I WAS sitting patiently on the kitchen chair, my knee bouncing uncontrollably, words spitting out of my mouth unconsciously. I clenched my fists for a second or two, then gripped the edge of the table till my knuckles went white. I shook my head in disbelief and caught myself just a second before I slammed my forehead against the table.
“That motherfucker!” The curse just flew out, crashing against the walls of an empty room.
“Third fucking night this week! Motherfucker!” I screamed again as I stood and started walking furiously from one corner of the kitchen to the next.
Okay, I admit I wasn’t very patient. It just wasn’t a part of my nature. I can’t say that I even know a shifter with ice-cold nerves. The boiling kind is much more common.
I made dinner for my boyfriend, Tim. I set the table, dressed up, and waited for him to show up. For the last three hours!! I had called his cell phone twice and gotten the voice mail. I had called his office and gotten no answer. I might have considered that something had happened to him if not for the resilience of his body, his unnatural strength, and the exact same situation having happened twice already this week. Our anniversary had been three days ago and I wanted to celebrate it. Desperately.
We had agreed to have dinner at home before the actual date—when he had stood me up—on the actual date—when he had stood me up—and finally now, three days later—when he, obviously, had stood me up. I’m thirty-three fucking years old and I’m still getting stood up, and by my fucking mate at that! If he’d done that eight amazing years ago, I would have dumped him so fast his head would have spun. Fuck the fact that we belong together! I certainly wouldn’t have gone through everything I did to be with him. But nooo. He had to be the most perfect guy I ever met so that I could fall in love with him and now, eight years later, wait for his fucking ass to get home.
God, I was furious! I wanted to beat him bloody, until he begged me …. The familiar click of the lock snapped my head in the direction of the door. I should have heard him before that, probably would have if not for my mute ranting. Tim carried his tired body inside, looking like a stampede ran over him, twice. I just didn’t give a fuck.
He saw me and stopped, shame and remorse plainly visible on his face. “Sebastian, I’m sorry, I can explain—”
“The fuck you can! I’ve been waiting for you for three bloody hours! That’s seven all together this week!” My hands flapped around my body in furious gestures while I tried my best not to rush him and strangle him to death.
“My boss wanted me to stay for dinner. He wants to give me this big client, and apparently I have to prove myself first by kissing his rosy, wrinkled ass. It’s not like I wouldn’t have liked to be here with you instead of wasting away at some fancy dinner where a waiter kept pinching my ass!” He said it angrily, as if that explanation could ever placate me.
He caught on to his mistake, but by then it was too late. I crossed the distance between us and my fist found its way to his gorgeous, steel jaw. I felt the blow all the way to my shoulder and my knuckles just screamed in distress.
Despite his tiredness, Tim turned toward me as fast as only a shifter could manage and pushed me backward, hard, before I could land another punch. I would have too. He knew me well enough to predict most of my moves. But even I couldn’t tell you what I was going to do next when I rode on pure rage.
He stood me up on our anniversary so that he could go to a fancy dinner and get groped by a fucking waiter! There were no words to express my anger, and he knew exactly where he’d crossed the line.
I rushed him in that moment, not thinking about it at all but wanting him to pay. I slammed against him and crashed his body hard against the wall. He took a few seconds to recover, but as soon as he did, punches landed against my back and he tried with all his might to dislodge my grip around his torso.
I didn’t budge. There was no way in hell I was letting him just smooth his way out of it. I should mean more to him. I should be the one he wants to return home to. I should be the one he answers his phone for. I should be the one ….
On the verge of tears, I bit him. My teeth taking the flesh of his pectoral muscle and holding hard. He needed to know he was mine. He needed to know how much I wanted him.
Just like that, all the fight left him and he moaned, somewhere between actual pain and sweet delight. His palms found their way to my back, caressing, pulling me against him, and I could already feel his cock filling in reaction to me.
“Say it!” I bit the other side too, making him feel it, tasting his sweet blood and making him remember. But he moaned again, his head lolling to the side, his eyes already closed. “Say it, you motherfucker, or I’ll hit you again!” I hissed, my anger still lurking beneath the surface.
“I need you… I love you, Sebastian… I love you ….” Tim tightened his grip on my back and whispered to me what I desperately needed to hear.
“Not good enough!” I pushed at his shoulders until he hit the wall again with a gasp. “Make me believe it!” I licked the length of his neck, leaving a wet trail, which made him shiver against the chill air.
“Only you, Sebastian… I would rather die than let you leave me… I love you more than my life…. Please, love me, Sebastian. Please forgive me, punish me… just stay. Just tell me you love me.” And I could hear the tears in his voice, the emotion he was hiding deep inside. Hell, I could smell it! Too scared of the outside world, pretending to be someone strong, someone in control, someone who needed no one. Except for me. He still needed me.
“I love you, Tim.” I whispered against his lips, and then I took them between mine in a bruising kiss.
I pushed my tongue down his throat, tasting him, making him feel me. I sucked him, remembering the sweet taste I’d been missing so much in the last two weeks. I took the very air from his lungs and made him surrender to me. I needed him like the flowers need the sun, and he needed me just as much.
