Page 55 of Psycho Pack

His only response is to push back against me, grinding his ass against my cock. The friction makes my vision blur. I release his hand to grab his hip instead, holding him still.

"Stay," I order, mimicking his earlier commanding tone.

To my shock, he does. His forehead rests against the stone as I explore his body, mapping lean muscle and old scars. Every inch of him is hard angles and coiled strength.

My hand finds his cock again, stroking him roughly. He tries to maintain that iron control but I can feel him trembling. His breath comes in sharp pants that echo off the cave walls.

"Tell me what you want," I demand.

He stays silent, stubborn bastard.

I twist my wrist on the upstroke, making him gasp.

"Say it."

"Make me," he challenges this time.

My teeth find his shoulder, biting down hard as I grind against him. He arches back with a strangled sound that's definitely not clinical or controlled.

"You were saying?" I growl, reaching around to stroke him again.

I stroke Plague's cock faster, keeping him pinned against the cold stone with my weight. His breath hitches, surgeon's hands flexing uselessly against the wall. He's trembling now, all that clinical detachment crumbling under my touch.

"What do you want?" I growl in his ear, twisting my wrist on each upstroke. "Tell me."

He stays stubbornly silent, but his hips buck into my hand. I can feel him fighting for control, trying to maintain that cool facade. But his cock is rock hard and leaking in my grip.

"Use your words," I taunt, slowing my strokes to a maddening pace. "Isn't that what you're always telling me to do?"

"Fuck you," he grits out, but there's no bite to it. His voice shakes as I squeeze him harder.

"Wrong answer." I stop moving my hand entirely, just holding him on the edge. "Try again."

He makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a growl and a whimper. His forehead presses against the stone, shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. The sight of him losing control sends fire through my veins.

"Please," he whispers, so quiet I almost miss it.

"Please what?" I press closer, grinding my cock against his ass. "Be specific,Doctor. You sure as hell don't struggle to run your mouth any other time."

His hands curl into fists against the wall. I can practically hear his teeth grinding as he fights with himself. Fights against letting go of that iron control.

"You're one to talk," he grits out."

"Say. It."

He curls his lip at me.

"Your mouth," he finally says, voice cracking.

My cock throbs almost painfully at the raw desperation in his voice. I don't know why the fuck I'm enjoying this, but I am. Enjoying shattering his smug defenses too. But I'm not done breaking him yet.

"Say it right." I start stroking him again, maddeningly slow. "Beg me for it."

"Please," he gasps, pushing back against me. "Please, I need you to suck my cock." He snarls. "Please. Is that enough?"

Fuck.

Hearing those words in his precise, fancy-ass voice nearly makes me come on the spot. I spin him around, dropping to my knees in front of him. His chest heaves as he stares down at me, those pale blue eyes dark with hunger beneath his damp, disheveled black hair plastered to his face.

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