“I told you that you wouldn’t come again unless it was with my fingers inside you, but if—”
“I remember what you said. I remember everything. I want that.”
“Wyatt, after what happened—”
“No!” Wyatt cut him off. “He’s not taking this from me too. I want it all. I want it with you. Stop stalling. I’m not being self-destructive. Can’t I have something that’s just for me? Can’t I just take back this one thing he took from me?”
Wyatt held his breath as Linc seemed to war with himself. Some part of Wyatt felt bad for putting him in this position, but the other part knew he’d never feel safer than he did with Linc. If he didn’t do this here, now, with Linc, he might never get up the nerve to do it again. “Please, Linc,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against his chin. “Please, Daddy.”
He saw the exact moment he won.
“Bedroom. Now.”
Linc might have found Wyatt’s speed walk to the bedroom amusing if he weren’t so concerned about his current mental state. He followed along at a more leisurely pace, reaching the bedroom about the time one of Wyatt’s shoes sailed past the doorway. He’d already discarded his jacket and shirt on the floor and his pants sat pooled around one ankle as he hopped around, trying to rid himself of his other shoe. Linc didn’t interrupt, just leaned against the doorway, a smirk on his face.
Wyatt had spent the night trying so hard to be flawless, but Linc preferred him like this, clumsy, eager, desperate to please. Wyatt had dazzled his father’s friends. Every person had gravitated to him like a beacon and Wyatt had regaled them all with carefully rehearsed stories and phony anecdotes about his father. Linc’s smile slipped as he recalled Wyatt’s clenched fists and the smile that never quite reached his eyes. Years of abuse had conditioned Wyatt to act like the obedient son, but he’d never lost himself, had never let his father bury who he was… at least, not yet. Linc needed to protect that part of Wyatt, that flawed, fragile part of his soul his father hadn’t obliterated just yet.
Wyatt trusted Linc enough to think he could somehow push past this mental roadblock his body had thrown up to protect him. If Linc did this wrong, if he rushed Wyatt or hurt him, Wyatt might never trust him again. He might not trust anybody ever again. He didn’t want to screw this up, but Linc had no clue what it would take for Wyatt’s body to relent, to let Linc in. He wouldn’t take it by force, he wouldn’t manipulate Wyatt or coerce him into something his body wasn’t ready for. He wouldn’t be another person who hurt him. He couldn’t be.
Watching Wyatt wear that mask of money and privilege his father forced upon him made Linc determined to make tonight everything Wyatt wanted, and maybe if Linc did it right the night would end with him buried inside his boy. His gaze raked over Wyatt’s naked flesh. He’d made a mess of him over the last few days. Bite marks marred his shoulders and ribs, fingerprint bruises still visible on the globes of his ass. He was the most beautiful thing Linc had ever seen.
When he dragged his eyes upward, the boy turned, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, pupils blown as he gazed at Linc with an almost bashful expression. It shook something loose in him. He strode across the room, gripping his face and slanting their lips together, his tongue plundering Wyatt’s mouth in a kiss that left the boy fisting his hands in Linc’s shirt.
He pushed Wyatt back onto the mattress, yanking his tie loose and sliding it free as the boy scurried up the bed to rest his head on the pillows. Wyatt’s eyes locked on the tie in Linc’s hand before flicking to his face, expression adorably hopeful. The bed dipped as Linc straddled Wyatt’s chest, still fully clothed. “Hands.”
Wyatt shoved them toward him, wrists pressed together, lips parted, the tip of his pink tongue visible.
Linc chuckled, capturing his wrists with his tie and securing them to the headboard. He pressed his thumb to Wyatt’s lips, and the boy sucked it without hesitation. “Do I need to tie your feet or are you going to behave?” he asked, slipping his finger free.
“I’ll behave, Daddy. I promise.”
“Good boy.”
Linc left the bed. “Don’t move,” he commanded, knowing full well the boy couldn’t if he wanted to. He headed to his own bedroom, where he grabbed lube and condoms. Upon his return, Wyatt’s eyes went wide at the items in Linc’s hand. He threaded his fingers through Wyatt’s curls, hoping to reassure him a little. He dropped the items on the nightstand. “On your stomach, baby boy.”
Wyatt rushed to comply, fisting the black tie as if he needed a lifeline. Linc stood, admiring the picture Wyatt made, all that lithe muscle and creamy skin against the backdrop of his soft black comforter. Linc caressed Wyatt’s ass, pressing his fingers to the earlier bruises, smiling at the remnants of his cum still flaking on Wyatt’s skin.
He stepped back, causing Wyatt to whine. Linc slid his jacket off, hanging it on the back of Wyatt’s chair before rolling his sleeves to the elbow and slipping free of his shoes. Wyatt studied him, his face only half visible, his curls falling across his forehead like some fallen angel.
“You’re not getting undressed?” Wyatt asked, disappointment soaking his voice.
Linc sauntered closer, sliding a finger along Wyatt’s inner thigh, stopping just short of his balls. “Are you questioning me?”
Wyatt groaned, rocking his hips against the mattress. “No, Daddy.”
Linc dropped a sharp slap on Wyatt’s bruised bottom. “Stop that, or we can just pick this up tomorrow when you have a little more control. Is that what you want?”
Wyatt ground his cock into the mattress once more like he couldn’t help it, his voice a low moan. “No, Daddy.”
Linc laughed low, tugging Wyatt’s head up for a rough kiss. “Then behave.”
Wyatt made a needy little noise, but Linc ignored him, kneeling on the bed between Wyatt’s thighs and hovering over him, his hands bracketing either side of Wyatt’s head. He didn’t touch him, just leaned in close, his breath ruffling the hair at the nape of Wyatt’s neck.
“Who do you belong to?” he murmured against his ear.
“You, Daddy,” Wyatt sighed.
“That’s right. What do you want, sweet boy?”
