,” he growls, his hips rolling forward as he thrusts deeper, pushing against the back of my throat. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I take it, relishing the way he groans my name. “Kneeling for me, sucking my cock like you were made for it. My good fucking boy.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I moan around him, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth. Damian’s grip on my head tightens as he starts to lose control, his movements growing rougher, needier. His other hand cups my jaw, holding me steady as he takes what he wants.

“Look at me while you take it. Let me see those pretty eyes wanting more, wanting to take it all.”

I force my gaze up, meeting his, and the raw hunger in his expression makes my stomach flip. Damian is relentless, his rhythm pushing me to the edge of my limits, but I don’t care. I’d give him anything he asks for, anything to keep hearing the praise spilling from his lips.

“Good boy,” he growls again, his voice tight with pleasure. “You’re gonna make me come so hard, and you’re gonna swallow every drop, aren’t you?”

I hum my agreement around him, my throat vibrating against the thick length of his cock. The sound pulls a deep, guttural moan from him, raw and primal. His hips jerk forward, and suddenly he’s hitting the back of my throat, the tip pressing firmly, sending a wave of heat rushing through me.

Tears sting at the corners of my eyes as I focus on breathing through my nose, the stretch and fullness overwhelming but intoxicating. He eases back just enough to give me a moment’s rest before thrusting forward again, his cock hitting the back of my throat with a rhythm that leaves no room for hesitation. Each stroke is deliberate, relentless, forcing me to surrender completely to him.

“You’re doing so good,” he pants, his tone almost soft despite the rough pace. “So fucking good for me. That mouth was made for my cock, wasn’t it? Just like your ass.”

I moan around him, the sound muffled and desperate, and his response is immediate—a low, almost feral growl that vibrates through the air. Damian’s hips snap forward, each thrust hitting the back of my throat with unrelenting force. Suddenly, his breathing turns ragged, his grip in my hair almost bruising as he pushes me further down, holding me there while his cock pulses against my tongue.

“Fuck,” he growls, his voice a broken rasp. “I’m gonna come, and you’re gonna swallow every fucking drop like the good boy you are.”

The words send a thrill down my spine, and I hum around him in acknowledgment, the vibration pulling a deep groan from his chest. With a final thrust, he holds me in place as his cock twitches, spilling hot and salty against my tongue. I swallow instinctively, the taste of him flooding my mouth as he groans again, louder this time, his whole body shuddering with release.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his voice softer now but still edged with satisfaction. “Swallow it all, babe.”

I do as he says, my throat working to take every bit of him until there’s nothing left. When he finally pulls back, his cock glistens with a mix of spit and release, and I don’t hesitate. I lean forward, letting my tongue slide along his length, down to his balls. He hisses as I take one into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, cleaning him thoroughly. My hands slide up his thighs for balance as I move to the other, giving it the same attention.

“Jesus,” he groans, his fingers threading through my hair again, this time gentler, a mix of appreciation and possession in the gesture. “You’re fucking perfect. Look at you, cleaning me up like you can’t get enough.”

I glance up at him, my lips still wrapped around him, and the raw hunger in his eyes makes my stomach flip. I pull back slowly, dragging my tongue along his sensitive skin one last time before sitting back on my heels, my chest heaving with the effort to catch my breath.

Damian smirks, reaching down to cup my jaw, his thumb brushing over my swollen lips. His gaze is searing, almost too much to bear, as he murmurs, “I own you.” The words drip with possession, his voice low and commanding. “And don’t you fucking forget it.”

I want to believe him. I want to let those words settle into the parts of me that crave him, but they only echo hollowly against the truth. Because as much as I want him to own me, I know it’s a lie outside these walls. I wish he could claim me in the daylight, where others could see, where I wouldn’t have to hide. But that isn’t who Damian is—not today, and maybe not ever.

The thought stings, but before I can spiral into just how fucked up this is, his hand shifts, his thumb caressing the edge of my chin. His eyes soften, that impenetrable coldness melting away like ice under the sun. “Will you fuck me, babe?” he asks, his voice trembling with raw need. “I need your cock inside me.”

