"Fuck. Yes," Peter hisses. "Harder."
"No."
"Squeeze my nipple, please?"
"I don't want to. I didn't mean to bite you. You're just too delicious, and I forgot I was going to be nice to you. You're going to get some soft touches for a bit. Some cuddling. You need that. I need that after what I just did to you. Fuck, that was good."
"Was it?"
"Yeah. Amazing. Your ass is incredible. You really milked me. I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind. So you should tell me now what you want differently. I'm motivated to adapt so I can be inside you again."
Peter's cock starts to rise to the occasion.
"Nothing. I loved all of it."
"So you liked the pain, you liked being humiliated. Did you like me saying mean things to you?"
"It wasn't that mean. It was just… you had expectations. I like that. I knew what I had to do. You said some really filthy things. I liked that a lot, too. How do you know so much? Why are you so confident?"
Sebastian flops onto his back.
Peter rises up to an elbow and touches him, kisses his chest and his mouth, taking advantage of the opportunity to discover his young lover.
"Because I'm a sadist. I've always wanted to hurt my partners. And that was fucked up. It terrified me. But there are clubs and places to go where people like hurting and being hurt. I was sneaking into kink places since I was seventeen. And there was this woman there. She must have been seventy. And she hada few subs every time. So I befriended her. And she taught me stuff. How to hurt someone safely. Where to avoid, how to tell if my partner liked it. If I was going to hurt someone, I wanted to do it the right way. I'm young, but I'm not inexperienced."
"And I'm old and have no experience."
"You're not that old."
"You called me old man."
"Yeah, I was trying to gauge your reactions. Do you care that I'm young?"
"I… not enough to stop doing this, but I'm not comfortable with it."
"Good. I want you to rob my cradle."
Peter flinches. His dick twitches in interest. "I need food," he says and gets out of bed. It's the most intriguing, perfect pain he's ever felt. He walks carefully to the door.
Sebastian eyes him hungrily.
"Go ahead, I'll meet you," Peter says and heads to the bathroom. There is a trickle of oil sliding down his thigh. "I need to order lube."
"Pretty slut," Sebastian says and bounds down the stairs, naked and relaxed. He whistles.
Peter limps to the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Does he look different? He should. His lip is swollen. There are huge bruises and bites on his neck and chest. His hips have finger marks. Grabbing a mirror, he looks at his hole. It will look better with no hair. He's red and sore-looking. He cleans up and contemplates taking a picture to jerk off over later. He doesn't, terrified someone might somehow get a copy.
He washes his hands and goes downstairs.
Sebastian is waiting.
5
Sebastian is in Peter’s kitchen, banging things around. He’s making a pot of coffee, and there’s a pan with butter in it, and a bowl of eggs mixed with milk that he’s dipping the bread into before placing it into the pan. “You’ll eat French toast, right? I put bacon in the oven.”
And then Sebastian goes to get two mugs, puts cream in both. He opens the sugar bowl. “How many?” It’s a little surreal having the young man who just brutally fucked him now act like he’s Peter’s boyfriend. Or mother.
“Uh… two. Please.”
