Page 22 of The Bait

His nostrils flared. “Why are you remembering that now?”

They’d fucked a thousand times since then, and Harry had loved it every single time. The slow tender moments, the lovemaking, the intimacy.

But tonight they needed something else.

“Do you want me to fight you, Harry?” Asher asked. “Is that why you’re bringing it up now?”

Harry grinned at him. “I don’t want to fight you. I want to fuck you. It won’t be gentle, and I won’t care if you try to stop me, try to hurt me. The harder you fight me, the harder I’ll fuck you.”

Asher let out a rush of air, and he ran his tongue over his teeth when he grinned. “Do not make promises you can’t keep, Harry,” he whispered.

“Tell me now if you don’t want it,” he breathed.

Asher kept his eyes locked on Harry’s, but his hand went to the knife on his plate. Fingers curled around the handle like a weapon, and for a beat, neither of them moved.

Until Asher leapt to his feet and lunged at Harry with the knife. Harry gripped his wrist and holding it high, pushed him backwards until he hit the wall. Asher clawed at Harry’s neck, his chest, bringing his knee up, wrestling and pushing.

Fighting.

Harry gripped his other wrist and held him against the wall, hard. He shook Asher’s wrist until he finally let go of the knife. But then Asher tried to use his legs as leverage. He kicked and struggled, all while trying to wrestle and wriggle free.

Harry wasn’t having it.

He dragged Asher over to the bed and shoved him down, hard. Asher tried to fight him, arms flailing and fists flying, growling and grunting. “Is that the best you can do,” Asher bit out. “Fucking weak.”

He tried to kick at Harry, connected a few times, and it only made Harry fight harder to subdue him.

He held both Asher’s wrists and pinned them to the mattress. Asher tried to wrestle out of the hold, using his legs and hips. So, using Asher’s momentum, Harry flipped him over onto his stomach, using his forearm across Asher’s shoulders to hold him down.

Harry ground his cock against Asher’s ass and it made Asher groan. He was panting, the fight in him gone so Harry held Asher’s head, pushing his face into the mattress. “Stay the fuck there,” he growled.

Harry got off the bed to collect the lube, but as soon as he had it, Asher was off the bed and lunging at him again. He swung his arm, collecting Harry across the chin and Harry had to counter, driving his shoulder into Asher and tackling him onto the bed again.

He held him down like he meant it this time. They were going to have bruises tomorrow.

“Who’s weak now?” Harry hissed, forcing Asher’s face into the mattress. He pulled Asher’s leg out and drove his erection against Asher’s ass. “You’re gonna fucking get it now,” Harry growled. “As hard as I can give it.”

He gave the back of Asher’s head a good shove and then, gripping his jeans, ripped them down over his ass. He wasn’t gentle, and he wasn’t sorry.

With his ass exposed, Asher tried to push up, tried to turn around, but Harry shoved his hand into Asher’s back and held him down.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Harry bit out. He snatched up the lube and tried to squirt it down Asher’s crack.

“Want you raw,” Asher snapped. “Make it hurt.”

Harry undid the fly of his jeans and pulled his cock out. “It’s gonna hurt enough,” he said, holding Asher down by his shoulders and driving his cock into him.

Asher cried out into the bedding, his hands reaching out blindly before gripping the covers.

Harry pushed all the way in.

Not gentle.

Not sorry.

“This is what you need,” Harry ground out. His cock inside him to the hilt, he held him still, and Asher cried out, trying to pull away, trying to turn his hips, to escape, to lessen the pain.

Harry gripped Asher’s hip and held him right fucking there. “You’ll fucking take it,” he said, pulling out a little only to slam back in again. “You’ll take every inch of me, and you’ll take every fucking drop I give you.”

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