Chapter One: Whiskey and Unspoken Words
The grand ballroom of the Metropolitan Club pulsed with the low hum of conversation, the clink of crystal glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter that rose above the murmur like a spark in the dark. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over the crowd, their light fracturing through the facets of cut glass and the polished surfaces of silver trays laden with hors d’oeuvres. The air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive perfume, and the faint, earthy undertone of cigar smoke drifting in from the adjoining lounge. Argus stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad shoulders framed by the twilight skyline of Manhattan, the city’s lights flickering like distant stars against the indigo sky. He held a tumbler of neat bourbon in one hand, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it absently, his gaze scanning the room with the detached interest of a man who had long since grown accustomed to such gatherings.
He had arrived fashionably late, as was his habit—just enough to make an entrance, but not so late as to draw undue attention. His suit, a deep charcoal gray with a subtle pinstripe, was tailored to perfection, hugging the lean muscle of his frame without restricting movement. The crisp white shirt beneath was fastened with cufflinks of onyx, their polished surface reflecting the ambient light whenever he shifted his wrist. His posture was effortless, the kind of confidence that came from knowing he was the most compelling man in the room. Yet, despite the admiring glances cast his way—some overt, others stolen—he felt the familiar weight of restlessness settling over him. These events were all the same: the same faces, the same hollow conversations, the same performative charm. He took a slow sip of his drink, the bourbon burning a smooth path down his throat, and exhaled through his nose, already calculating how much longer he’d need to stay before making his exit.
Then, across the room, his gaze snagged on something—or rather, someone—that made the air in his lungs still.
Rex Tillson stood near the bar, one elbow resting on the polished mahogany as he spoke to a younger man whose name Argus couldn’t recall. Even from a distance, Rex’s presence was impossible to ignore. He was taller than most in the room, his broad frame cutting an imposing figure in a navy suit that looked as though it had been stitched onto him. The silver at his temples gleamed under the chandeliers, and the faint scar above his left eyebrow only added to the rugged allure of his features. But it was the way he carried himself that held Argus’s attention—the unhurried confidence of a man who had spent a lifetime commanding rooms just like this one. There was no pretense in his stance, no performative charm. He simply was, and that was enough.
Argus’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around his glass. He hadn’t seen Rex in person in nearly two years—not since that deal in Monaco, where they’d spent three days locked in a high-stakes negotiation that had ended with a handshake and a bottle of fifty-year-old Scotch. Argus had walked away with a profitable partnership; Rex had walked away with something else entirely—a lingering look, a charged silence in the back of a town car, the kind of tension that didn’t need words to be understood. They hadn’t spoken of it since. Business had remained business, their interactions confined to emails and the occasional phone call, always professional, always measured. But now, standing in the same room, the memory of that unspoken current between them resurfaced like a ghost, and Argus found himself unable to look away.
As if sensing the weight of his gaze, Rex turned his head slightly, his blue eyes cutting through the crowd with the precision of a blade. The moment their eyes met, something shifted in the air between them—an electric charge, a silent acknowledgment. Rex’s lips curved into the barest hint of a smile, not the polite, practiced one he doled out to the rest of the room, but something darker, more intimate. It was the kind of smile that promised trouble, the kind that made Argus’s pulse kick up a notch despite himself.
Argus didn’t break the stare. He couldn’t. There was a challenge in Rex’s gaze, a silent dare, and Argus had never been one to back down. The noise of the party faded into a dull roar, the press of bodies around him dissolving until it was just the two of them, locked in a wordless exchange that felt dangerously close to a confession. Then, with a deliberate slowness, Rex lifted his own glass—a rocks glass, two fingers of what looked like whiskey—and took a sip, his eyes never leaving Argus’s. The gesture was deliberate, a tease, and Argus felt the heat of it low in his gut.
He should have looked away. He should have turned back to the window, feigned disinterest, reminded himself that this was neither the time nor the place for whatever the hell this was. But the bourbon had warmed his blood, and the memory of Rex’s hands—large, calloused from years of skiing and sailing, the kind of hands that could pin a man down or trace the line of his jaw with equal precision—flashed through his mind. His throat went dry.
Rex said something to the man beside him, a dismissive nod that sent the younger man scurrying off without a second glance. Then, with the same unhurried confidence, he pushed off from the bar and began to move through the crowd. Not toward Argus—no, that would have been too obvious. Instead, he angled his path as though he were simply making his way to the other side of the room, his strides long and measured. But Argus knew better. He watched as Rex navigated the sea of bodies, pausing here and there to exchange a word with an acquaintance, his hand brushing against a shoulder or an arm in what looked like an accidental graze. Each touch was fleeting, but deliberate, the kind of contact that lingered in the mind long after it was gone.
Argus took another sip of his bourbon, the glass cool against his palm. He could feel the moment approaching, the inevitable collision of their paths, and he told himself he wasn’t waiting for it. He wasn’t anticipating it. But when Rex finally drew near, close enough that Argus could catch the faint scent of his cologne—something rich and woody, with an undercurrent of spice—he didn’t move. Didn’t step back. Didn’t pretend he hadn’t noticed.
“Argus,” Rex said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of timbre that carried even in a crowded room. “I was beginning to think you’d stopped coming to these things.”
Argus turned slightly, leaning one shoulder against the windowpane, the glass cool through the fabric of his suit. “Disappointed?”
Rex’s smile deepened, the lines around his eyes crinkling just enough to betray his age. “Let’s just say the evening got considerably more interesting.”
Argus exhaled a laugh, short and sharp. “Flattery, Rex? I didn’t take you for the type.”
“Flattery implies insincerity.” Rex stepped closer, just enough to invade Argus’s space without crossing into impropriety. The heat of his body was a tangible thing, a warmth that seeped through the careful layers of fabric between them. “And I’ve never been insincere with you.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Argus’s gaze dropped to Rex’s mouth for the briefest second before flicking back up, a silent challenge. “No,” he agreed, his voice dropping to match Rex’s. “You’ve just been careful.”
Rex’s eyes darkened, the blue deepening like the ocean before a storm. “Careful is a relative term.”
Argus felt the pull of him, the gravitational force of Rex’s presence, and for the first time that evening, he wasn’t thinking about leaving. He was thinking about the way Rex’s beard would feel against his jaw, the way his hands would grip if he ever let himself take what he wanted. The thought was dangerous, reckless—the kind of thing that could unravel years of carefully constructed control. But then Rex reached up, his fingers brushing against the knot of his tie in a gesture that looked like adjustment but felt like a caress, and Argus realized he didn’t give a damn about control. Not right now.
“What are you doing after this?” Rex asked, his voice a rough murmur, meant for Argus’s ears alone.
Argus should have lied. Should have said he had plans, an early meeting, anything to put distance between them. But the bourbon had loosened his tongue, and the heat in Rex’s gaze had loosened the rest. “Nothing,” he admitted.
Rex’s smile turned predatory. “Good.” He leaned in just a fraction, his breath warm against Argus’s ear. “Because I have a bottle of ’74 Macallan in my suite at the Waldorf, and I’d much rather drink it with you than alone.”
The invitation hung between them, thick with promise. Argus’s pulse throbbed in his throat, his body already leaning into the idea before his mind could catch up. He should have said no. Should have walked away. But when he opened his mouth, the only word that came out was, “Lead the way.”
Chapter Two: Kneeling for the Devil
The elevator doors slid shut with a quiet hum, sealing Argus and Rex inside the mirrored confines of the Waldorf’s private lift. The moment the car began its ascent, Rex’s hand found the small of Argus’s back—not guiding, not quite possessive, but a firm, deliberate pressure that sent a jolt through Argus’s spine. The air between them was thick, charged with the kind of tension that made breathing feel like a luxury. Argus should’ve stepped away. Should’ve cleared his throat, adjusted his cufflinks, done something to reclaim the control he prided himself on. But the heat of Rex’s palm through the fine wool of his suit jacket rooted him in place, his pulse thrumming in his throat.
Rex didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His fingers traced a slow, maddening path upward, skimming the ridge of Argus’s shoulder blade before curling around the nape of his neck. The touch was proprietary, a silent claim, and when Rex finally turned his head, his breath ghosted over Argus’s ear—hot, laced with the scent of aged whiskey and something darker, hungrier. “You’ve been staring at me all night,” he murmured, his voice a rough purr. “Like you wanted to devour me right there in the middle of those vapid fucking socialites.” His thumb pressed into the tense muscle at the base of Argus’s skull, massaging just hard enough to make Argus’s eyelids flutter. “Did you?”
Argus swallowed, his body betraying him before his mind could catch up. His cock twitched, thickening against the confines of his tailored trousers, and he hated how easily Rex unraveled him. “You know I did,” he admitted, the words gravelly, unwilling. The elevator dinged, the doors gliding open to reveal the plush hallway of the penthouse suite, but Rex didn’t move. His other hand dropped to Argus’s hip, fingers digging in just shy of pain, pulling him flush against the hard line of his own body. The evidence of Rex’s arousal was impossible to ignore—the thick ridge of his erection pressing into Argus’s thigh, the way his breath hitched when Argus didn’t pull away.
