Seven’s heart tripped behind his ribs. “You’re crazy. That’s so much money.”
“You’re worth it.”
Seven was almost positive that wasn’t true. But who was he to argue?
He yawned once again. Enzo pressed another kiss to his throat, then his lips were at his ear. “For what it’s worth, I would have paid the two million if it came to that. Now, go to sleep.”
Seven had to swallow the lump in his throat to say, “Yes, Daddy.”
He’d wanted it to sound sassy, but it just came out a little broken. Still, when he closed his eyes, he easily drifted off to sleep.
When Enzo woke, the sky was just starting to change from indigo to a hazy navy blue. The only light in the room was spilling in from the living room chandelier, but it was enough to help him see. He smiled when he remembered that the bundle of warmth snugged up against him was Seven’s sleeping form. Enzo buried his face in the younger boy’s neck, inhaling the scent of him, earning a little whine that went straight to Enzo’s dick.
Seven smelled like Enzo’s soap and a little bit of sweat. It made Enzo want to eat him alive and suck the juices off his fingers. He’d promised to fuck Seven awake. Enzo bit his lip at the thought of sliding into the tight clutch of his body again. It had been months since he’d been inside him.
He’d woken up hard, but he throbbed just knowing everything he’d dreamed about for months was right there, playing his little spoon. He ran a hand up Seven’s thigh, marveling at the softness of his skin. When his fingertips slippedunder the hem of his boxer shorts, Seven sighed, rubbing his ass against Enzo’s cock like it was instinct.
“So eager for it, even in your sleep, huh?” Enzo rasped against his ear.
The cute little disgruntled noise he got in response had his heart catching. He abandoned Seven’s thigh to slip a hand under his t-shirt, teasing his thumb over one rapidly hardening nipple, pleased with Seven’s little shiver and the way the younger boy rolled back towards him, giving him more access to his chest.
“You like when I touch you like this, don’t you, brat?” Enzo asked, scraping a nail across the taut peak until it knocked another desperate little sound from Seven. “Such a slut for me. My good boy.”
Seven gave another needy sound, like, somewhere, his subconscious was eating up every word. He’d loved when Enzo had talked to him like that last time, too. Seven loved degradation almost as much as he loved praise, and the combination of both had left him with blown pupils—his eyes hazy, his jaw slack—so deep in his subspace he would have done anything for Enzo.
Enzo shifted behind him, rutting his cock against the boy’s ass.
Fuck. He was edging himself.
He kissed along the younger boy’s throat, then scraped his teeth along the tendon there, fingers moving from one nipple to the other, just lazily playing with him, listening to the way his breaths came a little faster, the way he’d whimper in the back of his throat whenever Enzo pinched instead of caressed, when he tugged instead of teased.
He dipped his head, pressing his tongue to the bud through the fabric, biting gently until Seven’s whole body jolted, his leg kicking out. Enzo groaned.
“Yeah, you love that. Love letting me play with you like this,” he murmured, tempted to roll him onto his back so he could spend the morning watching him fall apart beneath him.
But they had work.
Enzo sighed, contemplating calling out. But he couldn’t. They had to figure out who was behind Seven’s mother’s charges. It was fine. He had the rest of their lives to learn all the ways he could wreck Seven. The thought did funny things to Enzo’s insides—stupid, fluttery things that he’d never admit even under penalty of death. This boy had him so whipped.
By the time he slid his hand down to the hem of Seven’s boxers—Enzo’s boxers—Seven was hard, his erection tenting the unforgiving fabric. Enzo squeezed him through the thin material, noting the damp spot, rubbing his thumb over it, feeling how wet he was already. Seven’s moan lit up his spine like the crack of a whip, making him rut against Seven’s ass as the boy tried to grind himself against Enzo’s hand.
Enzo released him, burying his smile in Seven’s neck as he whined in complaint, hips thrusting against nothing, seemingly growing more frustrated by the second. Even in his sleep, Seven was so impatient.
Seven made another cute little grumpy noise when Enzo rolled to snag the lube from the inside of the bedside table. He dropped it between them, roughly yanking Seven’s boxers just under the swell of his ass, part of him hoping it would wake him and another part praying it wouldn’t.
Seven’s breath hitched, his top leg falling forward, giving Enzo more room to explore, his body telling Enzo where he wanted to be touched most. Enzo ignored it, prolonging both their suffering just to keep dragging those sexy, sweet little noises from him. Instead, he pushed his t-shirt up, running his tongue along the knobs of Seven’s spine, before sinking his teeth into the back of his neck, jaw aching with the urge to draw blood.
He wanted to mark him in some way, wanted the world to know he belonged only to him. It had taken Enzo months to earn back the trust he’d lost, months to get Seven back in his bed—back in his arms—back where he belonged. Now that he was there, Enzo was never letting him leave again. Ever.
He didn’t care if he had to tie him to the mattress.
His cock twitched at the thought. He imagined Seven tied up and helpless beneath him, having no choice but to let Enzo play with his perfect tight little body however he liked for as long as he liked.
Yeah. He’d spend hours worshipping him, tasting every part of him, working him over until he was trembling and shaking beneath him, begging for Enzo to let him come. Enzo groaned again. He was already so sweet like this, so open and vulnerable. But tied up and begging? Enzo didn’t know if he could handle that.
“Don t’stop,” Seven mumbled, voice sleep-soaked and rumbly. “Feel s’good.”
“Yeah?” Enzo asked, biting the delicate skin just behind his ear.
