“Fuck—” I gasp. “Fuck, fuck—”
“Relax, Kaito. Breathe. Or it will just hurt without the reward.”
Bullshit. The hurtisthe reward and he knows that about me.
I clench more, because apparently my body likes to fight back and make shit worse. A fucking masochist. But I can’t even help it when it feels this good.
“Breathe,” he murmurs again, buried balls-deep in my ass. His hand slides down my chest, soft fingers playing with my nipple. “Don’t fight me.”
I force air into my lungs.Fuck relaxing.I want him tomove.
“Stop talking and just fuck me.”
He chuckles, and pinches my nipple hard. White heat shoots straight to my cock.
“Patience,” he says, rolling his hips, the head of his cock grinding against my prostate. I moan. “See? You need this. Slow and good.”
“Need you tomove.”
He pulls out slowly—agonizinglyslow. I gasp, hips lifting, chasing the fullness. But then he thrusts back in, bottoming outin one careless shove.Yes!It hurts, but it’s not like he’s rough for real, not some cheap street fuck like Ryo. Naoya-san moves with a fucking calm precision, the same way when he’s tying a knot.
And that’s how he sets a rhythm—deep, but slow, driving strokes that hammer my prostate with every thrust. Fuck, it’s perfect.
“Fuck—touch me, sensei,” I demand, voice cracking. “Come on—”
“Earn it.” His hand clamps my hip, fingers digging.
“Just do it!”
“Just do it?”He slows, grinding deep.
“Just fucking touch me,” I beg, hating myself. “I’m so fucking close—”
He slaps my cock with the flat of his hand.Fuck!
“Not yet. You still haven’t earned it.”
He shifts above me, and for a hopeful second, I think he’ll finally give me the rough fuck I’m screaming for just to make me beg. But no—he leans back instead, his cock still buried balls-deep in my ass, and takes the tanto again, laying the flat of the blade against my sternum.
“Since you are so impatient for sensation, let’s give you something to feel.”
He rotates the blade, the sharp tip now resting just below my collarbone. He doesn’t press much, but he lets the potential of it sink into me, a far more effective restraint than any rope. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Now let’s see if we can find your patience,” Naoya-san says, his free hand drifting down my stomach, past my aching, neglected cock. His fingers cup my balls with a sickening tenderness that clashes with the weapon on my chest. “It must be hiding somewhere, hm?”
He moves the blade lower, tracing the ridge of my hip bone, dragging across the bruise he left earlier. Then lower still—down the crease of my thigh until it’s resting against my nuts. My breath turns ragged. Every muscle locks tight. He’s gonna—
I jerk.
“Shit—fuck! Fuck!”
Fear coils cold in my gut. Real, ice-cold fucking fear. And my dick’s never been harder in my life.
Because he could slit my ballsack open if he wanted. And the sick fucker in me wants it. Wants the hot rush of blood, the singing trapped in my throat. Wants him to ruin me the same way I like to ruin others.
He hooks the tanto’s tip under my balls, like he’s weighing them, then drags the blunt edge up, stretching them taut. I feel his cock throbbing inside my ass. Fucking freak!
“Look down, Kaito.”
