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“You keep testing me,” I say, my voice lower now, rougher than I intend, something slipping through despite my efforts to keep it under control. “As if you want to be punished.”
“Do I?” he murmurs, his eyes burning bright.
“Yeah, and I hate,” I add, leaning back slowly in my chair, forcing my posture into something composed even as everything under my skin feels anything but, “how much you seem to enjoy pushing me there and how much I want to give you exactly that spitfire.”
Heavy and charged silence drops between us. His eyes darken, something shifting behind them, something that feels a lot less like a joke now.
I tilt my head slightly, studying him, letting my gaze drag over him in return this time.
“Go on then,” I say, my voice dropping, steady now, grounded in something darker, something I shouldn’t be feeding but am anyway, and a ghost of a smile touches my lips. “Show me how you get off riding a fake dick molded like mine.”
His eyes widen, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face, but it’s gone in a heartbeat, swallowed by that obsessive hunger, but I catch it, and fuck if it doesn’t stoke the fire low in my gut.
“I thought you wanted to punish me?” he asks, his voice husky, almost a challenge. But there’s a crack in it, a needy edge that begs me to take the reins and wreck him as if I own him.
“I will, spitfire. Not today, but trust me, I will.” I say it like a vow, the words heavy with the filth I’m picturing. “Now, fuck yourself with that dildo like you want me to. Make me believe you need my cock this bad.”
He lets out a disbelieving breath, then props the phone against something, angling it perfectly. His legs splay wide, full body on display now: lean muscles taut against the headboard, dick jutting thick and dripping, the piercing sitting under his cockhead a sight to behold. Fuck, it wasn’t there the night I fucked him two years ago. Now though, his beautiful dick looks so goddamn perfect adorned with that jewelry. It makes me want to suck it down my throat and feel it pulse against my tongue.
“Like what you see?” he asks with a teasing smirk as he wraps his hand around his dick and rubs his thumb on the dripping head and piercing. “I know you do, Tristan. You’re practically drooling.”
I grind my teeth but don’t say anything. Instead, I shoot him a dominating stare—focus.
He smirks, uncaps a bottle of lube, then drips it onto his dick as if he’s garnishing a fucking donut. It’s mesmerizing to watch how his hand strokes up slowly, then down again as the lube coats his thick girth, making it glisten like a reward for me that I don’t deserve.
His eyes roll back, a raw moan spilling out as he pumps himself again. My dick twitches so hard in my briefs, I swear it’ll punch through.
“Fuck, Tristan,” he breathes. “I wish you were the one doing this to me. Your hand fisting me, your tongue on my piercing.”
Then he opens his eyes, and they meet mine. It’s nothing but heat, and it spears straight to my heart. Fuck, he’s so adorable when he’s not trying to be an asshole. It makes me yearn to pin him down and fuck the brattiness out of him till he’s sobbing my name.
“Show me what you want me to do to you, Maksim,” I say huskily, the need coiling unbearable now.
His chest heaves as his hand abandons his dick. Then he slicks the massive dildo slow, fist pumping it base to tip, the veins gleaming wet under the light. He watches me as he does it, and the sight alone is enough to make me want to grab my stiffened dick through my suit pants and stroke myself to the thought of replacing that toy with the real thing.
“See this?” he taunts, holding it up to the camera, then dragging the fat head along his inner thigh, teasing closer to his hole. “Every vein, every ridge of this huge dildo fucks me perfect… but it’s not you. Not your cock stretching me raw, filling me with your cum.”
He opens his legs wider and raises one up a bit. His hole comes into view, and I can’t help but let out a low fuck at the sight. I haven’t seen it in so long, but I remember how wonderful it felt when my cock stretched him that night. I always remember.
“Push it in. Now,” I rasp, dominance and impatience flooding my veins, the air between us crackling. “Slow, Maksim. Inch by fucking inch. Let me watch that tight hole stretch around it.”
His breath catches, but that teasing spark flares even as he obeys, circling the slick head against his rim slowly.
“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs teasingly. “You leaking in your briefs already? Take your dick out and stroke it, Tristan. I know you want to.”
Fuck, he’s such a brat.
My dick throbs painfully, but I ignore it as I watch him drag the slick head right to his rim, pressing just enough to dimple the tight pucker. A low, filthy moan tears from him as it breaches, popping past the ring with a wet stretch.
The sight—his hole yielding, veins disappearing inch by obscene inch—has my dick leaking like a faucet, soaking through.
“Oh fuck.” He groans, pulling the dildo out a bit, then shoving it back deeper into his tight hole. My hand betrays me, and I drag it over the bulge in my trousers, the friction sparking heat I can’t ignore anymore, aching to replace that toy with my pulsing dick.
“Just like that, spitfire,” I rasp. “Go deeper. Tell me how much you want me.”
His lips catch his teeth, and he obeys, sinking deeper as he increases his pace. His pierced, rigid cock leaks pre-cum all over his abs in sticky ropes.
“It’s so big and perfect, just like yours, Tristan,” he says, voice rough and wrecked. “Feels like you that night… pinning me, owning me, breeding my hole. I want your cock to fuck me like that again so bad.”
