“Hm. Next time you should wear some of your lacy things under the suit, dickhead. The white ones. But we gotta work on your performance.”
High or drunk off his ass, with a whiskey bottle and Santa hat on that stubborn fucking skull of his and a lopsided grin on his stupid face. He’d seen Iago beg for something else, too, had seen him beg Jacob to stop, almost like a dream, like a nightmare, unwanted and horrible. It was a thought Jacob liked to push aside, before it could take roots. Before it could fester and swell in unwelcome places and he could ask himself what that meant. And worse, what he’d done.
And it wasn’t… whatever this was.
Something about the laugh and the snort hit hard. Harder than it should have.
Something about it was almost demeaning, almost insulting.
And not even the miserable little lie, this poorly crafted illusion, not enough to be believable and too much to laugh it off, could save Jacob from his own mind. Something about it stirred up that old, ugly realisation again.
A big dick and a wallet. That was all he was worth.
Feral like a dog. And just as loyal. Just as stupid.
And he’d known it from the start, hadn’t he?
But if Iago only wanted a big dick, he could have that.
With a growl, and despite his souring mood, Jacob finally pushed forward, into the place that promised sweet relief and oblivion. Where he could forget about love and rejection, about humiliation and loyalty. And maybe, just maybe, for a moment or two, Jacob could even pretend.
Yeah, if Iago only wanted a big dick, he could have that.
So Jacob didn’t hesitate, didn’t give the boy any time to adjust. And once he was balls deep, stretching that tempting little hole wide, once the first shiver down his spine had subsided, Jacob started fucking into the kid’s heat without restraint or mercy, almost pushing him off the fucking desk.
If Iago wanted him to shut up and fuck him, he could have that, too.
annaxmalina
