Page 8 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

It wasn’t anatomy. It waspsychology.

Kenny knew which touches soothed, which ones sparked arousal, and which ones made Aaron fold in on himself with a shudder and go pliant in his hands. Because he’d learned them. Over time. Piece by piece. Each one studied, tested, refined.

Bollocks. He adjusted his jeans.

Then watched Kenny end the call, set his phone down on the counter and pick up his coffee, gaze settling on him. Aaron felt it in his bones. This was going to be one of those weeks. He could see it in his fucking eyes. The glint, the restrained smirk, the languid lift of that stupid coffee mug to his lips without once breaking eye contact. They were two opponents in the ring. Psychological warfare through praise and delayed gratification. Waiting to see who cracked first.

Well, fuck that bollocks.

Aaron shoved the chair back with a sharp scrape, and Chaos scrambled to his feet a second later. Conditioned too now, poor thing. He recognised the signs of a full-blown Aaron episode. One glance and he clearly clocked that Aaron was making a beeline for the main daddy in the house, so he kept his distance.

Smart boy.

Aaron stormed into the kitchen, heat coiling in his gut, fists balled in the sleeves of his hoodie, armed with half a plan and no fucking clue what to do with it. Rage and want tangling behind his ribs like barbed wire.

He stepped in close, invading Kenny’s space, toes lined up in challenge. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

Kenny arched a brow. “Drinking coffee?”

“That’s not coffee. That’s psychological manipulation in a mug.”

Kenny smirked. “You say that like it’s not delicious.”

“It’s not. It’s vile.”

“Not from me.” Kenny then clamped his hand around the back of Aaron’s head, firm and possessive, tilting him until their mouths hovered a breath apart. He didn’t kiss him. Aaron knew he wouldn’t. No. He let the distance ache, voice dropping to a low command, “Open.”

Aaron obeyed before he could think better of it, instinct and want tearing through him, and Kenny swept his tongue across his, bitter coffee seared into the taste. Their lips never touched. Aaron leaned in anyway, chasing it, desperate. But Kenny released him, leaving nothing but the sting of absence.

Kenny’s eyes glinted with triumph and the sound tearing out of Aaron was pathetic. Half-growl, half-groan. He surged closer, dragging his mouth across Kenny’s throat, licking through the coarse beard, desperate to leave something—anything—of himself behind. His tongue, his teeth, his trembling body. A mark. A claim. A plea.

Two can play this game.

He could force Kenny to react, tofeel.

Except Kenny didn’t falter. He raised his cup, sipping his revolting coffee as if Aaron weren’t spiralling against him. As if the frantic licks and ragged breaths were nothing but static noise. The humiliation scorched through Aaron’s chest,hot and unbearable. He was trembling, undone, while Kenny stood steady, untouchable.

Aaron bit his earlobe harder, punishment and prayer tangled in the act, and his voice cracked against Kenny’s skin, stripped bare of pride. “Fuck me.”

It wasn’t defiance anymore. It was surrender, raw and humiliating, the need spilling out of him no matter how hard he tried to hold it back. And Kenny, smirking, coffee in hand, hadn’t even needed to kiss him to bring him there.

“You’ve got forms to finish.”

“And you’ve got me on the verge of causing a national incident. You can’t expect me to sit and fill out boring arse forms when I’m this fucking hard.”

Kenny tilted his head. “But I need you soft, baby.”

Aaron bristled. “Iamsoft. Look at me. I’m a walking, throbbing marshmallow, pathetic enough to melt at your feet if that’s what gets you off.”

“You’re very pretty when you beg, I’ll give you that.” Kenny took a sip of his coffee, the reflective slurp somehow infuriating and refined all at once. Obnoxious, but maddeningly him.

“Fuck you.”

Kenny arched a brow. “See? That’s not soft, baby.” Then—fuck him—he cupped Aaron’s erection over his jeans. “That’s hard. Rock hard.”

Then he walked away.

Aaron stayed rooted, vibrating with frustration, cock aching, pride stinging raw. He could feel the victory hanging in the air, smug and absolute, and it made his skin crawl. No way was he letting it end there. Not without pushback. Not withoutsomething. If he rolled over too easily, Kenny won. And, fine, okay, maybe Kenny already had. But Aaron wasn’t about to let that be the last word. Notwhen the heat in his body was screaming for an outlet, and his chest tightened with humiliation and overwhelmingneed.