“Good,” Rex growled, finally stepping back—but only far enough to grab Argus’s wrist and yank him into the suite. The door slammed shut behind them, the lock engaging with a final, decisive click. The room was dim, lit only by the golden glow of a single lamp and the flickering ambiance of the fireplace. Rex didn’t bother with the lights. He spun Argus around, backing him against the door with a thud that vibrated through Argus’s chest. Their mouths crashed together before Argus could protest, Rex’s kiss brutal and demanding, his tongue forcing its way past Argus’s lips like he owned them. Argus groaned into it, his hands flying to Rex’s shoulders, not to push him away but to anchor himself as the older man’s teeth grazed his lower lip, biting just hard enough to draw a gasp.
“Fuck,” Argus hissed, his head thumping back against the door. Rex’s hands were everywhere—ripping at Argus’s jacket, shoving it down his arms until it pooled at his wrists, trapping him. The cool air hit Argus’s skin as Rex tore his shirt open, buttons pinging across the hardwood floor. “You’re gonna regret this,” Argus managed, but the words lacked conviction, dissolving into a moan as Rex’s mouth sealed over his collarbone, teeth sinking in possessively.
“No,” Rex rumbled against his skin, “I won’t.” His hands slid down Argus’s chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples through the thin fabric of his undershirt before pinching—hard. Argus arched, a broken sound tearing from his throat. “But you might.” Rex’s laugh was dark, triumphant, as he dropped to his knees in front of Argus, his breath hot through the fabric of his slacks. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”
Argus’s breath came in sharp, uneven bursts as Rex’s fingers worked open his belt, the leather hissing as it slid free. The zipper followed, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet suite, and then Rex’s hand was wrapping around Argus’s cock, stroking him through his boxer briefs. “Jesus—” Argus’s hips jerked forward involuntarily, his fingers tangling in Rex’s silver hair. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”
Rex chuckled, the vibration traveling straight to Argus’s balls. “Darling, if my wife hasn’t figured me out by now, she never will.” He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Argus’s briefs and tugged, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and flushed, the tip already glistening. Rex’s tongue flicked out, swiping over the slit, and Argus’s knees nearly buckled. “But if you’re worried,” Rex murmured, “we’ll make it quick. First time, at least.” His mouth enclosed over the head of Argus’s cock, lips sealing tight as he hollowed his cheeks, taking him deep.
Argus’s head fell back with a groan, his hips rolling forward helplessly. “Fuck, your mouth—” Rex’s throat opened around him, swallowing him to the root, and Argus’s fingers tightened in his hair, guiding him into a rhythm that was all heat and desperation. The wet, obscene sounds of Rex sucking him off filled the room, mixed with Argus’s ragged breaths and the occasional choked “yes—just like that—”
Rex pulled off with a wet pop, his lips swollen, his eyes dark with lust. “You taste like sin,” he murmured, stroking Argus’s cock with slow, deliberate twists of his wrist. “I’ve been thinking about this for two fucking years. About how you’d sound when you came apart for me.” He leaned in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of Argus’s thigh, his beard scraping delicately over sensitive skin. “Beg me for it.”
Argus’s breath hitched. He should’ve refused. Should’ve laughed in Rex’s face, called him a delusional old man, and walked out. But the way Rex was looking up at him—like he was the only thing in the world worth kneeling for—shattered what little resistance he had left. “Please,” he rasped, his voice raw. “Make me come.”
Rex’s grin was feral. “Since you asked so nicely.” He took Argus back into his mouth, his free hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently before applying just enough pressure to make Argus’s thighs tremble. The suction was relentless, Rex’s throat working around him as he swallowed again and again, his fingers digging into Argus’s ass, pulling him deeper. Argus’s vision whited out at the edges, his orgasm coiling tight in his gut. “I’m—fuck, I’m gonna—”
Rex didn’t let up. He groaned around Argus’s cock, the vibration sending him over the edge. Argus came with a broken cry, his release hitting the back of Rex’s throat in thick, pulsing spurts. Rex swallowed every drop, his own cock straining painfully against his trousers as he milked Argus through the last shuddering waves of his climax.
Argus sagged against the door, his chest heaving, his body boneless. Rex rose slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “Goddamn,” he murmured, pressing a final, lingering kiss to Argus’s collarbone. “Worth the wait.”
Before Argus could catch his breath, Rex’s phone buzzed sharply from the coffee table. The screen lit up, flashing Eleanor in bold letters. Rex’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. He hesitated for only a second before snatching the phone, his voice smooth, practiced, as he answered. “Darling. What a surprise.”
Argus’s stomach dropped. The reality of the situation crashed over him like a wave—Rex’s wife, the risk, the stakes. He pushed away from the door, his hands shaking as he tucked himself back into his briefs, his movements jerky, clumsy. Rex’s eyes flicked to him, a silent warning, as Eleanor’s voice filtered through the speaker, bright and oblivious. “Rex, I just got back from the gala. Where are you?”
Rex’s gaze never left Argus as he zipped his pants, his voice steady. “Still at the club, love. Business ran late.” A pause. “You know how it is.”
Argus’s fingers fumbled with the buttons of his ruined shirt, his mind racing. This was a mistake. A fucking mistake. He should’ve known better. Should’ve—
“Well, don’t be too late,” Eleanor said, her tone light, dismissive. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, darling,” Rex replied, his voice warm, affectionate. He ended the call and set the phone down with deliberate slowness, his expression unreadable.
The silence between them was suffocating. Argus’s skin still burned where Rex’s mouth had been, his cock twitching traitorously at the memory. But the weight of what they’d just done—what they were doing—settled over him like a shroud. “This can’t happen again,” he said, his voice hollow.
Rex’s laugh was low, humorless. “Liar.” He stepped closer, his hand lifting to cup Argus’s jaw, his thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “You’ll be back. And next time, I won’t let you leave so easily.”
Argus wanted to deny it. Wanted to shove him away, to storm out and never look back. But the truth was a bitter pill in his mouth—Rex was right. He would be back. Because for all his control, all his carefully constructed walls, Argus had never wanted anyone the way he wanted him.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Chapter Three: Whiskey and Want
The elevator doors had barely closed behind Argus when the weight of what had just happened crashed over him like a wave. His suit jacket hung open, his shirt half-unbuttoned, the fabric damp with sweat and the faint imprint of Rex’s teeth near his collarbone. He pressed a hand against the cool brass railing, steadying himself as the car descended, his breath still uneven. This can’t happen again. The words echoed in his skull, hollow even as he’d spoken them. Because he knew the truth—he would be back. The thought alone made his cock twitch against his thigh, traitorous and hungry despite the mess they’d left behind.
But before the present could fully settle, the past pulled him under.
Two years earlier. Monaco.
The air in the private lounge of the Casino de Monte-Carlo was thick with the scent of aged whiskey and the quiet hum of power—men in tailored suits, their laughter low, their deals sealed with handshakes that carried the weight of empires. Argus stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, a glass of Macallan 25 in hand, the amber liquid catching the gold-tinged light of the setting sun. He’d just closed a deal that would make his investors very happy, but the victory felt hollow, as they all did lately. The view of the Mediterranean should’ve been enough. The yachts dotted across the harbor, the clink of ice in crystal glasses, the way the women in designer gowns moved like they owned the world—none of it touched the emptiness gnawing at him.
Then he walked in.
Rex Tillson didn’t so much enter a room as he did command it. The door opened, and suddenly the oxygen shifted, drawn toward him like iron to a magnet. Argus didn’t turn right away—he never turned—but his fingers tightened around his glass, the condensation slick against his palm. He could feel the man’s presence, the way the air charged, static and electric. When he finally glanced over, it was with the detached coolness of a man who didn’t give a damn.
But he did give a damn.
Rex was older—silver at his temples, a beard trimmed to precision, his suit so perfectly tailored it might as well have been painted on. He moved with the confidence of a man who’d never been told no, his blue eyes sharp as they swept the room before landing, inevitably, on Argus. A slow, knowing smile curled his lips, like he’d already won a game Argus didn’t know they were playing.
“Mr. Holloway.” Rex’s voice was smooth, the kind of timbre that slid under skin and settled in the gut. He extended a hand, a gold pinky ring glinting under the chandeliers. “Rex Tillson. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
Argus took his hand, the contact sending a jolt up his arm. Rex’s grip was firm, his palm warm, his fingers lingering just a second too long. “Likewise,” Argus said, his tone even, betraying nothing. But his pulse was a traitor, thrumming in his throat.
Rex didn’t let go immediately. Instead, his thumb brushed the inside of Argus’s wrist—accidental, of course—and when he finally released him, it felt like a loss. “Your reputation precedes you. They say you’re the only man in this room who doesn’t bluff.”
Argus smirked, lifting his glass. “They’re wrong. I bluff. I just don’t get caught.”
A laugh, low and rich, escaped Rex. “Now that I believe.” He signaled to a waiter, who materialized with a fresh glass of whiskey for Rex, neat. No ice. No dilution. Just like the man himself. “Tell me, Argus—may I call you Argus?—what’s a man like you doing in a place like this? You don’t strike me as the type who needs to prove anything.”
Argus swirled his drink, the ice clinking. “Maybe I like the view.”
Rex’s gaze dropped to Argus’s mouth, then lower, before dragging back up. “I’ll bet you do.”