My teeth nibbled on his lips until they were red and swollen, perfect for me to suck them some more. Tim was pushing at my clothes, grinding against me, whining as if in pain and whimpering when his hands fumbled without success and his cock couldn’t get enough of that sweet friction.
Grabbing his shoulders, I pressed him against the wall, my eyes giving him that silent order to stay in place, not to move a muscle. And in return, he whimpered some more.
I slid my fingers gently between the buttons of his shirt, caressing the soft skin below with the very tips of my fingers. I let my claws lengthen to sharp points, issuing enough pressure for him to forget his name, and then I ripped open his shirt. Like a savage, I exposed him to my eyes. I wanted him, still dirty from the day at the office; I wanted him, tired and smelly. I wanted it to be what it was. A possession, where he was mine just the way he was, where I could take him as brutally as I wanted to and know that he would love every single minute of it.
I licked my way from the arch of his arm, where the smell of him was the most potent, to the tip of his nipple, where I played like I’d just found the most interesting toy. I nipped at it, sucking strongly one second and barely grazing it the next. Tim was a mess beneath my fingers, forcing me to press harder against him every time he leaned toward me in search of more, always more.
My fingernails sneaked to the sides of his torso and, at the same time that I bit the pouting tip of his other nipple, they scratched all the way down to his hips, leaving red marks that forced him to hiss under me but also to thrash like a captured wild beast.
The tip of his cock was finding its way out of his pants. That one loose button was enough to set it free, to bring it closer to what it wanted, to bring it closer to me.
“What do you want, Tim?” I pushed against him, pressing both our zippers at his painful erection. I knew what I was doing; I knew just how out of it he was.
“Mhmm ….” He humped and groaned, not even knowing what it was that he was asking.
“Tell me what you want!” I barked at him, startling him from his haze but also arousing him some more.
“Fuck me, Sebastian… please… push that long cock in me… make me beg ….”
“Do you think you deserve it?” I asked at the same time my palms found his face and forced him to look straight at me. I pressed against his bruised cheek harder than I did at the other one, taking another hiss from him, but also all the attention I wanted.
“No. I don’t deserve it. What can I do for you, Sebastian?” he asked in a pleading voice, just a notch above a whisper. He understood where he was standing; he understood that it was me who was taking tonight.
I pressed my cheek against his tender one, licked the whole earlobe that was in my reach, and told him, blowing air on the wet skin all the while, “I want you to drop to your knees. I want your fingers to take hold of my pants and stay there, and then I want you to let me fuck your sweet, soft mouth.”
He was shivering in my arms, listening intently, as it was unavoidable, but softly needing nonetheless. With my speech over, he dropped to those knees as if I’d pushed him, took hold of my pants, and waited intently.
They were tight because I wore them for him, so that he could ogle my ass all through dinner as I served our courses. Another thing he’d missed, and for which he was the one down on his knees and not me. I lowered the zipper and took only my cock out. The pre-come that had left me as he squirmed in my arms just minutes before was smeared on my belly, and I could see in his eyes that he wanted to taste. I moved my cock to the side a little before I spoke, “Lick it. And don’t tickle me. You know the way I like it.”
It wasn’t really an order as much as it was a request. To outsiders, I would have sounded like a brute, forcing a man to do something degrading or something against his wishes, but I knew Tim well. I knew what caused every drop of pre-come on his rock-hard cock, I knew what every expression on his face meant, and I knew the exact limit when everything would stop. On the other hand, he knew that every word out of my mouth was nothing more than a request, no matter how much strength I pushed into it or how provoking my words were exactly. He knew that he could get up from the floor at any given time and I wouldn’t do anything to stop him. I, on the other hand, knew that he would never refuse my advances, never deny me my possession, but then again, I was the same. He knew me as well as I knew him.
The first lick was rough and I felt it all the way to my toes. Then he nibbled on the skin, using all the teeth he could, to scrape over my stomach, to bite it as he lapped at every smear of come that had found its way there.
“Take my cock. Love it.” The words were rough, the same as my voice. I wanted him badly. So much more than I’d wanted him the first day I saw him. It was like the attraction only intensified as we grew older, as the years together climbed in number.
His mouth was like a furnace, burning my skin so well. He took me halfway, only a couple of inches short of his limit. He liked my cock, as it was so different than his own. Not overly thick, but long. Too long for his beautiful mouth, but a perfect fit for his ass. He liked the fact that it was curved at the tip so slightly and that the crown was just a shade darker than the rest of it.
I took hold of his hair, always so soft and just long enough for me to hold on to it, as I pushed my cock in his mouth as far as it would go. He wanted to gag, to force me out, but I knew he wouldn’t. He felt as if this was his punishment, which he was more than willing to endure. The fact that it almost made him come was not so bad either. “You’re so fucking beautiful!” I told him a fraction of a second before I pulled all the way out.
“Lick me, baby, suck the tip. You know where all of that is going next.” He moaned, his eyes half-lidded, almost there, but knowing when not to come.
He did as he was told, his enthusiasm obvious in his every suck, as well as his every lick. “Now open wide, and don’t you dare come.”
