The silk sheets pressed into Kai's knees as Sebastian's hips pressed forward—just a fraction of an inch, just enough to push deeper into the wet heat of Kai's mouth. The taste of him spread across Kai's tongue: salt and clean skin and something earthy, male, his. Sebastian's fingers tightened in his hair, not yanking, not guiding, just holding, like Kai was a thing he'd caught and was deciding what to do with.
"Open wider." Soft. No demand in it. Sebastian's thumb traced the corner of Kai's stretched lips. "Take me deeper."
Kai's throat locked. He'd never done this before. Not like this. Not on his knees with a man's cock in his mouth and his own leaking against his thigh. He fought the gag reflex, forced himself to relax, to take more. Sebastian's head fell back, a sound leaving him—low, almost wounded—and Kai's cock twitched at the noise. That sound meant something. That sound was Sebastian undone.
"Yes." Sebastian's hand slid from Kai's hair to the back of his neck, fingers pressing into the muscle there. "Just like that. You learn fast."
Kai's tongue found the vein on the underside, traced it without thinking, and Sebastian's grip tightened. A warning or a reward. Both. The taste of him grew sharper, saltier, and Kai's mouth flooded with saliva, a humiliating wet sound filling the room as he worked his jaw, finding a rhythm that made Sebastian's hips twitch. The phone in Sebastian's pocket pressed against Kai's shoulder, a hard reminder of what he was paying for.
"Look at me." Sebastian's voice had roughened, stripped of its polish. "Eyes up."
Kai obeyed. His vision blurred with tears, his jaw aching, but he held Sebastian's gaze—those gray-blue eyes darkened almost to storm, fixed on him with something that wasn't cruelty. Want. Raw and undisguised. Sebastian's thumb brushed Kai's cheek, caught a tear, and brought it to his own lips. A taste. A claiming.
"You're beautiful like this." The words were barely a whisper. "Hating every second. Needing it anyway."
Kai couldn't answer. Couldn't do anything but breathe through his nose and take him deeper, feeling Sebastian's cock hit the back of his throat, feeling himself open to accept it. The stretch burned. The humiliation burned. But beneath both was something that terrified him more: a stillness. A quiet. For the first time all night, his mind had stopped screaming.
Sebastian's hips began to move—small, controlled thrusts, feeding his cock into Kai's mouth with a patience that felt infinite. Each push deeper. Each pull back to the tip. Kai's hands stayed flat on his own thighs, obeying the rule Sebastian hadn't needed to repeat. No touching himself. No coming without permission. His cock was a throbbing ache between his legs, leaking against the silk, but he didn't reach for it.
"That's it." Sebastian's voice broke on the second word. His hand found Kai's jaw, tilting it up, opening his throat wider. "That's my good boy."
The praise hit Kai like a blade. His hips jerked forward, searching for friction against nothing, a whimper escaping around Sebastian's cock. Sebastian laughed softly, breathlessly, and withdrew until only the tip rested on Kai's tongue. His thumb pressed against Kai's lower lip, holding him open.
"Pleasedon'tstop." The words came out broken, slurred, desperate. Kai didn't know when he'd started speaking. "Please. Don't stop."
Sebastian's eyes closed. His chest rose and fell once, twice, and then his hand was back in Kai's hair, guiding him forward, and Kai took him again—all of him, throat open, tears falling, the debt forgotten in the weight of a mouth full of the man who owned him.
Sebastian’s hand slid from Kai’s hair to his jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge, and he pulled. Kai rose on unsteady legs, his mouth still open, his throat raw and empty. Sebastian’s thumb traced the corner of Kai’s lips, wiping away the slickness there, and then his palm settled against Kai’s nape, firm and guiding.
“Walk with me.” No room for refusal.
Kai followed, his knees barely holding. The silk sheets fell away as he stepped off the bed onto the cold hardwood. His cock swung heavy and wet against his thigh, still achingly hard, still leaking. The air hit his skin where Sebastian’s mouth had been, and he shivered—not from cold.
Sebastian stopped them in front of a full-length mirror on the wardrobe door. Silver frame. Kai’s reflection stared back at him, and he didn’t recognize the man he saw. Swollen lips, slick with spit. Tear tracks cutting through the grime on his cheeks. His hair was wrecked—the short undercut dark with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead. The tattoos on his chest and arms seemed sharper in the dim light, the ink almost alive against his flushed skin. And there, between his thighs, his cock still hard, the head dark and glistening.
Sebastian stood behind him, fully dressed. The charcoal shirt was rumpled, the top button undone, but he was clothed where Kai was naked. The contrast was obscene. His hand stayed on Kai’s nape, thumb rubbing small circles into the muscle—a gesture that could have been soothing if it weren’t so possessive.
“Eyes forward.” Sebastian’s voice came from just behind his ear, low and even. Kai didn’t have to be told twice. He watched his own reflection, watched the man in the mirror who had taken another man’s cock down his throat and begged him not to stop.
Sebastian’s other hand came to rest on Kai’s hip—slow, deliberate, his palm flat against the jut of bone. He didn’t grip, didn’t pull. Just held. The heat of his hand seeped into Kai’s skin, and Kai felt his cock twitch, a bead of pre-cum welling at the tip. He watched it happen in the mirror. Watched his body betray him.
“You’re still hard.” Sebastian’s thumb slid along the sharp curve of Kai’s hipbone, tracing the edge of a tattoo—a bird in mid-flight, wings spread. “I could stop touching you entirely, and you’d stay hard.” It wasn’t a question. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Kai’s throat moved. He tried to form a word, but the only sound that came out was a broken exhale. He shook his head, a tiny motion. Sebastian was not wrong.
Sebastian’s hand moved up Kai’s torso, palm dragging over his ribs, over the scar tissue there, until it came to rest over his heart. The beat was wild, hammering against Sebastian’s fingers. “This,” Sebastian murmured, “is the most honest thing about you. Your body tells me everything. Your mouth—” He leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of Kai’s ear. “Your mouth lies. But this?” He pressed harder. “Never.”
Kai stared at the two of them in the mirror: the broken man and the man who had broken him. His reflection looked back with dark, hollow eyes. But there was something else there—a flicker of want he couldn’t name, couldn’t hide. The debt notice pressed against his bare shoulder blade, hard in Sebastian’s pocket, but Kai didn’t care. He couldn’t care. Not when Sebastian’s hand was warm on his chest and his own reflection was finally, finally still.