Page 15 of Damian & Jun, Episodes 9-12 (The Residency Boys #8)

Damian dragged his thumb down Jun’s crease, the pad of his digit catching and pulling on Jun’s hole. He rubbed circles against Jun’s taint and handled his balls like he was playing with a toy. There was no intention of making him hard or soft.

Jun was his, and he was merely handling his property.

Frustration rolled through him. There was nowhere for it to go.

It swirled and settled by degrees, the strain on his arms and legs and the helplessness of being voiceless taking him down by degrees.

Damian petted him, his fingers leaving no dignity untouched, from Jun’s feet to his taint and from his nose to his ribs.

He sank into the cot, eyes sliding half shut. The petting was hypnotizing. Damian’s voice was soothing, but the things he said sparked flickers of fight now and then in Jun’s belly.

“There you go, boy. Give in.”

Jun breathed out his nose. He wasn’t giving in. He was waiting, the only thing he could do. As the strain stripped away ability to fight, a need grew in his belly. He needed that praise. If he had to be exposed, he needed that touch. If he was an object, he had to be precious.

He strained, sliding his knees farther apart, tilting his hips up. He let his limbs relax, taking the strain on his shoulders as inevitable.

Fuck . His thoughts slid sideways into pure sensations. He was spinning, helpless, needy. Empty. Control was slipping through his metaphorical fingers. He snatched at it, catching some and losing track of other bits. Like the invasion taking place.

“There you are.” Damian sank a syringe into Jun’s hole. “This will feel odd and maybe cold. Accept it.”

Slick squirted into Jun’s channel. The softest of whimpers crawled out of his throat, absorbed by the muzzle.

Damian could do so many things to him, and he didn’t even have to be inconvenienced by the sounds Jun might make. A tremble started up in his belly. Control. He needed to control himself.

Damian

Jun was gorgeous, long limbs and highly trained muscles bent and strained. His ribs flexed with each breath. A light sweat had broken out across his skin.

Damian stretched himself beside Jun on the cot once more. His wolfling was still fighting for control when he had none. That needed to end.

Damian reached for the panels that would enclose them inside the cave, one side, then the other, and then the slat that covered even the small crawl hole.

The inside of the cave fell into low light, lit from within by a muted red light in the very back glowing from a niche and reflecting across the low roof.

“I have you.” Damian soothed his hand down Jun’s side.

He lay on his back and pulled Jun in against his side, coaxing Jun’s head onto his shoulder and one of Jun’s bent legs up and over his own.

It left Jun splayed even more but brought Jun’s naked body in against his own clothed one.

The strain on his arms had to be building.

He tangled his fingers in the ropes, drawing Jun’s ankles up toward his arms, and pulled, taking the weight of Jun’s legs off the box tie.

Jun sagged, breathing deeper through his nose over the muzzle. Even though he had to feel like he couldn’t speak, the muzzle didn’t stop him from hearing his boy’s every whimper and moan. It just muted them, making each sound echo back inside. A mind fuck.

Bondage could be an instant subjugator, or it could take time to work. Jun appeared to be one of those subs who needed to have his surrender wrung out of him. Should he have let him run longer? The condo couldn’t take much more. But his boy might need it.

Damian kept his touches constant, listening to Jun’s every breath and sound. He slid out from under him after a while, laying Jun flat and letting his arms and shoulders take the pull of his feet again.

Jun whined as the pressure returned to the rope.

Damian smiled to himself, looking down on him.

So much fierceness, so much strength, and all of it was here under him.

He felt as tall as the bell tower of the Church.

But he was the dom, and it was his responsibility to not just enjoy his boy but to take him to where he needed to go.

It was time for Jun to let go, to have the rest of not fighting, to be defenseless and pliable.

Time to push.

He stroked up both sides of Jun’s inner thighs, spreading them farther. He knelt between them and kneaded his boy's ass. The slick inside his hole squelched, drawing a humiliated screech from behind Jun’s muzzle.

Damian threaded rope through a ring in the ceiling, then ran it through the rings on Jun’s cuffs, keeping the rope loose. He loosened one ankle, gripping it tightly, and straightened Jun’s leg out by degrees until it lay flat. He tied it off, binding it flat.

Jun’s breathing was quieter. He was paying attention, waiting. Like an animal. Damian smiled. He stroked Jun’s outstretched leg, up and down, and then up his ass, dragging a thumb up his boy’s balls and taint and over his hole again. Jun tossed his head.

