Page 52 of Misconduct Zone

“Like that. No condom,” Dylon begs. We had tests, are on PrEP, and already agreed to give up condoms prior to this.

I’ve been fantasizing about coming inside him, intent on marking him. Dylon would have an animal fact for me about marking a mate to prevent any other animals from coming near. I am that animal tonight. Barely human, except for the need to spare him any pain.

His body sucks me in as I push an inch past where my saliva lubricated him. His warm body surrounds me, and I’m dizzy with the enormity of the moment. I bottom out, and he’s clenching as if he can pull me deeper. I want to be buried in his body.

I’ve never been so close to another person.

“Do you trust me?” I need him at my mercy.

“With my life.”

To get a tie, I have to pull out of his body, and he screeches as if I’ve stabbed him. “Shh.” I find the tie, along with the lubricant, in my nightstand. I stretch his arms over his head and bind them together. He groans and precum drips from his tip.

“Your body’s mine. I own every inch.” I lube us up and bottom out in one thrust. His moan sets me on fire. “Your body was made to take my cock.” The embossed letters declaring him my property unearth something sodeep, hidden from me, a black hole coming to light to be filled or consume us both, I’m not sure.

Being physically joined is only a fraction of this consummation. Our souls bond, fusing irrevocably—nothing can separate us.

“More.” He rocks back but doesn’t have the leverage.

I fuck him deep and slow, rotating my hips, forcing pleasure, but not enough to make him come. Sweat trickles down my temples, and his shirt with my name is damp.

I rise higher on my knees and lift his hips so his knees hover over the bed.

“Sugar, please,” he draws out my nickname, sending a shot of lust straight to my balls.

From this angle, I’m pegging his prostate, and he reaches for his dick.

“Mine.” I bat his hand away. “I control all your orgasms from now on. You don’t touch yourself without my permission.”

“Baby. Lars, help me. I can’t… I’m… It’s too…much.” My pace stutters, muscles melting from the desperate way he says “baby,” layering it with affection and, I dare to believe, love.

“Is it?” I don’t let up.

“No. It’s not enough.”

“It will never be enough.” I close my hand around his balls and squeeze, holding back his release for another minute to live in his body for as long as I can.

I sink back, sitting on my calves, and lift his back to my chest. We work his tied hands behind my head so he can hold on. I yank on the collar of his shirt to give me access to his neck.

“You let me take you without hesitation, and next time, it’s your turn. I want your come inside me.” I suck his clavicle, one hand at his throat and the other jacking him. His neck strains into my palm, and I tighten my fingers. I feel the vibration along with the reverberation of his moan in my ear as his pulse speeds up. It’s a full-body experience.

Dylon spills over my fist, and his inner walls contract, strangling my cock, milking me, and forcing my cum from my balls deep into his ass, marking him as mine.

Finally.

Forever.

“So full of me.” I bite the juncture of his shoulder, leaving teeth marks. “Should we get my bite mark tattooed on you?” I murmur in his ear.

“Fuck yes. Mark me all over. Cover me and brand me.”

“You’re my home.” I say the words that have been plaguing my mind since my return from Sweden. I let go of his cock because he’s too sensitive, but I stay immersed in him until my cock fails me.

He hums happily, unable to speak.

It’s torture letting him go to clean up. I cling to him, wrapping my arms and legs around him in my sleep.

“Can I paraphrase what we’ve talked about today?” my therapist asks, and I automatically nod at my computer screen. I’ve talked more today than in any other session. Yesterday brought up so many emotions, every thought fell out of my mouth at an alarming rate. Last night, I took things too far with Dylon. I’m not sure he’s ready for my possessive need to hoard him.

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