Page 9 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

So he did what any self-respecting brat with a praise kink and no patience would do.

He popped the button on his jeans.

Shoved them down just enough.

Fisted himself.

“Wanna watch me come without you?”

Kenny stilled. Nothing more than a slight tilt of his head as if this were simply a psychological event to observe. Aaron half expected him to keep walking. Vanish down the hall, step by deliberate fucking step, and shut himself into that sanctified room of his and catalogue the moment in neat, clinical notes, leaving Aaron to fall apart alone.

But he didn’t.

He turned. Slowly. With grace. And a control that made Aaron want to scream.

Then Kenny spoke, cool and precise. “If you make yourself come, that’ll add days onto this. Plural.”

Aaron froze his fist on his cock, breath catching. Pavlov’s fucking dog—that’s what he was, conditioned down to muscle and bone. One command and his body betrayed him. He swallowed, heat crawling up his throat, and snapped back anyway. Because Kenny loved him more when he did that.

“Maybe I want more days. Maybe I wanna see how long you can keep this up before you bend me over the table and fuck me so hard you break your own spine.”

Kenny lifted his coffee cup, lips curving around the rim. “You underestimate my agility.”

Aaron held his gaze. Kenny sipped his coffee. And it was Aaron who broke first, breathing out a laugh, shaking his head, looking away even as he felt the quiet rumble of Kenny’s amusement under his skin. Fuck, he loved this man.Especially like this. When he put Aaron in his place, held it all with irrefutable ease, and found the whole thing amusing.

But the game wasn’t over. Not yet. Aaron slid his foreskin back, circling his thumb through the slick at the tip, then raised it to his mouth. He sucked the taste off with a low hum, eyes locking back on Kenny.

Yes. That landed.

Kenny crossed the room with quiet certainty, eyes never leaving Aaron’s.

Aaron’s heart thumped with the naive, hopeless spark that maybe Kenny might drop to his knees and take over.

But he didn’t.

Of course he didn’t.

And worse? Aaron didn’t even want him to.

Kenny curled one hand around Aaron’s wrist, steady and sure, then wrapped the other around Aaron’s cock and stopped him. Held him still with unbearable tenderness.

“Behave, baby.” Kenny pressed his thumb where his pulse thudded. “You’re nearly there.”

Aaron’s knees almost gave out.

But Kenny took his cock from his hand, and Aaron let him tuck him back inside his jeans, all slow and sweet and infuriating. He didn’t fight it. Why would he? This turned him on more than anything he had ever known in his entire fucking life. So he stood there andlet him, heat in his cheeks and something fierce and aching blooming in his chest.

Because it wasn’t about the orgasm.

It was aboutKenny choosing when Aaron got to fall apart.

And telling him he was good for waiting.

Good for wanting.

Good.

Kenny lingered a moment longer, drifting his gaze overAaron’s face, then he leaned in, close enough for his lips to brush the shell of Aaron’s ear, and breathed it out, smooth as silk. “Good boy.”