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I do it because if I’m going to be punished, I’m not going to be sloppy. He braces one hand on the headboard while every shallow thrust paints my tongue and spit starts to slip down my chin.

“You’re mine,” he tells me, rolling his hips. “Forever mine.”

My good hand fists in his slacks. I’m not pushing him off. I’m just holding on to him.

The head of him nudges the back of my tongue, and I gag. He eases back enough to let me drag in air, a string of spit connecting my lip to him, then fills my mouth again. “Show me how picky you are.”

He pulls out to the tip, lets me see the mess I’ve made of him, then slides back in.

I take him deeper on purpose just to wipe the smug off his face.

“Good boy. Fuck—your mouth.” He thrusts a little farther.

He fucks my mouth in dirty strokes after that, giving me air, taking it back, talking through every one.

“That’s it. Relax your jaw. Let me in.” Another push. “You look so pretty like this. My pretty, picky prince. All that attitude, and you’re drooling on my cock.”

My eyes water, but I don’t look away.

“Swallow when I come.” His grip in my hair tightens. “Take it and look at me while you do. Understand?”

I nod as much as the angle allows, which is almost nothing.

“Good. Fuck—Ilya—”

He thrusts twice more and comes down my throat with a sound he doesn’t bother swallowing. I choke, swallow, choke again, eyes locked on his because he told me to and because some new part of me wants to be good for him.

He stays until I take all of it, then he pulls out and leaves my mouth empty and shining. He thumbs a smear from the corner of my lip and pushes it back into my mouth.

“Clean it.”

I do.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, still kneeling over my face like a god from paradise. Then he smiles, and I remember. He was never heaven’s creation.

Kento

I look at him sulking at the edge of the bed and have to physically stop myself from smiling again.

I did return the favor. I’m not a barbarian. I put him on his back and sucked him until he grabbed my hair like he wanted to kill me and thank me in the same breath. He came down my throat. I swallowed. Very generous of me. Historically speaking, I’m not known for generosity. I’m known for leaving people wanting.

And he’s still sulking.

Ladies and gents: my prince.

I lean back against the headboard and crook two fingers at him. “Come here.”

He doesn’t move.

“My prince.”

His glare sharpens.

“Come here.”

He clicks his tongue and looks away.

Adorable.