Callen lay there, utterly spent, the world narrowed to the tremoring body astride him. His lungs burned, his heart jackhammered against his ribs, but all of it—every aching nerve, every quivering muscle—sang with one truth:
Yu had unraveled him completely.
The great Callen Wright, heir and playboy, a man who had sworn never to be chained, never to be captured, now wanted nothing more than to be shackled. Shackled by Yu's warmth, by Yu's weight, by Yu's wicked hunger. He would give anything—everything—to stay inside him forever. To be consumed, and consumed again, until there was nothing left but Yu.
His fingers slipped free from Yu's trembling body, dripping slick and cum. He raised them with weak, trembling motions, gaze fixed in awe as if they were holy relics. And then—unable to stop himself—he slid them into his mouth. The taste hit him like a shock, like the finest wine, like nectar money could never buy. He moaned around his fingers, his eyes fluttering shut, savoring every trace.
He was terrified. And elated. Hopeless. Thrilled.
Because he knew the truth now:
He was in love. Completely, recklessly, helplessly in love with Yu. And he would never crawl out of it.
Above him, Yu shivered once more, his body glowing faintly with the growing build of Incubus hunger before sagging forward. His strength failed him. He collapsed against Callen's chest, delicate and fragile, breath ragged. Exhausted—not from the act itself but from holding back. Yet even as his trembling form rested there, even as his body screamed for more—he stayed, hunger still simmered. A faint gnawing ache deep inside, unquenched.
Callen wrapped his shaking arms around him, eyes dazed, heart still spinning between terror and euphoria.
And Yu, though utterly remorseful, knew it wasn't over. The hunger wasn't gone.
It never really was.
The lilac overlay of DK01's system screen flickered faintly across Yu's mind, even as his body trembled from the effort of restraint.
[Host, you are demonstrating dangerous levels in lack of restraint. Your Incubus intake spiked to 92% threshold. There is a serious high risk of overindulging. I recommend immediate withdrawal.]
DK01's tone was clipped, cold—but there was something under it, like the ghost of worry.
[You're playing too close to the limit again, Host. This is not 'control.' This is self-destruction dressed in discipline. You'll burn him out—and yourself.]
Yu's nails dug into Callen's bare shoulders. His chest rose and fell in ragged waves, but not from exhaustion—no, from the razor's edge of denial. His hips ached with the fight to not consume everything.
'This is control.'
He lied to himself.
'The more I do this, the better I'll get. I won't kill him. I can't kill him. I just have to keep practicing.'
DK01's voice thinned, distant as if receding into static.
[You mistake survival for skill. But very well—this lesson is yours to choke on.]
The screen blinked out, leaving only Yu's pulse roaring in his ears.
The silence between them was heavy, broken only by slick, wet sounds and Callen's unraveling gasps. He clutched Yu like a drowning man, lips brushing nonsense across Yu's temple, jaw, neck—anywhere he could reach. His emerald eyes burned fever-bright with desperation.
"More, hah—please, Yu… hah, more… I-I'll do anything—a-anything—just ha, one, ngh, more time, hah…"
His voice cracked as his hands gripped Yu's ass, spreading him open, fingers trembling, trying to haul himself upward, to thrust, to claim. His cock, still iron-hard even after coming, nudged Yu's rim again and again, smearing with every helpless grind.
Yu's breath hitched, his lashes fluttering half-lidded.
"N-not… because you begged…"
His voice was a strained whisper.
"This is… practice. Control."
But when Callen's tip kissed his rim one more time, Yu whimpered—soft, broken—and the choice shattered. He lowered himself slowly, his slick walls swallowing Callen whole once again.
Callen let out a guttural, feral growl that vibrated from his chest, raw and animal. His words fractured into incoherent groans and grunts as Yu began that torturous rhythm—slow rolls that dragged every vein along his insides, then brutal slams that left Callen's vision starbursting.
The couch rocked. Their breaths tangled. Callen's sounds blurred into hunger itself, guttural and primal.
And Yu—still trembling, still whispering to himself that this was control—rode the razor's edge again, feeding and restraining, starving and devouring in the same breath.
The air between them was thick, almost syrupy, with the heat of skin and sweat.
The couch creaked under every brutal slam of Yu's hips.
Slap, slap, slap.
Each impact echoed with wet, obscene schlk, schlk as Callen's cock disappeared into Yu's tightness again and again.
