Escaping from Sebastian after having sex again, my legs shook, and he snickered as he followed me from his bedroom to the kitchen. I was after a snack, now that he had bent me over and fucked me senseless.

“Sit, I’ll make you something.” he chuckled, and I saw him take another look at my legs. Sitting down in the chair, I watched this Mafia don digging through his fridge for something to fill my belly that wasn’t his cum.

He moved with ridiculous ease, like he’d always known this kitchen, like it was another gun in the arsenal. Quiet confidence and a bit of smugness as he threw out a container of wilting spinach, wrinkled his nose, and slid a carton of eggs onto the counter. “Omelette?” he said, almost singing it, like an offer and a dare at the same time.

I shrugged, pretending my legs hadn’t turned to pudding. “Sure. Whatever. Maybe you can put in some of those mushrooms before they go bad, too.”

Sebastian grinned, all sharp edges and perfect teeth, flashing me a look that said, I see right through you. “Demanding, aren’t you?”

“Hungry,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

He clipped a handful of chives from the bunch that was in the fridge alongside the rest of the wilting veggies. Watching him move around the kitchen in only the pants he pulled on after he pulled out of me, I sighed. This man had no business taking up space in my head, but here he was, him and that tanned, hard body living rent free in my head.

He tossed the handful of chives onto a cutting board and began slicing, green flecks spraying onto the countertop. “You know,” he said, “if we’re going to keep…fucking…you’ll need to keep your energy up.”

“That sounds ominous,” I said, and reached for the glass of water that he’d poured for me just a few moments ago. My throat was dry, despite the fact that he’d tried his best to drown me already with his bodily fluids.

Sebastian ignored me, or pretended to, his hands moving briskly as he cracked three eggs and beat them with a fork, no whisk, like a beast, egg nearly spilling over. He scraped the mushrooms haphazardly into the pan, then the eggs, then the chives. He had the grace of a chef and the menace of someone who could kill you with the pan. Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent your life walking that line between normal and murderer. He slid the omelette onto a clean plate I’d never seen before, sprinkled salt over it, and asked if I wanted anything alongside it.

“No thanks, this is good.” I said and took a fork when he offered it to me. Eating quietly, he just watched me, and every single bit I took, so I offered him a bite.

He grinned wider, wolfishly, and let me fork some omelette into his mouth. He chewed slowly, eyes lingering on me as if he decided I was his meal. I ate all I could before I gave him more bites of the omelette, feeding him until it was gone. He stood up and took the plate, taking it to the sink just leaving it there.

My legs had calmed down when I stood up and pushed my chair back under the table. As if my legs shaking weren’t the worst thing, I felt Sebastian’s cum flowing down my inner thigh now, and I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I really wasn’t a fan of having it rolling down my leg after the fact, but I also was the one who pulled him closer this time when he stated he was cuming.

Grabbing him by the upper arm, I yanked him to the bathroom with me. “You owe me a towel.” I muttered.

“A towel, you say?” he said, and looked me up and down. “What for?”

Without saying another word, I pulled the loose sweatpants he gave me down my legs, and bent over the tub, spreading my legs. “Your cum is running down my thighs.” I mumbled.

Sebastian hummed, and I felt his fingers running up my inner thigh, rubbing the cum onto my skin. Without any other warnings, he bent me over a little further and used his hands to spread my ass cheeks apart. He teased my hole with his thumb before he slipped a finger inside me again, his cum being used to lubricate the area.

He fingered me, slow and carefully, and I heard my breath panting, wet and uneven against the tile. He made no sound except the soft squelch of his work, and when he slid a second finger in, I had to bite my wrist to keep from making too much noise. The echo in the bathroom was far too embarrassing to get any louder.

Sebastian reached with his other hand, palming my hip, digging his thumb in so hard I was sure it would bruise. I felt him crouch, then his mouth pressed against the curve at the base of my spine. “You don’t have to clean up,” he said, his voice a fervent promise against my back. “I’m just going to make a mess of you again.”

“Sebastian, enough,” I spat, but my body was melting around him, his fingers, his mouth. This man knew how to make use of what he had, and I hated that. I hated how good it was feeling.

I gritted my teeth and rode it out, fingers sunk into the porcelain edge of the tub. When his tongue eventually replaced his fingers, I flinched. For a half-second, I thought he would mock me, but he didn’t he just kept going, relentless and methodical, until my eyes blurred and my knees nearly gave. He only stopped when I collapsed forward, cheek against cold enamel, arms limp as wet towels. Then he wiped his mouth, stood up, and handed me the nearest towel from the rack.

It was soft, dark grey, plush and obviously expensive. I tried to wipe between my legs with it as I straightened up. “You’re incorrigible,” I said when I finally found my voice.

He was behind me, his head resting on his hand, elbow braced against the bathroom door frame. He looked annoyingly pleased with himself. “Am I?”

The thing was, this man had gone and made me hard again, and I knew why. He wanted to continue having sex from earlier. One round was not enough for him. Not now that I was getting used to being on the end of his cock. If he kept this up, he was going to split me in half. But that really didn’t seem to be something he understood.

We had sex again on the couch, and into the bedroom and just about anywhere he could move us where he could get his rocks off deep inside me. On the couch once more, this time sitting on his lap as he lifted me and dropped me on his cock, my legs like jelly. I whined, arching my back every time he stroked a pleasant spot inside of me.  

“Please, I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can, Rhory, I know you can,” he said before he aimed to make me cum again. Before I could beg him again not, I felt my hips jerked and nothing came out of my cock, but I faintly experienced the high of an orgasm. “Look here, you’ve just had a dry orgasm, lucky you, Rhory,”

All I could give him back were grunts, I was spent, and he wasn’t. I didn’t feel lucky, like he said I was. Letting my body go limp against him, he pulled out, his cock still hard. “We’re going to have to work on getting your stamina up, Rhory.”

Belly to belly, he jerked off his hand, pleasuring his cock between us, and when he came, I watched his eyes roll, and the pleasure overtake him. The grunt and soft moan that bubbled out of him doing strange things to my brain. Warm ropes of his cum hit both of our bellies, and I reached down, touching the semi-clear fluid as it dripped down just above my belly button. Stupidly, I brought the fingers up to my mouth and tasted his release.

The flavour was overpowering and not particularly enjoyable, although on this occasion it was not entirely unpleasant. I reached down a second time, this time touching a place on his stomach, I was about to bring my fingers to my mouth again, however, he then stopped me. “That isn’t necessary, Rhory,” he grunted.

“I want to taste----” He cut me off and used a piece of clothing tossed aside to wipe my finger off. “It’s bitter, and not very enjoyable, from anyone, but in the moment, like a blowjob that changes. Right now, it’s nothing special.”

Frowning at him, I closed the space between us and laid my head on his shoulder. I had a few things I wanted to bring up with him, but after sex was not the time. Not when it had to do with if he was ever going to let my brother go.

“We should get cleaned up,” he hummed.

“Too tired.” I grunted at him, and he smirked. “Don’t worry, we are going to work on this, definitely.”

I found the sounds of that to be unpleasant, yet I suspected I wouldn’t have a choice, Sebastian always got his way, and even if I did, I wondered whether it would be safe for me to refuse.