The door swung shut in the sluggish way that all hotel doors did, dragging on the carpet until it met the lock and clicked into place. Before it was closed all the way, Vincent’s tie was pulled taut, and his attention was redirected to Mal, who’d wrapped it around his hand and had pulled it toward himself. It wasn’t the only piece of clothing of Vincent’s that had become uncomfortably constricting—his pants were strained by his erection, their zipper eager to fall.

Vincent hadn’t anticipated that Mal would want to take control. The development, while surprising, spurred Vincent on. Whatever direction the night took them in, he was ready.

“You wanted to know how you could fix what I was feeling?” Mal asked in a whisper. He curled his hand, bringing Vincent closer as he tightened his tie. The tiny act of possession made Vincent shiver with anticipation. What other delights was Mal hiding from him? “I have a pretty good idea.”

“Do you?” Vincent slid his hands over Mal’s hips, tracing the cotton weave of his dress shirt to the stiff leather band of his belt. Confidence curved his lips. “I’d love to know.”

“You,” Mal whispered, the sound of his voice a sultry temptation. He tilted his head to the side and let their lips brush, and it took all of Vincent’s self-control not to pin him to the wall and silence him with another starved kiss, “should carry me to bed, and then we’ll see what kind of trouble we can get up to.”

The moment went from incendiary to harrowing. Vincent kept his composure, stuffing his momentary panic down into the dredges of his soul. Mal was narrow and small—it wouldn’t be difficult to carry him. Why was he worrying? It was a few paces to the bed at most. He could do it.

Vincent’s hands slid from Mal’s hips to the curves of his ass. He tugged Mal a little closer, then turned his head until his lips found the corner of Mal’s.

“If that’s what you want,” Vincent uttered, voice smoothly confident despite his worry, “then it shall be done.”

He kissed Mal once more, teasing the corner of his lips, then adjusted his position to lift him up. The tie remained wrapped in Mal’s hand, but his free arm looped around Vincent’s neck, holding himself steady. Vincent’s arms strained, and his muscles protested, but he pushed past the exertion and carried Mal from the short hallway to the bedroom proper, where the crisply made bed waited. Vincent came to its edge and set one knee upon it, then the other, and carefully lowered himself so that he dipped Mal back onto the bed without pulling on his tie. Mal landed on the duvet, his pale eyes looking up at Vincent with unspoken adoration.

It was adoration Vincent longed to return.

Once Mal was settled on the bed, Vincent changed his position. He slotted one of his knees between Mal’s legs and slid it upward until it was lodged between Mal’s thighs. His hands braced themselves on the bed on either side of Mal’s shoulders, and as Vincent leaned down over him, Mal looked at him with a hesitant hunger that Vincent craved to satisfy. He got his chance when Mal lifted himself only enough to bring their lips together, starting a kiss that curled Vincent’s toes and made his cock ache to be touched.

Eyes closed from the kiss, Vincent parted one hand from the bed and discovered Mal’s body by feel. His suit jacket had fallen open, exposing his dress shirt. Vincent traced his fingers along Mal’s side, then along the cotton to the line of buttons that kept Mal’s dress shirt closed. One by one, he freed each disk from its hole until his fingers arrived at the buckle of Mal’s belt.

The kiss stopped—Mal had turned his head to the side to break contact. Vincent opened his eyes to see what was wrong to find that Mal’s chest was rising and falling heavily from the exertion of his arousal. Need had replaced the affection in his eyes. It didn’t look like he wanted to stop… so what had happened?

Vincent got his answer a second later.

“Ask permission.” Mal’s tone wasn’t firm or foreboding, but it struck Vincent with its intensity all the same. Arousal lurked in those words, masked by a playful quality that made Vincent’s cock twitch.

Was this really happening?

Mal wasn’t limiting Vincent’s dominance, but he was shaping it to suit his own desires.

While Vincent advanced their intimacy and provided pleasure, it was Mal who guided him—who called the shots. Everything Vincent did, he did at Mal’s command. The power he’d found in dominating Mal hadn’t been taken away, but it had been redefined. This was the way Mal wanted them to play. And Vincent, who’d been born to please, to give, and to dominate through submission, would give it to him.

Mal would tell him what to do, and he’d do it. Never before had he wanted something more.

“Please?” Vincent whispered against his lips, his cock pulsing with sudden need. If he couldn’t undress Mal, he was sure he’d go insane. The scent of Mal’s heat was barely detectable, but the memory of it from their encounter in the storage closet fueled Vincent’s desire. Even if Mal didn’t allow him to penetrate his body, Vincent needed to touch him, taste him, make him come…

“Please what?”

The question came as a surprise. Vincent closed his eyes and shivered.

Oh, fuck yes.

“Please, can I undo your belt?”

“Good boy.” Mal ran a hand through Vincent’s hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen forward as Vincent leaned over him. Despite the confidence in his actions, there was an inkling of a tremble in his voice, like his confidence was an act at risk of being exposed. The hint of uncertainty didn’t faze Vincent—it excited him. He wanted to strip each of Mal’s insecurities from him piece by piece in the same way he wanted to strip him of his clothes. What would it take to build him up to the point he felt comfortable?

Could he do it in one night?

“You may.”

Vincent tugged the leather tongue from the clasp of Mal’s buckle. His belt fell open, exposing the fly beneath. Vincent went to caress the bulge there, but stopped himself short. The game had just begun, and he didn’t intend to lose it.

“Please, may I undo your fly?”

