Page 103 of A Mistake of Worth
“Are you?” Gabriel’s pity was worse than anger. “Because you look like hell.”
David’s tongue traced along his length, coaxing him fully hard. Henri’s breath caught, but he forced it steady.
“I’m fine,” Henri repeated, sharper now. “And I don’t need you interfering.”
Gabriel’s jaw worked, pity curdling into resolve. “I’m always here if you need me.”
“I won’t.”
The silence stretched. Finally, Gabriel rose. The pitying look lingered, a knife Henri hated. Then the door clicked shut.
Henri’s mask shattered with the sound. His hand snapped to David’s hair, dragging him off with a ragged exhale he hadn’t known he was holding. “What the fuck was that?” he hissed. “I told you to stay hidden.”
David’s cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide with something perilously close to satisfaction. He lifted his phone.
On screen: Marc’s face. Not static, not shadow. Marc himself, watching live. Fury burned in his expression, sharp enough to strip Henri bare.
“You lied to me,” Marc said. The softness in his tone was worse than shouting. “A fling? Nothing more? Prove it. Take him. Hard. I want his mouth stretched, his throat ruined. Hold him down until he cries.”
Henri’s stomach dropped, shame scalding through him. Horror clawed at his throat, but he swallowed it down, teeth pressed together against the curse that wanted to escape. Any sound, any protest, would only feed Marc’s rage.
His fingers fumbled as he yanked the mount and phone from David’s hands under the desk. Normally smooth and efficient. Now clumsy, rushed. He slammed the clamp onto the desk’s edge, metal scraping wood, adjusting it just enough to catch both of them in frame. David still crouched beneath the desk, Henri’s chair visible, the angle crude but functional. The phone slipped once in his grip before he wedged it into the jaws and shoved it secure.
“Do it,” Marc said, voice low and cutting.
Henri’s hand trembled, then stilled by force of will. He didn’t dare look at the screen again. “Come here,” he said, voice stripped of gentleness.
David obeyed, mouth parting.
Henri gripped the back of the intern’s head and drove him down onto his cock. David opened easily, lips sealing around him with a wet heat that made Henri’s gut clench. He hated the jolt of pleasure, hated how his body betrayed him with a shudder that felt too close to desire.
David gagged almost immediately, throat spasming, hands clutching at Henri’s thighs, knuckles white. The vibrationrolled sharp along Henri’s cock as he thrust brutally into the boy’s throat. But beneath the panic, beneath the tears already forming, Henri felt the hard press of David’s erection against his shin. The young man was terrified and aroused in equal measure, turned on by the very rules that were choking him.
“Deeper,” Marc ordered. “Bury yourself. Don’t let him breathe until I say.”
Henri obeyed, shoving deeper until his cock was seated fully in David’s throat, until his shoulders shook, until tears blurred his wide eyes. The hands once clinging to his thighs were now bruising them.
Panic clawed up Henri’s spine. Not his own, but remembered.
Marc had done this to him many times. But once, back in college, he pressed Henri down and simply watched, curious, clinical, measuring how long before Henri’s body failed. Henri had clawed at his wrist, tried to wrench free, panic turning every movement frantic. Marc didn’t budge. When Henri jerked back harder, desperate for air, Marc’s boot caught his ribs and held him there. His lungs burned, vision swam, humiliation tightened around his throat until he thought he might die gagging on Marc’s cock, reduced to nothing but airless terror.
Marc’s voice had been calm, almost amused. “Look at you. Squirming, crying, and you still can’t get enough.”
The echo gutted him. Because David was squirming now, gagging, tears streaming down his cheeks, clinging to Henri’s thighs with white-knuckled hands. Henri could feel the hard press of David’s cock rutting against his shin, desperate, needy, unbearably familiar.
And Henri couldn’t, he wouldn’t, be Marc.
He ripped David back too early, spit dripping down the boy’s chin, breath gasping wet and ragged. Tears streaked his flushed face, red-rimmed and trembling. Henri’s chest clenched, because he remembered another time, another man.
Michael had held him the same way once, cock filling his throat until tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. But Michael had watched his face, had eased back the moment Henri’s hand tapped twice against his thigh. Henri should have panicked. Instead, he’d felt something closer to calm, weightless under Michael’s hand stroking through his hair. He remembered Michael’s gentle murmurs, the words falling soft as balm even as his lungs screamed. Michael had eased him back with care, wiped the tears from his cheeks with a Thumb, kissed the salt away, pride warm in his voice as he praised Henri for how well he’d taken it.
Henri wanted to give David that. To ease him, to praise him, to make it something other than punishment.
Marc’s voice cut across the line, sharper than before. “You think you can decide when he breathes? I said until I was satisfied.” A pause, venom thickening the air. “Again. Harder this time. Prove you’re not still his.”
Henri’s throat closed. Rage burned under his skin. Still, he obeyed, dragging David down again, brutal, until his throat convulsed, until sobs broke loose around the wet choke. Tears spilled hot down David’s face. Henri’s own vision blurred. The tears were real. So was the arousal straining between David’s legs, so hard it had to be painful. David wasn’t scared of what was happening.
Henri hated Marc for this. Hated himself more for the savage pulse of pleasure that rose anyway.
