9.

NINE

Dominic

Holy shit.

I don’t want to move. Fuck, I just want to stay right here with my cock buried in Rafael’s perfect ass. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that good.

Rafael doesn’t shift or squirm. He just breathes under me. When I lift up and begin to pull out of him, he grumbles like he doesn’t want me to leave his body. Fuck, that’s satisfying.

I watch my semi-hard cock glide out of his ass beside the thin strap of his g-string. I watch my cum spill from his fluttering hole. He makes a sound of distress that has me, for some reason, rubbing a soothing hand up his back.

“I’ll be back inside you soon.”

He sighs like that’s what he needed to hear.

I watch the cum slide down the inside of his thigh and admire the sight of his balls pulled taut by the metal stretcher. I finger his hole to make more cum leak out.

Part of me wants to leave him there for a while. So I can look at him. So he knows that I own him. But I want to see his cock and his face.

I release his ankles and knees, then I cup my hand under the base of his cock. I know he’s still semi-hard because he’s still buried in the sleeve.

“Pull out,” I tell him gruffly. I hum in satisfaction as his cock glides free over my hand, spilling some of his cum into my palm with the cloth of his g-string still pushed to the side. I don’t know why it’s so fucking hot, but it is.

He’s twitching, telling me that the contact with his overly sensitized cock is too much. That’s fine. He can deal with it.

When I go to release his hands, he doesn’t look at me. His cheek is pressed to the padded platform, his face turned away. I feel a strange urge to stroke his hair, but I resist it. I unbuckle the restraints and leave him there, going to retrieve my drink, facing away. I need a second before I look at him again.

I hear him get up. Still with my back to him, I pick up his drink and hold it out. He comes to take it.

“You could’ve gotten hurt that night,” I tell him. “Being high like that.”

“You got hurt last night.”

“Huh?”

“Your hand.”

I glance at my knuckles, split and swollen. “Hm.”

“Your second date?”

I look at him. He looks at me.

“Are you always so jealous?” I ask.

“Only when something matters to me.”

I frown. “And why should I matter to you?”

“I want you. I need you.”

I know he just means sex, but it pries into me anyway.

“Did you want to fuck her?” Rafael asks.

“Can’t let it go, can you?”

“No.”

“No, I didn’t want to fuck her.”

“And your second date wasn’t a date.”

Despite my post-sex chill, his comments piss me off. “What are you trying to prove, Rafael?”

“That you want me.”

“Are you that insecure?” I say it to be mean, but he answers honestly.

“Yes. I need you to want me.”

I sip my bourbon. “I think it’s obvious that I want you, so stop talking about it.”

“Okay,” he says, and a smile plays around his mouth. It’s a pleased smile, not a teasing one. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

I go to take another walk around the room. I’m still shocked by all his solo play. I’m not delusional. I know he’s fucked far more men than I have. I haven’t had his freedom. The only reason I know how to use half this shit is from porn.

But the solo play. That’s interesting.

I want to watch him. Sometime, I’ll require it. But not tonight. Tonight, I need to be inside him.

I’m already mostly hard again. God, I want to fuck. The need has never been this strong. It rages through me. But I look around and consider the options. There’s a rack with a swing. I like that. I like the spanking bench and the x-cross.

But I’ve already tied him up tonight. I want to watch him move. He’s the one watching me, however, as I finish my circuit of the room.

He hasn’t moved from where I handed him his drink. He’s still sipping it. He looks totally depraved standing there with his face bruised and his cock already hard, the g-string still pointlessly on. That weighted stretcher is tugging his balls low and cum is running down his inner thigh.

His body is gorgeous. Lean and muscled, well proportioned. His face is fucking beautiful. All the men always wanted him at the Island. Angel, they called him.

He’s hardly that.

He’s psychotic. Murderous. Whorish.

If I could love anyone, it would be him.

There’s a semi-circle of normal couches, but I bypass them and settle into one of the black tantric chairs. It’s curved like a double wave, with one low crest and one high crest. I lean back against the high wave and start stroking my cock.

Rafael’s eyelashes lower. He bites his lip. When he reaches for his cock, I shake my head. His hand falls away, but he looks worried. He’s so afraid of denial.

I will use that against him but only when it serves me. I beckon him. He obeys.

“Take off the g-string.”

He does, pushing the straps down and stepping out of it.

“Sit on the low curve,” I tell him. “I want to look at you. Position yourself so you can lean back. I need to see your balls.”

“Do you like them like this?” he asks as he gets in position, his ass just below the crest of the wave. His legs are spread, his weighted sac on full display.

“Definitely.” I stroke myself a few more times. “Did you like coming with that weight on your sac?”

“Yes, but I mostly liked having you in my ass.”

He’s so shockingly honest sometimes. “Then come here.”

As he scoots down, I hold my cock ready. When the mushroom tip presses against his hole, he lets out a sigh of relief. He lowers onto me. He’s well stretched, open for me. He glides on easily, but he takes it slow like he wants to feel every inch. That means I feel it too, the slow, hot sheathing.

When his ass is flush against my pelvis, he shudders. He still has his drink. He sips it while I start exploring him with my fingers. I’ve never really gotten to do this before. In fact, when I fucked him on his couch two nights ago, that was the first time I’d had sex face to face.

Not counting the Island, of course.

I stroke the delicate, taut skin of his sac, marveling at the fullness of his balls below the wide metal ring. His stomach is contracting, his cock twitching. A bead of precum forms at his slit. I sweep it away with my thumb, which I bring to my mouth for a taste.

“Mm,” I hum appreciatively.

He sets his drink aside and starts to fuck himself on me. I invited him. This is less dominant, more casual. I’ll need it rougher to come, but I do want to watch him lift and plunge on my cock for a while.

