Dylan Garcia

The door clicked shut, and in that instant, the air shifted.

Charles didn’t waste time. His hand closed around my wrist, firm, unyielding, dragging me back against the wall before I could even take a full breath. The impact rattled my bones, not from pain, but from the suddenness, the dominance that rolled off him in waves.

“Three days,” he hissed, his breath hot against my cheek. “Three days you made me watch you squirm, thinking you could ignore me. Did you really think you were in control, Dylan?”

My lips parted, a weak denial on the edge, but his fingers tilted my chin up sharply, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Answer me.”

The command vibrated through me, low and demanding. My throat was dry. “N-no, sir. I wasn’t—”

His hand slid down, gripping my throat, not squeezing, just holding, reminding me of how small I was against his strength. My pulse thundered beneath his palm.

“You don’t get to play games with me,” Charles said, voice smooth, deliberate, every word sharpened into a blade.

“You think silence is power? You think distance means you’re free from me? Wrong. It only makes me want to break you more.”

Heat coiled in my gut, shame and desire burning together until I couldn’t tell them apart.

He stepped back, only to push me toward the couch with a sharp tug. “Strip. Now.”

My breath hitched. Hesitation flared in me, just enough to sting. His eyes narrowed immediately.

“Don’t make me repeat myself or I'll purposely rip off everything you're wearing.”

My hands trembled as I obeyed, shrugging off my shirt, fumbling with the waistband of my sweats. The air felt heavy against my bare skin, every second of exposure dragging me deeper into his orbit.

Charles stayed standing, looming, watching. He didn’t touch me, not yet. That was the real torment. The heat of his gaze on my body burned hotter than hands ever could.

“On your position.”

I sank down onto the rug, my body already humming with anticipation. He circled me slowly, a predator savoring the sight of prey submitting without resistance. My chest heaved, every breath shallow and ragged.

Then his hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back until I gasped. His mouth was inches from mine, but he didn’t kiss me. Didn’t even brush his lips. Just spoke, his voice a dark promise.

“You wanted to test me? Fine. Let’s see how long you last when I remind you who you belong to.”

And then the night began.

Spanking, sharp and deliberate, his palm striking my ass until the sting blurred into heat. Edging, again and again, his hand coaxing my manhood to the brink before pulling away, leaving me trembling, leaking, desperate. Every whimper I made earned either a cruel chuckle or a sharper command, count, beg, or keep your eyes open.

By the third denial, I was half-sobbing into his chest, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. My legs wanted to give out from kneeling, but he purposely positioned myself so I wouldn't budge. My cock throbbed painfully, my body straining for release.

“Please, Master,” I gasped, the words spilling unbidden, unfiltered. “I’ll do anything, just please let me—”

His hand cupped my jaw, forcing my gaze up to his. “Anything?”

“Yes—yes, anything!”

His smile was dark, satisfied, almost cruel. “Good. Then remember this Dylan, your body is mine. As long as you're my sub, your pleasure is mine. And I’ll decide when you earn it.”

This time, he didn’t hold back. He wasn’t nearly done.

He undressed with deliberate slowness, letting me see every inch of him, his huge cock already hard. His voice was sharp, low, and commanding.

“Suck.”

He angled his cock toward my face, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening. My lips parted before I could even think.

I leaned in and gave him a tentative lick, tracing the thick vein from the base all the way up, savoring the salty taste of him as I reached the swollen head. My tongue circled it, teasing, before I wrapped my lips around the crown and sucked lightly.

“Fuck…” he hissed, breath catching, his hand tightening at his side.

I’d never done this before, not on a guy, not even on my toys, but I craved his huge dick. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he twitched against my tongue. I looked up through my lashes, meeting his eyes as I swallowed more of him into my mouth. The raw hunger in his gaze nearly undid me.

I slid down his shaft, slow and clumsy, and already gagged halfway. My throat fluttered, struggling, but I didn’t pull back.

“Mhmm—” I moaned around him, the sound vibrating against his cock as I bobbed my head. Drool spilled past my lips, slicking his shaft, dripping down my chin.

“Shit, Dylan…” he groaned, his voice ragged. “Is this really your first time sucking dick?”

Before I could answer, his fingers tangled in my hair, gripping hard, and he forced my head down. His cock pushed deeper, stretching my throat, making me gag violently. My eyes watered, but I didn’t stop, I couldn’t.

He thrust shallowly, controlling the pace, groaning as I tried to keep up. The salty taste thickened as precum smeared against my tongue, every inch of him pressing deeper than I thought possible. My jaw ached, my throat spasmed, but fuck, I wanted to give him everything.

“Ahhh—fuck, Dylan, your mouth’s so warm. So tight,” he panted, hips jerking forward.

I clawed at his thighs for balance, choking on every thrust, spit and tears mixing on my face.

“Mmmph!” I gasped around him, my chest burning, lungs begging for air.

His grip tightened, pulling me flush against his hips. He held me there, buried deep, until I thought I’d break. My throat convulsed around him, and he cursed loudly, voice breaking.

“F-Fuck—I’m close. You’re gonna swallow everything, right?”

