Chapter 9: Breakfast of Champions
Enn dozed in the warm aftermath until the sun climbed higher, painting the room in sharp, golden angles. Kael’s arm was a heavy, welcome anchor. The world outside the sheets felt distant, inconsequential.
Then Kael stirred. He pressed a kiss to the nape of Enn’s neck before his arm slid away, the loss of heat immediate. The mattress shifted as he stood. Enn heard the quiet pad of his bare feet on the polished concrete floor.
“Come,” Kael said, his voice still morning-rough.
Enn opened his eyes. Kael was standing beside the bed, gloriously naked, his lean muscle outlined in the sunlight. His expression was soft, but his eyes held that familiar, unyielding command. He held out a hand. Not the emerald collar from last night, but his hand.
A small, silent relief bloomed in Enn’s chest. He took the offered hand, letting Kael pull him from the bed. He was sore, a deep, satisfying ache that made him aware of every muscle as he stood.
Kael didn’t let go. He led him from the bedroom, through the vast, silent living area, and into the stark, clinical beauty of the kitchen. Sunrise gleamed off stainless steel appliances and vast expanses of white marble. The air smelled of clean lines and the faint, lingering scent of last night’s coffee.
Kael guided him to the center island, a monolith of cold, veined stone. He stopped Enn before it, turning him to face the counter. His hands settled on Enn’s hips. His voice was a low murmur by Enn’s ear.
“Bend over. Put your hands flat on the counter.”
Enn’s breath hitched. The marble was shockingly cool against his palms. He bent, his spine arching, presenting himself. The vulnerability was absolute, his nakedness compounded by the sterile, public feel of the room. His tail lifted unconsciously, a sign of submission, of offering. He felt Kael’s gaze like a physical touch, hotter than the sun streaming across his back.
He expected the blunt pressure of Kael’s cock. He was wrong.
Kael’s hands spread him, thumbs pressing his cheeks apart. The cool air kissed his exposed hole, and he shuddered. Then Kael knelt.
The first swipe of his tongue was a slow, deliberate stripe from his perineum up to his tailbone. Enn jerked, a startled cry escaping him. “Kael—“
“Shhh.” The word was breathed against his skin. Then Kael did it again, slower, more thorough. He licked him like he was savoring something precious, circling the tight furl of muscle before pressing the flat of his tongue against it.
Enn’s knees went weak. He braced himself on trembling arms, his forehead dropping to the cold marble. This was… it was filthier, somehow, than being fucked. It was an intimacy that dismantled him. Kael’s tongue was insistently wet, probing, and then it pushed inside, just a little, and Enn’s whole body clenched.
“Fuck, you’re so tight here,” Kael muttered, his breath hot. He pulled back, then speared him again with his tongue, fucking him with it in shallow, filthy strokes. He ate at him with a focused, hungry intensity, licking and sucking until Enn was a writhing, sobbing mess against the counter, his cock dripping a steady patter of pre-come onto the floor below.
Just as Enn felt he might come from this alone, the torturous pleasure stopped. He heard a click, the sound of a cap being twisted. A moment later, something cold and slick nudged against his loosened, wet entrance.
“What is—ah!” The silicone plug pressed in, a smooth, relentless invasion. It was thick, stretching him wonderfully, filling him in a way that was less urgent than a cock but somehow more possessive. Kael worked it in slowly, until the flared base settled snugly against him.
“Keep that in,” Kael ordered, standing. He ran his hands over Enn’s trembling flanks. “A reminder. So you don’t forget what you’re for while I make us breakfast.”
Enn could only groan, his body pulsing around the intrusive object. He heard Kael moving behind him, the click of the stove, the sound of a refrigerator opening. The domestic normalcy was surreal, juxtaposed with the plug buried inside him, with his own naked, debauched state bent over the island.
Kael cooked. Enn heard the sizzle of butter in a pan, the smell of searing steak and sautéing mushrooms filling the air. Each slight movement Enn made sent a shock of sensation through him. He was achingly hard, leaking onto the marble.
