I strip off my clothes in seconds and position myself behind him, line up, press the head of my cock against his hole.
"Last chance," I say. "Tell me to stop."
"Don't you fucking dare stop."
I push inside.
He's tight, but I don’t stop. He asked for pain, pain he shall get.
Impossibly tight, even with the prep, his body gripping me like a fist. He tenses, choked sounds forcing their way out his mouth as I bottom out, every inch of me buried in his heat.
I don't give him time to adjust.
I pull back and slam in again, setting a brutal pace that rocks the bed frame against the wall. He cries out with every thrust, sounds that might be pain or pleasure or both, his hands fisting in the sheets, his face turned to the side so I can see his expression.
His eyes are closed. His mouth is open. Tears stream down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and drool.
He looks destroyed.
He looks beautiful.
Grabbing his hair, I yank his head back, force his spine into an arch. The new angle lets me go deeper, lets me hit that spot inside him with every stroke. He screams, actually screams, the sound raw and broken and utterly unlike anything I've ever heard.
"Jace—Jace—I can't—"
"You can." I lean over him, press my chest to his back, speak directly into his ear. "You can take everything I give you. You were made to take it. My beautiful little pain slut."
He sobs. His body is shaking, trembling, barely holding itself up. I can feel him fluttering around me, can feel how close he is.
"Don't come yet," I say. "Not until I tell you."
"I can't—please… please just…"
"Obey me, like the good whore you are and I’ll give you everything you need." I slow my thrusts, make them deep and grinding instead of fast and brutal. "Hold it. For me."
He whimpers, but he tries. I feel him clench, feel him fight the orgasm building in his body. His cock is dripping steadily onto the sheets, untouched, neglected, desperate for attention.
I won'tgive it to him. Not yet.
"Good boy," I say, and something about those words makes him shudder violently, makes his ass clench around me. "You're doing so well. Taking everything I give you. Such a good boy."
He's crying openly now, face wet, body shaking. But he's not telling me to stop. He's not saying the word that would end this.
He's just taking it. Just like I told him he would.
I speed up again. Harder. Faster. My balls pull up as the rush starts down my spine.
Fuck, I’m close.
"Look at me."
He turns his head, meets my eyes. His gaze is unfocused, glassy, somewhere far away.
Subspace. He's dropping.
"Come," I say. "Now."
He does. His whole body seizes, back arching, cock pulsing untouched, painting the sheets with white. He screams my name—or tries to, the sound dissolving into a wordless wail as the orgasm tears through him.