"Yu—ahh—f-fuck—ha, m-mahre, ha-hardah—ha, d-dun't stahp—pleash!"
Callen's voice cracked into babbling, the sound barely human, just ragged need. His head fell back against the cushions, his emerald eyes rolled half-lidded, and his arms clutched blindly at Yu's hips, spreading, pulling, begging. His guttural groans melted into feral grunts as he bucked upward helplessly, chasing the high Yu gave him.
"Hnngh—ngghh! Yu!"
Yu's nails raked down his chest, his own lips parted with gasps.
"Hahh…hahhh, Cal-len—hahh, hah."
His lashes fluttered as his Incubus instincts surged like wildfire under his skin. The hunger roared.
Feed more, take more, devour~
His rhythm broke—hard slams, then slowed grinds, then brutal pounds again—desperation and restraint tearing him in half.
Inside, DK01's warning reverberated faintly.
[Host, you're at 97% intake threshold. Death of side character, Callen Wright, is imminent.]
Yu's whole body trembled.
'This feeling—shit—if I don't stop, I'll… I'll ruin him…'
With a strangled whimper, Yu forced himself up and off of Callen.
The slick pop of separation filled the silence.
Yu staggered, chest heaving, every nerve screaming to get back on, to take until nothing remained. His thighs quaked as he gripped the hem of his oversized shirt, shaking with want.
Callen lay sprawled, his cock twitching violently, his green eyes glazed and dulled with a lust-fueled haze. Drool trickled from the corner of his mouth as he panted like a starving beast. His arms reached out weakly, trembling.
"Yu, hah… mohre, hah… pleash, j-jusht one mohre thime, hah… can't ha—stahp—need, ha, you—"
His tongue lolled, words slurring into broken pleas.
Yu's heart cracked.
'He wants it too. Fuck, I want it so bad. Inside. Damnit!'
But he gritted his teeth, dragging nails into his palms to ground himself.
"…Too much of a good thing is bad…"
Yu rasped, his voice low, trembling.
"So… savor what I give you."
He smoothed down the hem of his shirt, pulling it back over his thighs with trembling hands. The sight of Callen's flushed, ruined state nearly broke him again, but Yu forced himself forward, crouching low. He cupped Callen's cheek tenderly, his touch a fragile contrast to the frenzy seconds before.
"Thank you, Callen. I'm… happy you comforted me."
He whispered, then pressed a soft kiss to Callen's cheek.
Callen moaned at even that, chasing Yu's touch with a lazy tilt of his head.
Yu pulled away, straightened his shirt once over again, and turned on trembling legs. Every step felt like tearing away from gravity itself as he retreated to his room, the sound of Callen's needy whimpers echoing behind him.
Inside his own sanctuary, Yu closed the door, pressed his back against it, and slid down, every nerve still burning with hunger as he whispered to himself.
"Control… I have to keep control…"
Before dragging himself toward the shower to wash away the evidence.
Callen lay sprawled, the ghost of Yu's warmth fading far too quickly from his body. His chest heaved, his heart hammering in his ears, and his cock—still flushed and angry red—twitched with insistent need despite his muscles screaming for mercy.
"Yu…"
His lips formed the name like a prayer, ragged and desperate.
He was ruined, spent, muscles trembling from the thrill of being ridden, and still it wasn't enough. Every nerve burned with want. Even ruined, he wasn't satisfied. His cock jerked against his stomach, demanding more, demanding Yu. His emerald eyes were glassy with unshed tears and pure animal need as his shaking hand drifted down, wrapping weakly around his slick, burning shaft. Just one stroke—just one, slow and filthy, shaky hand sliding down over every sensitive inch—and his back arched violently off the cushions.
A strangled, guttural cry tore out of him, desperate and filthy.
"Yu!"
His hips snapped upward, fucking into his own fist like he could still force his way back inside that tight, wet heat he'd lost. Another brutal pump, thumb smearing the dripping pre-cum over the swollen head, and he shattered.
Thick ropes of cum erupted from him, hot and endless, splattering across his heaving stomach, streaking up his chest, painting the clenched muscles of his abs under his shirt and dripping over his knuckles in heavy pulses. His cock throbbed in his grip, jerking with every fresh spurt, milking itself dry while he groaned Yu's name like a broken mantra. Vision whited out; his whole body seized, thighs trembling, toes curling, back arched so high only his heels and shoulders touched the couch.