Lust lit in Mal’s eyes all over again, like the simple question was dirty talk. The sight of him like that stirred Vincent, and his heart started to pound as if he’d just run a race. How could one man have woven him around his finger so quickly?

“You may.”

Short of breath, Vincent’s fingers dipped to the button of Mal’s pants. He parted it from the fabric, then found the zipper beneath and tugged it downward. Mal’s erection, which had been straining against his pants, was freed of another layer, and Vincent indulged himself by discovering it with his hand all over again. The breathy sound of contentment Mal made for him was worth the transgression.

The tie at his neck tightened, and Vincent’s hand stopped abruptly. He looked down at Mal to see a foreboding look on his face.

“Did I say you could touch?” Mal asked, then pulled the knot of the tie away from Vincent’s neck, relieving some of the pressure. Even as he did, he moved cautiously, like he was afraid that Vincent might try to get back at him for what he’d done. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Every dominant move Mal made strengthened Vincent’s erection and made him want more.

“No.” Vincent’s breath stuck in his throat even as his lungs begged for air. They hadn’t even started yet, but he was already beyond himself with need. “You didn’t.”

“Then no touching.”

Mal’s free hand dipped down and took Vincent’s by the wrist. He lifted it up his body, along his torso, until it arrived before his lips. With his eyes locked on Vincent’s, he opened his mouth just enough so that he could run Vincent’s fingers over the row of his teeth, then took Vincent’s index finger between his lips and sucked. The burning need in Vincent’s groin rolled over, lurching with such force that he almost bucked his hips. Mal’s soft lips around his finger were joined by his wet, warm tongue. It rolled over the backs of Vincent’s knuckle, then followed his length down to his fingertip.

Vincent stared down at Mal in wonder, unable to think, or speak, or move. Arousal rushed through him like water flooding a submarine, pushing reason from his head with its tremendous pressure and filling him up with its wild currents. He would drown in it and do so gladly—what they shared in that moment was beyond a simple hookup. The emotions in Mal’s eyes were raw, and they sank Vincent’s heart beneath their crushing forces like Vincent was the unwitting sailor seconds away from being swallowed by Mal’s sea.

With a hum, Mal closed his eyes. He started to suck while his tongue worked Vincent’s finger over, showing him how skilled he could be, if only he allowed Vincent to use his mouth. The punishment for Vincent’s transgression wasn’t going to be pain—at least, not in the literal sense of the word. Instead, Mal showed him everything he could have had, if only he’d been good, and tempted him with what Vincent hadn’t yet been permitted to have… and maybe never would.

Mal opened his mouth again and took a second finger in, sealing his lips around both while he continued to suck. He opened his eyes a crack to glance up at Vincent, then smirked and closed them again, sucking harder than before. Vincent watched, enchanted, wishing more than anything that it was his cock between Mal’s lips instead of his fingers.

“God.” Vincent’s voice was so pitched with desire that he barely recognized it. “Oh god, you’re beautiful.”

His arm trembled, not from the strain of keeping his body elevated, but from how smitten he’d become with the image of Mal in that moment.

“Let me touch you,” Vincent begged. “Please, let me touch you.”

Was it wrong to want a man who was old enough to be his father? To want to fill his ass and make him come over and over? Vincent didn’t think so. He’d make Mal his—give Mal the time of his life—and learn how best to please him. Mal may not have been entirely comfortable with himself, but he wasn’t scared to make known what he wanted. Vincent saw it was true in every calculated suck he made.

Mal wanted someone who would dominate him, but also someone he could dominate in turn—someone who would listen and perform instead of selfishly take. If that was what he wanted, then he’d found his match in Vincent. To listen, to learn, and to give pleasure… the hollow in Vincent’s gut was filled by the thought of it. Purpose. Tonight, Mal gave him purpose.

He’d be a fool not to want to listen—not to give Mal his everything.

Mal’s tongue reached the tips of Vincent’s fingers, then pulled back and parted from them entirely. The room was dark—the soft yellow glow of the bedside lamp was all they had to see by—but Vincent saw the hesitation in Mal’s eyes regardless.

Had he done something wrong?

“If it’s something I did, I’m sorry,” Vincent said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s not.” Mal pursed his lips, then closed his eyes and exhaled steadily. “I want you. I just… I need to be upfront.”

A stagnant feeling stilled the rushing waters of Vincent’s arousal. He remained silent and listened, ready for disappointment. If Mal wanted him to stop, he would… but he didn’t want to.

“You already know I’m in heat,” Mal said. His voice was serious, but his inflection was melancholy. “You found me not long after I’d taken my blockers, but I’m not on any kind of birth control, and I didn’t bring a condom.”

“Is that all?” Vincent would have laughed if Mal hadn’t looked so hung up about it. He held back, but let the grin on his face speak for him. “Baby, you have nothing to worry about. First of all, I’m infertile.”

The look on Mal’s face said that he didn’t believe it. That was fine. He didn’t need to.

“And second of all,” Vincent produced a condom from his back pocket, “I don’t go anywhere without protection.”

The tension on Mal’s face faded. He looked from the condom to Vincent, then raked his teeth over his lip and pulled on Vincent’s tie just slightly. Vincent dropped his hand in his haste for balance, crushing the condom between his palm and the bed.

“Don’t call me baby,” Mal whispered, the sound sweet against Vincent’s lips. “I don’t want that. Call me Daddy instead.”

Yes. Oh, fuck yes.

“Oh, Daddy,” Vincent whispered back, smirking. The words were a kiss yet to be sealed, the space between their mouths negligible. “How did you know that that’s exactly what I wanted to hear?”