“Maybe,” Thane said at last, voice low and dangerous, “my pet needs to be punished.”
Riven didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away .He just smiled slowly. “Maybe he does,” he said.
That was all it took. Thane snapped.
He was on Riven in a second, spinning him around and slamming him back into the door—hard enough to make the wood creak again, though not so hard it hurt. One of Thane’s hands locked around Riven’s throat, not cutting off breath, just claiming space. The other went to Riven’s ass, grabbing and kneading it through his pants as he pressed his body flush behind him, his cock rock-solid against the curve of Riven’s backside.
“You don’t follow orders,” Thane growled into his ear. “You mouth off. You go over my head. And now you’re going to pay for it.”
Riven let out a shaky, eager breath. “Good.”
Thane’s grip tightened slightly at his throat, and he dragged him away from the door with brutal efficiency, shoving him toward the bed. “Strip. All of it. Now.”
Riven obeyed, practically tearing his clothes off. His cock bounced free already flushed and hard, his chest rising with anticipation. Thane didn’t undress. He moved behind Riven like a predator, one hand sliding down Riven’s spine before landing a sharp slap across his ass.
Riven gasped, then groaned, arching into it. “Fuck.”
“That’s one,” Thane murmured. “We’ll see how many you can take before you start begging.”
Riven turned his head, licking his lips. “You think I’ll beg?”
Thane answered with another sharp smack, then another, alternating sides, slow and measured and perfectly placed. “I know you will.”
The heat built fast. Riven’s body trembled, not from fear, but from pleasure so sharp it almost hurt. He’d never liked pain before, but this wasn’t pain. This was power. This was being known. Thane touched him like he understood every inch of him, like he knew what would push him right to the edge without sending him over.
After a fifth, harder smack, Riven cried out and sank forward onto the mattress, gasping.
“Color?” Thane asked, even as his hand trailed lightly over the red marks blooming on Riven’s skin.
“Green,” Riven said, almost instantly. “Fuck. Green.”
“Good.” Thane’s voice dropped again. “You take punishment so well. So eager for it. You like being mine that much?”
Riven didn’t answer—he just moaned, a wrecked sound, cock throbbing where it brushed the sheets.
“You want me to make you feel it tomorrow,” Thane went on, voice honeyed and dangerous. “You want to ache and know who you belong to.”
“Yes,” Riven hissed. “Yes, Thane. Please.”
Thane undid his own pants at last, pulling them down just enough to free his cock. He gripped it, stroked once, and then lined himself up.
“No prep?” Riven asked, breath catching. There was challenge in his voice.
“You can take it. My good boy can take anything for me, can’t he?”
Riven shuddered. “Yeah. I can.”
Thane spit into his hand and slicked himself as best he could, then pressed forward slowly but firmly, forcing his way into Riven inch by inch. Riven gasped, hands clawing at the bedding, but he didn’t resist. He moaned as Thane filled him, as the stretch turned to pleasure sharp enough to make him lightheaded.
“Look at you,” Thane murmured, dragging his hips back and then slamming forward again. “So fucking perfect. So hungry for me.”
He didn’t fuck Riven gently. One hand slid back to Riven’s throat, pressing lightly, angling his head, while the other stayed on his hip, bruising tight. The rhythm was brutal, relentless, perfectly paced to drive Riven crazy.
“You’re mine,” Thane said, low and vicious and praising. “Look at you taking it. My strong, stubborn pet. My beautiful fucktoy.”
Every word went straight to Riven’s cock. He was leaking against the sheets, pleasure sparking up his spine with every thrust.
“I’m yours,” Riven gasped. “Fuck, Thane, I’m yours—”
