for lack of a better title
“I fucking hate you,” he groaned, dropping his head down and looking defeated. His body tensed as hands journeyed over his spine, causing goose flesh to cover his skin when they skirted over his sensitive lower back. Pride almost completely forgotten, his effort to hold back noises proved futile. Engrossed with what Roman was doing to him, he hardly took notice that he was being crushed into the mattress.
One of his hands gripped the duvet as he gasped, back arching further than what was comfortable.
He hated how excited he felt when Roman shifted them, cock now pressed against his backside. Feeling like he was coming out of a haze, he blinked away some of the fog. Aspen let out a sound of irritation, both hands clawing his bedspread now as he pushed back. He was already going to feel humiliated enough tomorrow when he woke up. He would not beg.
“No. Just do it,” the blonde tried to snap but it came out more like a whine. That didn’t count as begging right?
Maybe it was the alcohol that left his patience short, or the fact that Aspen was far too tempting to allow Roman to play with his food for a while longer, but whatever it was, forced him to cave a lot easier than he normally would. Instead of coercing the blond to beg for him or whine and grope, Roman shot a deathly glare at Aspen -- one lacking forgiveness, or restraint.
“Your wish.”
A groan escaped Roman’s chest. It was accompanied by a guttural, hungry rumbling the further he pushed his cock deep inside the other. To say he was mindful of Aspen’s body and pain threshold would be a lie, but there was the consideration of lubrication and protection -- and that was the best that he’d offer.
The forcefulness in his hips’ thrusting left no room for care; his mind, blurred. A gloss muted blue hues as he lost himself to the trance of Aspen’s body writhing below him. Roman hadn’t even bothered to keep his moans hushed, completely lost in the sensation that crawled up his spine and into his finger tips that gripped so harshly into Aspen’s hips.
“Fuuck,” he cursed under his breath. The hand that remained tangled in blond tresses eventually fell to the bed, allowed Roman to lower his body closer to the others. His chest nearly touched the smaller’s back, forehead nearly tipping against the back of the other’s own. Almost intimate. But his movements weren’t. Every thrust he shoved into Aspen was filled with every angry thought Roman ever held towards him over the years... And there were many.

















