Chapter 2: The First Taste of Power
Ethan’s hand on the back of Leo’s neck was an anchor, holding him in place against the storm of his own panic. Leo’s eyes were wide, pleading, his lips trembling with unspoken words—sorry, stop, please.
Ethan didn’t remove his hand. He applied the slightest pressure, guiding Leo down onto his back. The movement was smooth, effortless, a demonstration of controlled strength that made Leo’s breath stutter. Ethan loomed over him, one knee planted between Leo’s thighs, his broad shoulders blocking the lamplight, casting Leo’s face into shadow.
“Look at you,” Ethan murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated in the scant space between them. His free hand came up, not to strike, but to frame Leo’s jaw, his thumb brushing over the frantic pulse at its side. “Your heart’s going like a rabbit’s.”
Leo swallowed hard. “Ethan, I—”
“You’ve been watching too much porn, haven’t you?” Ethan cut him off, his tone conversational, almost light, but his eyes were dark and intent. “Lying in your room, thinking about all those rough things. The slapping. The choking. The…” He paused, searching Leo’s face. “The begging.”
Leo could only nod, a sharp, jerky motion. Admitting it aloud felt like a confession ripped from his chest. His throat was dust-dry.
Ethan’s smile was a slow, knowing curve. It held no mockery, only a deep, unsettling comprehension. “It gets in your head. Makes you think that’s what it is. Just… force and noise.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against Leo’s ear. “Let me show you what it’s really like.”
The words were barely out before Ethan’s mouth was on his neck—not a kiss, but a deliberate, sharp bite right over the tendon. Leo gasped, a sharp intake of shock that melted instantly into a flood of pure, electric sensation. The pain was bright, clear, a brand. Before he could process it, it was gone, replaced by the hot, wet slide of Ethan’s tongue soothing the exact same spot. The contrast was devastating.
Leo’s hands flew up, fingers scrabbling against the hard planes of Ethan’s back, nails digging into skin. He arched off the bed, a choked, guttural sound escaping him.
Ethan didn’t stop. He mapped a path down Leo’s chest with his lips and tongue and teeth, a relentless, claiming exploration. He lingered at a nipple, biting gently, then sucking until Leo cried out, his back bowing off the mattress. Every touch was decisive, purposeful, wiping away the pixelated fantasies and replacing them with stunning, singular reality. This was not a performance. This was consumption.
Ethan’s hand slid down Leo’s trembling stomach, past the jutting hip bones, and finally palmed him through the damp grey cotton of his sweats. He stilled. His breath caught.
Leo whimpered, humiliation and fierce pride warring within him. He tried to buck, to get more friction, but Ethan’s weight held him firm.
“Jesus, Leo,” Ethan breathed, the casual confidence faltering for a split second, replaced by genuine awe. His fingers traced the formidable length, the thick outline straining against the fabric. He squeezed experimentally, and Leo saw stars. “You’re fucking huge.”
The words, raw and unchecked, shattered Leo completely. He covered his face with one arm, a ragged sob threatening to break loose. This was the secret he’d carried, the alien part of himself he both hid and hated, now seen and judged by the only person whose opinion ever truly mattered.
Ethan hooked his fingers into Leo’s waistband. “Look at me.”
It was not a request. Leo dragged his arm away, meeting Ethan’s gaze. His eyes were wet.
Ethan pulled the sweats down in one smooth motion.
The lamplight fell directly on him. Leo was fully, achingly hard, his cock lying heavy against his stomach. It was every bit as imposing as it had felt—long, thick, veined, the flushed head leaking moisture onto his skin. He felt grotesque. Exposed.
Ethan didn’t look disgusted. He looked utterly captivated. He stared, his own arousal a prominent pressure against Leo’s thigh through his sweats. He reached out, not with his hand, but with a single fingertip, tracing the prominent vein from base to tip with a touch so light it was agony. Leo jerked, a full-body spasm.
“All this time,” Ethan muttered, almost to himself. His eyes traveled back up to Leo’s face, taking in the flushed cheeks, the bitten-red lips, the tears of overwhelm clinging to his lashes. The protective urge that had always lived in Ethan’s chest twisted, merging seamlessly with a possession so deep it shocked him.
He leaned down again, bracing himself over Leo, caging him in. He captured Leo’s mouth in a real kiss—deep, demanding, tasting of mint and something darker. Leo kissed back with a frantic, clumsy urgency, all teeth and desperate tongue.
When Ethan broke away, they were both breathing hard. He looked down at the stunning, impossible evidence of Leo’s body, then back into his glazed, waiting eyes.
A slow, wry smile touched Ethan’s lips, the easygoing charm returning, but now edged with something infinitely more dangerous. He shook his head, a faint, incredulous laugh escaping him.
“You’re going to be the death of me, kid.”