A plate appeared beside his left hand. A perfectly cooked steak, sliced, nestled next to golden potatoes and glistening greens. The aroma was maddening.
“Eat,” Kael said, his hand smoothing down Enn’s back.
“I can’t… not like this,” Enn breathed.
“You can. And you will.” Kael’s tone brooked no argument. He picked up a piece of steak with his fingers, holding it to Enn’s lips. Enn took it, chewing mechanically, the flavors bursting in his mouth even as his body screamed for a different kind of fulfillment.
He ate the entire meal fed to him from Kael’s hand, bent over the counter. It was a subjugation that went bone-deep, a caring domination that left him utterly pliant.
When the plate was empty, Kael moved. He stepped in close behind him, his hardness pressing against Enn’s thigh. His fingers found the base of the plug and twisted it slowly.
Enn whimpered.
“Ready for me?” Kael asked, but it wasn’t really a question. He pulled the plug out in one smooth, slow draw, the drag against his oversensitive nerves making Enn cry out. The emptiness was brief, immediately filled by the hot, broad head of Kael’s cock.
He pushed in without preamble. There was no resistance, just a glorious, burning stretch as Kael sheathed himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. The air left Enn’s lungs in a punched-out grunt.
“Mine,” Kael snarled, one hand fisting in Enn’s hair, pulling his head back. The other hand snaked around his hip, grasping his leaking cock. He set a brutal, punishing rhythm, fucking into him with deep, rolling drives of his hips that slammed Enn’s body against the hard edge of the counter. The pain was a bright counterpoint to the overwhelming pleasure.
“Say it,” Kael demanded, his breath hot on Enn’s ear, his strokes never faltering.
“Yours!” Enn gasped, the words torn from him. “Fuck, Kael, I’m yours!”
The hand on his cock worked him in a counter-rhythm, rough and perfect. The dual sensations collided—the deep, internal battering and the tight, rapid friction on his shaft. It was too much, a feedback loop of pure, animal sensation. His ears were flattened, his tail was a rigid line of tension.
“Gonna come,” he babbled. “Kael, please, I’m gonna—“
“Come for me,” Kael ordered, his voice a dark growl. He bit down on the junction of Enn’s neck and shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but a claiming, primal pressure.
It was the final trigger. Enn shattered, his orgism ripping through him with violent force. He screamed, his vision whiting out as his cock jerked, spilling hot streaks over Kael’s hand and onto the marble and the floor below. His body clamped down viscously around Kael’s cock, milking him through his own convulsions.
Kael groaned, a raw, animal sound. He drove in twice more, deep and final, and Enn felt the hot, sudden flood of his release filling him, marking him from the inside. Kael held himself there, buried to the root, panting against Enn’s back as the last pulses faded.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the city. Kael softened inside him, but didn’t withdraw. He released Enn’s hair, his hand coming up to cradle his jaw instead. He turned Enn’s face towards him and kissed him, deep and languid, a contrast to the violence of their joining.
Then he pulled out. Enn sagged, barely able to stand. Kael turned him around, his back against the cold island. He looked wrecked, well-fucked, beautiful. Kael’s gaze was dark with satisfaction. He brought his fingers, coated in Enn’s spend, to Enn’s mouth.
“Open.”
Enn, mindless and obedient, opened his mouth. Kael pushed two fingers inside, painting his tongue with his own salty, bitter taste. “Clean them.”
Enn sucked, his eyes locked on Kael’s, lapping every trace from his fingers.
When they were clean, Kael nodded. He then gestured to the mess on the counter and the floor—the smeared pre-come, the droplets of Enn’s release. “Now,” he said, his voice quiet and implacable. “Clean the rest. Use your tongue.”
A final, profound degradation. A complete reduction to an animal, to property. Enn’s pride, what was left of it, screamed. But his body, his soul, already belonged to the man watching him with possessive fire. He hesitated for only a second.
Then he bent, his knees hitting the hard floor. He leaned forward, and with a slow, deliberate swipe of his tongue, he began to clean the marble.