A final, weak jet oozed over his fingers as he collapsed, utterly spent, cum cooling on his skin in sticky ropes. His cock softened slowly against his belly, still twitching with aftershocks, glistening with the mess he'd made.
Ropes of white hot cum spilled over his stomach, his chest, his trembling fist. His vision blurred, his body convulsed once, twice—and then finally, mercifully, he collapsed. The last thing he felt before blacking out was the dull ache of his heart, whispering that he would never, ever be free of that boy.
---
Steam curled thick in the bathroom as Yu braced against the shower wall, water cascading over his trembling frame.
The hunger still coiled inside him, thrumming hot and low in his belly. His lips trembled.
"I almost… I almost…"
The image of Callen's ruined, begging body made his stomach twist with guilt, yet his cock stirred at the memory all the same.
'I should hate this. I should hate myself.'
But the hunger didn't care. It begged, clawed, demanded. Like a living thing inside him, claws raking his insides, snarling one word over and over.
More. More. More. Please, fucking please~
Yu's hazel eyes flicked downward, landing on the shampoo bottle that sat by the drain like it had been waiting for him:
Thick, ridged for grip, long enough to ruin a man, the neck flared just enough to mimic a swollen cockhead—standing innocently by the drain.
His body moved before his mind caught up. He snatched it up, slicked it under the scalding spray, soap and water making it gleam like a real prick, and bent forward, one foot braced high against the edge of the tub. His hole was still loose from earlier with Callen, the water poured down his slightly gaping hole, fluttering with need. Hot water poured over it, sluicing inside, making him whine.
He lined the bottle up, easing the stretch as the bottle's blunt tip pressed against him. The blunt tip kissed his rim, cold against burning skin.
"Ahhh—fuck—"
His voice cracked as he sank down, the cool plastic a poor substitute but still sending shivers of delight through him.
He sank down in one brutal push. The ridges scraped his walls, stretched him wide, filled him so suddenly his vision whited out. His rim clamped around the thick neck like it was trying to swallow it whole. His fingers trembled as he guided it deeper, then back out, then in again—until his hips were grinding, bouncing, the bottle sliding slick and fast inside him.
"Nngh—too big—"
He lied to himself, voice cracking, already rocking back for more.
Schlk—schlk—schlk—
Yu's free hand reached up around his own perky, pink nipple and twisting in frantic, jerky pulls.
"F-fuck—"
His trembling fingers twisted the bottle deeper, dragging it out slow enough to feel every ridge pop free, then slamming it back in until his ass slapped wetly against his own heel.
Schlk—schlk—schlk—schlk—
His lashes fluttered as water washed over him, carrying his sweat and slick down the drain.
The hunger purred.
Yes. Closer. Feed. Release~
The sound was filthy, wetter than the shower, his loose hole slurping greedily around the plastic length. Each thrust punched the air from his lungs, made his small cock bob and leak clear strands that mixed with the water.
His hand tugging at his nipple moved down to grip himself hard, jerking in short, desperate pulls, thumb smearing over the slick head of his small cock on every upstroke.
"Adrian—"
The name tore out of him unbidden, raw and broken.
"Fuck—Adrian, please—"
His hips rolled like he was riding the real thing, ass bouncing, bottle plunging so deep he felt it in his throat. His walls fluttered, milked the invasion, prostate singing with every brutal stroke.
The hunger roared, triumphant.
Yes. Deeper. Break for it. Spill~
Yu's back arched, a strangled cry ripping free as he slammed the bottle home one last time. With that one final thrust, Yu's body seized—his hole spasmed, his thighs quaked—clenching hard around the thick length buried inside him, and his cock jerked in his fist. Thin ropes of cum shot out, splattering the tub wall before the water swallowed them.
He slumped against the wall, chest heaving, his cum spilled weakly into the steaming water, quickly washed away—the bottle slipping free of his hole with a wet pop.
The hunger wasn't gone—but it was dulled, soothed. Enough to let him breathe.
He stayed bent over, shaking, thighs trembling—his gaping rim winked obscenely, a thick string of slick and shower water dripping from it with a soft, wet sound.
Yu slid down the wall, knees in the water, chest heaving, cock soft and spent against his thigh.
It wasn't enough. It never would be.
But for the moment, he could breathe.
"…I have to… stay in control."
He whispered, though he wasn't sure if he was convincing DK01 or himself.
