“Green…” he mumbled, then sniffled.
If he’d expected mercy on the last blow, he was mistaken. The final strike came low on his thighs, wrenching another high-pitched cry from him.
“T-Ten,” he managed, then he said it again in case Enzo hadn’t heard him or it wasn’t clear. “Ten.”
He couldn’t handle another one.
The riding crop clattered to the floor. What happened now? Would Enzo still fuck him? Had he passed the test? Was Seven in too much of a state to bother? The answer came in the form of large hands wrapping around his spread thighs and Enzo’s flattened tongue dragging over Seven’s rim, pulling a strangled cry from him.
“Fuck, you taste amazing,” Enzo muttered, spearing his tongue against him. “I’ve been dying to do this since we started. Every time I spanked you, you’d clench up right here and all I wanted to do was eat you alive. It was so fucking hot.You’reso fucking hot, baby.”
Seven whimpered but couldn’t form words, lost in the delicious wet heat of Enzo’s mouth and the throbbing pain left behind by his punishment. How was he so good at this? Enzo worked his mouth like he planned to make a meal out of Seven, biting softly around the edges before attempting to fuck his tongue inside. When he breached him just the slightest bit, Enzo groaned, like Seven was some delicacy he planned to savor.
“You did so well, baby,” Enzo praised, head dipping lower to drag over the seam of his balls. “You look so pretty. Your skin was made for this. I can’t wait for you to see how beautiful you are.”
Seven tried to laugh, but it came out as another dry catch of a sob. There was no way he looked anything but a mess. Tears the blindfold hadn’t absorbed were hot on his cheeks. His nose was running, drool drying on his chin. He was covered in sweat and snot, his thighs still shaking.
But he wasn’t going to argue. Not when Enzo’s clever tongue had his eyes rolling behind his lids, a dizzying euphoria making him feel high. Was this subspace? Nico had talked about it. Seven had thought he’d experienced it his first night with Enzo, but that had been nothing like this. He felt delirious, removed from his body, but somehow, still ignited by every touch.
“Did I d’good?” he asked, wishing he could wipe his face.
“So good, baby,” Enzo said, sounding as wrecked as Seven felt. “You ready for your reward now?”
Seven was nodding before Enzo finished his question. “Yes, please. Please.”
Enzo’s two slick thick fingers replaced his tongue, massaging over Seven’s sensitive rim until both pressed in, dragging another strangled sound from him. It was too much, the burn intense as Enzo forced his way inside.
“Relax, baby. You’re gonna break my fingers,” Enzo said, folding over him to drag his lips along his spine. “Fuck, you’re sohot inside. Can’t wait to see how you look when I’m splitting you open on my cock.”
Seven whined, trying to fuck himself on Enzo’s fingers, even as he forced himself to relax. When Enzo pulled out and started teasing a third finger against his hole, Seven made a noise of complaint.
“Jus’ fuck me, please,” he slurred. “Wan’ it to hurt a little. Want you to make me take it.”
“Jesus. You really are perfect.”
Seven groaned as his wrists were suddenly freed, his shoulders screaming in protest. He tried to hold himself up, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate.
“Just lie there, baby. I got you. Let Daddy do the work.”
“‘kay,” he said, a million miles away.
Enzo tossed the restraints onto the floor, taking their place between Seven’s thighs, sliding an arm beneath him and dragging him into a sitting position, his back to Enzo’s chest. Seven’s head lolled back onto Enzo’s shoulder.
At some point in the proceedings, Enzo had lost his clothes. The coarse hair on his thighs and the sweat on their bodies made the welts on Seven’s ass sting like he was sitting in lemon juice. He whined, but didn’t ask Enzo to move or stop.
Enzo latched his mouth onto Seven’s throat, hand working between them, the squelch of lube telling him he was slicking up his cock. A moment later, it was pressing against Seven’s entrance, feeling far too big. Enzo’s arm was an iron bar around his waist, holding him still as he breached him.
Seven hissed in pain, instinctively jolting away from it. Enzo’s teeth sank into Seven’s neck in a hard bite that felt like a warning before growling, “Hold still.”
Seven let his body go limp as Enzo pressed into him one achingly slow inch at a time, hissing like Seven was burning him from the inside.
“Wanna see. Wanna watch. You said I could watch,” Seven babbled. “You said if I was good, I could watch.”
“You’re awfully demanding, baby,” Enzo said, thrusting up as he slammed Seven down.
His startled cry was loud in the large room, tears escaping only to be absorbed by the velvet mask. “You’re so big,” he mumbled. “Too big. “s’unecessary.”
Seven gasped as Enzo pulled the mask free, tossing it wildly to one side. Seven blinked until his eyes adjusted and the mirror came into focus, too sharp, too honest. He looked wrecked—hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw slack, eyes glassy. Enzo loomed behind him, massive and calm, hands molded to Seven’s hips like he was sculpted just to fit there.