The abrupt change in tone hits me like a punch to the chest. Just moments ago, he was in complete control, commanding and relentless, and now he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing keeping him upright. It’s the way he always is—one second, he’s an emotionless bastard, the next he’s so open and vulnerable. In so much need of someone to care for him—for love. The sight of him almost breaks my heart.

The way he shifts from cold detachment to craving me like his next breath says everything about us, about what we are.

For a moment, I just stare at him, taking in the way his pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling as he struggles to hold himself together. His vulnerability is rare, a side of him he doesn’t show to anyone else, and it undoes me every time.

“Come here,” I murmur, my voice low and rough, thickened with a raw hunger that betrays every ounce of control I’m trying to hold onto. I stand, pulling him close until our bodies are flush, my hands gripping his waist. He exhales shakily, his hands finding my shoulders as he leans into me, his usual confidence stripped bare.

“I want to feel you inside me,” he whispers, his voice a soft rumble, like the low hum of a cello—steady, resonant, and pulling at something deep within me. “Every inch of you claiming me. Reminding me I’m not alone. Not tonight—not ever.”

My hands slide down to his ass, squeezing firmly as I guide him backward, step by step, toward the room where the bed waits. When we reach the edge of the mattress, I ease him down gently, my hands steadying him as his legs part instinctively, creating space for me to settle between them. I pause, hovering over him, our breaths mingling in the charged silence. Then, unable to resist any longer, I close the distance and capture his lips with mine.

The kiss is raw, unrestrained—a feverish collision of mouths, all hunger and urgency, brimming with everything we’ve kept bottled up and everything we’re about to surrender.

When the kiss ends, I stare at him. The way he looks up at me, eyes wide and pleading, sends a thrill through my entire body. For all his strength and dominance, in this moment, he’s mine—completely, utterly mine. I lean down, brushing my lips against his in a kiss that’s slow and deliberate, letting him feel how much I want this—want him. Though, I wish I could say I love him. I love him in ways I never thought was possible. But I don’t.

The fear of losing this moment, him, keeps me quiet.

Reaching over the nightstand I take the bottle of lube he must have dropped earlier. The soft click of the cap opening fills the quiet space between us, and I squeeze a generous amount onto my fingers, warming it before letting my hand glide down his body. Damian’s breath hitches when my slick fingers tease between his cheeks, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t break his gaze from mine.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, wanting, needed me,” I whisper, my voice husky but soft. “Let me take care of you, babe.” I want to say, let me love you. I don’t.

This shouldn’t make me angry. We have an agreement. I know how this works. Love isn’t part of our vocabulary, but I want to do it, love him. If not in front of others, at least when we’re together.

Focus on right now, I remind myself and I press my fingers gently against him, circling the tight muscle, coaxing it to relax. Damian’s head falls back against the pillows, his lips parting as a low groan escapes him.

“Breathe for me,” I murmur, my free hand resting on his thigh, stroking it soothingly. “That’s it, baby. Let me in.”

The first finger slides inside, slowly, and deliberately, and Damian’s whole body tenses for a moment before melting beneath me. His hands grip the sheets, his knuckles white as he adjusts to the intrusion.

“You’re doing so good,” I tell him, my voice steady and reassuring. “So fucking perfect for me.”

I move my finger carefully, easing him open, watching the way his body responds to every stroke. When I add a second finger, he gasps, his back arching slightly, and I lean down to press a kiss to his chest, my lips lingering against his heated skin.

“Relax,” I whisper, curling my fingers just enough to make him moan. “Let me make you feel good, babe.”

His breathing quickens as I work him open, my fingers sliding in and out with increasing ease. The slick sounds fill the room, mingling with his soft, desperate noises. I scissor my fingers gently, stretching him further, and the way he bites his lip, his chest heaving, nearly undoes me.

“Paul,” he breathes, my name falling from his lips like a prayer. “Fuck, you feel so good, but I don’t need your fingers. I need your cock. Give it to me. I’m ready for it.”

“Be patient, baby. Good things happen to those who wait,” I promise, my voice a low growl as I press a third finger inside. He cries out, but his cock is finally getting hard again for me.

