It was obscene. It was beautiful.
And worst of all, it looked like they were made for each other, like they were always meant to fit this way.
Enzo held Seven in place, lazily fucking into him. Seven could only stare, riveted at the sight of them. Enzo looked so much bigger like this,feltso much bigger inside as he took him into his body over and over. Seven had never had anyone use him like this, but there was no other way. His limbs were useless, tingling and numb as the blood rushed back where it belonged.
Enzo seemed to prefer him this way, pliant and pliable, boneless in his lap. Like a pretty doll he could position however he pleased. His pretty little human-shaped fleshlight.
And the terrifying thing was that Seven didn’t feel humiliated. He felt…wanted. Like every bruise had been etched with care, like every sound dragged from his throat was proof of how good he could be if he let go.
“God, you were made to be wrecked like this,” Enzo said. “Look at you. You’re gonna think about this, about me using you, owning you, every single time you sit down for the rest of the week.”
“Hope so. Wan’ that. Wanna feel you all the time,” Seven said without thought.
“You always take my cock so well. Look at you. Look at us. Look how fucking hot we are together. You’re such a good boy. So good for me. So pretty. So tight around me. I could fuck you like this forever.”
“Do you mean it?” Seven blurted, the words a whisper, almost subconscious.
Enzo didn’t miss a beat. Just kissed his temple and whispered, “I’ve never meant anything more. Look at how fucking gorgeous you are.”
Seven forced his gaze to the reflection and saw everything he didn’t want to believe. That Enzo could love him even when he was crying, even when he looked puffy or bloated or ugly. That maybe he didn’t have to break himself into pieces to be loved.
Seven bit back another sob as Enzo watched them, his eyes never leaving their reflection in the glass. One hand slid up to tease at Seven’s nipple, while the other—finally—closed around his neglected cock, stroking him with purpose. Seven moaned, eyes rolling as he tried to fuck up into Enzo’s fist, then down onto his cock.
His head tipped back, mouth parted, tears springing to his lashes—not from pain, but fromeverything. The way Enzo touched him, soothed him, fucked him, saw him…loved him.
Enzo’s mouth was all over him, teeth scraping his shoulder, lips mouthing at the column of his neck as he drove into him at a frantic pace.
“So fucking wet,” he grunted, using the leaking fluids to ease the glide of his hand. “I can feel how close you are, but don’t you dare come until I say.”
Seven made a sad sound in the back of his throat. “I can’t—I can’t—don’t stop. Please. Want to feel you come inside before I do. Please, Daddy,” he panted.
“You beg so sweetly when you’re close to getting what you want, but the rest of the time, you’re such a brat,” Enzo said through gritted teeth, driving up into him while Seven continued to babble nonsense at him.
“Wanna come. Please,” he begged, immediately proving his point. “So close. Please, Daddy.”
Enzo released something akin to a snarl, hips stuttering as he found his release, jerking Seven as he filled him up, grinding against him like he was marking him from the inside out. “Now, you can come.”
The words lit up his nerves like tinder, flaring fast, hot…uncontrollable, like a house fire in a glass room. He shattered against Enzo’s hand, pulse stuttering, tears leaking unchecked as his body gave in, drowning in the pleasure overtaking him.
Seven collapsed into Enzo’s arms, boneless, weightless. He didn’t realize he was still crying until Enzo started wiping at his tears with the side of his hand.
“You’re okay, baby. You did so well. I got you.”
Enzo glanced at Seven for the hundredth time since their scene ended. He sat curled in the chair, a blanket wrapped around his still naked form, eating the last of the cookies Enzo had brought him. He watched Enzo closely behind heavy lids, like he was monitoring him as he changed the sheets. He’d been in a daze for the last thirty minutes or so, totally pliant, letting Enzo bathe him and feed him. He’d even sat as docile as a kitten while Enzo blow-dried his hair.
But this was the calm before the storm, he could feel it. Seven was crashing in real time, even if he didn’t know it. Even if it seemed to happen in slow motion. Enzo was on borrowed time. He needed to get this done so he could give Seven a comfortable place to land.
He threw the comforter on the bed, smoothing it out, then went to the closet, pulling out the weighted blanket stuffed in the back. He’d never had occasion to use it before, but maybe it was time. He dropped it onto the mattress, then dumped the dirtysheets in the laundry basket. Seven continued to munch on the last little bit of his Oreo.
Enzo sighed, then knelt beside the bed, pulling the first aid kit out and retrieving the ointment underneath.
When he stood once more, he held out a hand to Seven. “Come here, baby. Face down on the bed.” Seven blinked at him but didn’t move. “You want me to carry you?” he asked softly.
That seemed to bring Seven out of his stupor. “Huh? What? No. I’m fine. I can do it,” he said, processing Enzo’s request in pieces, like there was a lag in his programming.
He went to stand, but his knees gave out. Enzo caught him with an arm around his waist, pulling him against him until they were skin to skin. Seven stared up at him, wide-eyed.
“Hi,” Enzo teased with a smile, loosening Seven’s blanket so it pooled on the floor.