---
Water droplets clung to Yu's skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped loosely around his waist, the shampoo bottle abandoned where it had fallen.
DK01's screen flickered to life in the corner of his vision, the voice sharp and clinical.
[Host, that was reckless. Substituting objects to mimic intercourse is not recommended. While you did avoid draining your food source further, your body is showing increased risk patterns. You came dangerously close to overindulgence again.]
Yu clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes as he toweled off his hair.
"Tch. You sound like an annoying simp."
[If your definition of an 'annoying simp' is a survival system designed to prevent you from dying too soon, then yes. Well… at least you managed to stop, good job.]
Yu scoffed, feigning annoyance as he tugged on a pair of loose shorts and one of his oversized shirts. But under that prickly exterior, a faint smile tugged at his lips. For all the nagging, DK01 wasn't wrong—he had managed to pull back. He hadn't lost himself completely. That counted as a win… even if every nerve in his body still hummed for more.
With a soft sigh, he padded out of his room into the living space. Callen was still sprawled on the couch, half-dressed and utterly ruined, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. His hand twitched once, as if reaching for Yu even in unconsciousness.
Yu's chest tightened.
"Idiot…"
He muttered softly, fetching a damp towel.
He knelt by Callen, carefully wiping away the dried sweat and cum that clung to his skin, working with slow, practiced motions. He maneuvered Callen's limp body with some difficulty because of his smaller size, straightening his clothes enough to preserve some dignity, then fetched a blanket to cover him.
When Callen finally looked more like a person and less like a battlefield casualty, Yu let out a quiet breath of relief.
"There. Now I won't feel so guilty."
He whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from Callen's forehead.
"You give me too much, I give a little back."
Then, standing, Yu gathered up his own laundry from his bathroom laundry bin, tossing the damp towel and his stained clothes into the basket. Humming low to himself, he carried the load to the washer, letting the quiet whir of the machine spin away the evidence of his storm.
It felt… normal. Domestic. Almost like this was just any other morning.
Once the washer was done, Yu set about placing the wet clothes into the dryer and then realized too late the pregnancy tests he'd hidden among the clothes. Quickly, Yu started the dryer before taking the pregnancy tests and going into the kitchen to toss them in the garbage.
No one other than Yu actually used the kitchen but just to be sure, Yu took out the trash. He didn't breathe a sigh of relief until the plastic sticks were forever buried in the trash bin set to the curb for pick up by the garbage truck.
After returning, Yu placed a new trash bag in the kitchen bin then went about taking out breakfast ingredients until he heard the sound of the dryer finishing. Yu stepped away and went back into the laundry room.
Taking out the dry clothes, Yu smoothed his shirt flat across his arms, folding it with neat, practiced care. The dryer's soft hum had faded, and now the quiet was only filled by the rustle of fabric. He stacked the folded clothes into a tidy pile, a small swell of satisfaction warming his chest. After the chaos of yesterday and this morning, this rhythm—the folding, the organizing—felt like something he could control.
Footsteps creaked faintly across the floorboards. Yu didn't turn; he assumed Callen must have woken up. But then he felt it—warmth, firm and steady, circling him from behind. Adrian's arms slid around his waist, enveloping him, and Yu froze, breath catching in his throat.
Adrian pressed his forehead gently against the back of Yu's head, his breath slow, steady, almost reverent. To anyone looking in, it would've seemed the simplest thing:
A man holding his partner while the laundry was folded, as though it was the most natural rhythm in the world.
"Mm…"
Adrian murmured, voice still husky from sleep.
"I wake up… and this is what I see."
His hold tightened just slightly, possessive but tender.
"You… folding my clothes. Like a wife."
Yu's heart lurched violently in his chest. His first instinct was to laugh it off, to snap that he wasn't anyone's wife. But the embrace was so warm, so steady, so right—the word husband echoed in the back of his mind, making his belly coil with a dangerous heat.
Callen had been sprawled out helpless in Yu's arms, but Adrian—Adrian came to him like this, whole and deliberate. Claiming him quietly, without fire, just inevitability.
DK01 flickered faintly at the edge of Yu's vision, yet stayed silent, as if choosing not to intrude.
Yu placed the folded shirt down carefully on the pile, his hands trembling just slightly as Adrian's presence swallowed him from behind.
