Illias groaned softly, fingers curling around Cantrell’s hand. He sensed it was a grounding method and chose not to say anything.
“I want you to control me, Father. Tell me how to please you.”
Cantrell’s resolve—what little remained—nearly snapped. “So eager,” he hummed, tone pleased and amused. “I want you to touch yourself like you do when you’re thinking of me.”
He straightened then took a small step back without moving his hands. Illias shifted further onto the desk then slid one hand beneath his sweatpants. “Like this?”
“Slowly.” Cantrell placed his free hand on the clothed part of Illias’ hip. “What else do you do when you're on your own?”
Illias lifted the hem of his shirt and brought it to his mouth, revealing strong muscles covered in dark coarse hair, silver piercings that adorned both nipples, and the wide variety of tattoos that littered his skin. He ran his hand across his chest and toyed with the metal nipple rings. Illias moaned into his shirt, eyelids fluttering in pleasure. Cantrell watched Illias tug and twist the silver loops.
“Good,” Cantrell rasped out. “Now take yourself out for me.”
Illias pushed down his sweatpants until he sprang free. He wrapped his hand around himself and stroked slowly, teasingly. Cantrell’s cock strained within the confines of his slacks. His desperation grew as he watched Illias continue to play with his piercings while stroking his cock. Swallowing the desire to replace Illias’ hand, Cantrell inched his hand up and stroked the exposed skin above Illias’ waistband.
“You’re doing so good for me,” he praised, rubbing circles on Illias’ skin. “You’re going to tease yourself for me until I tell you to stop, and you’re not allowed to come until I tell you.”
Illias whined, looking at Cantrell through half-lidded eyes.
Cantrell cocked his head to the side. “Did you expect a penance to be enjoyable?”
Illias shook his head then dropped his shirt. “No, Father. But please, let me finish. Let me make a mess of myself for you.” Illias moved quicker. “Please, Father.”
“No, you’re going to be a good boy for me and stop when I tell you.”
“God,” Illias moaned. “Please, I’m already so close.”
He flicked his thumb over his cock, noises growing louder. Cantrell removed his rosary and pressed the wooden beads to Illias’ mouth. “Open,” he commanded. Illias opened his mouth, letting Cantrell shove the rosary into it. “Now stop.”
Illias whined around the beads but paused his movements. Cantrell’s heart hammered as he strained his hearing. While he couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t trust that they wouldn’t be interrupted and he refused to take such a risk. Swallowing, Cantrell inched closer, leaving Illias with just enough space to move his hand. “I wonder what you could say if you could speak,” Cantrell spoke softly, only loud enough for Illias to hear. “Would you ask me to touch you? Beg me?”
He nodded with a pitiful look in his eyes. Cantrell committed it to memory for when he was alone and it was late into the night. Illias’ eyes dropped to his hand still wrapped around his leaking cock. Cantrell couldn’t stop the smirk that rose. Illias huffed out of his nose but didn’t attempt to spit the beads out.
“You haven’t touched yourself since our last meeting, have you?”
Illias made a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan.
“You haven’t. You’ve been so desperate for my words, myvoice, you’ve waited until today.” Pride and lust combined in a dangerous fire that consumed Cantrell. “Who knew someone like you, so cocky and confident, would want to submit to a man like me.”
Illias’ cheeks darkened.
“Stroke yourself for me.” Cantrell placed his other hand on Illias’ hip. “I want you to come like this. Make a mess of yourselfwhile I’m standing in front of you, watching you fall apart after just a few minutes.”
A muffled shout met Cantrell’s ear and Illias curled forward, dropping his head onto Cantrell’s shoulder. Illias’ shoulders trembled as his orgasm ran through him. Cantrell stood still, allowing them to sit in the moment. The smell of musk and sweat thick in the air. Illias’ heavy breathing. Illias sat up, chest still heaving. Cantrell gingerly removed the spit-shined rosary from Illias’ mouth then tucked a piece of stray hair behind his ear.
“You did so well. Let me get you a tissue.”
Cantrell pocketed the rosary then walked around the desk towards the bookshelf that spanned the wall. He plucked a few tissues from a soft pink box and brought them over to Illias, gesturing gently to the hand covered in seed. With a mumbled thank you, Illias took the tissue and cleaned himself. Cantrell hovered a few inches away, unsure of what to do with himself. If offering care or affection would be appropriate.No, that would only complicate an already difficult situation, he decided, despite how wrong it felt.
Illias tossed the tissues into the small bin by the desk then got to his feet to straighten his clothes. Cantrell cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “I think, going forward, it would be best if we maintain a degree of…distance between us,” Cantrell said. “For both of our sakes.”
Illias pressed his lips together, nodding stiffly. “Right, yeah, of course.” He blew a breath through his nose. “I’ll, uh, see you around then.”
Before Cantrell could get another word in, Illias left his office. Frowning, Cantrell dropped himself in his office chair.God save me, what am I doing?
Chapter Sixteen
Illias
