He puts one foot on my shoulder and looks down at me with a dark expression. My body is threatening to rebel; every inch of me having been conditioned to escape this exact situation at all costs.
“I like you all trussed up and presented for me, doll, I can’t lie.” His voice seems deep and booming from overhead. “What do you say? Do you want me to fuck you?”
I do. I really do. Despite all the conflicting feelings this situation is giving me, I can already feel my hole clenching around nothing, wishing he would cut the theatrics and get inside me where he belongs. I only had a taste of it before, but I know I need more. I needhim.
My cock is hard and straining, desperate to come from the way he’s been edging me off and on for god knows how long already, a steady stream of precum making my balls and thighs a slick, warm mess.
I nod, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“Use your words, doll.”
“Fuck me, please, Micah.” I hate how desperate my voice sounds, but there’s no denying my desperation now. This should all feel difficult. This should feel anathema to everything I’ve ever been or pretended to be for the life I’ve lived until this point.
Instead, kneeling in front of Micah, begging to be used for the first time… it feels like slipping into the most comfortable skin I have.
It feels real.
We’ve spent maybe hours working up to this, as he slowly gave me more and more of himself with teasing, gentle touches. I was surprised to only feel a flicker of nervousness at the beginning before my body was all in. Something about surrounding myself with him makes all the bigger questions about what it means and who I’m supposed to be completely irrelevant, until it’s just“yes”and“more”and“please”and“yours”.
Hetsksslowly at me, still looking like he has all the patience in the world despite the obvious bulge in his own pants, and reaches down to gently swipe the hair back from my sweatyforehead. I try not to lean into the touch like a needy creature, but I don’t think I succeed.
“That’s not what I want you to tell me, and you know it. I don’t fuck brats or boys who think they’re tough shit. I want to fuck that perfect, slutty hole of yours and remind you who you belong to.”
My stomach twists. He leans over me, his shadow falling across my face, and for a split-second the image intersects with a sense-memory of how Dad used to do the same thing, leaning over me whenever he came to drag me out of the closet that Micah and I would hide from him in.
The two conflicting images twist and warp inside me, making my pulse skyrocket and my body tremble like it can’t decide whether it wants to get fucked or flee. Neither can my brain, for that matter.
It feels like the world is suddenly underwater, and I have to drag my eyeballs up to look at Micah when his voice eventually penetrates the watery haze surrounding me.
His forehead is creased, and the hunger in his eyes has been replaced with that sharp analytical expression I always think of as his medicine face. Where I can tell he’s calculating something. The hand that was just touching my hair moves down, even more slowly and gently than before, and takes hold of my chin while his thumb sweeps oh-so-lightly over my cheekbone, making me shiver in its wake.
Please don’t ask me what’s wrong.
I know he can sense something shifted, because a fine tremor has taken over every part of my body apart from my dick, which is still hard and needy and desperate to finally be allowed to come.
Finally, he speaks, his words so soft they graze against the surface of my mind like feathers falling from overhead.
“Tell me what you are, doll.”
I tremble harder. The shame and confusion fight for dominance, but the desire to sink boneless into his arms is there as well.
“I’m—” My shaky voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat. “I’m a slutty hole.”
Tadhg Moynihan, the Savage of the Brotherhood, bound and naked and hard on his knees, admitting to being nothing more than his stepbrother’s slutty hole to use and discard.
Micah shakes his head, his frown deepening as his grip on my chin gets more firm.
“That’s not what I said, doll. I said you’re aperfectslutty hole. Not just that, you’remyperfect slutty hole, and I’m always going to take care of you.”
As he talks, he crouches in front of me so he isn’t looming so large, and something inside me unkinks, letting my breath come a little easier. Micah slips his thumb from my chin up to my bottom lip, pressing into it, then sinking past it into my mouth. The warm, firm pad of his thumb glides over my tongue, and I wrap my lips around him and suck on instinct.
My eyes fall closed on their own, and I sink into the sensation. I’m still trembling, but that flash of fear is retreating, being overtaken by my sheer need.
I’m his. I’mperfect. The thought is confusing, but if I allow myself not to question it, it fills me with an easy warmth.
The fingers of his other hand find my nipple, tugging and twisting hard enough to remind me how desperate I am for release. Fresh pre-cum slides down my shaft as he pulls hard on my nipple, stretching it out, then finally releases it so the blood floods back in like a slap.
He moves on to groping my pec, working and squeezing the muscle there while I continue to suckle on his thumb.