Adrian's warmth seeped into him, steady and grounding, and for a moment Yu let himself melt into it. His small frame relaxed back against Adrian's chest, the ache of loneliness and stress dulled by the simple weight of being held. It was too easy—too right.
But then DK01's cold warnings echoed in his mind, sharp and unforgiving.
[He is only a side character. The harem route is still forbidden at this point in time. Remember, the Tragic Target comes first. Do you want to endanger yourself and the baby again? Do I need to initiate defense protocol again, Yu? Think. Carefully.]
Yu flinched internally, guilt rising like bile. He knew he should push Adrian away. He should keep his distance—after all, hadn't DK01 already knocked Adrian out once because of him? He remembered the terror of that, Adrian's body slumping, his heart in Yu's hands. He couldn't let it happen again. He couldn't.
So he lifted his hand, meaning to press lightly against Adrian's broad chest, to keep him at arm's length. To remind himself of the space he needed to protect them both.
But his fingers brushed against the edge of Adrian's pajama collar—soft fabric shifting enough to reveal just the faintest sweep of inked lines over muscle. Those tattoos, dark and sharp, crawling from beneath the fabric, sent lightning through Yu's nerves. His Incubus instincts hummed with raw hunger, his fragile human restraint frayed to threads.
The words died in his throat. His hand, meant to push, instead curled into the fabric of Adrian's collar. His grip tightened, knuckles paling, and with a sharp pull Yu dragged Adrian's face down toward his own.
Their lips crashed together.
Adrian froze for only a heartbeat, then answered with a low, guttural groan, his arms instinctively locking tighter around Yu's waist. The kiss was fire, ink and heat, all the control Yu thought he had burned away as he clung to Adrian, nails digging through fabric, his belly pressed against Adrian's hard frame.
The laundry pile tumbled sideways, forgotten.
The kiss deepened quickly, heat spiraling as Yu clung to Adrian's collar, lips bruising against lips. Adrian's groan vibrated through him, hungry and low, and his big hands began to roam—sliding over Yu's waist, down the curve of his hips, then back up in broad, sweeping strokes that made Yu shiver.
Yu gasped when Adrian shifted, his hand slipping under the hem of the oversized shirt, calloused fingers brushing bare skin. Adrian moved with the instinct of a man who wanted to see, to claim every inch, and his other hand tugged at the fabric, intent on pulling it higher.
The world froze for Yu.
A bolt of panic ripped through him. He wasn't just bare under that shirt—he was changing. His belly wasn't flat anymore. Barely there, just the faintest swell, but enough that Adrian's sharp eyes and steady hands could notice. Enough that questions he wasn't ready to answer would come tumbling out.
Yu's hand shot down, grasping Adrian's wrist firmly. His other hand tugged desperately at the hem, forcing the shirt back into place. His heart hammered against his ribs, each thud loud as a drumbeat.
Adrian froze, his dark eyes narrowing in confusion. His lips parted as though to ask, but Yu's panic flared. Words stumbled in his throat, excuses tripping over themselves as he tried to force something—anything—out.
"I… I-I'm cold."
Yu blurted, his voice trembling as he hugged the fabric against his stomach, knuckles white.
"It's drafty. Just—leave it, okay?"
The lie hung in the air, brittle and shaky. Adrian blinked, studying him, his warmth and hunger momentarily cooled by confusion.
Yu's smile wavered, trying to play it off, but his wide hazel eyes glistened as though daring Adrian to push further.
Adrian's sharp gaze lingered a moment longer, the confusion in his eyes shading darker, suspicion simmering beneath the surface. But he didn't push—not yet. His broad shoulders eased just slightly, and though his hand hovered against Yu's shirt as if tempted to tug again, he let it drop.
Yu's pulse raced with the narrow escape, his heart still trembling, but his Incubus instincts clawed at him relentlessly. He didn't want this to end—not yet. If he couldn't bear his body fully, then he'd just have to give Adrian something else.
With a sharp inhale, Yu surged forward, capturing Adrian's lips again. The kiss was desperate, fevered, an anchor against the storm swirling in his chest. Adrian groaned low into the kiss, his hands tightening over Yu's hips as if grounding himself, trying to puzzle out the shift but undone by Yu's mouth.
Yu's hand moved with deliberate, predatory slowness, fingers slipping beneath the loose waistband of Adrian's pajama pants. The heat rolling off Adrian's groin hit him first—thick, musky, pure sex—making Yu's mouth water and his lips throb with the need to taste.
