For what? Calling you out on your gross kink?
You know for fucking what!
Enlighten me.
The urge to pitch his phone out the window boiled over. Damien glowered at the screen and squeezed the device a little more tightly. He jabbed the touch keyboard in ways that would likely void its warranty.For fucking trying to ruin my life!
Bigg’s got a Bigg temper. Who would’ve thunk?
Damien hissed in frustration, causing Matthew, who looked small and scared while he perched on the bedside, to suck in a breath and retreat into his blanket-cape. In a few short texts, Bankes had instilled doubt in Matthew over their relationship that Damien wasn’t sure he could ever fix.
What Damiencoulddo was wring Bankes’ annoyingly meaty neck.
I swear to god, if you ever talk to Matthew again my lawyer will be so far up your ass you’ll be belching legal jargon
Is that a threat? Maybe -I- should sue -you.-
Fucking try me, bitch
The window called for Damien’s phone like a siren to a sailor. Unfortunately for his phone, there was no ocean beyond it in which to become a fish, but Damien could try his best to chuck it toward the pool.
Bitch? Are you serious? I hope you know how hard I’m laughing right now. The mighty Mr. Bigg reduced to petty name calling.
Yeah, wonder why the hell I’d be doing that? It’s not like some absolutely miserable collection of skin cells and hair follicles decided it’d be nice to wake up one day and make a Guinness World Record run for absolute worst human being alive.
Bankes was so infuriating that even the three moving dots at the bottom of the conversation pissed Damien off. Each pulse as they moved made Damien want to wrench them from their tiny speech bubble and chuck them, one at a time, at Bankes’ stupid head.
How dare Bankes go after his boy?
Howdarehe?
Damien’s career was one thing—investment banking was a competitive field—but Damien’s personal life wasn’t to be meddled with. The precious little of it he had was sacred. By invading Damien’s privacy and threatening his relationship, Bankes had signed off on no-holds-barred revenge.
No one fucked with Matthew.
No one.
You should have gone into acting, Bigg—you’re so full of drama you could keep an audience engaged for hours. Unfortunately for you, I have better things to do than watch a moron run his mouth.
Fuck you!
Although, if I’m being honest, I *could* find time to watch your boy. I don’t know what he sees in you. The picture he sent last week with his cum spilled over his stomach? Mmm. I stopped poking through your conversation long enough to make a personal copy of that. I think I’ll spend some time with it in bed tonight. If he ever figures out that you’re the biggest loser the financial world has ever seen, give him my number—I’ll show him what it feels like to be on the winning team.
A roar burst from somewhere deep in Damien’s chest, so loud and booming that it reverberated the windowpanes. A second later, he hurled his phone across the room. It enjoyed a brief but illustrious stint as a bird, then collided with the wall. The back panel exploded from the rest of the casing and the battery popped free. It ricocheted its way out of the carnage and landed with a clattering crash on the hardwood. Damien didn’t bother to track where it went—he was already on his way to the bed, his sights set on Matthew.
“Damien?” Matthew asked in the uncertain, timid way that always made Damien want more than anything to protect him. “What happened?”
Damien didn’t answer with words. He caught Matthew by the hair and tugged his head back, then kissed him hard. Matthew squeaked into his mouth but didn’t tense or cower—after a moment of confusion, he tried his best to match the fiery intensity of Damien’s kiss, but fell clumsily short.
It was so much like his boy—his sweet, caring, wonderful boy.
Overcome by the need to feel like he was in control of something, Damien pushed Matthew onto the bed. The blanket slipped from his narrow shoulders and landed in a pile behind him, cushioning them both. Damien didn’t care where it went. All that mattered was Matthew was his.
The kiss deepened. Matthew moaned into Damien’s mouth and pushed up against him, but still Damien wasn’t satisfied. He tightened his grip on Matthew’s damp hair and held him in place, refusing to let go.
Bankes wouldn’t take Matthew from him. He could rob Damien of his job, but he wouldn’t rob him of his happiness. No matter what it took, Damien would keep Matthew safe.
“Daddy,” Matthew whispered between breaks in the kiss. He arched his hips and rubbed his hardening cock against Damien’s body. The thin layer of fabric keeping him from nudity was too much—Damien wanted to feel him, all of him, and know through virtue of their contact that Matthew had chosen him.
