Chapter 23

He swiped a thumb over the slit, coaxing more dribbles of fluid. Ink wailed.

“I think,” Aidan told him, “I want to see you come like this. Just like this, me not even doing much to you…just holding you, that’s all, just like this…and you’ll come for me because I want you to. Because I’m telling you to. Come.” In that tone, with that note, the order couldn’t be disobeyed.

Ink gave a kind of tiny scream, trembled head to toes—still couldn’t move—and did come for him, on command. White spurted from his cock, splashed his stomach and chest, painted the air with release. He lay in place limp and moaning, after; Aidan considered this, and said, “Again.”

Ink’s eyes flew wide. But the command, the magic, was already taking hold; his body shuddered and spasmed and yielded a few more weak dribbles, forced out as the peak of pleasure took him. His mouth fell open; he wasn’t seeing Aidan, lost in rapture.