He whimpered for me, looking pleadingly into my eyes. This was the worst part for him. Taking me hard and forcing the orgasm away, while for him it was the best it got.
“No, baby. Not this time. Hold it.”
With that, I pushed in his mouth again, one stroke, then the next, forcing my cock in just that tiny little notch more than he could take and being none too gentle about it. “God, how I love your fuckable mouth!” I gasped and heard him whine around me, just enough sensation to push me over the edge, if not for my quick retreat.
“That wasn’t very nice.” I said it even though I knew he didn’t do it on purpose. He was close, and my words could always push him where he needed to go.
“Turn around. Put your bruised cheek on the tiles and your ass up in the air.” I watched him turn, heard him hiss as the cold connected with his face. His pants were still on him, so I pushed them down to his knees and took a moment to admire the beautiful white ass that had been mine for almost as long as my memory served me. I didn’t even remember anyone other than him anymore.
His ass was perfectly rounded, and, when spread, my fingers took hold of it all. It was firm, but the skin was almost too soft, and bruised so easily. I spread him wide, looking at his little pink pucker, almost winking at me as his muscles contracted in expectation. He was undulating against thin air, whining softly in expectation, but knowing better than to ask for it.
I spat between his cheeks, smearing the saliva with my thumbs and circling his opening roughly. He moved against them, wanting me desperately but still holding back. Sharp hair surrounded it, as some time had passed since he’d last shaved, making it interesting for me to tease some more, to rub and glide until he was on the verge of tears. Only then did I push both my thumbs inside forcefully, spreading him, hurting him, reminding him I was still there.
Tim panted under me, loud breaths betraying his pain, but it didn’t stop his hips from pushing backward, from pressing against my fingers in ecstasy. Spitting once again, I pushed inside him some more, easing the passage, circling roughly inside, deliberately avoiding his prostate, giving him more pain than pleasure.
Once my fingers left him, he cried out, whimpered, and his hips followed after me. “Wait for it, you little slut!” I snapped, connecting my palm with his virgin-white ass cheek. The sound caused him to jump; still, the after-burn only made his hips dance faster, his sounds tempt me more strongly.
Spitting on my palms was not ideal as lube went, but he didn’t deserve real lube. He needed to remember tomorrow why he had trouble sitting at the office, why his every step seemed that much harder than usual.
Wetting my cock with my hands took only a few seconds and I pushed one thumb in him again, spreading his still-red cheek that had a perfect imprint of my palm decorating it. I didn’t wait for any fanfare, nor did I prepare him for the intrusion. I simply pressed the head of my cock next to my thumb and pushed forcefully inside. It was hot and tight, squeezing around me almost painfully as his whole body reacted to the pain.
Tim screamed under me, his hips pulling away instinctively to escape the burn, but I held him in place with my now-free hand and, instead of easing him away, pulled him an inch more on my cock.
“Do you want me, bitch? Do you remember who you belong to?!” I hissed, holding myself in place, as well as him.
“Yes, yes! I belong to you, Sebastian, only you!” Tim gasped as he said the words, feeling my whole length inside him, getting used to it, remembering the feel of it as it almost split him in half.
There was a time when he could have taken me just as roughly, more than a couple of times a day, when he would have begged for my fingers to join my cock in fucking him, but we didn’t have that much time anymore. I knew he was a gentler soul now, I knew how much it cost him not to beg for me to stop. But I also knew how little time he needed to get used to me, and what a pain slut he really was.
“You want my cock?”
“Yes! Yes! Please, Sebastian… fuck me. Fuck me hard!” he begged, his hips already pushing backward, wanting more.
So I gave it to him. I pulled back a little, then slammed hard inside, pegging his prostate in my first try, listening to his moans as he joined me on the ride. His hips danced seductively under me, and I spared him none of my strength. I pounded as hard as I wanted, never letting go and never easing up on his gland. Feeling his tightness, as well as his heat, grind against me every time I pushed inside.
I slapped his ass once more for good measure before I leaned over him and bit the flesh just under his shoulder blade. He screamed louder this time, and I reached beneath him, gripped his balls, and twisted them painfully, not letting him come just yet. “Hold on! You can do it,” I told him before I bit him again. More to the side this time, taking more flesh between my teeth, drawing that sweet blood.
Tim screamed once more and I only pumped harder, taking all the whines he could give me and waiting for the cries that always pushed me over the edge.
They came as soon as I spread my hips more and engulfed his, giving him more length and that torturing glide over his sweet spot. I rewarded him with a few short thrusts before I said, “Come for me, Tim!”
His orgasm was long and forceful, massaging my length with such strength that I barely managed the last few deep thrusts before I came with him.
I would have collapsed in any other situation, but I knew how tender he would be as soon as the adrenaline rush subsided, so I gently slid out and pulled him against my body. “I love you, baby.”
His hair was wet and I moved the stuck strands from his forehead, caressing the injured side of his face, the gentle skin of his neck. He was beautiful and completely mine. A little brat seeking discipline.
The aftermath tasted as good as the games themselves, and I relished the opportunity to wash him, caress him, kiss him senseless, and put him to bed.