MDNI đ if you play with fire too much, be sure that zayne will put you in your place
â. â content warnings: soft dom zayne, teasing, doggy style (implied), wall sex, rough sex, brat tamer zayne
He let you get away with too much.
The teasing. The eye rolls. The smug little smirks every time you pushed his buttons and got away with it. Zayne, the stoic doctor with nerves of steel and hands steady even in chaos. You liked to test him. You loved it.
Because every time he narrowed his eyes at you, every time his jaw clenched just soâyou knew he was keeping himself in check. And you were the one rattling him.
But tonight... tonight you pushed too far. Youâd been snappy all day. Rolled your hips against his thigh during a kiss. Bit his lip harder than necessary. Whispered a filthy dare in his ear right before his scheduled surgery. Left your underwear in his coat pocket.
And then he came home exhausted, drained and still in his scrubs, and found you sprawled on the bed in nothing but a shirt that wasnât yours, asking in your sweetest voice, âAre you gonna fuck me or just keep pretending youâre not affected, Dr. Zayne?â
He cracked, but not loudly. No. Zayne didnât raise his voice. He didnât bark orders. He just locked the door, walked to the foot of the bed, and gave you a look so quiet and cutting it made your stomach drop.
You blinked and hesitated. He stepped forward calmly, collected and so damn commanding. âNow.â
And you moved to get on your knees, because there was no room for bratty behavior in his tone. No space for giggles or eye rolls. Just the weight of his dominance finally slipping into place.
He undressed you slowlyâshirt first, then the little gasp you made when his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up.
âYou wanted my attention, my love.â he murmured, voice soft but no less cutting. âNow you have all of it.â
The next few minutes were a blur of command and contact. Face down, ass up. His palm against your skin. Measured swats that had your legs shaking. Your moans were half apology, half pleasure, but he didnât let you speak. Every time your lips parted, he pressed a finger to them or pushed your face deeper into the mattress.
âYou act like I wonât put you in your place,â he whispered into your neck as he lined himself up behind you. âBut you forget, sweetheartâŠthis body belongs to me and it knows it.â
He didnât slam into you. He sank in, all the way in. One long, devastating push that left you crying out, clenching down, back arching in surrender. And once he was buried deep, with his hips flush and breath shaking against your spine, he stilled.
âYouâre going to take every inch like a good girl,â he said softly. âAnd tomorrow, when youâre limping, when you feel every bruise, youâll remember this is what happens when you act out.â
And you did. Because Zayne didnât need to raise his voice to ruin you. He just needed to decide he wanted to, and you were already too far gone.
It only took a few days for you to regain courage. At first, you swore youâd behave. After the last timeâafter he left you sore and breathless, legs trembling for two daysâyou said all the right things. Promised you'd be good. Promised youâd learn.
You didnât. Not really. Because by the end of the week, you were right back at itâthis time more subtle, more teasing. At breakfast, you bent over in front of him in nothing but his shirt, letting it ride up just enough to show that you werenât wearing anything underneath. When he reached for his coffee, you took it and sipped instead, licking the rim slowly while staring him dead in the eyes.
âThought you liked it when I misbehaved,â you purred.
Zayne didnât immediately give a reaction. He just stared like all the times before. But you knew that look too well now. His fingers clenched slightly around his fork. His shoulders held a subtle tension. And when you finally turned around to walk past him, his voice cut through the air, quiet and controlled. âBedroom. Now.â
You glanced over your shoulder, feigning innocence. âBut I havenât finished myââ
âDonât make me repeat myself.â
And that was it. Because this time, Zayne didnât plan to be patient. The second you stepped into the bedroom, the door slammed shut behind you, and before you could so much as gasp, he had your wrists pinned against the wall.
âYou donât get to act like a little brat,â he murmured, lips brushing your ear, âand then pretend you donât know what youâre doing.â
âNo. You were testing me.â
His hands slid down your sides, slow and firm, grounding you in that way only he could. Your breath caught when he lifted your leg, forcing it around his waist, pinning your body between him and the wall.
âNo warmup today,â he whispered. âYou think you can play games? Fine. Take what you asked for.â
He pushed inside you in one brutal, perfect thrust. Your head slammed back against the wall with a moan, fingers clawing at his shoulders, nails digging into skin through his shirt. His pace was unforgiving, breath hot against your neck, hips snapping forward with punishing precision.
âIs this what you wanted?â he growled into your neck, voice still maddeningly calm. âTo limp again? To cry because Iâm hitting too deep?â
You couldnât even answer. You were already gone, voice breaking on every thrust, legs shaking, walls fluttering around him like your body couldnât decide whether to take him or break from how good he felt.
And Zayne was unrelenting. Not angry nor cruel, but so very intentional in every thrust inside you, every grip on your soft flesh. Every soft, cruel whisper in your ear.
âYou want to see how far Iâll go, my love?â he breathed, kissing your jaw just before biting it. âKeep pushing. Iâll make sure you remember just how badly I can break you.â
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