The words hung between them, heavy with implication. Argus should’ve shut it down. Should’ve redirected, played the professional card, reminded Rex they were here for business, not whatever the hell this was. But the heat in Rex’s eyes burned through his usual restraint, and for the first time in years, Argus didn’t want to be smart. He wanted to be reckless.
“You always this forward, Mr. Tillson?” Argus asked, tilting his head just enough to let the light catch the angle of his jaw.
Rex leaned in, close enough that Argus could smell his cologne—cedar and bergamot, expensive and intoxicating. “Only when I see something I want.”
Argus’s breath hitched. He covered it by taking a sip of his whiskey, the burn distracting him from the way his cock stirred in his trousers. “And what if what you want isn’t for sale?”
Rex’s smile turned predatory. “Everything’s for sale, Argus. It’s just a matter of finding the right currency.”
The negotiation that followed was a masterclass in tension. They sat at a secluded table, the deal on the table almost an afterthought. Rex’s knee brushed Argus’s under the table—accidental, of course—and when Argus didn’t pull away, Rex’s foot slid higher, pressing against his inner thigh. Argus’s voice didn’t waver as he countered Rex’s offers, but his fingers twitched around his glass, his body betraying him.
“You’re good at this,” Rex murmured, his voice a rough edge now, the whiskey loosening his usual polish. “But I wonder how good you are at other things.”
Argus should’ve walked away. Should’ve called his car, returned to his suite, and jerked off to the memory of Rex’s voice in the shower. But he didn’t. Instead, he let Rex’s hand settle on his knee under the table, fingers spreading possessively. The heat of his palm seared through the fabric of Argus’s trousers, and when Rex’s thumb traced the seam of his inner thigh, Argus’s cock hardened painfully.
“Careful,” Argus warned, his voice low. “We’re in public.”
Rex’s grip tightened. “Do you want me to be careful?”
The question was a challenge. A dare. Argus’s pulse roared in his ears. He should’ve said yes. Should’ve pushed him away. But the word that came out was, “No.”
Rex’s eyes darkened. “Then let’s get out of here.”
They didn’t make it to Argus’s suite.
The hallway outside the lounge was dim, the carpet plush underfoot, the air thick with the promise of sin. Rex backed Argus against the wall, his body pressing him into the silk damask, his mouth crashing down before Argus could protest. The kiss was filthy—tongues clashing, teeth nipping, Rex’s hands gripping his hips hard enough to bruise. Argus groaned into his mouth, his fingers tangling in Rex’s silver hair, pulling just to feel the man yield.
Rex broke away just long enough to growl, “Fuck, you taste better than I imagined,” before his lips were on Argus’s neck, sucking hard, marking him. Argus’s head fell back against the wall with a thud, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “We can’t—someone will—”
“Let them watch,” Rex snarled, his hand shoving between them, palming Argus’s erection through his trousers. Argus bucked into the touch, a broken sound escaping him. Rex’s fingers worked his belt open, his zipper down, and then—oh god—his hand was inside, wrapping around Argus’s cock, thick and leaking and desperate.
“Look at you,” Rex murmured, stroking him slow, his thumb smearing the precum over his slit. “So fucking hard for me already. Did you think about this? When you saw me across the room, did you imagine my hand on your cock?”
Argus’s hips jerked, his nails digging into Rex’s shoulders. “Yes—fuck—”
Rex’s laugh was dark, triumphant. “Liar. You thought about my mouth.”
The words sent a bolt of need through Argus, his cock throbbing in Rex’s grip. He was going to come. Right here, in the hallway, like some fucking amateur, all because Rex Tillson knew exactly how to play him. “Please—”
Rex’s grip tightened, his stroke turning punishing. “Beg me.”
Argus’s pride warred with his desire, but the pleasure was too much, the need too sharp. “Please,” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Let me come.”
Rex’s mouth was on his again, swallowing his moans as his hand worked Argus’s cock with brutal precision. “Not yet,” he whispered against his lips. “You come when I say you come.”
Argus whimpered, his body trembling, his release coiling tight and denied. Rex’s free hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back, exposing his throat. “You’re mine tonight,” Rex growled, his breath hot against Argus’s skin. “Say it.”
Argus’s vision blurred. “Yours.”
Rex’s teeth sank into the tendon of his neck, and Argus shattered, his cock pulsing in Rex’s grip, cum spilling over his fingers, his suit, the wall. He came with a choked cry, his body jerking, his mind white with pleasure. Rex milked him through it, his mouth sealed over Argus’s to muffle the sounds he couldn’t hold back.
When it was over, Argus sagged against the wall, boneless, his breath ragged. Rex pulled back just enough to lick the cum from his fingers, his eyes locked on Argus’s. “Next time,” he murmured, “I’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours until you forget your own name.”
Argus should’ve been horrified. Should’ve pushed him away, told him to go to hell, stormed off to his suite and never looked back. But all he could manage was a shaky exhale, his cock already stirring again at the promise in Rex’s voice.
Then the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall.
Rex stepped back smoothly, his expression shifting into something cool, composed. By the time a hotel staff member rounded the corner, Rex was adjusting his cufflinks, and Argus was tucking himself back into his trousers, his face carefully blank.
“Everything alright, gentlemen?” the man asked, his gaze flicking between them.
Rex smiled, all charm. “Just a bit too much to drink. My friend here needed some air.”
Argus forced a laugh, his voice steady despite the way his heart hammered. “Yeah. Too much whiskey.”
The man nodded, though his eyes lingered a second too long on the damp spot on Argus’s trousers. Then he moved on, and the moment passed.
Rex leaned in, his voice a whisper. “Next time, Argus. And you will beg.”
Then he was gone, leaving Argus pressed against the wall, his lips swollen, his cock still half-hard, his mind racing with the realization of what he’d just done—and how badly he wanted to do it again.
The elevator dinged, jolting Argus back to the present. The doors slid open, revealing the Waldorf’s opulent lobby, the marble floors gleaming under the chandeliers. He stepped out, his body still humming from the memory, his mind a whirlwind of what ifs and shouldn’ts.
Two years. Two fucking years, and he’d never forgotten that night. Never forgotten the way Rex’s hands had felt on him, the way his voice had wrapped around his spine like a chain.
And now?
Now, he was right back where he’d started—craving something he couldn’t have, terrified of how badly he wanted it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. A message from an unknown number.
You left your tie in my penthouse. I’ll keep it. Until next time.
Argus’s fingers tightened around the device. He should’ve blocked the number. Should’ve thrown his phone into the nearest trash can and walked away.
Instead, he typed a response, his thumb hovering over the send button for only a second before he pressed it.
There will be a next time.
Chapter Four: Bound in Velvet
The black car glided to a stop in front of an unmarked steel door set into a nondescript brick façade in the Meatpacking District. Argus stepped out first, adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal suit, his pulse already quickening. The air smelled of damp pavement and something darker—leather, sweat, the metallic tang of anticipation. Rex followed, his presence a physical weight at Argus’s back, close enough that the heat of him seeped through the fabric of their suits.
“Nervous?” Rex’s voice was a low rumble, his breath warm against Argus’s ear as he leaned in just a fraction too long to be casual.
Argus exhaled through his nose. “I don’t get nervous.”
Rex chuckled, the sound dark and knowing, before knocking twice—sharp, deliberate. The door swung open without a word, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with black velvet. The thud of bass vibrated through the floorboards, a rhythmic heartbeat that seemed to sync with the flutter in Argus’s chest. They were ushered inside by a man in a tailored vest and leather harness, his gaze assessing but deferential. Rex didn’t break stride, his hand finding the small of Argus’s back, guiding him forward with possessive ease.
The club unfolded before them like a living thing—all red lighting, polished chrome, and the slick sheen of sweat on skin. The space was vast but intimate, divided into zones by curtains and strategically placed furniture. To the left, a St. Andrew’s cross stood occupied, a man bound in intricate rope work, his back arched as a woman in a corset dragged a flogger across his thighs. The crack of leather against flesh made Argus’s cock twitch. Straight ahead, a suspension rig held a submissive aloft, their body a canvas of red marks, their moans harmonizing with the music. The air was thick with the scent of sex and something sharper—ozone, maybe, or the electric charge of power exchanging hands.
Rex didn’t give him time to gawk. His fingers tightened on Argus’s hip, steering him toward a secluded alcove draped in heavy crimson velvet. A low, circular platform dominated the space, ringed by plush seating where a handful of patrons lounged, their attention sharpening as Rex and Argus entered. The rules here were unspoken but clear: everything was permitted, but discretion was king.
“Undress,” Rex ordered, his voice cutting through the haze of music and moans like a blade.
Argus turned, his brow furrowing. “Here?”
Rex’s smile was slow, predatory. “Unless you’d rather I do it for you.” He reached for Argus’s tie, his fingers brushing the fabric with deliberate threat. “I won’t be gentle.”
The challenge hung between them, heavy and unmistakable. Argus swallowed, his throat dry, but his hands moved before he could second-guess himself. His jacket slid from his shoulders first, followed by the tie, the buttons of his shirt undone with practiced efficiency. He toed off his shoes, peeled away his socks, then paused at his belt. The weight of Rex’s gaze was a physical thing, burning into his skin as he pushed his slacks down, stepping out of them until he stood in nothing but black briefs, his cock already half-hard, the outline obscene against the thin fabric.
