Page 119 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12
He needed to come. Wanted to come. Wanted an actual cock inside him instead of rigid steel and electric toys. Sweat ran down his arms. He didn’t know long he’d been there, locked to the beam on the floor. Each minute more he was there, he cared less and less about being seen, about being on display. It was becoming his default. There was no room for thoughts, for anything but struggling with the need fast becoming a beast in its own right inside him.
The first word fell from his lips without conscious thought. “Sir.”
“What was that, pet?”
Jun forced his head to turn by degrees. His vision was swimming, either from lust and need or the sweat and tears running down his face.
“Sir,” Jun gritted out. “Please.”
“Are you asking for Émeric to fuck you, pet?” Damian’s voice was level and flat as if he were discussing the weather.
Jun nodded fiercely, wincing as the hook bit him.
“You may beg him directly.”
Jun blinked, trying to clear his eyes. He searched for Émeric. The man was sitting on the arm of the couch.
“Please. Fuck. Me. Sir.” Jun’s chest heaved. “Please.”
Émeric stood up and crossed the floor, standing above Jun. “I’m not sure you really want it, mon petit monstre.”
“Please,” Jun gritted out. “Please make it stop.”
“Damian?” Émeric asked.
Damian approached. The buzzing stopped. Jun sobbed in relief. A moment later, the hook was untied from his collar. He fell forward on his forearms, his back trembling from being released. His face was so wet. He rubbed his face against his arms. Snot caught in his throat, and he coughed.
The hook left his ass. His hole spasmed, suddenly empty. He pushed back, offering up his ass.
“Petit monstre,” Émeric said again. “I’m going to touch you now.”
Jun screamed through gritted teeth. “Please, for fuck’s sake, fuck me. Someone fuck me.”
He was empty, and it hurt. He’d been left alone, and he needed warmth.
Large hands, similar yet different from Damian’s, grasped his hips. “He’s too low.”
Jun whined. Hands moved around him, unhooking the cuffs from the I-beam.
“Up you go, petit monstre,” Émeric whispered in his ear. Arms wrapped around him, lifting him from the floor. Jun scrambled for purchase, but almost immediately, he was being set down on a hastily cleared coffee table. A hand pressed down on his back, and he dropped to his elbows, chest to the cold surface beneath him.
Thumbs spread his hole.
Holy hell, Émeric was about to fuck him. He’d somehow gone from only ever having secret sex with Damian to this.
Émeric pushed forward, his thick heat spearing Jun’s hole.
Jun closed his eyes, tension flowing out of his limbs. He was putty. He couldn’t hold himself up. His thighs were weak, but it didn’t matter because Émeric was holding him up by his hips, driving in and out of Jun’s insides. He wallowed. Cock was better than hooks, better than vibes. It was warm, more pliable than steel, and full. It dragged over the best places and massaged the aching deep inside.
He wanted to come. He wanted to fly. He was begging, words mumbled into the tabletop. “Please, please.”
Fingers danced over Jun’s cock. He struggled up on his hands. “Alpha, please.”
“No.” Damian took his hand away.
“I’m going to explode, please. I need to.”
“No.”
