Page 28 of Love Language

That text perfectly encapsulated Marco’s personality. Confident and teasing. Full of compliments that warmed Greg from the inside out. But ready to stop at a word if Greg wasn’t interested because he respected his boundaries.

Was it strange that he interpreted that as Greg being protective of him?

Marco: Sorry. Really. I stop I.

Greg: No, you’re OK.

Greg: I mean, I’m not upset.

Marco: Thank you. I worry. Feel better now.

Marco was so honest, too. So free with sharing his emotions. Greg appreciated that when he was so emotionally vulnerable himself.

Three dots bubbled up, then disappeared. Then returned. Greg waited impatiently.

Marco: You want hang out sometime? No pressure. Dinner?

Greg felt like he shouldn’t want to, but then he couldn’t figure out why he shouldn’t want to. It was just dinner, right?

And his need to start leaving the house hadn’t changed.

Greg: Sure. I’d like that.

Hopefully he could make it through a single meal without completely losing his shit like last time.

◆◆◆

Greg looked down and found himself kneeling, naked on the living room floor, the position comforting in its familiarity.

Richard leaned in closer to his face. “Filthy slut,” he whispered, his curses falling like a caress. “Maybe you don’t deserve to come.”

Greg whimpered. “Please, Sir, I’ve been good.”

Sir wrenched him up by his hair and threw him over the coffee table. A hot strike fell against his ass. “No, you’ve been taunting me all day. Trying to manipulate me. Trying to get me to punish you.”

Sir’s hand fell heavy on his ass. Again, then again. Lightning shot through him.

“Please, Sir!”

“No, I don’t think you’re going to come today.”

And then, suddenly but seamlessly, in the way of dreams, Sir was inside him.

Sir’s arm wrapped around his neck, anchoring him in place. He wasn’t quite cutting off his oxygen, but letting him know that he could. The threat of it only sent him higher.

Sir took him roughly. Hard. Owning him.

“You’re not going to come, are you? Just mine, for me to use.”

And then Sir was coming inside him, hot and perfect and possessive. “My dirty slut. All mine.”

Greg sucked in a breath, then another. His dick was angry and hard, painful in his arousal and made more so by the knowledge that he could do nothing about it.

“Good little slut. So good for me.”

He felt so painfully, wretchedly, good. Like everything was meant to be.

And then he woke up.