It’s hot as fuck. My heavy shaft stands rigidly upright, appearing and disappearing as he works himself. His balls hang low under the stretcher and his cock juts high. I stare at the veiny underside and flared, purpled tip.

I don’t touch him. I just watch and enjoy my drink and wait for him to need more. I know he will. I’ve seen his toys, his machines. He won’t come like this. But he’s enjoying it for now.

When I see the first hint of his frustration, I tilt my head, curious. I watch that frustration build. I watch him get angry. I wonder what he’ll do about it.

He goes for my throat. I almost wish that I could endure it, just to see what it feels like, but I can’t. I react instantly, twisting out from under him. My cock pops free of his ass as I grab his wrist. He fights, not as hard as he could but hard enough that I have to get my arm around his neck and squeeze as I get behind him, smashing him into the high curve of the couch as I slam my cock into his ass.

His fingers whiten as he grips the leather. He can’t breathe. I’m too angry to care.

“Is that what you want?” I grit out as I thrust hard inside him. “Hm?”

I yank him upright, forcing his back to bow. It has me hitting his prostate. He screams around the constriction at his throat, the sound choked and garbled.

I slam into his prostate again and again until cum leaps from his cock. He never even touched it. It just spurts like a fucking geyser.

His ass clenches on my dick, but I don’t come. I just fuck the last of his release from him. Then I pull out and shove him away from me. He collapses against the high curve of the couch as I storm away from him.

I’m hard as fuck and furious. I find myself at the wall of toys. I grab a whip and go back to him. I strike his bare ass once, twice, three times, soothed by the cries he lets out, by the way his body jerks.

I strike his thighs and his back. I slap his hole and taint. When he’s hard for me again, I haul him off the couch. I pull him around to stand on the other side of it. I shove his head down, forcing him into a bend. Then I grab his hips and thrust back into his ass.

He moans, and his sudden compliance annoys me. I grab his hair and haul him upright. I wrap my other arm around his torso and start fucking hard upward into his ass. I’m hitting his prostate again. It has him clenching on me.

“Don’t you fucking come,” I warn and release his hair to reach around and pinch the head of his dick.

He cries out as I stop his orgasm. I keep pinching him as I thrust into his ass.

“I should put a fucking cock cage on you,” I growl.

“ Hnn ,” he moans, but I don’t know if it’s assent or argument or if he’s even aware of anything but my body fucking his.

My lower back tightens, and my balls swell. I still don’t let go of his cockhead, not even when my balls release and my orgasm explodes into him.

As I strain against him, my pelvis flush against his ass, my cock kicking inside him, I let go of his cockhead, gripping his shaft instead. It pulses in my hand as he comes with a scream. His orgasm and mine seem to ping against each other, echoing back and forth as we both strain and pulse.

His shudders turn into shaking as I pull out of him, spilling cum down his thighs. He pulls away abruptly and makes a sound I don’t like. It’s almost a whine. His body is curling in on itself.

He’s done. I know it instantly. He told me I would.

“Rafael—”

“There’s no code to get down.”

“Huh?”

He staggers away from me. I don’t like it. I won’t allow it.

He starts to hurry like he knows what I’m going to do, and, yeah, I fucking am. I dart after him and catch him around the middle.

“Don’t. Please, Dominic, I’m done.”

“I know you’re done.”

“Just leave—”

“Shut up, Rafael.”

I start hauling him toward the bed, which has only a black fitted sheet. I don’t think he likes what I’m doing, but he doesn’t fight me as I make get on the bed. I find a dark purple velvet blanket folded on the floor. I shake it out and lay it over him. He rolls onto his side away from me.

I leave him there while I go into the bar to find a towel. I’ve never taken care of anyone after sex. I didn’t take care of him last time. But this feels different somehow. I feel different. I want to do this. I don’t even know why. I just know that I don’t like how he’s trying to withdraw from me. He doesn’t get to do that, not after I fucked him like that.

I run the tap until the water warms. I wet a hand towel and return to the bed. I climb onto the mattress and pull the blanket clear of his ass. He makes a sound of protest, but I ignore that and clean away the cum that leaks from his abused hole. He’s going to be sore. I’m glad. I want him to be. But I want him clean too.

I try to pull his leg toward me, needing him on his back so I can take the ball stretcher off him. He growls like a feral fucking animal.

That’s enough.

I maneuver myself up the mattress and grab his jaw in a bruising grip. I pull, forcing him to look at me. His pale gray eyes are furious.

“Stop it,” I tell him. “You’re fine. You’re going to let me do this.”

His eyebrows draw low as he glares at me. I just hold that glare until his anger fades to reveal the truth. He feels really fucking vulnerable. I didn’t hurt him with the rough fucking, but I could hurt him now.

I find that I don’t want to.

When I see in his eyes that he’s yielding, I let go of his jaw and tug at his leg again, more gently this time. He lets me turn him partway onto his back. A breath stutters into his lungs when I start fiddling with the ball stretcher. I get it open and remove it.

There are traces of cum on his cock. I gently clean them away then I tug the blanket further off him to sweep the cloth over his abdomen and chest. When I’m done, I pull the blanket over him again and let him roll onto his side.

I return to the bar and rinse the cloth then use it to clean myself. I eye the mess all over the play room. I don’t do a great cleanup, but I get the worst of it.

I eye my clothes and the elevator.

I eye the bed with Rafael’s still form under the blanket.

I don’t really make a decision. I just find myself walking to the bed. I find myself pulling up the blanket and sliding under it.

Rafael is completely still, almost stiff, as my body settles against his. I wrap my arms around him anyway and pull him into the curve of my body. When I press my face to the back of his neck, he relaxes. When I stroke my thumb against his throat, he sighs.

“Just sleep,” I tell him, and he does.