The tension in his body dissolves as I continue, my fingers moving with precision, coaxing, and teasing until he’s trembling beneath me. I press kisses along his jaw, his neck, whispering soft, loving words against his skin.

“You’re mine,” I tell him, my lips hovering over his as I slowly pull my fingers out, leaving him empty but trembling with anticipation. “Every part of you, Damian. You belong to me.”

His eyes meet mine, glassy with pleasure, his lips trembling as though he wants to say something but can’t find the words. He doesn’t need to. The way he looks at me, the way his body arches toward mine, tells me everything. He’s ready. And he’s mine.

“Say it, Damian,” I command, my voice low and rough. “Say you’re fucking mine, or I won’t fill your tight hole with my dick.”

He shudders beneath me, his body arching like a bowstring pulled taut, every muscle trembling as if I’m the only thing anchoring him to this moment. His hands clutch the sheets with a ferocity that mirrors the storm in his chest, and his gasp is a broken prayer, a plea wrapped in devotion. “I’m yours,” he breathes, his voice fractured, trembling, thick with a desperation that’s both surrender and promise. “Always yours. Always.”

I arch a brow, leaning in until our faces are just a whisper apart. “I didn’t catch that,” I say, my voice slicing through the tension like a razor’s edge. “If you want my cock, you’ll have to beg for it. You’re going to tell me you’re mine, and you’re going to beg.”

Damian’s breath stutters, his chest rising and falling in jagged waves as he looks up at me, wide-eyed and flushed, his vulnerability laid bare in the dim light between us. His lips part, trembling, the words spilling out like a confession he can’t hold back any longer. “I’m yours,” he whispers, the sound fragile and aching, yet threaded with an unmistakable fervor. “I’m all yours. Please,” he chokes, his voice cracking under the weight of his need. “Please, Paul. I want you. I need you. I need your cock. Please.”

“Not good enough,” I snarl, tightening my grip on his chin, tilting his head so he’s forced to meet my gaze. His wide, tear-bright eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the desperation quivering in every fiber of his being. “Say it louder,” I demand, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “Beg for it like you mean it.”

“Please,” he sobs this time, his voice cracking as his body arches toward me, trembling under the weight of his desire. “Please, Paul, I need your cock inside me. I can’t stand it anymore—please, fuck me. Fill me. Make me yours.”

A slow, predatory smirk curves my lips as I release his chin, letting my fingers trail lazily down his heaving chest, savoring every shiver and gasp that follows my touch. “See?” I murmur, my tone rich with indulgent approval. “That wasn’t so hard. You can be a good boy when you try.” My hand stills just above the waistband of his pants, my eyes burning into his. “And now, I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

I settle back on my heels, the slick sound of lube filling the room as I stroke myself, slow and deliberate, never taking my eyes off him. Damian’s gaze drops, his lips parting with a soft exhale, his cheeks flushed as he watches me prepare to take him. The air around us is thick, heavy with anticipation, every second a coiled promise of what’s about to unfold.

“I’m going to take you the way you need it,” I murmur, my voice low and unsteady with restraint as I move between his legs. “Face to face. Slow. Deep. Until you don’t remember where you end and I begin.”

His throat works as he swallows, his breath hitching audibly when I press the head of my cock to his entrance. The resistance is there, tight and trembling, and his hands twist into the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

I lower over him, catching his lips in a soft, teasing kiss, barely a brush of my mouth against his. “Breathe for me,” I whisper, and as I press forward, just the first inch, his gasp is swallowed by my kiss.

Damian moans, his body taut beneath me, trembling as he adjusts. I pause, letting my hand smooth over his hip, grounding him in the moment. When his legs relax, just slightly, I move again, pushing in deeper, inch by torturous inch. His breath hitches with every stretch, every slide, until I’m fully seated inside him, our bodies pressed together like they were always meant to be.

I don’t move right away. I can’t. The feeling of him wrapped around me, clinging to me in every way, has my own body trembling, my control fraying at the edges. He looks up at me, his eyes wide and glassy, and whispers, “Paul, please. I need more.”

I lean in, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his neck, as I finally, slowly, begin to move, each thrust deliberate, each motion a claim.

