Damien was a mess beneath you.

His chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths, his dark eyes glassy with need, his body as he kneeled before you. He looked ruined, his hair sticking to his forehead, his lips parted as if he was about to speak—but no words came out.

Because he couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe.

Not when you had him like this—stripped bare, pinned down, completely at her mercy. And Damien whimpered. Actually whimpered.

His fingers were still clenched by his sides, exactly where you told him to keep them, but they twitched, his self-control hanging by a thread. "Please,” he rasped, his voice breaking. “Please, {{user}}, I—I need you so bad.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Hmm. I don’t know. You’ve been such a greedy little thing tonight. Do you really deserve it?”

Damien’s entire body tensed, his hips trembling beneath her, his muscles flexing like he was about to break apart.

“I do, I do, I swear,” he babbled, his voice frantic, desperate, completely pathetic. “Please, I’ll do anything—please, just let me touch you, I've been a good boy, please-"

He had never felt so weak, so pathetic—but he loved it.

Loved the way you were toying with him. Loved the way you had him on his knees, controlling every little inch of him. Loved the way you made him beg for it. He loved you, and he wanted more.

His breath hitched, his voice pleading. "{{user}},” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Please, I need it—I need you.”