His pale, delicate fingers brushed the velvet-hot length of Adrian's cock:
Six inches of rigid, pulsing flesh, already leaking at the slit, the fat head slick and swollen. It jerked greedily against Yu's palm the instant he made contact, a fat bead of precum smearing across his skin like a filthy promise. Yu curled his fingers around the shaft, savoring the scorching heat, the way it filled his hand perfectly, veins throbbing under his touch as Adrian's hips gave an involuntary twitch forward.
Adrian's breath broke into a guttural groan, his head falling back against Yu's lips as his chest rumbled with the sound. His tattoos flexed with every twitch of muscle beneath Yu's touch, the ink shifting with the rise and fall of his breath as he shuddered.
"Yu…"
He rasped, voice strained, hands trembling now where they gripped Yu's waist.
Each brush of Yu's delicate fingers drew another gasp, another pulse of heat between them, a storm gathering again even as the unspoken tension—the shirt, the secret—still lingered in the back of Adrian's mind.
Yu's hand never faltered, stroking Adrian with steady, deliberate motions even as his own chest ached with that familiar clawing hunger and longing, letting the ache fuel his hand. His fist kept its merciless rhythm, gliding root to head in slow, twisting pulls, slick with the steady drip of precum that oozed from Adrian's slit. Every stroke dragged a fresh bead of it over the swollen head, smearing it down the shaft until Adrian's cock gleamed obscenely in Yu's pale grip.
Breaking the kiss with a wet pop left his lips tingling and shining, but his fingers worked to pump faster, shoving the loose pajama pants down just enough to coax Adrian's cock to spring free—heavy, flushed dark, veins standing out like cords under the thin skin. The fat head bobbed inches from Yu's stomach, already drooling another thick strand of precum that stretched and broke against Yu's wrist.
Adrian's teeth sank into his lower lip hard enough to blanch it white, tattoos shifting with the tension across his body—every tattooed muscle from his back to his forearms flexed, his restraint trembling. He wanted to pin Yu against the washer and fucking bury himself deep—but he held back, barely. His cock jerked in Yu's grip, desperate, begging.
Yu sank to his knees with deliberate grace, the cold tile biting into his skin. His hazel eyes, faintly glowing, lifted once to meet Adrian's before his lips brushed against the thick tip. Feather-light kisses first, coaxing, tasting, before his soft pink tongue slipped out and lapped a slow, filthy stripe up the underside of Adrian's shaft, tracing the thick vein from balls to slit.
Then his lips parted wide, plush and wet, stretching around the blunt head—soft pink lips stretching to take Adrian fully inside. He swirled around the head, collecting the salty precum pooled there, humming low as the taste exploded across his tongue.
He took Adrian in inch by inch, cheeks hollowing as the scorching cock slid over his tongue and nudged the back of his throat. The heat, the weight, the pulse of Adrian's thick cock filled him, and Yu's throat worked to adjust, the slick sounds of his lips and tongue blending with Adrian's ragged groans.
Adrian's hand twitched at his side, aching to bury itself in Yu's hair, to guide, to claim—but he forced it to stay, trembling, as Yu's hungry mouth set the rhythm, redirecting all suspicion into raw, consuming desire.
Yu's throat fluttered, swallowing around the intrusion, a soft, obscene moan vibrating through Adrian's cock before Yu eased himself lower. His nose brushed the trimmed hair at the base, lips sealed tight around the root, spit already leaking from the corners of his mouth in glistening strings.
He pulled back slow, cheeks hollowed, tongue pressing flat against the underside until only the head remained inside; then he plunged down again, faster, wetter. The slick, rhythmic sounds of his throat fucking itself on Adrian's cock filled the room and mingled with the wet slap of Yu's fist pumping his own stiff cock.
Gluck, gluck, gluck—
Adrian's hand hovered at his side, fingers twitching violently with the need to fist Yu's hair and ram in deep, to bruise those pretty lips against his pelvis. But he held back, knuckles white, letting Yu take everything at his own merciless pace.
Yu's eyes watered, lashes clumped with tears of effort, but he never slowed. He sucked harder, tongue swirling, throat opening greedily to take every thrust he gave himself. The hunger inside him purred, dark and drowned beneath the thick, pulsing cock stretching his throat and the broken, desperate groans spilling from Adrian above him.