Rex’s breath hitched—just barely—but Argus caught it. Saw the way his pupils dilated, the way his fingers flexed at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach out. For the first time, Argus realized how carefully Rex had been holding himself back. Not just tonight, but always. The understanding sent a jolt through him, sharp and intoxicating.
“On your knees,” Rex said, his voice rougher now.
Argus dropped without hesitation, the plush carpet soft beneath his bare knees. Rex stepped closer, his polished shoes entering Argus’s line of sight, the scent of his cologne—bergamot and something smoky—wrapping around him like a promise. Then Rex’s hand was in his hair, gripping tight, tilting his head back until their eyes locked.
“You’re mine tonight,” Rex murmured, his thumb brushing over Argus’s bottom lip. “No safewords. No limits. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me for it.”
A shiver ran down Argus’s spine. He should’ve protested. Should’ve reminded Rex that he wasn’t some wide-eyed submissive, that he had his own rules, his own control. But the words died in his throat because the truth was, he wanted this—the surrender, the unknown, the way Rex’s dominance made him feel both exposed and seen in a way no one else ever had.
“Yes,” Argus breathed.
Rex’s smile was razor-thin, triumphant. He released Argus’s hair only to unbuckle his own belt, the sound of the leather sliding through the loops obscenely loud. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the head already glistening with pre-cum. Argus’s mouth watered. He leaned in, but Rex tightened his grip, holding him back.
“Not yet.” His free hand dipped into his pocket, emerging with a length of black silk. “Hands behind your back.”
Argus obeyed, lacing his fingers together at the small of his back as Rex bound his wrists with practiced efficiency, the silk smooth but unyielding. The loss of control sent another pulse of heat straight to his groin. His briefs were tented now, his cock aching, leaking. Rex noticed, of course. His gaze dropped, his tongue wet his lower lip.
“Pathetic,” Rex murmured, but his voice was thick, his own cock jerking as if in contradiction. “Look at you. Hard just from being told what to do.”
Argus bit back a retort. He was hard. Painfully so. And when Rex finally guided his mouth onto his cock, it wasn’t gentle. It was a claim—a brutal, relentless fucking of his throat, Rex’s hips snapping forward as he hit the back of Argus’s throat again and again. Argus gagged, tears pricking his eyes, but he didn’t pull away. He took it, his bound hands flexing, his own cock weeping against the fabric of his briefs.
“Fuck, that’s it,” Rex groaned, his voice unraveling. “Take me like a good little slut.”
The words should’ve stung. Should’ve made Argus bristle. But they didn’t. They burned, searing through him, because for the first time, he realized Rex wasn’t just dominating him—he was using Argus to dominate himself. To punish himself. The thought was intoxicating, a key turning in a lock Argus hadn’t known existed.
Rex’s rhythm faltered, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He pulled back suddenly, his cock slipping from Argus’s lips with a wet pop. Argus panted, his lips swollen, his chin slick with spit and pre-cum. Rex’s chest heaved, his usual composure fractured. For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other—raw, exposed.
Then Rex’s hand lashed out, gripping Argus’s jaw hard enough to bruise. “You think you know me,” he growled, his voice rough with something that wasn’t just lust. “You don’t. You don’t know anything.”
Argus didn’t flinch. “Then show me.”
The challenge hung between them, electric. Rex’s grip tightened, his thumb pressing into Argus’s lower lip until it stung. Then, with a snarl, he yanked Argus to his feet, spinning him around and shoving him face-first against the nearest wall. The cool velvet met Argus’s heated skin, his bound hands trapped between his body and the surface. Rex’s weight pressed against his back, his cock hot and heavy against Argus’s ass.
“You want to know me?” Rex’s voice was a dark whisper against Argus’s ear, his breath hot. “Then you’ll feel me. Every fucking inch.”
Argus barely had time to brace before Rex’s hand cracked across his ass, the sound sharp in the enclosed space. Pain bloomed, white-hot, but it was the after—the way Rex’s palm lingered, squeezing the abused flesh—that made Argus moan. Another smack, harder this time, and Argus’s cock jerked, a fresh bead of pre-cum darkening his briefs.
“You like that, don’t you?” Rex’s voice was a velvet snarl, his fingers hooking into the waistband of Argus’s briefs, dragging them down in one rough motion. “You like being used.”
Argus’s cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip already slick. He should’ve been embarrassed—exposed like this, hard and leaking in a room full of strangers—but he wasn’t. He was alive, every nerve ending singing under Rex’s touch.
“Please,” Argus gasped, his forehead pressing against the wall.
Rex’s chuckle was dark, triumphant. “Since you asked so nicely.”
The first press of Rex’s cock against him was a tease—hot, slick with lube Argus hadn’t even seen him apply. Then Rex was pushing inside, slow but relentless, stretching Argus open with a burn that bordered on pain. Argus hissed, his fingers curling into fists behind his back, but he didn’t pull away. He arched, pushing back, taking Rex deeper until his balls pressed flush against Argus’s ass.
“Fuck,” Rex groaned, his voice rough, his hands gripping Argus’s hips hard enough to leave marks. “You’re perfect.”
And then he moved.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was a fucking—raw, punishing, Rex’s cock pistoning in and out of Argus with a wet, obscene sound, his balls slapping against Argus’s skin with every thrust. Argus’s vision whited out, his cock trapped between his body and the wall, the friction almost too much. He was babbling, pleading, his words dissolving into broken moans as Rex ruined him.
“You’re mine,” Rex snarled, his teeth sinking into the junction of Argus’s neck and shoulder, marking him. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” Argus gasped, the words torn from him, true in a way that terrified him. “Fuck, I’m yours.”
Rex’s rhythm stuttered, his cock swelling inside Argus as he came with a guttural groan, his cum filling Argus in hot, thick pulses. The sensation sent Argus over the edge, his own orgasm ripping through him, his cock painting the wall in front of him with rope after rope of cum, his body shuddering with the force of it.
They collapsed like that—Rex still buried inside him, their breaths ragged, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on them like a physical thing. Rex’s hands trembled where they gripped Argus’s hips, his forehead dropping to rest against Argus’s shoulder.
And for the first time, Argus heard him—really heard him—not just the dominance, not just the control, but the fracture beneath it. The vulnerability Rex had been trying to fuck out of himself for years.
Argus turned his head, their lips brushing in something that wasn’t quite a kiss. “I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Rex’s breath hitched. And for once, he didn’t pull away.
Chapter Five: Bound in Leather
The air in the private alcove was thick with the scent of sweat, leather, and something darker—something like the metallic tang of need. Argus remained on his knees, his breath still uneven from the rough fucking Rex had just given him, the sting of the wall against his chest and the ghost of Rex’s teeth in his shoulder lingering like a brand. His wrists, still bound, ached in the most delicious way, the leather cuffs biting just enough to remind him who was in control.
The door to the alcove clicked open, and Seraphine glided in, her presence as smooth as the black silk draped over her shoulders. The club’s owner moved with the kind of confidence that came from knowing every inch of her domain—and every secret it held. Her dark eyes flicked over Argus, assessing, before landing on Rex, who hadn’t moved from where he stood, his shirt still unbuttoned, his cock softening but still glistening with the evidence of what they’d just done.
“You two look like you could use something… more,” Seraphine purred, her voice a low, honeyed drawl. She held up a bundle of black leather—a harness, custom-made, the straps intricate and designed to wrap around the torso, the thighs, the arms, leaving just enough room to breathe but not enough to forget who owned that breath. “For him,” she said, tossing it to Rex without waiting for permission.
Rex caught it effortlessly, his fingers tracing the supple leather. His expression didn’t change—no smirk, no smirk, just that same unreadable calm that made Argus’s skin prickle. “Stand up,” Rex ordered, his voice rough, like gravel under boot heels.
Argus obeyed, rising to his feet, his muscles still humming from the orgasm that had wrung him out. The cool air of the alcove brushed against his sweat-slicked skin, raising goosebumps. Rex stepped closer, close enough that Argus could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive, something that smelled like power.
The first strap went around Argus’s chest, tight enough to press against his pecs, the leather cool at first, then warming as it molded to his skin. Rex’s fingers worked methodically, buckling, adjusting, pulling until the harness hugged Argus like a second skin, the straps digging in just shy of pain. Another looped around his upper arms, forcing his shoulders back, his posture rigid, exposed. The leather between his legs was the worst—or the best—part, a thin strip that nestled against his spent cock, the pressure just enough to make him ache with the ghost of pleasure.
Argus exhaled sharply as Rex cinched the final buckle at the small of his back, the leather pulling taut. His breath hitched when Rex’s knuckles grazed his hip, deliberate, possessive. “Too tight?” Rex murmured, though he already knew the answer.
Argus swallowed. “No, sir.”
Rex’s lips quirked, just for a second, before he stepped back to admire his work. The harness turned Argus into something else—not just a man, but an offering. A thing to be used. The thought sent a fresh pulse of heat through him, his cock twitching despite the exhaustion.
