Page 19 of Hero Worship

"Focus," I ordered. "This isn't one of your games. You need to learn how to protect yourself."

But my body betrayed me, pressing closer than was strictly necessary as I adjusted his posture. My hands spanned his narrow waist, remembering how easily I'd pinned him during training. He was so small compared to me, so perfectly sized to—

No. Stop.I didn't know how to process this feeling, this wanting, and I needed to focus on the training, anyway.

"Spread your legs wider," I commanded, kicking his feet apart. "You need a stable base."

"Yes, sir," he purred, and fuck if that breathy submission didn't make my dick harder than it had any right to be. He widened his stance and deliberately pressed back against me in the process. The startled gasp when he felt exactly how hard I was—how big—sent electricity down my spine.

"That for me, Daddy?" he breathed, grinding back experimentally. "Feels like you're packing more than just this gun."

My hand shot to his hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise as I yanked him back against me. Let him feel exactly what he was playing with. "Stop," I warned, even as I ached to rub my hard cock against his ass. "Or you're going to learn exactly what happens to brats who can't behave. Eyes front," I growled, fighting for control. "Focus on your target. Show me you can handle a weapon properly."

Xander tilted his head, a calculating gleam in his eye. "What do I get if I make the shot, Daddy?"

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Everything's a negotiation." He pressed back, grinding against my cock. "Come on... don't you want to motivate me? Give me something worth aiming for?"

Christ. The way he said it, dripping honey and sex, made my dick throb traitorously. "Focus on the target."

"Make me a deal," he purred. "If I hit center mass... you'll give me what I want."

"And what exactly do you want?"

His smile was pure sin. "You. Pinning me against that wall. Showing me exactly what that monster in your pants can do."

"Xander—"

"Scared I'll make the shot, Daddy?"

Fuck. He had me and he knew it. Something clicked in my brain then about how quickly he'd shifted from fumbling to focused at the mere suggestion of sexual reward. A dangerous realization. A useful one.

"Fine. You hit center mass, we'll... discuss your reward."

Their whole demeanor changed, suddenly laser-focused on the target. Gone was the trembling novice, replaced by someone who knew exactly what they were doing. His hands steadied as he sighted down the barrel, and fuck if that transformation wasn't the hottest thing I'd ever seen.

The gun barked, the shot echoing through the range. The shot was better, at least hitting the target this time, even if it was nowhere near center mass.

"Perfect, baby," I praised without thinking, and felt him melt back against my cock. Something primal stirred in my chest at his response. "Again. Show me what those pretty hands can do."

The next few shots showed marginal improvement, though he was still all over the paper. But the way he responded to praise, to my hands on him... that was fucking with my head in ways I couldn't process.

"Not bad," I said finally, stepping back. The loss of contact made him whimper softly. "Now show me you can break it down and clean it properly."

Xander turned to face me, pupils blown wide as he started stripping the weapon. Instead of their earlier fumbling, each movement was precise. Practiced. The little shit had been playing up their incompetence.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he worked. "Like this?" He brought the barrel to his mouth again, this time letting his tongue trace the length of it. "Or should I be more... thorough?"

Images flooded my mind—those pretty lips wrapped around something else entirely, those clever hands working me instead of the gun. The kind of thoughts that made me ask uncomfortable questions.

"Enough." My voice came out strangled. "That's not what this is for."

"No?" He set the gun down carefully, stalking toward me. "Then what is it for, Daddy? What dangerous things do you want to put in my mouth?"

In one fluid motion, I had him pinned against the wall, my forearm across his throat. "You have no idea what you're asking for," I growled. "No idea what I'm capable of."

Instead of fear, his eyes lit up with triumph. He shifted against me, making sure he felt exactly how hard I was. "Oh, I think I have some idea," he breathed. "Question is, do you know what you want yet?"

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