smut

The plush carpet pressed against Caleb’s knees, cool and thick beneath his skin.

The penthouse was quiet but charged—electric with anticipation. His breath came shallowly, nipples hard from the sudden chill in the air and the heat of Damien’s eyes on him. Naked, trembling, he could hear every breath Damien took, feel every inch of space between them charged like a drawn wire.

Damien didn’t speak at first.

He just watched.

The tension dragged out, making Caleb’s skin itch, his spine lock straight. Every instinct said to cover himself, to run, to hide his flushed face and hard cock. But Damien had told him to kneel—and that command pulsed louder than his nerves.

Then Damien moved.

Slow steps around him, like a predator observing his prey before the first bite.

"You’re obedient," he murmured. “Good. But obedience without understanding is just performance. You’re not here to perform for me, Caleb. You’re here to belong to me.”

Caleb’s lips parted, chest rising and falling.

"Yes… sir," he whispered.

A hand slid into his hair. Gentle, at first. Then firm. Damien twisted a handful, tilting his head back until Caleb was looking up—into those cold, dark eyes.

"You like saying that?"

Caleb’s lips trembled. “Y-Yes.”

“You’re not sure if you mean it yet.” His tone was patient, but biting. “That’s alright. You will.”

The hand in his hair released, and Damien walked to the armchair, unbuttoning his cuffs as he moved. He didn’t undress—just sat back, legs apart, and gave a single command:

“Crawl.”

Caleb’s body obeyed before his mind did. Hands and knees on soft carpet, head down, he crawled across the room like an offering.

Closer.

Closer.

Until his face hovered between Damien’s legs.

He could see the bulge behind the fabric. Thick. Prominent. Waiting.

Damien didn’t unzip. He didn’t instruct.

He just waited.

Caleb’s hands trembled as he reached up.

“Did I tell you to touch me?” Damien’s voice cut like a whip.

Caleb froze. “N-No, sir.”

Damien’s hand gripped his jaw.

“You want my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

Caleb’s throat tightened. “I want your cock, sir.”

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Damien’s gaze pierced him. “Because you were made to kneel. Because that mouth of yours was never meant to argue—it was meant to serve. And because once you’ve tasted me, you won’t be able to want anything else.”

Then he finally unzipped.

The sound was deafening.

Caleb’s breath caught.

Damien’s cock was heavy, thick, the flushed head already exposed. It pulsed slightly with each of his slow, controlled breaths.

Caleb leaned forward instinctively, but Damien stopped him with a hand in his hair.

“Wait.”

His thumb brushed Caleb’s bottom lip, slowly, tenderly. Then he pressed in—past his lips, onto his tongue.

Caleb moaned softly, lips closing around the digit.

“Suck.”

He did.

And Damien watched him, heat building in his eyes.

“Good,” he murmured. “You look better with something in your mouth.”

The thumb slid out, slick with saliva.

“Now. Show me how much you want it.”

Caleb didn’t hesitate this time.

He leaned in, lips wrapping around the head of Damien’s cock, tongue swirling as he eased forward. It was overwhelming—thick, velvety, too much. But he didn’t stop.

Damien’s fingers curled into his hair.

“There you go,” he said, voice husky. “Take it. Take it all.”

Caleb gagged softly as Damien’s hips pushed forward, slow but firm.

Tears welled in his eyes. His throat burned. His lungs screamed. But god, the sounds Damien made—low groans of satisfaction, muttered praises—sent pleasure coursing through him like fire.

“Such a pretty little mouth,” Damien growled. “So fucking tight.”

Caleb moaned around him, heat building in his belly.

His cock throbbed against the carpet. Every inch of him was straining. Desperate. Humiliated. Owned.

When Damien finally pulled out, Caleb gasped, saliva trailing down his chin.

His whole body trembled.

“Up.”

Caleb tried to stand—legs shaky, chest heaving—but Damien didn’t wait.

He grabbed him by the throat.

Not hard—just enough to feel.

“You’re not here to get off,” he hissed. “You’re here to learn what it means to be mine.”

Then he spun him around.

Bent him over the arm of the couch.

Caleb cried out—more shock than pain—as Damien’s hand slapped his ass. Once. Then again. The sound echoed through the room.

“You’re going to take what I give you,” Damien growled, yanking his hips back. “No matter how rough. No matter how deep.”

Caleb gasped, face pressed into the velvet cushion. “Yes, sir.”

Damien didn’t prep him more than a swipe of lube.

He didn’t wait.

He slid in slowly, letting Caleb feel every fucking inch.

Caleb screamed.

It burned.

Too big. Too full. Too fast.

But he didn’t beg him to stop.

He begged him for more.

The rhythm was brutal.

Damien’s hips slammed against him, cock burying itself deep with every thrust. His hand gripped Caleb’s neck, keeping him still, forcing him to feel everything.

“You like this?” he snarled. “Getting fucked like a toy?”

“Yes—ah—sir—please—harder—”

“You were made for this,” Damien panted. “That pretty ass—mine. That tight hole? Mine.”

Caleb sobbed against the cushion. The pain blurred into pleasure. The stretch. The weight. The dominance.

“Come for me,” Damien ordered, slamming into him. “Come untouched, like a good fucking pet.”

And Caleb did—with a cry so raw it echoed through the penthouse.

He came hard, spilling onto the couch, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

Damien didn’t stop.

He chased his own release with brutal thrusts, growling as he spilled deep inside him.

When it was over, Caleb collapsed.

Damien didn’t speak for a moment. He pulled out gently, wiping them both clean with a towel he’d set aside, then cradled Caleb against his chest on the couch.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “You did good.”

Caleb shook, eyes glassy.

He felt ruined.

He felt complete.

Damien brushed hair from his face.

“You’ll stay the night. I’ll send your excuse to your professor.”

“…You can do that?”

“I can do anything.”

Caleb shivered.

And nestled deeper into his arms.

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