Seraphine watched them with the satisfied air of someone who’d just arranged a particularly pleasing tableau. She reached into the pocket of her silk robe and produced a small vial, the glass dark, the liquid inside catching the dim red light of the alcove. “Sandalwood and smoke,” she said, pressing it into Rex’s palm. “For the finishing touch.”
Rex didn’t thank her. He didn’t need to. The unspoken understanding between them was enough. Seraphine slipped out as silently as she’d entered, leaving them alone again, the door clicking shut behind her.
Rex rolled the vial between his fingers, then popped the cork. The scent hit Argus first—rich, earthy, with something dark and burning beneath it, like the aftermath of a fire. It was the same smell that had clung to Rex that night in Monaco, the same smell that had made Argus’s pulse jump when Rex had cornered him in the casino’s private lounge, his mouth hot against Argus’s ear, his words filthy and unapologetic.
You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass of yours before the night’s over, aren’t you?
Argus’s cock gave another weak throb at the memory.
Rex poured a generous amount of oil into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it. Then his hands were on Argus’s chest, slick and firm, spreading the oil in slow, deliberate circles. The heat of his palms seeped into Argus’s skin, the scent of sandalwood and smoke rising between them, thick and intoxicating. Argus’s head fell back with a groan as Rex’s thumbs dragged over his nipples, the oil making his skin hypersensitive, every touch amplified.
“You remember Monaco,” Rex said. It wasn’t a question.
Argus nodded, his voice rough. “Hard to forget.”
Rex’s hands slid lower, over the ridges of Argus’s abs, his fingers dipping into the shallow valleys between muscle. “I noticed things about you that night,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “Little details.” His palm pressed flat against Argus’s stomach, pushing him back against the wall. “Your collar was too tight. You kept adjusting it, like it was choking you.” His fingers trailed up to Argus’s throat, not squeezing, just resting there, a promise. “I wondered if you liked that. The pressure. The reminder.”
Argus’s breath came faster. He had liked it. Still did.
Rex’s other hand slid down, his fingers tracing the faint scar on the inside of Argus’s wrist—a thin, white line, barely visible unless you were looking for it. “This,” Rex said, his thumb pressing into it. “Fresh, back then. Still angry. You got it from someone who didn’t know how to handle you.” His grip tightened, just for a second. “I would’ve done it differently.”
Argus’s cock was fully hard again, trapped against the leather, the friction maddening. He bit his lip to keep from begging.
Rex’s hands moved to his thighs, massaging the oil into the thick muscle, his thumbs digging in just shy of bruising. “And your eyes,” he continued, his voice dropping to a growl. “Fuck, your eyes. You looked at me like you were starving. Like you’d kill for a taste.” His palm slid up, gripping Argus’s throat again, this time with real pressure. “I’ve been mapping you ever since, Argus. Every fucking inch.”
Argus’s vision swam, his pulse hammering under Rex’s fingers. He could barely get the words out. “Then why’d you wait?”
Rex’s laugh was dark, triumphant. “Because watching you squirm is half the fun.” His mouth crashed onto Argus’s, his tongue forcing its way in, tasting of whiskey and sin. The kiss was brutal, possessive, Rex’s teeth nipping at Argus’s lower lip hard enough to draw blood before soothing it with a slow lick.
When he pulled back, Argus was panting, his cock leaking, his entire body thrumming with need. Rex’s eyes burned into him, blue and relentless. “On your knees,” he ordered.
Argus dropped without hesitation, the leather creaking as he sank to the floor. Rex’s cock was already hardening again, thick and veined, the head dark with blood. Argus didn’t wait for permission. He leaned in, his tongue flicking over the slit, tasting the bitter salt of pre-cum.
Rex’s hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head back. “Not yet,” he growled. “You’ll take me when I say you can take me. Understood?”
Argus’s lips were wet, his breath ragged. “Yes, sir.”
Rex’s smile was razor-sharp. “Good boy.” His free hand reached down, tracing the line of Argus’s jaw, his thumb pressing against his lips. “Now beg.”
Chapter Six: Chain of Command
The alcove’s dim, amber lighting cast long shadows across Argus’s oil-slicked skin as he knelt, wrists still bound behind him, the custom harness biting into his chest with every breath. The scent of sandalwood and smoke clung to him, thick and intoxicating, a reminder of Rex’s hands mapping every inch of his body. His cock throbbed, heavy between his thighs, the denial of release a cruel tease that made his muscles tremble. He could still taste Rex on his lips—iron and whiskey—and the ghost of his fingers tightening around his throat.
Seraphine’s heels clicked against the polished concrete as she stepped back into the space, her presence a silent command. In her hands, she held a length of supple black leather, the collar’s polished surface catching the low light as she turned it, revealing the engraved script: Argus. Beneath it, a set of weighted silver clamps glinted, their chains delicate but unmistakably punishing.
“A gift,” she murmured, her voice smooth as aged bourbon, “for the man who thinks he’s still in control.” Her gaze flicked to Rex, who stood behind Argus, his broad frame a wall of dominance. “Though I suspect you already know how to make him beg.”
Rex’s chuckle was low, dark, his fingers curling into Argus’s shoulder before sliding down to trace the harness’s straps. “Oh, he’s been begging since Monaco. Just not with words.” His other hand dipped lower, palming Argus’s cock through the leather, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. “Isn’t that right, boy?”
Argus’s breath hitched, his hips jerking involuntarily into the touch. The word boy sent a jolt through him, humiliating and exhilarating all at once. He swallowed hard, but before he could answer, Seraphine knelt in front of him, the collar dangling from her fingers like a promise.
“Open,” she ordered.
Argus obeyed, parting his lips as she fed the leather between his teeth, buckling the gag snugly behind his head. The taste of treated hide filled his mouth, the pressure forcing his jaw wide, silencing him. His pulse spiked—not just from the restraint, but from the realization of what was coming. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t beg. Couldn’t do anything but take.
Rex’s breath was hot against his ear. “Good. Now you’ll learn what it means to be mine.”
Seraphine rose gracefully, offering the clamps to Rex. “Weighted. Just enough to keep him aware of every movement.” Her smirk was razor-sharp. “Let’s see how long he lasts before he’s dripping for you.”
Rex took the clamps, testing their weight in his palm before pinching one of Argus’s nipples between his fingers. The bud was already tight, sensitive from the oil and the cool air of the alcove. Argus flinched, a muffled sound escaping him as Rex rolled the flesh, preparing it. “You’re going to wear these like a good little slut,” Rex murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “And you’re going to take my cock without a single sound. Understand?”
Argus nodded, his breath coming faster, his bound hands flexing behind him. The anticipation was worse than the pain—knowing what was coming, unable to brace for it. Rex didn’t hesitate. The first clamp closed with a sharp click, the weight dragging at Argus’s nipple, sending a white-hot spike of pain lancing through his chest. His back arched, a strangled groan tearing from his throat, but the gag swallowed most of it. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, not from weakness, but from the overwhelming sensation—the way the pain radiated outward, settling between his legs, making his cock twitch.
“Fuck, look at you,” Rex growled, his free hand tangling in Argus’s short hair, yanking his head back. “Already leaking for me.” He didn’t wait for a response before attaching the second clamp, this one even tighter. Argus’s vision blurred for a second, his body locking up as the dual weights pulled at his chest, the chain between them swaying with every shuddering breath. The pain was exquisite, a live wire connected straight to his dick.
Rex released him abruptly, stepping back to admire his work. Argus panted through his nose, his chest heaving, the clamps jostling with each movement, sending fresh waves of agony and arousal through him. He could feel the wetness at the tip of his cock, the pre-cum slicking his skin, evidence of how deeply this undid him.
“On your back,” Rex ordered, nudging Argus’s shoulder until he collapsed onto the padded bench, the leather cool against his overheated skin. The clamps shifted, the weights dragging downward, making his nipples throb. He bit down on the gag, his thighs trembling as Rex knelt between his legs, his suit pants already unzipped, his cock free—thick, veined, the head glistening.
“You don’t come until I say so,” Rex reminded him, stroking himself lazily. “And you don’t make a sound.” He leaned forward, dragging the head of his cock through Argus’s slick pre-cum, coating himself. “If you do, I stop. And you’ll spend the rest of the night with these clamps on, edging until your balls turn blue.”
Argus whimpered, the sound desperate, but he nodded, his dark eyes locked onto Rex’s. He wanted this. Wanted the pain, the control, the way Rex made him feel like nothing and everything all at once.
Rex didn’t tease. He lined himself up and pushed in, slow and relentless, his cock stretching Argus open inch by inch. The burn was delicious, the fullness almost too much, but Argus forced himself to stay still, his bound hands digging into the bench beneath him. The clamps swung with each thrust, the weights tugging at his nipples, sending jolts of pain straight to his cock. He bit down harder on the gag, his body trembling with the effort not to cry out, not to beg, not to come.
“That’s it,” Rex groaned, his hips rolling in deep, measured strokes. “Take it like the pretty little whore you are.” His hand found Argus’s throat, squeezing just enough to make his breath rasp. “You were made for this, weren’t you? For my hands, my cock, my rules.”
Argus’s answer was a broken sound, his hips lifting off the bench despite himself, seeking more. The clamps pulled at his chest, the pain sharp and bright, but it only made the pleasure more intense, his cock aching, his balls drawn tight. Rex’s pace never faltered—slow, deliberate, each thrust dragging against that spot inside him that made his toes curl, his vision whiten at the edges.
