Enzo’s fingers twisted in his hair, forcing his gaze back up to his. “What’s wrong, brat? Giving up already?”
“Use me, Daddy,” he slurred. “You said you’d use my mouth. Do it, please. Make it rough. Make it hurt. Please, Daddy.”
Enzo studied him, his expression molten. “You really can’t get off unless I’m treating you like a dirty fucking slut, huh?”
Something unknotted in Seven as he surrendered to the truth. “No, Daddy.”
“That’s right,” Enzo said, petting him. “You were born to kneel, born to beg. My pretty little whore. I knew you were mine from the second you shot off that sexy mouth. I wanted to force you to your knees right there in the conference room and show your friends what it takes to tame a brat like you. Now, look at you.” Seven’s eyelids fluttered, pleasure coursing through him at his words. “You sure this is what you want, brat?”
“Please,” he gasped, like a prayer.
“I love you too much to deny you anything,” Enzo purred. “Even if that means fucking your slutty little mouth like I hate you.”
Seven’s gaze floated shut, a near euphoric feeling washing over him at the idea of Enzo using him. This time, Enzo didn’t force him to watch. Seven let himself float in that delicious fog, everything else slipping away.
“If you want me to stop, tap my leg.”
That was the last warning he got. Seven sighed with relief when the heavy weight of Enzo’s cock returned to his tongue. Harsh fingers gripped handfuls of his hair, but Enzo didn’t fuck into him harshly, didn’t use him like he had in bed that morning. Instead, he rolled his hips forward slowly, dragging Seven’s mouth down around him. He forced his cock past the resistance of his throat, groaning as Seven’s body fought the intrusion, closing around him.
It was a slow torment, but Seven didn’t care. His throat was on fire, his jaw felt dislocated, but none of that mattered. Seven was bobbing along in a sea of bliss, grinding against Enzo’s foot, whining around his cock, desperate for a release that wouldn’t come.
Every time Seven felt that tell-tale heat building in his belly, that overwhelming flood of pleasure, Enzo would pull his footback, groaning as Seven sobbed around him. It was all a game. Give and take. Push and pull. By the time Enzo’s foot returned to Seven’s cock, he was too far gone to care about embarrassment, fucking his hips up against it desperately, even as the zipper of his jeans bit into his skin.
Seven tried to take it like a good boy, tried to hold back the wet gags and low squelching sounds that escaped every time Enzo bottomed out, but he had no control over his body any longer. It belonged to Enzo.Hebelonged to Enzo.
When he pulled Seven off him, the possessive look on his face made it all worth it. The tears, the snot, the spit, the precum soaking his underwear. He would deal with all that and more to have Enzo look at him like that for the rest of his life.
“What’s wrong? Had enough, baby?”
Seven sniffled.Yes.“No.”
Enzo’s slow smile melted the few brain cells Seven had left. “Liar.”
“‘m not,” Seven slurred, voice gone.
“Close your eyes, sweet boy,” Enzo demanded. “I’ve got something for you.”
Seven did as he was told, tipping his face upwards like he was back in church services, receiving the sacrament. Without his sight, the sounds were twice as loud in his ears. The slick slide of Enzo’s hand on his cock, his staccato breaths as he grew closer and closer to his release. The sound of Seven’s denim jeans against the silky fabric of Enzo’s socked foot.
“Gonna come, gonna make an even bigger mess of your pretty face, mark you so the world knows who you belong to,” Enzo said through gritted teeth.
That was what sent Seven sailing over the edge, a desperate wail leaving him as he thrust against Enzo’s foot one last time. He spilled messily into his jeans just as Enzo painted his face with the warmth of his release.
Seven’s hips continued to twitch against Enzo as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm, his head pleasantly staticky. When he could think again, he raised his hands, blindly reaching for Enzo.
Seven heard the rustling of fabric—Enzo righting his clothing—then gasped when he was tugged to his feet and swept off them as Enzo carried him bridal-style.
“Keep your eyes shut unless you want to look like something out of a horror movie.”
“What does that mean?” Seven asked, giggling at the rasp of his own voice.
“You don’t want to know, and I highly encourage you to never look up what sperm does to a human eyeball.”
He was right. Seven didn’t want to know how Enzo knew the effects of getting jizz in your eyes. He let the older man carry him upstairs to the bathroom and set him on the bathroom counter. Seven sat patiently, eyes firmly shut, as Enzo stepped between his open knees, gently cleaning his face with a warm cloth.
It was nice. Soothing. Even when he heard the wet slap of the cotton fabric hitting the sink, he kept his eyes shut, determined to prove his obedience, at least until he was sure the scene had officially ended.
Enzo’s large hands cupped his face, his lips finding Seven’s in a barely-there kiss. “You can open your eyes now, sweet boy.” Seven blinked a few times, adjusting to the slightly brighter lights of the bathroom before finding Enzo’s concerned gaze. “You okay, baby?” he asked softly, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.
