[He bent down, pressing even harder on James' chest to do so, and whispered in the man's ear, lips caressing the flesh with each word. Steve could be a bastard, he could be a prize bastard. He just hoped it wasn't going to backfire. Most people would be horrified by what he was doing, or to be asked to do it, and yet he was getting hard too, enjoying himself. It was disgusting, indulging the darkness within, and yet he couldn't help finding the pleasure, so sharp and so intoxicating. Steve had done that before, with someone else who liked to be hurt, and who sometimes got hurt even when he didn't want to be.]


Try to beg James. I can feel how hard you are, but I'm not convinced you want it enough yet. Beg me James, or I'll just step away . . .