“You’re close,” Rex observed, his voice rough. “I can feel you clenching around me, greedy fucking hole.” He leaned down, his lips brushing Argus’s ear. “But you’re not allowed, remember? Not until I say.”
Argus whined, his body betraying him, his cock throbbing, his ass tightening around Rex’s cock. The denial was torture, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with nowhere to go. The clamps swung, the weights a constant, maddening reminder of his submission.
Rex’s fingers tightened on his throat. “Breathe, boy.”
Argus gasped, his lungs burning, his cock leaking onto his stomach. He was so close, so fucking close—
Rex pulled out suddenly, leaving him empty, his cock slapping against his abs. Argus keened into the gag, his hips jerking, his body screaming for release.
“Not yet,” Rex murmured, stroking himself as he watched Argus writhe. “You’ll wait until I’m ready to let you come. And when I do…” He trailed off, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock, smearing pre-cum. “You’re going to thank me for every second of this.”
Argus’s chest heaved, the clamps tugging with each ragged breath, his cock weeping, his entire body a live wire of need. He was Rex’s. Completely. Utterly. And the worst part?
He never wanted it to end.
Chapter Seven: Edge of Ownership
The moment Rex pulled free, Argus’s body trembled—not from relief, but from the agony of denial. His cock throbbed, heavy and leaking, the clamps on his nipples sending sharp jolts through his chest with every ragged breath. The leather collar dug into his throat as he swallowed a groan, his wrists straining against the harness straps. He was a mess of need, sweat slicking his dark skin, his muscles coiled tight with the effort of not begging. Fuck. He wanted to scream, to curse, to demand Rex finish what he’d started—but the gag in his mouth turned every sound into a choked whimper.
Seraphine’s fingers brushed his cheek, her touch deceptively gentle as she stepped into view, a coil of silk rope draped over one arm. “Such a good boy,” she murmured, her voice a velvet purr. “All bound up and aching for it.” Argus’s eyes flicked to hers, dark with frustration, but she only smirked, unfurling the rope with practiced ease. “Let’s make sure you stay that way.”
Before he could tense, she seized his left wrist, yanking it upward with enough force to make the clamps tug painfully at his nipples. The silk whispered against his skin as she looped it around his wrist, her movements swift and precise. Argus twisted, testing the give, but the rope was already tightening, binding him to the bench’s headboard. His breath hitched as she repeated the motion with his other wrist, pulling his arms taut above his head. The position arched his back, stretching his torso, and the clamps bit deeper, sending a fresh wave of pain-laced pleasure straight to his cock. A droplet of pre-cum beaded at the tip, glistening in the dim amber light.
“Perfect,” Seraphine sighed, stepping back to admire her work. She trailed a fingernail down his sternum, just shy of the clamps, and Argus jerked, a muffled curse vibrating against the gag. “Now you’re truly mine.” The words sent a shiver down his spine—not because he believed them, but because they were close enough to the truth to sting.
Rex had been watching, silent and predatory, his chest bare now, the tailored slacks he still wore doing little to hide the thick outline of his erection. He circled the bench like a wolf sizing up prey, his fingers dragging over the silk rope, the leather straps, the cruel metal of the clamps. Every touch was a brand, sending Argus’s nerves into overdrive. “Look at you,” Rex murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. “All trussed up, leaking like a slut, and you still think you’ve got a choice in this.”
Argus bared his teeth against the gag, but the sound that escaped was more need than defiance. Rex chuckled, low and dark, then leaned down, his beard scraping Argus’s shoulder before his teeth sank in—hard. The pain was sharp, immediate, and Argus bucked against the bench, the movement making the clamps pull mercilessly at his nipples. A broken moan tore from his throat, the sound swallowed by the gag.
“Such a pretty picture,” Rex growled, straightening just enough to let his hand glide down Argus’s flank, over the curve of his ass, before gripping his thigh possessively. “But pretty isn’t enough. I want to hear you scream.”
Argus’s stomach dropped. He knew that tone—the one that promised he was about to be pushed past every limit he thought he had. Rex reached into his discarded jacket and produced a sleek, black vibrator, its hum barely audible as he switched it on. The low buzz filled the air, ominous, and Argus’s entire body locked up in anticipation.
Then Rex pressed it against his perineum.
The sensation was obscene—a deep, vibrating pressure that radiated up through his balls, his cock, his entire pelvis. Argus’s back bowed off the bench, a strangled cry ripping from his chest as the vibrations synced with the throb of the clamps. His vision whited out for a second, pleasure and pain twisting together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The gag was soaked now, his saliva dripping down his chin, his cock weeping in time with the relentless buzz.
“That’s it,” Rex crooned, increasing the pressure just as he lined himself up behind Argus. “Take it. Take all of it.”
There was no warning, no gentle prep—just the thick, brutal stretch of Rex shoving back inside him in one punishing thrust. Argus screamed, the sound muffled and raw, his body convulsing as the vibrator and Rex’s cock worked in tandem to destroy him. The bench creaked beneath him, the rope digging into his wrists as he pulled against it, desperate for something—anything—to ground him.
Rex set a ruthless pace, his hips snapping forward with every thrust, the vibrator never wavering. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted, his fingers digging into Argus’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Like you were made for this. For me.”
Argus couldn’t form words, couldn’t think—he could only feel. The clamps tugged with every movement, the rope burned his wrists, the vibrator turned his nerves to live wires, and Rex’s cock owned him, stretching him, filling him, ruining him. His cock was a traitor, leaking in thick pulses, his balls drawn up tight with the need to come. He wasn’t going to last—he couldn’t—
As if sensing his breaking point, Rex reached around and wrapped a hand around Argus’s throat, squeezing just enough to cut off his air. “You don’t come until I say so,” he snarled, his voice a dark promise. “You don’t breathe until I say so.”
The order sent Argus spiraling. His body was a live wire, every nerve alight with too much sensation, too much need. The vibrator’s buzz seemed to echo in his bones, the clamps a constant, biting reminder of his submission. Rex’s cock pistoned into him, each thrust deeper than the last, his grip on Argus’s throat unrelenting.
“Please—” The word was a broken whimper, torn from him despite the gag. His vision spotted at the edges, his cock aching, his entire being reduced to the desperate, animalistic need to obey.
Rex’s laugh was a dark, triumphant sound. “Begging already?” He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of Argus’s ear. “Good. Because you’re mine, and I’m not done with you yet.”
The vibrator’s intensity spiked, and Rex’s next thrust hit that perfect, devastating angle inside him. Argus shattered—not in release, but in surrender, his body convulsing, his cries a muffled, endless litany of need. He was drowning in it, in the pain and the pleasure and the ownership, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t give a damn if he ever came up for air.
Chapter Eight: Relentless Control
Argus’s body still trembled from the last wave of denied release, his muscles taut against the silk ropes binding his wrists to the bench. The clamps on his nipples throbbed in time with his pulse, each tug sending a fresh jolt of pain-laced pleasure straight to his cock. His breath came in ragged gasps, his throat raw from screaming, from begging—from the way Rex had choked him just to remind him who owned his pleasure. The vibrator still hummed against his perineum, a relentless, maddening pressure that kept him teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t reach.
Rex stepped back, his chest heaving slightly, his slacks still unbuttoned, his cock glistening with Argus’s arousal and his own. He wiped his thumb along his lower lip, smudging the faint smear of pre-cum there, his blue eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” His voice was a low, rough purr, the kind that slithered under Argus’s skin and coiled around his spine. “I can see it in the way your thighs shake. In the way you’re fighting not to come.” He reached down, trailing his fingers along Argus’s inner thigh, just shy of his aching cock. “But you won’t. Not until I let you.”
Argus whimpered, his hips jerking uselessly against the restraints. The gag in his mouth muffled his pleas, but the sound was desperate, broken. He needed—fuck, he needed—
Seraphine moved into view, her gloved fingers deft as she adjusted the dial on the remote in her hand. The clamps tightened fractionally, and Argus hissed, his back arching off the bench. “Such a good boy,” she murmured, her voice clinical, almost affectionate. “Taking everything we give you.” She turned the remote again, and the vibrator’s intensity spiked, pressing harder against that sensitive spot behind his balls. Argus choked on a sob, his cock twitching violently, pre-cum dripping in a steady rhythm onto the leather beneath him.
Rex chuckled, low and dark. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” He crouched beside the bench, his breath hot against Argus’s ear. “But we’re not done with you yet.” He straightened, reaching into the bag of toys Seraphine had brought. His fingers emerged with something sleek and black—a weighted plug, its base flared and heavy, the silicone smooth and unyielding. He held it up, letting the dim light catch the subtle sheen of lube already glistening on its surface. “This is going to fill you up, Argus. Going to make sure you remember who you belong to, even when I’m not inside you.”
Argus’s breath hitched. His hole still ached from Rex’s cock, the stretch of it, the way he’d been fucked raw and deep. The thought of something else—something permanent—being shoved inside him made his stomach clench. But the way Rex was looking at him, like he was already property, already owned, sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in his gut.
