Page 58 of Carnival Mayhem

The push and pull between us crackles with tension—both of us are too stubborn, too dominant to yield easily. Yet there’s trust here, too, built over years of catching each other mid-air, knowing exactly how far we can push before we need to pull back.

I lock eyes with Nash, our bodies still pressed against the counter. Our familiar competitive energy shifts into something deeper, more primal. Years of working together, of reading each other’s signals, have taught me exactly who Nash is at his core.

His hand remains firm on my neck, but I notice the subtle tells in his posture—the slight tremor in his fingers, the way his breath catches when I push back against his control. Behind that dominant facade, Nash has always craved something he won’t admit.

“You want to prove who’s in charge?” I growl, letting my voice drop lower. “Then show me.”

Nash’s pupils dilate, and I feel the moment his resolve wavers. For all his calculated control and careful manipulation of others, Nash has always yielded to me in crucial moments. It’s there in the way he trusts me to catch him during our most dangerous stunts and looks to me for final approval before every performance.

I press my advantage, sliding my hand up to cup his jaw. “You talk big, Nash, but we both know what you want.”

His resistance crumbles. Nash slowly sinks to his knees with a shaky exhale, his eyes never leaving mine. The sight of him looking up at me makes my heart race.

“Good boy,” I murmur, running my fingers through his hair. The trust in his eyes, the vulnerability he shows only to me, makes something protective surge in my chest.

“Fuck, yes,” he swears, his eyes dark with desire. “Say it again.”

I lean down, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Good boy,” I murmur, relishing my power over him now.

The hard ridge of his cock strains against his sweatpants, visible evidence of the effect I have on him. My blood sings with satisfaction—both at the knowledge that I’ve gotten him so worked up and at the unfamiliar yet thrilling rush of dominance.

“On your knees, that’s a good start,” I say, my voice dropping lower, commanding. Nash’s eyes flash at the order, but he listens, staying on his knees, his gaze fixed on me. “Now take it out. I want to watch you touch me.”

Nash swallows hard, his pupils blown wide. Slowly, his hand reaches for the button of my jeans. His fingers are steady as he undoes the button and pulls down the zipper, revealing the bulge of my cock straining against my boxers.

“Go on,” I urge, my voice rough with anticipation. Nash’s eyes flicker up to mine, his hand hovering over the waistband of my boxers.

“Touch me,” I command. “Take it out.”

With a deep exhale, Nash hooks his fingers into the waistband and pulls my boxer briefs down, freeing my cock. My dick springs free, fully hard and aching for his mouth. Nash lets out a small sound, eyes widening at the sight.

“You like that, don’t you?” I ask, my voice hardening with authority. “You like seeing me like this for you.”

“Yes,” Nash breathes, his eyes glued to my cock. “God, yes.”

I step closer, my jeans pooling at my ankles, as I give him a slight nudge with my foot. “Then show me how much. Show me what a good boy you are.”

Nash’s breath quickens as he leans forward, his tongue darting out to swipe the tip of my cock. I grip his hair, guiding him as he takes the head of my dick into his mouth.

“Mmhmm, fuck,” I groan at the sensation of his wet heat surrounding me. Nash’s mouth is hot and wet, his lips soft against my skin. His tongue teases the sensitive tip of my cock, and I feel him hum in appreciation.

The sound vibrates through my shaft, straight to my balls, and I let out a harsh curse. Nash’s eyes glint with pleasure at my reaction. He hollows his cheeks, sucking harder as he takes more of my length into his mouth.

“Ah, fuck.” The sight of Nash on his knees is enough to steal my breath, but the feel of his warm mouth surrounding me, his tongue swirling around the pierced head of my cock—it’s enough to make my knees weak. I reach down, tangling my fingers in his hair, and he meets my eyes as he sucks me deeper.

His eyes—those deep, dark pools that have always drawn me in—they’re hazy now with lust, fixed on me with an intensity that ignites a wildfire in my gut. His lips stretch around my girth, full and perfect, the sight of them wrapped around my cock sending a jolt straight to my balls.

Nash’s hand moves to his own cock, pulling it from his sweatpants, and he begins to jerk himself in time with his mouth’s rhythm. I feel a rush of liquid heat in my veins at the sight of his hard length in his hand. He moans softly as his fist pumps up and down, the sound vibrating against my shaft and making my toes curl.

I’ve fantasized about this a hundred times. Still, the reality is so much better—the feel of his full lips on my cock, the way he tongues the sensitive spot around my piercing, his free hand now reaching up to grip my thigh.

The sight of him taking what’s mine—it’s too much, and I’m overcome with this unbearable need to brand him, to claim every part of him as mine. My hands tighten in his hair, and I start to thrust my hips, fucking his mouth slowly, helpless to hold back.

Nash’s eyes flutter closed at the first shallow thrusts, his breath escaping in a soft moan. The sound vibrates through my shaft, straight to my balls.

“Fuck, Nash,” I groan, my hips moving on their own now, my cock sliding deeper into his mouth. “Suck it; take it all.”

Nash’s hands clutch at my thighs, his knuckles white as he tries to ground himself. His mouth is magic, every swirl of his tongue, every bob of his head driving me closer to the edge.

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