Seven’s eyes fell shut. He didn’t even care if he’d said it mockingly. “Yes…please.”
Enzo’s nose brushing against his was the only warning he got before he felt the older man’s warm lips capturing his mouth in a kiss that stole his breath and ignited something deep inside, causing him to grip Enzo’s shirt and press forward harder until their teeth clacked together.
Enzo eased back, smiling when Seven chased his lips. He flushed at Enzo’s steady gaze. He stroked his thumb across Seven’s full lower lip, drawing it down and letting it snap back with a pop before curling his large hand around the back of Seven’s neck, reeling him in to crash their mouths together once more.
Arousal shot through him, a feeling so overwhelming it made his head swim. It was just a kiss. Why was he so desperate for more?
“Open your mouth,” Enzo murmured.
Seven’s lips parted on a choked sound, and his hands fisted on Enzo’s broad shoulders as he swept his tongue over his. Seven’s hips rocked down without thought, desperate for some kind of friction, pressure. Anything to take the edge off just for a minute.
“Not yet, brat baby. You said you wanted me to make you forget. I’m gonna take my time with you,” he said, licking across the roof of his mouth, then sucking on his tongue until Seven moaned.
What would people think if they knew one kiss from this man had his insides melting like an ice cream on a summer sidewalk? Seven may not have fucked a lot of men, but he’d kissed plenty. But none of them kissed like Enzo. He kissed in a way that consumed Seven, setting his blood on fire. Each time their lips met, it was like Enzo was siphoning away every doubt, every fear, and every time they parted, Enzo praised him.
“So good for me.”
“My good boy.”
“My perfect boy.”
“Doing so well.”
“Look at you.”
“So pretty for me.”
It was like being hypnotized, his head growing hazy. His only goal, his only worry, was pleasing Enzo…his Daddy.
When Enzo’s palms settled on Seven’s ass, his hips kicked forward once again, another desperate whine escaping before he could stop it.
Enzo broke their kiss to mouth at his throat, scraping his teeth behind his ear, breath ragged as he said, “Fuck, I knew my bratty baby would be so whiny for me. So hot.”
“More…please…Daddy,” Seven begged, even as he tilted his head to give Enzo more access.
Enzo’s hands squeezed his ass, thrusting up as he dragged Seven down, ripping a low whine from deep in his chest.
“You’ll get more…whenIdecide you will,” Enzo growled against his ear. Seven choked on a sob but nodded helplessly, giving himself over completely to Enzo’s will. “Say ‘thank you, Daddy.’”
“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy,” Seven chanted breathlessly while Enzo devoured him, beard scraping along his skin as he sucked marks that Seven prayed would still be there tomorrow.
His whole body was vibrating with need, his eyelids heavy, lips swollen and bruised. Would anyone who looked at him know Enzo had taken him apart piece by piece? He hoped so. He wanted to feel claimed, used, owned…wanted. At least for one night. He could be good for just one night. Give himself over to Enzo in every way to feel whole inside.
By the time Enzo reached for the hem of Seven’s hoodie, he felt barely corporeal—a ghost of himself. He raised his arms without being told, earning another quiet “Good boy” that set his soul on fire.
When he tugged on Enzo’s shirt and said, “Now you, please, Daddy,” Enzo looked at him with a hunger that stole the air from his lungs, peeling his own shirt off, tossing it blindly. Seven’s palms found Enzo’s torso, trying and failing to take in all the ink on his body. There was so much religious iconography there it would take him a year to see it all. But that didn’t stop him from appreciating the ridges of his abs or the planes of his pecs.
“You’re so hot,” he breathed, distracted by the flesh in front of him.
“Me? Look at you. I can’t believe you were hiding all this beneath that oversized hoodie. Maybe you were just saving it all for me. Yeah?”
Seven was nodding even as his mouth found Enzo’s once again, unable to stop himself from plunging his tongue inside, massaging it over the older man’s. He just needed another hit. He now understood the term “drugging kisses.” Enzo’s lips were addictive. Seven rutted against him as he sucked his tongue, his fingers exploring Enzo’s body.
When large hands landed on Seven’s hips, stopping him from grinding down once more, he whined, giving Enzo a sullen look as he fought his hold.
“Shh,” he soothed, pressing kisses to the corners of his mouth, his nose, his forehead, anywhere but where he wantedthem. “You’re so worked up already and we’ve barely started. You need to calm down, baby.”
Seven flushed, chest tight and blinking back tears as humiliation burned through him. Enzo wasn’t wrong. He was overwhelmed, desperate in a way he hadn’t even thought possible. Every little thing felt so high stakes, like if he couldn’t have it right now, he’d never get it at all.