“You feel so good,” I murmur against his lips. “So fucking perfect for me.”

His fingers find my arms, clutching at me as I continue, each slow thrust pushing me further inside him. His body opens for me, taking me deeper, his breath coming in shallow gasps as I fill him completely.

“Paul,” he breathes, my name a plea on his lips as his nails dig into my skin. “You’re—oh, fuck—you’re so deep.”

“That’s where I’m meant to be,” I reply, my voice low and rough as I bottom out, my hips flush against his. “Right here, inside you. Taking you. Owning you.”

He lets out a broken moan, his head falling back against the pillows as I begin to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in, the drag of my cock against his tight heat making us both shudder.

“You take me so well,” I say, my tone soft but firm, my pace steady as I claim him. “Every inch of me, like you were made for this.”

His responses come in gasps and groans, his body writhing beneath me as I pick up the pace, each thrust measured and deliberate, designed to drive him wild. His legs wrap around my waist, pulling me closer, deeper, and I oblige, grinding into him in a way that makes him cry out.

“You’re mine, Damian,” I growl, my hands sliding down to grip his hips, holding him steady as I thrust harder. “And I’m going to remind you of that every time I’m inside you.”

His eyes flutter open, meeting mine with a look so raw, so full of need, that it nearly undoes me. “Yes,” he gasps, his voice cracking with desperation. “Yours. Always yours.”

And I wish this were true, that he was mine, but come tomorrow morning this will stay here. Us . . . us will be nothing but a partnership and a strained friendship. I thrust deeper, my rhythm steady but unrelenting, driving into him with a precision that has Damian clawing at the sheets, his body trembling beneath me. His moans fill the room, each sound fueling the fire coursing through me. His head tilts back, exposing the curve of his throat, and I lean down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss there, savoring the way he arches into me. I bite him, claiming him in a way that feels primal.

“Touch yourself,” I growl, my voice a raw command that scrapes against the air between us. My lips hover near his ear, brushing against his flushed skin as I pull back just enough to capture the dazed look in his eyes. His cheeks are a deep crimson, the blush spreading down his neck, disappearing into the line of his collarbone. He looks wrecked—beautifully undone—and it only makes me want him more. “I want to see you stroke that gorgeous cock of yours,” I say, my tone dark, possessive. “Make yourself come while I’m buried inside you.”

For a moment, Damian hesitates. His gaze locks on mine, and I see it—the flicker of vulnerability, the way his pride wars with the utter surrender I’m asking for. But when I shift my hips, driving into him with deliberate precision, his breath catches, and I watch his resolve crumble. “Do it,” I urge, softening my tone just enough to coax him while keeping it firm. My fingers trail down his chest, teasing the sensitive skin there as my hips roll against him again, slow, and relentless. “Show me how much you want this. How much you need me.”

With a shaky exhale, Damian’s hand moves, trembling as he reaches down. His fingers wrap around his cock, and the sight of him—so obedient, so vulnerable—sends a molten wave of heat through me. He begins to stroke himself, tentative at first, his movements syncing with the rhythm of my thrusts.

“Good boy,” I murmur, my voice thick with praise and barely restrained desire. “That’s it. Just like that. Let me see how fucking beautiful you are when you lose yourself.”

His moans grow louder, sharper, each one spilling from his lips like music meant only for me. His hand moves faster, his strokes growing desperate as his body chases the pleasure I’m giving him. The way he looks at me—his eyes hazy with need, his lips swollen and parted from my kisses—it’s a vision I’ll never forget.

“Come for me,” I demand, my voice low and edged with power. His response is immediate, a broken cry tearing from his throat as his back bows off the bed, his hand jerking erratically over his cock. I reach down, covering his hand with mine, guiding him through the chaos of his release, controlling every shuddering stroke.

“That’s it,” I whisper, my voice rough and filled with reverence. “I want to feel you fall apart while I’m inside you. Show me how good I make you feel.”

His body stills for a heartbeat, then tenses completely as his orgasm crashes over him, leaving him shaking and gasping. Hot streaks of his release paint his stomach and my hand, and the sight of him unraveling beneath me—his vulnerability, his surrender—is enough to push me over the edge.

