The corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk. My grip in his hair tightens, forcing his head back until his eyes lock on mine.
“Yes, you can,” I growl. “And you will.”
He whines, broken, tears threatening his lashes as he strokes again, choking on every sound.
I’ll drag him through four and five if it kills him.
The highway stretches dark and endless, Ravensburg sleeping cold on either side. My SUV hums steady beneath us, leather creaking every time Elias jerks in his seat.
He’s a wreck.
Sweat slick on his chest, tears brimming his eyes, his thighs trembling as his hand stutters around his cock. Every gasp he makes is broken, desperate, sharp enough to rattle the air between us.
“Sir, I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” I growl, scar pulling as my smirk cuts across the shadows. My grip tightens until he gasps, throat stretched, eyes locked on mine whether he wants it or not. “You gave me a number. You don’t get to stop until I take every one.”
His hand trembles, but he strokes again anyway, raw and twitching.
“Good boy,” I rasp. “Keep going. Show me you can bleed obedience for me even when you’re crying.”
His whimper cracks into a sob, hips jerking. “S-sir—please—”
“That’s it.” My thumb presses into his pulse, hard, until he whines. “Beg while you stroke. Say it.”
“Please—please, Captain—fuck, I’ll be good—I’ll take it, I’ll—” His words crumble into a cry as his body arches, his hand dragging faster, sharper.
“Say it,” I snarl, my voice cutting over his sobs. “Say the number.”
His scream shreds high in the cab as he does it again, streaking hot across his chest. “Four!” he sobs. “F-four, sir—fuck—four!”
My chest rumbles low with satisfaction, a predator’s growl curling through the hum of the engine.
“Perfect,” I murmur, eyes locked on his ruined face. “One more.”
His lips tremble. His chest jerks. He looks wrecked, trembling, ruined. And he knows I won’t let him stop.
Five is waiting.
The garage swallows us in shadow, concrete cold and humming with the echo of the SUV’s idle. The engine ticks low as I slide into the space, cut the ignition, and kill the lights.
Elias is trembling beside me—pants shoved halfway down, chest streaked with sweat and come, lips bitten raw. He’s barely holding himself together. Four down. One left.
I unbuckle him slow. Deliberate. The click echoes in the dark.
Before he can breathe, I drag him across the console. His yelp cracks high, desperate, as I haul him into my lap, straddling me bare.
“Cap—sir—” His voice is shredded, hoarse from crying, wrecked from begging.
“Five,” I rasp. My hand wraps around his cock, slick and raw, twitching against his stomach. “This one’s mine.”
His cry tears ragged from his throat the second I stroke.
He clings—arms around my neck, nails scraping down my shoulders. His lips tremble against my mouth, his sobs cracking with every pump of my fist.
“Sir—please—please, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” I growl, steady, cutting through his panic. My grip stays firm, relentless, dragging him higher with every stroke. “You’re my good boy. You’re going to give me five because I said so. Say it.”
