The room was hot, quiet, and full of secrets.
The walls were dark red, almost like blood. A soft light came from the corner lamp, but it didn't reach the corners of the room. Shadows moved like they were alive, watching everything.
"Take off your shoes," a deep voice said.
He paused at the door. His fingers stopped at the buttons of his coat. He looked up slowly.
And there he was.
Sitting on a big black leather chair like a king. No shirt. Just black pants, and a silver chain around his neck. One leg hanging over the armrest, like he owned the whole damn world. A wine glass in his hand, lips curled into a little smirk.
The man at the door swallowed. "You're late," the boy said, swirling the red wine in his glass.
The man didn't speak. He just kicked off his shoes and walked in, quiet. His face looked older—maybe mid-thirties. Strong jaw. A little beard. But there was something soft in his eyes… tired maybe. Or scared.
The boy leaned forward, still smirking. "Daddy, you look nervous," he whispered, voice teasing.
"Don't call me that," the man said quietly.
The boy laughed. "Oh, but I like calling you Daddy. Especially when you look like you're about to fall apart."
The man clenched his jaw but said nothing. His hands were still at his sides, like he was holding back.
"You came back," the boy said, standing up. His body was lean, but strong. Tattoos ran across his chest and down his arms like vines. Dangerous vines.
"I always come back," the man said.
"Yeah," the boy whispered as he walked slowly toward him, "but you always leave too. Not tonight."
He stopped in front of the older man and looked into his eyes. His fingers came up, gently brushing the man's beard. Then he grabbed his tie and yanked him forward.
The man gasped, losing his balance just a little. His hands caught the boy's waist.
"Touch me like that again," the boy whispered in his ear, "and I'll ruin you."
The man's breath shook. He didn't pull away.
The boy let go of the tie and ran a finger down his chest. "Still pretending you're the one in control?"
"I'm not pretending anything," the man muttered.
"Oh, Daddy," the boy said, stepping back slowly. "I know what you want. You like it when I hurt you a little. You like it rough. You like being told what to do. Isn't that right?"
The man's lips parted, but no words came out.
"Strip."
The word hit him like a slap. He didn't move at first.
The boy tilted his head. "Do I need to make you beg?"
The man's hands slowly started unbuttoning his shirt. His fingers shook a little, but he didn't stop. The shirt came off, showing a firm chest, a few old scars, and a tattoo on his ribs that looked like it had a story.
The boy's eyes darkened. "Good boy," he said, voice low.
The man looked down, his ears turning red.
"Oh?" the boy laughed. "Did that turn you on? You like when I call you that, huh?"
"Stop playing games," the man growled.
The boy stepped up to him again, suddenly serious. His hand came up and slapped the man's cheek—not hard, but sharp enough to sting.
The man didn't even flinch. His jaw tightened.
"Don't growl at me, Daddy," the boy whispered, voice dangerous now. "You don't get to pretend you're the wolf when you keep crawling back like a dog."
The man looked up, breathing heavy. "What do you want from me?"
The boy's fingers trailed down his chest. "I want everything. Your body. Your shame. Your moans. The way you say my name when you can't take it anymore. I want you to beg for it. And then I want to break you."
"You're a monster."
"And you," the boy smirked, "are in love with your monster."
The man said nothing. His silence was louder than words.
The boy stepped away again, walking toward the drawer. He pulled it open and took out something small—a thin black collar. Soft leather. No spikes. Just a silver ring in the center.
The man's eyes widened.
"No."
"Yes."
The boy walked back and held it up. "Come here."
The man didn't move.
The boy sighed. "You came here for this. Don't act scared now."
The man took one step forward. Then another. Until he was right in front of the boy again.
He dropped to his knees.
The boy smiled. "Good Daddy."
He put the collar around the older man's neck, tightening it slowly. Not too tight. Just enough to remind him who he belonged to.
The man closed his eyes as the leather pressed against his skin. His chest rose and fell faster now. His hands were clenched.
"Look at me," the boy said.
The man looked up.
The boy leaned down and kissed him.
Rough. Deep. Controlling.
The man kissed back, desperate and hungry.
The boy pulled away first, wiping his lips with his thumb. "Now crawl," he whispered. "Show me how weak you are."
To be continue.....