#bakeryowner!max

babydoll.

Max's palms slip around Kimi's broad back, trying to find purchase as he holds on for dear life. The younger man's waist is bracketed by Max's thighs, crossed behind the small of his back, as the Italian man rams into him hard against the wall in Max's small but cozy apartment.

Max almost screams at the force of the thrust, his head lolling back and bumping against the wall behind him.

Kimi only hums at his reaction, hardly affected himself, fixing Max with his deep brown stare.

Then he lets his head dip, his curls suddenly brushing against Max's nose, making him sneeze before a small, embarrassed giggle slips free. His head stays lowered as he nuzzles at Max's collarbone, only to sink his teeth into the sensitive skin without warning.

"Fuck, Kimi," a pathetic little whimper slips from Max's throat.

Kimi looks half-smug, half-predatory as he glances back up at him, his thrusts never relenting, his pace only quickening, his gaze smoldering.

"Yeah, again. Louder. Let me—and everyone else—hear who's fucking you this well, babydoll."

Max's eyes fill with tears as the next thrust hits his prostate dead-on, drawing a loud moan from his lips.

"Kimi!"

"Nah." The other man tsks at him, his thrusts slowing into a languid rhythm, his hips circling as he grinds against Max's body—not nearly enough, only teasing that delicious spot inside him with the tip of his cock.

"My first name, Max."

Max almost sobs as he obeys, the name leaving him in a low, desperate whine.

"Andrea."

Even slower now. Almost stopping.

"Louder, babydoll, or I'll slip out of you and leave you like this."

Honest tears spill down Max's cheeks, tracing over his chin and throat before disappearing beneath the collar of his T-shirt, hiked up high enough for Kimi to twist his right nipple between his fingers—meanly.

"Nooo..." he protests, clutching Kimi's waist tighter with his thighs, as though he could keep him from leaving.

But it seems he's not the one in charge here. He never is, and he really should've remembered that. How stupid of him.

"That's not how this goes, babydoll. Don't make me repeat myself."

Kimi's voice slips into that low, commanding mafia tone—the one he uses during high-profile meetings. It shouldn't be so hot.

But it is. A low, vibrating growl. Max can feel it deep inside him.

"You can do better than that," he continues, suddenly ramming into him in quick succession—one, two—making Max see stars.

"Andrea!" he cries.

And he doesn't stop.

His words dissolve into a blubbering mess of Kimi's first name and desperate pleas.

"Mijn god!... please, please... I'll be better. Please, baby... come inside me..."

The words are almost unrecognizable.

But Kimi hears them anyway.

He must be pleased by Max's hoarse screams, because he redoubles his efforts, driving into him until Max is utterly spent, reduced to a tear-streaked, sniveling mess. His legs tremble uncontrollably as Kimi finally slows after coming inside him, warmth spilling between them before sliding out of Max's abused hole and down his tights, already littered with finger-shaped bruises.

The moment Kimi lets him go, Max's legs give out beneath him, unable to support his weight.

Without a word, Kimi catches him in his arms and carries him to the bed, laying him down gently against the soft sheets.

He presses a kiss to the blond's forehead, tucks him beneath the covers, and slips away to the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp washcloth to clean his lover up.

All the while, he murmurs soft praises against Max's throat, his cheek, anywhere his lips can reach.