Beg for It

"Look at you, taking my cock like a whore, whining like a fucking bitch in head," Grant growls, the words somehow managing to sound endearing. He chuckles darkly at Ethan's answering whimper.

The obscene slap of Grant's balls against his ass has guttural moans erupting from Ethan's chest. He turns his face into the bedding, hoping to muffle the sounds, but Grant just threads his fingers through his hair and yanks at the strands in warning.

"God, you look so good beneath me, right where you belong," the man continues with a grunt. Each thrust still rough and deep, but he slows down from his frantic pace. "Such a pretty sight; the big bratty jock being pinned down and split open by my cock."

Ethan whines at the change in speed, words failing him as Grant manages to nail his prostate on every buck of his hips.

"What is it? You need something?"

Ethan tightens his grasp of the sheet, knuckles turning white with the force. He huffs in frustration as his mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out.

Grant leans forward. "Beg for it," he snarls through his teeth, "come on; I want to hear you fucking beg."

Ethan rumbles low in his throat, a sound that would be threatening if not for his current predicament. He gives his head a defiant little shake, the movement stilted with Grant's clutch still in his hair.

"No? Well then, I'm going to drag this out," Grant chirps almost conversationally, grinding filthily against Ethan's ass as if to prove a point. It's infuriating, and the older man knows it. "Gonna take my sweet time with you."

Ethan tries to rock back, desperate to be taken hard and dirty — fucked until he can barely breathe. But with the way Grant is pinning him to the mattress, his iron-grip not sparing an inch, it's nearly impossible for Ethan to just take what he wants — without the humiliation of asking for it.

Grant laughs at his pitiful efforts, tutting when Ethan thrashes weakly against his hold. "That's not going to work, and you know it. Just give in. Be a good boy and tell me what you want."

"Fuck, Grant, just fuck me," Ethan's voice climbs a few octaves. His body is thrumming with energy, heat coursing through his veins at an alarming rate. The pleasure is almost too much, but still not nearly enough. He wants release.

He needs it.

Grant coos, the noise a little condescending, but Ethan knows it's all for show. The older man nips Ethan's earlobe, the sharp sting of pain making Ethan's cock throb and weep. "You can do much better than that, boy."

Ethan's cheeks are burning, his ears too. Fuck, his whole body is tinted pink — embarrassment mixing with overwhelming hunger. He's never felt so desperate to be used, but his stubbornness and pride are biting at him to fight against it, to argue and snap and be disobedient.

Ethan tries again to squirm but to no avail. Grant just uses more of his weight to push him down harder, a long-suffering sigh leaving his lips. Ethan growls, and the sound coaxes another amused chuckle from the older man. "You don't want my cock then, huh?" Grant goads, snapping his hips once and then twice to tease him. "You want to lie there and be a brat? Resisting when we both know you're aching for it."

Ethan moans, punched-out little breaths spilling from his mouth. Oh, he does want it, and he is aching for it, but it's just his prerogative to be stubborn first. Still, with every word rasped into his ear — Grant's gravelly lilt vibrating against his skin — his instincts are slowly caving, the barrier around his will collapsing, brick by brick.

"Come on," Grant drops his voice to an affectionate mummer, clearly sensing Ethan's struggle to yield to his desires, so he offers a gentle nudge. "You can do it, baby. Tell Daddy what you need."

Those words are the key, laying waste to the last shred of Ethan's restraint. Ultimately, he's a slave to his longing for Grant to own him. He wants Grant to mark him as his. To claim him — body and soul.

He won't deny himself anymore.

"Please, Daddy, use me, fill me up," Ethan pleads with all the air in his lungs. He twists his head as much as he can to bare his throat to Grant, offering his complete submission. "Show everyone who I belong to."

Grant curses under his breath as he strokes his fingers along Ethan's exposed throat, scenting him, humming in approval when Ethan leans into the gesture with a contented purr. "That's my good boy."

In the next instant, Grant moves his fingers, clamping them firmly around the back of Ethan's neck before lifting himself up. His other hand drifts slightly higher on Ethan's hip, pushing him further into the bed. He uses his grip as leverage to — finally — begin pounding into Ethan in abandon.

Ethan moans with relief, drowning in an overwhelming sensation as his Daddy works on ruining him for anyone else — giving him exactly what he needs.

Grant's nails dig into his skin, his teeth grinding together as his thrusts grow sloppy and uncoordinated. "I'm going to breed you, make sure you're dripping my come for days. Everyone will smell me on you. They'll all know that you willingly presented your ass to get fucked." Grant squeezes Ethan's neck, wordlessly demanding his full attention. "They'll all know that you're mine."

"Daddy," Ethan keens at the raw possessiveness in Grant's voice. His muscles contract, his toes curling as every single nerve ending lights up. He's so close, he just needs—

"That's it, baby, come on my cock," Grant commands, tone thick and laced with pure dominance. "Let me feel it."

Ethan cries out as he paints the sheets, body trembling with the intense pleasure barreling through him. He's barely aware, the sound of the sheets ripping from his grasp a distant echo between his ears. His focus is hazy, his concentration floating away with each labored breath.

Grant stills, cock buried to the hilt as he comes with a primal groan. Ethan has only enough mind left to clamp down, milking the man for everything he has — greedy for every last drop.

Several moments Ethan lays there, lax and spent, panting into his pillow. They hiss in unison as Grant slides his cock out of Ethan's used hole. Ethan mourns the loss. The sudden emptiness has him clenching instinctively, a feeble attempt to stop the come from dripping out.

Grant loosens his grasp entirely and falls to rest on his elbows at either side of Ethan, blanketing him with his bulk. The older man dips his face in close, nuzzling against the sweat-slick skin of Ethan's shoulder blade, and plants a tender kiss on the protruding bone. "My perfect boy."