“Not letting you go, wild one. Have to tame you first.” He kissed the swell of Jun’s ass. His hole was right there.

His.

Damian straightened two of his fingers and pressed them against the wet, tight bud.

Jun screamed. His butt cheeks tightened, clamping down on Damian’s fingers. Easy enough to counteract. Damian grabbed one butt cheek with his other hand and pulled it back, baring Jun’s crevice.

“Fight all you like, precious prey. You’re caught and tied. This is mine.”

Jun bucked, only succeeding in driving himself back a little on Damian’s fingers.

He tried to pull away. Damian pulled on the rope threaded through Jun’s cuffs and the ring in the ceiling.

Jun gasped as his shoulders and thus his head were lifted from the floor.

Damian kept the pressure slow and steady, barely drawing Jun’s chest off the cot.

“Mine.” He pushed against Jun’s hole. With the pressure on his shoulders, Jun’s whole focus shifted to tightening his belly and bracing himself against the pulley drawing him up from behind.

Damian stroked Jun’s hole again. The position pushed Jun’s cheeks together, making it hard to enter him. Didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with his boy’s head.

Jun cursed through the gag in unmistakable temper. Goddess, he loved his wild boy. Even tied as he was, he wasn’t tame, wasn’t safe.

Damian lowered the rope, letting Jun rest against the bed again.

“You can’t win, pet.”

Jun growled. He jerked at his bonds until he flopped against the bed, limbs loose and held in place only by rope, gasping for air.

Damian sank his fingers in deep.

More angry noises came from behind the muzzle.

Damian stroked Jun’s hip, offering comfort, his fingers staying still. He checked the ball in Jun’s hand. It had not moved.

“Give me your color, boy.”

Jun flexed his fingers on the hand that was not holding his safety ball. He spread two fingers, signaling green.

Good. It was more art than science to know when a sub needed to fight and when they needed to be released.

He knew the struggle well. Before Richard had understood the depth of fury Damian had needed to burn through, he had sometimes released Damian too early.

Those had been epic fights, the two of them rolling on the floor.

Sometimes it had not been all play on Damian’s part.

Sometimes he had gone places in his head, and Richard had been the only one there with him, the only one to absorb his rage.

He wasn’t reading rage in Jun’s body, only instinct and fierceness and need. He twisted his fingers. Jun thrashed. Damian pulled on the ropes, dragging Jun’s shoulders back and off the cot.

Jun growled, then whined. His head hung forward.

“Mine.” Damian squeezed Jun’s ass again, the rope wrapped around his palm.

Jun tossed his head, trying to crane around to look. He couldn’t.

Damian pulled the rope higher. Jun screamed. His entire torso trembled. Damian held it for a beat. Jun didn’t struggle. He couldn’t, but neither did he sound like he was trying to cuss behind the muzzle.

By degrees, Damian let him all the way back down. Jun lay pliant, breathing hard, blinking. There was wetness around his eyes, but he wasn’t weeping. He was alert, his eyes darting back and forth. All of his attention was on Damian even though he couldn’t see him.

“Good prey. Lying there so still. You know you’re caught, don’t you?”

Damian twisted his fingers in Jun’s hole.

Jun’s chest rose and fell, but he kept still. It wasn’t quite the still Damian was looking for, but it was still the kind of stillness Jun was willing himself to keep.

He wanted the kind of stillness that came with surrender. Grazing his fingers over Jun’s prostate, he waited for the reaction.

Jun didn’t disappoint. He flinched and pulled away.

Damian pulled up on the rope.

Jun shouted strings of inarticulate words, like he was cussing. Damian grinned. He pulled on the rope, driving his fingers harder against the nerves inside Jun’s body.

His beautiful boy thrashed, head rising and falling, legs flexing against the ropes, his shoulders jerking back and forth.

The muscles of his ass squeezed Damian’s fingers as if he could snap them off.

One breath, two, three, and then, just before he was going to have to ease off or risk hurting his prey,Jun’s head dropped forward and he sagged, hanging, his weight dropping onto the rope.

Damian let him down slowly. He swirled his fingers. The faintest of sighs eased out of his boy. His channel eased, and his boy pressed back, welcoming the invasion.

“There you are, pet.” Damian stroked Jun’s skin with his thumb.