“Turn him,” Rex ordered, and Seraphine moved without hesitation, releasing the buckles on the bench’s harness just enough to roll Argus onto his side. His bound wrists strained against the silk, his muscles protesting as he was maneuvered, but he didn’t fight it. Couldn’t. The clamps swung slightly with the movement, the weights pulling at his nipples, and he gasped, his cock throbbing in time with the sharp tugs.
Rex knelt behind him, his thighs bracketing Argus’s hips. One hand slid over the curve of Argus’s ass, fingers dipping between his cheeks, teasing at his entrance. “You’re still so tight,” he murmured, pressing the tip of the plug against him. “Even after I fucked you open.” He didn’t wait for a response. The plug breached him in one smooth, relentless push, the weight of it dragging at his rim as it sank deeper. Argus groaned, his fingers curling into fists, the silk ropes biting into his wrists. The stretch burned, but it was good, the fullness overwhelming, the weight inside him a constant, inescapable reminder of who was in control.
Seraphine knelt beside them, her gloved hand brushing over Argus’s hip. “Beautiful,” she murmured, more to herself than to them. She adjusted the remote again, and the clamps pulsed, the weights tugging harder, sending fresh spikes of pain straight to Argus’s cock. The vibrator against his perineum kicked up another notch, the buzzing vibration syncing with the rhythmic pull of the clamps. His body was a circuit, every nerve alight, every sensation feeding into the next—pain, pleasure, denial, all of it twisting together until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
Rex’s fingers dug into Argus’s hip, holding him steady as he pressed the plug deeper, until the flared base seated snugly against his ass. “There,” he growled, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Now you’ll feel me every time you move. Every time you breathe.” He reached around, wrapping his hand around Argus’s throat, tilting his head back just enough to press a biting kiss to his jaw. “You’re mine, Argus. Inside and out.”
Argus whined, his cock leaking helplessly, his body trapped in the cycle of need and denial. The plug was heavy, the weight of it dragging at him, making him acutely aware of every shift, every twitch. The clamps pulsed again, and he jerked, his hips stuttering forward, seeking friction he couldn’t find. The vibrator’s buzz intensified, and his vision whited out for a second, his cock throbbing, his balls drawn up tight.
“Please—” The word tore out of him, muffled by the gag, but Rex heard it. Of course he did.
“Please what?” Rex’s lips brushed the shell of Argus’s ear, his breath hot, his voice a dark caress. “You want to come?” His fingers tightened around Argus’s throat, just shy of cutting off his air. “You think you’ve earned it?”
Argus shook his head, or tried to, but Rex’s grip held him still. He didn’t know. He didn’t know. All he understood was the fire in his veins, the way his body was being played like an instrument, every touch, every vibration, every cruel tug of the clamps designed to push him higher, to keep him right on the edge of something he couldn’t have.
Seraphine’s fingers danced over the remote, and the vibrator’s pattern changed—short, sharp bursts now, synced perfectly with the clamps’ pull. Argus’s cock jerked, his hips bucking uselessly, his body betraying him, begging for release even as his mind screamed in frustration. “Look at you,” Rex murmured, his free hand sliding down Argus’s chest, his fingers tracing the line of his abs before wrapping around his cock. “So hard. So desperate.” He stroked him once, twice, his grip firm, his rhythm maddeningly slow. “You could come right now, couldn’t you? One more touch, and you’d shatter.”
Argus keened, his body straining, his cock aching, his balls heavy and full. He was so close, so fucking close—
Rex let go.
Argus sobbed, his hips jerking, his cock throbbing in the empty air. The denial was a physical pain, a deep, gnawing ache that settled in his gut, in his bones. The plug shifted inside him with the movement, the weight of it dragging, the fullness a constant, infuriating reminder.
“Not yet,” Rex murmured, his lips curling against Argus’s skin. He reached for the remote in Seraphine’s hand, taking it from her. “But we’ll keep you right there.” His thumb pressed a button, and the vibrator’s intensity spiked, the clamps pulling harder, the pain and pleasure blending into something almost unbearable. Argus’s body convulsed, his cock weeping, his muscles locking as he fought not to come, fought not to disobey—
“Good boy,” Rex purred, his voice a dark, velvety promise. “Now let’s see how long you can last.”
Chapter Nine: Edge of Surrender
The low hum of the vibrator pulsed against Argus’s perineum, a relentless tease that made his thighs tremble. His breath came in ragged gasps, the nipple clamps biting into his flesh with every shallow inhale. Rex’s voice still lingered in his ear—You think you’ve earned it?—the words a cruel caress that coiled around his mind, tightening like the silk ropes binding his wrists. He was so close, so fucking close, his cock aching, pre-cum beading at the tip, only for Rex to pull away, leaving him stranded on the precipice of release. The denial was maddening, a slow burn that seeped into his bones, making his skin feverish beneath the leather harness.
Then—movement. The rustle of fabric, the faint clink of a belt buckle being undone. Argus twisted his head just enough to catch the reflection in the mirrored wall beside them: Rex’s fingers working at the buttons of his crisp white shirt, peeling it away to reveal the broad expanse of his chest, the silver hair dusting his pecs, the defined ridges of his abdomen. The older man’s hands moved with deliberate slowness, as if he knew Argus was watching, as if he wanted him to ache for it. The shirt dropped to the floor, followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper being drawn down.
Argus swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel the heat radiating off Rex’s body before it even touched him, could practically taste the musk of his cologne mingling with the sharper scent of arousal. Then—skin. Bare, warm, hard skin pressing against his back, Rex’s chest flush against his shoulder blades, the coarse hair there abrading his own smooth flesh. A low groan tore from Argus’s throat as Rex’s arms slid around him, caging him in, one hand splaying possessively over his abdomen, fingers tracing the ridges of his abs before dipping lower, lower—
“You like that, don’t you?” Rex’s voice was a dark purr, his lips brushing the shell of Argus’s ear. “Feeling me against you. Knowing I could take whatever the fuck I want from you.” His free hand slid up, palm cupping Argus’s throat, thumb pressing just enough to tilt his head back against Rex’s shoulder. The position forced Argus’s spine to arch, his chest to thrust forward, the clamps pulling taut. A sharp jolt of pain lanced through his nipples, and he hissed, his cock jerking in its restraints.
“Nnh—fuck—”
Rex chuckled, low and dirty, his beard scratching against Argus’s jaw. “Such a pretty sound. Say it again.”
Argus’s mind short-circuited. The weight of Rex’s body pinning him, the throb of the clamps, the relentless buzz of the vibrator—it was too much, not enough, everything. His hips twitched, seeking friction, but Rex’s grip on his throat tightened, holding him still.
“Beg for it.”
The command sent a shiver down Argus’s spine. He hated begging. Hated the way it made his pride curl in on itself, hated the way his voice shook when he did it. But the alternative—being left like this, strung out and desperate—was worse. His lips parted, a whine escaping before he could form words.
“P-please—”
“Please what?” Rex’s fingers flexed against his throat, just shy of cutting off his air. “Use your words, Argus. Tell me exactly what you want.”
The vibrator’s pattern shifted, the pulses coming faster, sharper, synced to the erratic rhythm of Argus’s heartbeat. His vision blurred at the edges, his body a live wire, every nerve alight. He could feel Seraphine’s presence nearby, her fingers likely dancing over the remote, adjusting the settings to match Rex’s cruelty.
“Fuck me,” Argus gasped, the words torn from him. “I want you to fuck me—”
Rex’s grip on his throat eased just enough to let him draw a ragged breath. “Good boy,” he murmured, the praise a velvet whipcrack that made Argus’s cock leak. Then his hand was gone, sliding down to wrap around Argus’s shaft, stroking him with maddening slowness. “But we both know you don’t get to come until I say so.”
Argus’s hips bucked into the touch, his body betraying him. “I—I can’t—Rex—”
“You can,” Rex growled, his teeth grazing Argus’s earlobe. “And you will. Because if you don’t, I’ll have Seraphine turn that vibrator up another notch and edge you until you’re sobbing.” His hand stilled, his thumb pressing into the slick head of Argus’s cock, smearing the pre-cum in slow, taunting circles. “Understood?”
Argus nodded frantically, his breath hitching as the vibrator’s intensity spiked, the clamps tightening in tandem. A broken sound escaped him, half-moan, half-curse, his body caught between the need to obey and the overwhelming urge to fucking come.
Rex’s chuckle was dark, satisfied. “Such a good little slut for me.” His hand left Argus’s cock, and for a heartbeat, Argus thought he might actually die from the loss. But then Rex’s fingers were back, this time slick with lube, pressing between his cheeks, teasing at the weighted plug already seated deep inside him. “You’re going to take me so well, aren’t you? Even with this filling you up.” He twisted the plug just enough to make Argus groan, the stretch burning in the best way. “Answer me.”
“Yes—” Argus’s voice cracked. “Yes, sir—”
Rex’s free hand tangled in Argus’s short hair, yanking his head back further, exposing the line of his throat. “That’s right.” His lips pressed to the pulse point beneath Argus’s jaw, his tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his sweat. “And when I finally let you come, you’re going to do it with my name on your lips. Not before.”