I thrust deep one last time, a guttural groan ripping from my throat as my own climax hits, pleasure detonating through every nerve. Damian moans softly beneath me, his legs tightening around my hips as I spill into him, claiming him in the most intimate, undeniable way.

“You’re mine,” I growl, the words harsh and breathless, carried on the remnants of my release. “Every part of you. I’m claiming you, Damian.”

His body trembles, his chest heaving as he fights to catch his breath. I press my forehead against his, our sweat-slicked skin sticking together, the world around us fading into nothing but this—us. And as I stare into his eyes, the truth I’ve been holding back, the words I’ve buried for so long, tumble out in a whispered confession.

“I love you,” I say, my voice low but unshaking, each word peeling away the last layer of armor I’ve kept around my heart. It feels raw, dangerous, like tearing open an old wound, but I let it bleed. “I fucking love you, Damian Harris.”

His eyes snap open, and I search them for joy, for relief—anything that mirrors what I feel. But instead, I find fear. Stark, unrelenting fear. It clings to him like a shadow, weaving through hesitation and the flicker of pain that slices through me sharper than any rejection ever could.

“We can’t,” he whispers, the tremble in his voice betraying the firmness he’s trying to hold. His words aren’t just for me; they’re for himself, a mantra of denial he’s desperately clinging to. “Paul, we can’t. You know that.”

I lean back slightly, enough to catch the crumbling walls of his composure as they start rebuilding—brick by painful brick. I see him retreating, retreating from me, from us. And I can’t fucking take it.

“Why not?” My voice cracks, the question breaking free like a jagged piece of glass from my throat. I’m trying, begging, to hold onto the thread of connection we just shared. “Why the hell not, Damian? Tell me, because I can’t keep pretending this doesn’t mean anything. That I don’t fucking love you.”

His head shakes once, twice, his jaw tightening until the vulnerability I glimpsed earlier vanishes behind his cold, practiced mask. “It’s complicated,” he says, his voice dull and distant, as if it’s already decided. “You know it is.”

“No.” My hands frame his face, forcing him to meet my eyes, refusing to let him slip away. “What we have—what we just shared—isn’t complicated. It’s real. And you know it.” I pause, searching his gaze, hoping to see something that tells me I’m not alone in this fight. “Stop running from it.”

For a brief, fleeting moment, I see it. Love. Deep and aching, buried beneath his fear. It’s there, but then it’s gone, shuttered behind a tight press of his lips as he turns his face away from me.

“I can’t give you what you want,” he says softly, the words cutting deeper than any scream could. “I’m not what you need, Paul.”

His words hang between us, a suffocating weight that presses into my chest. I stay still, my body still entwined with his, desperate to hold onto the intimacy we’ve just shared. But the truth is seeping in, cold and relentless—he’s already slipping away.

“Damian,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “You can’t live your life like this. Hiding who you are. Hiding who you love.”

Tears glisten in his eyes as he looks at me, but his voice remains steady, unyielding. “We can’t,” he repeats, softer now, like he’s trying to soften the blow. “Paul, I told you from the beginning—this was never more than?—”

“Don’t,” I cut him off, my chest heaving as anger and heartbreak collide inside me. “Don’t reduce it to that.”

His lips part, but the words never come. The silence stretches, heavy and unbearable. Slowly, I pull away from him, the loss like a physical wound. I stand, reaching for my clothes, my hands trembling as I dress.

“You said we can’t,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder, my voice ice-cold despite the fire burning in my chest. “So we won’t.”

I don’t wait for a response. I don’t look back. The door clicks shut behind me, sealing the space where my heart still lingers, shattered on the floor.

By the time I reach the elevator, my legs feel like lead, my breaths shallow. The doors slide closed, and the fragile facade I’ve been clinging to crumbles. Hot tears spill over, blurring my vision as I press my palm to the cold metal wall for balance. The pain is unbearable, ripping through me with the force of every unsaid word, every unfulfilled promise.

I love him. I love him so fucking much, and I don’t know if I’ll ever stop. But right now, all I can do is leave and hope I survive the wreckage he’s left behind.