Crawl and Swallow
The bathroom tiles were cold—a shock of white ceramic against Adwait's palms as he crawled across the threshold. His knees ached. The silver ring had settled into a dull throb that pulsed with every heartbeat, a second metronome counting out the seconds of his submission. Behind him, Peter's boots stopped at the doorway.
"Turn around. Face me."
Adwait pivoted on the rug, his cock bobbing obscenely, the ring catching the fluorescents. Peter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at him like a man admiring a purchase he'd made on impulse and never regretted.
"Tell me what you are."
The words came faster now. "I'm yours."
"More specific." Peter's voice carried that edge of patient amusement, the tone of a man who had all night and knew it. "What does a man do when he crawls around on my floor wearing my collar and my ring? What does that make him?"
Adwait's throat worked. "A whore."
"Louder."
"A whore."
Peter uncrossed his arms and walked forward until his boots were inches from Adwait's knees. The denim stretched tight over his thighs, and from this angle Adwait could see the outline of his cock pressing against the zipper, half-hard and thickening. "A whore for what? Be precise."
Adwait's tongue felt thick. "A whore for your cock."
"That's right." Peter reached down and worked his belt open with one hand, the leather hissing through the loops. "A cock-hungry little whore who's going to clean himself up while I watch. But first—" He popped the button on his jeans. "—you're going to show me how grateful you are for that ring."
The zipper came down. Peter's cock pushed out against the dark cotton of his briefs, a thick ridge that made Adwait's mouth water instantly, a Pavlovian response he couldn't have controlled if he tried.
"Hands behind your back," Peter said. "You won't need them."
Adwait clasped his wrists behind him. The position pushed his chest forward, made his own erection jut out, the silver ring gleaming at its base.
Peter freed his cock from the briefs. It was everything Adwait had described in the bedroom—thick, veined, the head already darkening to a deep rose. A pearl of pre-come beaded at the slit. Peter stroked himself once, twice, letting it grow heavier in his palm. "Open your mouth."
Adwait's jaw dropped. His tongue extended before Peter even asked, muscle memory from nights spent learning exactly what this man wanted.
"That tongue." Peter stepped closer, close enough that the head of his cock was a breath away from Adwait's lips. "You're going to clean the underside first. Slow licks. Like you're tasting something precious. If I feel teeth, you'll spend the next hour with your face pressed against the toilet bowl while I decide whether you deserve to suck me at all."
A shudder rippled through Adwait's shoulders. "Yes, sir."
The first taste was salt and skin and the faint bitter tang of the pre-come he'd already spotted. Adwait ran his tongue from base to tip, following the thick vein that traced the underside, and Peter's breath caught—a tiny hitch that made Adwait's cock jerk against his belly.
"Good. Again. Slower."
Adwait did it again, lingering this time at the ridge of the head, tonguing the sensitive frenulum until Peter's hand came down on the back of his skull, not forcing, just resting there.
"You love this, don't you? Being on your knees for me, covered in your own mess, cock locked up so you can't even touch yourself. You'd stay here all night if I let you."
Adwait moaned against the shaft. The vibration made Peter's fingers tighten in his hair.
"Answer me."
He pulled back just enough to speak, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip to Peter's cock. "Yes. I'd stay here forever."
"Of course you would." Peter's thumb traced the edge of the collar, finding the engraved letters. "Because you know your cock is worthless unless I decide it's useful. It's just decoration now. Just a sad little accessory wrapped in silver while mine gets all the attention. Say it."
"My cock is worthless." The words came out raw, scraped clean of pride.
"Unless?"
"Unless you decide it's useful."
Peter smiled. It was the same smile from the mirror—small, devastating, rearranging the world. "Now you're starting to understand what that ring really means. Now—take me deeper."
He pushed forward, and Adwait's throat opened for him. Months of training had worn away the gag reflex, replacing it with something closer to muscle memory, a learned softening that let Peter's cock slide past his soft palate and into the tight heat of his throat. Adwait's eyes watered. His jaw ached. The collar pressed against his Adam's apple from the outside while Peter's cock pressed from the inside, a sandwiching pressure that made him feel hollowed out and refilled at the same time.
"Look at me." Peter's voice had gone gravel-thick. "Look up while my cock is in your throat."
Adwait tilted his eyes upward. His vision was blurry with tears, but he could see Peter's face—the clenched jaw, the flared nostrils, the way his chest was rising and falling faster now. Watching Peter come apart was always the reward, better than any orgasm of his own.
"You look so fucking pretty like this," Peter murmured, withdrawing until just the head rested on Adwait's tongue. "Mouth fucked open, tears on your face, collar telling everyone exactly who ruined you. But pretty is n't enough tonight. I want you to beg."
He pulled out completely. Adwait's mouth felt empty, cold, abandoned.
"Beg to worship it."
"Please," Adwait gasped, the word tumbling out before Peter had even finished speaking. "Please let me worship your cock. It 's all I think about. All day I think about how thick you are, how you stretch my mouth until my jaw pop s, how you taste, how I can still taste you hours later when I'm trying to eat or drink or breathe—"
"Keep going." Peter was stroking himself slowly, spreading the wetness Adwait had left behind. "Convince me."
"The way your balls get tight right before you come. The sound you make, that low noise in your chest. How the head gets so shin y when it 's wet, like—like polished stone, like something someone should kneel in front of and pray to—"
"Enough." Peter's hand shot out and gripped Adwait's jaw, fingers digging into the hinges. "You 've made your point. Now finish what you started."
He guided his cock back into Adwait's waiting mouth, this time with less patience, more need. His hips snapped forward in short, sharp thrusts that hit the back of Adwait's throat in a rhythm that was becoming erratic. The cock ring kept Adwait's own erection trapped, pulsing against the silver, leaking steadily onto the white tiles below.
Four thrust. Five. Six. Peter's grip on his jaw tightened to the point of bruising.
"You 're going to swallow every drop." The words were grunted now, Peter's composure cracking. "Going to hold it on your tongue and show me before you swallow. Prove you earned that collar."
Adwait moaned around the cock filling his throat. His hands were still locked behind his back. His knees were raw. The ring was a constant, remorseless pressure, and his own cock was so hard it ached, weping pre-come onto the floor.
Peter's rhythm faltered. His hips stutterd. "Here it comes—take it—fucking take it—"
The first pulse hit the back of Adwait's throat, hot and thick, and Peter pulled back just enough to let the second and third pulses coat Adwait's tongue. Salt and bitterness and the taste of a man who had been holding back all night. Adwait stayed perfectly still, tongue extended, showing Peter the white pool of his spend.
"Beautiful," Peter breathed, chest heaving. "Now swallow."
Adwait closed his mouth and swallowed. The come slid down his throat in a thick, satisfying gulp.
"Open."
He opened. His tongue was clean, the evidence gone.
Peter tucked himself back into his briefs with slow, deliberate movements. He didn't bother with the zipper. "Now you can clean the rest of yourself up. Get in the shower. Cold water only—I don't want that ring slipping off." He turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "And Adwait?"
"Yes, sir?"
"You're sleeping on the floor at the foot of my bed tonight. After the shower, crawl there and wait for me." Another pause, during which Peter's gaze traveled down Adwait's kneeling, trembling body with obvious satisfaction. "You've earned that much."
