Sex in C Major
Chapter 69

Then the dildo was slid free in a wet rush.

And dry fingers began to probe. Stefan sobbed as they searched, the uncomfortable feeling disturbing but a relief all at once. He began to feel the slick creep of fluid leaking down his skin and pooling on the mattress.

"Makes a pretty picture..."

"Sir, please, fill me-fill me the other way. Make me leak there."

"What?"

"You you first...used me, properly, for you, from behind."

"I can fuck either hole from behind."

"Please."

"I didn't bring lube."

Stefan swallowed. "I-I've been opened up."

"You've a long night ahead of you. I'm not starting it with blood, or you'll break. And I've no patience for broken things."

Those fingers withdrew from his cunt, and Daz shifted. Stefan felt that now-hard cock begin to press inside again.

"Wait!"

A hand fisted in his hair.

"Are you making demands?"

"No! No, Sir, no I just-soap."

"What?"

"I have I have hand soap. In the bathroom."

"So? You have "

"Please, Sir, please..."

Stefan could hear the desperation in his own voice. And he knew he was in trouble-because the way Daz paused, and then lifted off him and walked away, said he could hear it, too. Without a checkmate, he would never ordinarily just cave to what Stefan asked for in these games. But now?

Stefan knew he was going to be in serious trouble for this later.

And yet when Daz returned, and cold soap began to trickle down the cleft of Stefan's arse, Stefan relaxed. He could escape in the morning, couldn't he? For a trip to the pharmacy. A morning-after pill. No problem. And then he could explain. Say maybe he'd had an unexpected period, or maybe he'd been late with his shot so he was just taking precautions.

And...accept the punishment for not simply safewording.

Then the dildo was removed, and Stefan realised-too late that Daz's definition of broken was a loose one.

His cock was slick.

Stefan was not.

He yelled when Daz thrust in. One powerful, sharp thrust. The dildo had been the same size, but the burn of entry was still sharp enough to sting right up to Stefan's teeth. He screamed when the second thrust hurt even more, and then his cries were muffled by a hand clamping down over his mouth and Daz's weight pressing down over his back.

"You wanted your arse ripping open, you got it."

Stefan bit down on his lips and gasped as the rhythm sped up, just as punishing as the first fuck. He was driven into the mattress, this time with no promise of release. The strokes were longer-Daz had one hand on Stefan's bound arms, the other over his mouth, and so the withdrawal and re-entry was longer, sharper, more painful.

It was brutal. The hot cock in his arse burned; the scrape of the cold metal zip of Daz's open jeans against his thighs was dangerous. His arms creaked with the rhythm and the weight; Daz's hand around his jaw was leaving bruises. And yet all Stefan could do was clench, hold, wait. He tried to thrust back, but it only hurt more. He tried to relax, only for Daz to worry at his arms and face until he clenched again. He tried to spread his legs wider, only for the pain to get worse.

So, finally, he did what was silently demanded.

He bore down, and held as still as possible.

He took every thrust, deep as possible. He yelled against the palm silencing him. He shuddered at the shaft sliding out, and stiffened when it punched back inside. And he tried to ignore the way his dick throbbed and rubbed against the mattress, the way his blood began to boil, the way his shaking was no longer about Daz's dick, but his own, the way-

He came sobbing, knowing he shouldn't have done. He came with black spots dancing in his vision. He came and tightened so hard that the fucking stopped. The cock inside stilled.

And a second wetness flooded him, hot and cruel and burning.

"Didn't know toys like you could come on an arse-fucking," came the crude mutter, then Daz pulled out. The rush of heat left an empty coldness, and Stefan sobbed breathlessly. He felt wetness trickling down his thighs, and was hauled to his feet by the shoulders, to stand naked in the middle of his flat, with cum staining his legs front and back, and bruises patterning his skin.

He looked down, breathing hard, and waited.

Eventually, he felt fingers dragging up the trail on his legs, and shivered.

"You made demands."

"Yes, Sir."

"Something rattled you after that first fuck."

"N-no, Sir."

"You're lying to me."

"No, Sir!"

"You're. Lying. To. Me."

Stefan bit his lip.