I barely managed a muffled sound of agreement, my lips stretched wide around him.

Then, with a ragged growl, his body tensed.

“Shit—fuck, I’m cumming—”

Hot, bitter release shot down my throat in heavy spurts. I gagged around it, coughing as I tried to swallow it all, his cock jerking against my tongue. Some of it spilled, dripping down my chin, but most of it slid thick and hot into my stomach.

When he finally pulled out, I collapsed forward, coughing and gasping for air, spit and cum smeared across my lips. My throat ached, my chest heaved, but my cock was rock-hard from the humiliation, from the taste of him still coating my tongue.

Before I could fully recover, he grabbed me under the arms and hauled me up in one swift, effortless motion. My feet barely touched the floor before he pinned me back against the couch, his eyes burning into mine.

“We’re not done yet,” he growled, voice feral, his cock still hard and glistening despite the release.

Charles’s lips suddenly crashed against mine, tasting of his own release on my tongue. His hands gripped my waist, rough but certain, dragging me through the apartment until the backs of my knees hit his bed.

“Lie down,” he ordered, shoving me gently down against the sheets.

I sank back, chest heaving, cock throbbing against my stomach. My skin burned everywhere his hands touched. He stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion, the muscles of his chest flexing, then kicked off his pants with impatient force.

From the nightstand, he pulled out a small bottle of lube and a condom, tossing the latter aside for now. The slick pop of the cap echoed loud in the quiet room.

My body jolted when the first cool touch of lube-coated fingers circled my rim.

“Spread your legs wider.” His voice was low, steady.

I obeyed, my thighs trembling as I exposed myself fully to him. His finger pressed slowly, deliberately, stretching me open. I gasped, clutching the sheets tight.

“Breathe,” he reminded, watching my face with hawk-like focus.

A shiver ran through me as the first finger slid in, slow but sure. My hole clenched, adjusting around the intrusion. Then came a second, scissoring me open, stretching me until the sting melted into heat.

“F-fuck,” I moaned, my hips twitching against his hand.

He smirked, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them until sparks exploded across my nerves. His thumb brushed my rim, teasing, pressing, making me squirm helplessly.

“You’re so tight,” Charles muttered, more to himself than to me. “I could play with you like this all night.”

He did. Teasing me, dragging his fingers in and out, pressing right against that spot that made my vision blur. I writhed under him, my cock leaking against my stomach, my orgasm building until I thought I’d lose it.

“Charles—please,” I begged, my voice breaking.

At the last second, he pulled his hand away. My entire body shuddered, denied yet again. I whimpered, half-frustrated, half-desperate, but his grin only widened.

“You’re not cumming yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

He tore the condom wrapper open with his teeth, sliding it down his cock, thick and glistening with lube. My breath hitched, fear and need warring inside me as he positioned himself at my entrance.

Then, with one hard thrust, he pushed in—

“R-RED!” The word tore from my throat before I could stop it.

Charles froze instantly. His whole body went still, his cock buried just barely inside me. His face changed, the hunger replaced by alarm.

“Shit—Dylan.” His voice dropped, soft, careful. He stroked my cheek, his green eyes searching mine. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want me to stop?”

I shook my head, clutching his shoulders, forcing the words out through shallow breaths. “No—don’t stop. I just… need a second to adjust.”

Relief washed over his face, and his entire posture softened. He kissed my temple, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my thigh. 

“Tell me if it’s too much. I’ll go slow. Understand?”

“Y-yes,” I whispered. My chest loosened at the gentleness in his tone, even as my body still trembled under the stretch.

He pressed forward slowly this time, inch by inch, letting me feel every part of him. My back arched as he filled me completely, the sting giving way to a deep, burning fullness that made my toes curl.

When he bottomed out, we both stilled. His forehead pressed against mine, both of us panting, sweat slicking our skin.

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, kissing the corner of my mouth. “So fucking good.”

“Move,” I begged, voice cracking.

He did—slow, careful thrusts at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in. Each movement dragged against my walls, sending shocks through my body. The pain dulled, replaced by dizzying waves of pleasure.

“F-fuck, D-daddy—” I moaned, clutching at his back, my nails digging in.

His pace built gradually, each thrust deeper, stronger, until the bedframe creaked under us. His hand wrapped around my cock, stroking in rhythm, sending me spiraling higher.

“Dylan,” he groaned, his voice breaking as his thrusts grew erratic. “You feel… so… tight—”

My body clenched around him as I shattered, my orgasm ripping out of me in hot, pulsing waves. Cum streaked across my stomach and chest, my entire body convulsing in his hold.

Charles buried himself deep one last time, his own climax tearing through him with a guttural moan. His cock pulsed inside me, the condom filling as his body trembled over mine.

He collapsed against me, breath ragged, his weight heavy but grounding. For a long moment, the room was filled only with the sound of our panting.

When he finally pulled out, careful and slow, he cupped my face and kissed me, not rough, not claiming. Just soft. Tender. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

I nodded, still catching my breath, still shaking. “Yeah… better than okay.”

And for the first time, I didn’t just feel owned.

I felt wanted.