The promise hung between them, thick and heavy, as Rex’s hips rolled, his erection sliding against the cleft of Argus’s ass. The friction was obscene, the heat of him searing through Argus’s skin. Behind them, Seraphine’s fingers flew over the remote again, and the clamps pulsed, sending a fresh wave of pain-laced pleasure crashing through Argus’s chest. His back bowed, a strangled cry tearing from his throat as his cock throbbed, so close, so fucking close—
Rex’s hand clamped down on his hip, nails digging in. “Not yet.”
Argus whimpered, his entire body trembling. He could feel Rex’s smirk against his skin, the older man’s satisfaction at his unraveling. The vibrator’s rhythm stuttered, then synced perfectly with the slow, deliberate grind of Rex’s hips, each roll of his pelvis pressing the plug deeper, stretching Argus open in preparation.
“You’re dripping,” Rex murmured, his fingers slipping lower to tease at Argus’s entrance, already slick with lube and his own arousal. “Such a greedy little hole. Can’t wait to feel me inside you, can you?”
Argus shook his head, his breath coming in short, sharp pants. “N-no, I—I can’t—”
Rex’s fingers pressed in alongside the plug, the stretch bordering on too much, and Argus’s vision whited out for a second, his cock jerking violently. “Liar.” Rex’s voice was a dark chuckle, his breath hot against Argus’s ear. “You were made for this. For me.”
The words sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in Argus’s gut. He was made for this—the submission, the ache, the way Rex could reduce him to nothing but need with a single touch. The realization should’ve terrified him. Instead, it made him harder, his body betraying him in the worst possible way.
Rex’s fingers withdrew, leaving him empty, the plug a poor substitute for what he craved. “Please,” Argus whispered, his voice raw. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” Rex interrupted, his hand sliding up to grip Argus’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze in the mirror. Their eyes locked—Argus’s dark and desperate, Rex’s blue and burning with dark promise. “And you’ll get it. When I decide.”
With that, he released Argus’s chin, his hand trailing down his chest, fingers pinching one of the clamp chains. Argus hissed as the pressure increased, the pain sharp and bright, but it was nothing compared to the way his cock throbbed, the way his entire body felt like it was about to combust.
Rex’s lips curved against his shoulder. “Now,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress, “let’s see how long you can last.”
Chapter Ten: Ownership
The low hum of the vibrator pulsed against Argus’s perineum, a relentless tease that made his thighs tremble. His breath came in ragged gasps, the weighted clamps on his nipples sending sharp jolts of pain with every shift of his chest. Rex’s fingers still lingered near his cock, the ghost of his touch maddening—just enough pressure to keep him aching, never enough to let him spill. The denial coiled tight in his gut, a desperate, throbbing need that made his vision blur at the edges.
Then Rex moved.
Argus heard the rustle of fabric first—the whisper of a belt being undone, the slow drag of a zipper. His pulse spiked. Rex’s suit had been a barrier, a reminder of the man’s control, his untouchable authority. But now, as the tailored slacks pooled at Rex’s ankles, followed by the crisp snap of his boxers hitting the floor, that last layer of separation vanished. Bare skin met bare skin as Rex stepped closer, the heat of his body searing into Argus’s back. The older man’s chest was broad, his muscles still firm despite his age, the silver hair dusting his pecs catching the dim light of the alcove. His cock, thick and half-hard, pressed against the curve of Argus’s ass, the weight of it a promise.
“Feel that?” Rex’s voice was a rough murmur against the shell of Argus’s ear, his breath hot. His hands slid up Argus’s sides, palms calloused, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. “No more hiding behind clothes. No more pretending this is just a game.” His hips rolled, the drag of his erection against Argus’s skin deliberate, slow. “You’re mine, Argus. Every inch of you.”
Argus whimpered, his bound wrists straining against the restraints. The plug inside him shifted with Rex’s movement, the weight of it a constant, intrusive presence. He could feel the slickness of lube, the stretch of his own body accommodating the invasion, and the way Rex’s cock twitched against him, growing harder by the second. His own dick throbbed, leaking precome onto the leather beneath him, the denial a physical ache.
Seraphine’s fingers appeared in his periphery, delicate but precise as she adjusted the dial on the remote. The vibrator’s rhythm changed instantly—no longer a steady hum, but a pulsing, erratic pattern that synced with Rex’s breaths. Every time the older man exhaled, the vibrations spiked, sending a jolt through Argus’s nerves. The clamps tightened in response, the chain between them tugging with each shift of his chest.
“God, you’re beautiful like this,” Rex groaned, his lips brushing the sensitive skin beneath Argus’s ear. His teeth grazed the tendon of his neck, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make Argus jerk. “Bound. Trembling. So fucking desperate for me.” His hand slid down Argus’s stomach, fingers tracing the deep V of his hips before wrapping around his cock—not to stroke, but to squeeze, just below the head. “You’d come right now if I let you, wouldn’t you? One little flick of my wrist, and you’d paint the fucking floor.”
Argus keened, his hips bucking uselessly into the restraint. “P-please—”
“Please what?” Rex’s grip tightened, his thumb pressing into the sensitive underside of Argus’s cock. The pain was sharp, grounding, but the pleasure beneath it was worse—relentless, clawing. “You don’t get to ask for anything. You don’t even get to breathe without my permission.” His free hand snaked around Argus’s throat, not choking, just holding, possessive. “But I’ll tell you what you do get.” His hips rolled again, his cock dragging against Argus’s ass, the plug inside him shifting with the motion. “You get to feel me. Every. Fucking. Inch.”
Seraphine’s voice cut through the haze, cool and clinical. “The clamps are synced to the vibrator’s highest setting. He won’t last long like this.”
Rex chuckled, low and dark. “Good.” His mouth found Argus’s ear, his tongue tracing the rim before he bit down—just enough to sting. “I want you right there, Argus. Right on the fucking edge, where one wrong move sends you over.” His hand left Argus’s cock, and the loss of pressure made him whine. “But you’re not allowed to come. Not until I say so.” His fingers trailed lower, teasing the heavy weight of Argus’s balls before slipping behind them, pressing against the vibrator. “And I won’t say so.”
Argus’s breath hitched as the vibrations intensified, the clamps biting down in perfect, cruel harmony. His vision whited out for a second, his cock twitching violently, precome dripping in thick, obscene ropes. Rex’s body pinned him, the older man’s erection a brand against his skin, the plug inside him a constant, maddening fullness.
“Look at you,” Rex murmured, his voice rough with arousal. “So fucking close. I can smell how bad you want it.” His hand returned to Argus’s cock, but instead of stroking, he simply held it, his grip firm, denying any friction. “You’re dripping for me. Your whole body’s begging for it.” His hips rolled again, his cock sliding between Argus’s cheeks, the plug shifting deeper. “But you don’t get to decide when you come. That’s my choice.”
Argus’s muscles locked, his body caught between the agony of denial and the overwhelming stimulation. The clamps pulsed, the vibrator buzzed, Rex’s cock ground against him, and all he could do was take it. His voice broke on a sob. “I c-can’t—”
“You can,” Rex growled, his teeth sinking into the meat of Argus’s shoulder. “You will. Because if you come without permission, I’ll ruin you.” His hand tightened around Argus’s throat, just enough to make his pulse pound. “I’ll edge you for hours. I’ll keep you right here, on the brink, until you’re sobbing and begging me to let you fucking breathe.”
The threat sent a fresh wave of precome spilling from Argus’s cock. His body was a live wire, every nerve alight, his skin too sensitive, his mind reduced to a single, desperate plea. Rex’s bare skin against his was torture—smooth where Argus was rough, hot where Argus was fevered, the contrast making him hyperaware of every point of contact.
Seraphine’s fingers danced over the remote again, and the vibrator’s pattern shifted—no longer erratic, but a slow, deep throb, like a heartbeat. The clamps pulsed in time, the pain and pleasure blending into something indistinct, something that made Argus’s toes curl. Rex’s cock twitched against him, the older man’s breath coming faster now, his own control fraying at the edges.
“Fuck,” Rex groaned, his hips stuttering. “You feel so good, Argus. Even like this—bound, leaking, mine—you’re still the most fucking intoxicating thing I’ve ever touched.” His hand finally moved on Argus’s cock, but only to trace the veined length with his fingertips, light as a feather. “I could spend days like this. Watching you squirm. Listening to you beg.” His lips found Argus’s neck again, his tongue swiping over the bite mark he’d left. “But tonight…” His voice dropped to a whisper, his breath hot against Argus’s skin. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck you raw.”
Argus’s entire body jerked at the words, his ass clenching around the plug. The thought of Rex inside him—no barriers, no mercy—sent a fresh wave of need crashing through him. He could already imagine it: the stretch, the burn, the way Rex would own him, inch by inch.
Rex’s chuckle was dark, satisfied. “Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His hand finally—finally—wrapped around Argus’s cock, stroking once, twice, before pulling away again. “Too bad.” His teeth grazed Argus’s earlobe. “You’ll have to earn it.”
The denial was a knife twist. Argus’s cock throbbed, his balls aching, his body a mess of conflicting signals—pain and pleasure, fullness and emptiness, the promise of release and the cruelty of its absence. Rex’s bare skin against his was a brand, the older man’s cock a heavy, insistent presence against his ass.
And through it all, Seraphine watched, her fingers deft on the controls, her eyes sharp with fascination as she orchestrated his ruin.