His mouth creates a vacuum of pressure as he moves his head up and down, his tongue sliding up and down my shaft, his hands move around to my ass, encouraging me to move. He wants me to fuck his face and I have zero problem with that. I pick up pace, using his mouth as a slutty hole to get myself off. He relaxes, trusting me as I destroy him. He gags, which only encourages me to go harder. The wet slurping noises and gagging is only amplifying my pleasure, making it hard to hold on.
“Such a perfect slutty mouth, Leo. Made for me,” I say, panting. “Only for me.” I groan as the tension at the base of my cock grows, the spasm a familiar feeling before I blow.
“You gonna swallow me,” I say as I watch in awe at how much he is able to take. A small nod pushes me forward. The tears streaming down his face and the droolleaving his mouth are the final triggers, causing an eruption that echoes in my moans around the room.
Fucking epic.
My limp dick leaves his mouth and he collapses back on the bed. Cum and spit cover his mouth, but he does nothing to clean it.
“I wanna sleep now,” he says as he lazily undresses, totally oblivious to me watching him get naked. But my dick is done for now. I grab a tissue from the side of the bed and clean his mouth as he dopily gets under the covers, and just like that, he passes out.
While he sleeps I take a quick shower, happy in the knowledge that everything I need is tightly covered up in my bed. And like a rottweiler, I will protect him from anyone wanting to take him from me.
After my shower, I sit in the chair beside the bed and watch the slow, fragile rise of his back beneath the thin fabric of my sheets. Exhaustion pulled him under before overthinking took over his mind.
I examine him closely with how at ease he sleeps here. No tension, just the shape of surrender like he belongs here. Breaking someone is never about force, as force damages the object. I wanted compliance. I wanted him to willingly walk into my cage and close the door himself, convincing himself it’s shelter. And he did.
His breathing stutters slightly, then evens out again. Ahh, he is dreaming. I wonder what about? What Iwould give to be able to access his mind. To know his every thought. Is he dreaming of me? Of us? Or is he dreaming of being in a workshop, creating a piece that defines his new life? The thought pleases me more than it should.
I stand and move closer to him in the bed, and look down at what is mine.
His face has softened in sleep. The lines of confusion and guilt and longing have smoothed into something dangerously young. Vulnerable and open. I lean closer and study the faint shadow beneath his lashes. The scars on his hands, the curve of his mouth that never quite relaxes even in rest.
“You belong to me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t stir, and it’s not because he cannot hear me, it’s because his body already agrees. Victory isn’t loud, because it doesn’t need to announce itself. It settles quietly and arranges the future and eliminates problems. One of which is Sarah. The sound of her name still produces something unpleasant in my head. Not jealousy, but like contamination. She is a poison to Leo and I will remove that poison so he can live healthy.
Leo will not return to the apartment with the peeling walls and the arguments that repeat like old recordings. He will not return to a life where his dreams are treated as inconveniences. He will not sort envelopes for people who cannot remember his face.
Leo will live here.
With me.
I will give him a workshop of his own, not someborrowed space. He will have every tool at his disposal. He will have the freedom to express himself as he wishes and create what’s inside his soul. And I will bask in his success as I watch what is mine flourish. All of his old worries will no longer exist, as I’m breaking those chains and giving him a life worth living.
I decide I will tell him tomorrow about my plans, and I know he will resist at first as it’s sewn into his body to not feel worthy, to feel guilt. But he will come to understand that guilt is misplaced loyalty, and it will fade with time as he owes nobody anything.
Money will solve the rest, but there is one final thing I need to do to make it official between us. Something I have been inquiring about for days and have a plan in motion for. A bracelet. Not something ornamental, but with meaning and purpose. It’s a simple design, nothing flashy, as that’s not Leo, but it has an elegance. Something that is subtle, but cannot be removed without my consent.
People understand symbols better than truths. A circle of metal that’s a declaration of ownership, which includes a tracker so I know he’s safe at all times. He will wear it because I will convince him it’s protection, and because part of him will like knowing that he is marked.
The world is full of evil, I need to know where he is at all times. Of course he will argue when I explain it, calling it excessive and controlling. Telling me for the thousandth time that he is not property, and I will agree out loud. But then I will remind him of how afraid he was before me and how small his life was. How the word “home” used to taste like disappointment. It won’t takelong for him to feel pride in wearing it, because I know how he works, how to re-structure his mind.
I use the back of my hand to trace the side of his sleeping face, and smile when he presses into my hand, seeking the comfort. He doesn’t wake as I leave my hand there as a claim. A brand.
I picture the relief on his face when I tell him Sarah has left for good. That she will not interfere again in his life. His relief will be immediate, but inevitably there will be remorse, and as his man I will hold him through it. I’m very good at being what people need when they are most malleable, a skill I have learned over the years.
My mouth curves into a smile I do not wear in public. No one will take this from me. Love is a myth designed to make possession sound poetic. What I have for Leo is better. It’s animalistic and true.
Removing my hand, I return to the chair and resume my watch, because what is mine will never be unguarded again.
CHAPTER 27 - LEO
Iwake slowly and for a second wonder where I am. For a moment I don’t move, but just listen. There is no shouting through thin walls. No neighbor’s television bleeding through the ceiling. No traffic screaming directly beneath my skull. Only distant city-noise, muted by height and glass, and something else. Stillness.
My body feels heavy in a good way, warm and comfortable. The sheets covering me are softer than anything I own. The mattress doesn’t sag in the middle. My shoulders don’t ache from curling around themselves all night. As I fully open my eyes, all I see is glass. Ethan’s penthouse rises around me like a cathedral, all clean lines, pale light and vast space. The city floats beyond the windows like a separate universe from the peaceful one inside.
I exhale and the sound surprises me as it comes out calm. That’s new. I sit up slowly, bracing myself for guiltand dread, but it doesn’t arrive. Instead it’s a floating peace that makes me feel as light as a feather. I quickly check my phone on the bedside table to see if there are any messages from Sarah. Nothing. I’m relieved.
