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“Ster…” you hear Kai say. “Ster. Baby. Focus on me.”

Agonizingly, you drag your eyes away from the screen.

“This is bullshit,” he says. He sounds angry. “C’mon. You don’t need to be watching this. Let’s get out of here.”

On your way to the coat-check, you irrationally wish you had brought the bucket with you. You desperately need a hefty dose of fuck-it right now.

In the car, you realize that you are shaking, and you can’t stop. It’s all catching up with you. Kai’s injury. Artemis. The rocks through your windows. The hateful words shouted at you from crowds. Gabi, naked and painted like GoGo’s human fuck-doll.

“I’m worried about you,” Kai says. In the striped glare of the passing streetlight, his face is grave.

“I know. I need you to do something for me,” you tell him.

“Anything,” he says.

“I don’t know if you’re going to like it.”

“I will do anything , Ster,” he swears.

“Okay,” you nod. It’s quiet in the car, but there is still too much noise in your head. The thoughts are like bumper cars smashing into one another and ricocheting off the sides of your skull. Your head is almost too heavy to hold up. “Remember that you promised.”

***

Back in your bungalow in the Palisades, you are both undressed down to your underwear. Kai folded his costume neatly, but you left yours where it fell on the floor when you took it off. The plastic handcuffs are kicked in a corner somewhere. Distantly, you wonder if you should have held onto them.

Your bedroom is large, dwarfing the king-sized bed.

The room takes up the whole back of the house, the doors to the terrace overlooking the rocky cliffs below.

It’s stormy tonight. The rain started when you guys were driving home, and the wind picked up when you said goodnight to your security detail and dismissed them for the night.

The dogs are locked up in the other room.

There’s only one lamp lit against the encroaching darkness, and the light seems feeble. Thunder crackles in the distance.

“I love you,” Kai says.

“I love you, too.”

“No, I love you so much,” he insists. “I… I don’t really like this.”

Even as keyed up as you are, his admission almost breaks you.

“I told you that you can say no.”

“I want to help you. You’re sure this is what you want.” Kai’s voice sounds uncertain.

“Yes.”

“Why 22?”

“Lucky number?” The laughter that judders through you is nervous. “I don’t know.”

“It sounds like a lot.”

“It sounds like just enough.”

He nods. Licks his lips. “So, we’re starting, then?”

“Seems like it.”

“Shouldn’t we…” He shakes his head. “If you tell me to stop, I’m going to stop. Please don’t say stop it or no unless you mean it. I can’t handle that shit.”

“...But the rest?”

“Yeah.” He flexes his big wrists. “I guess so.”

“You promised,” you remind him.

“Uh-huh.” He gusts out a sigh. “Get on your knees, Sterling.”

The use of your full name is unusual for him, and underscores the fact that he’s not especially comfortable. The tone of his voice is good, though, deep and resonant in a way that sends a hot cramp of arousal across your belly. People who beg get on their knees.

You kneel carefully, cognizant of the picture you make in your mind’s eye. Like there’s a camera trained on you—and isn’t that a terrifying thought?—as you sink down and fold your hands on your lap. Beneath you, the hardwood floor is cool. Your senses are heightened, even in the dim light.

Kai takes a step closer. Cups your jaw. His hand is warm and huge, and you can’t help but butt against it.

“I love you,” he repeats.

“I know you do,” you respond.

“I respect you, too,” he says. “You want me to act like I don’t, though.”

“Right,” you say. “I want you to use me.”

“I’ve never used anybody before.”

“Pretend, then,” you encourage him. “That I’m just a stupid fan who followed you home after practice.” You wet your lips, which are surprisingly dry. “Like I’m just a hole for you to fuck.”

It happens so quickly that you don’t have time to brace for it. Kai uncurls his fingers and, on the same side of the face, slaps your jaw. Not too hard. Just hard enough to sting.

You swallow hard. “One,” you say.

Before you—or, more likely, he himself—can overthink the ramifications of what just happened ( oh my god Kai just hit me oh my god ), he uses his other hand on the other cheek. Open-palmed. It’s louder than it is forceful, a whipcrack snap when the tips of his finger make impact.

“Two,” you say. “Harder.”

Thoughtfully, Kai puts a hand to your slapped cheek and rubs it.

“It might leave a mark,” he says warningly.

“Good,” you say, meaning it. “That’s why I have more makeup than a girl.”

Still cupping your right cheek, he hits the left one, holding your head in place.

As you asked, it’s harder. Your vision swims a little bit.

He’s considerately bracing your face so he doesn’t hurt your neck, but it also prevents you from recoiling, which you are instinctively trying to do.

It is, after all, human nature to try and flee from violence.

“Thr…” you go to say, and he slaps you in the same place.

Your cheek gets hot as blood rushes to the delicate vessels in your face, the alarm raised in your nervous system.

The feeling of his hand lingers after it’s gone, a stinging brand that’s shooting little flares up your lungs. You draw a deep breath.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say softly.

He squeezes your face softly. Rubs his thumb over your lower lip.

“Good boy,” he says.

You didn’t specifically mention that one. It makes your gut contract hot and hard. His eyes blaze; he must have seen the look come over your face.

“You forgot to say four ,” he tells you gravely. “You’re going to suck me now. Stay kneeling. You know what I like.”

His little black underwear—the same ones from under the chaps—hide nothing; you can tell that he’s not hard.

Even though he’s doing this for you, you want him to enjoy the parts of it that he can.

You pull his hips forward. Kai reaches down and fists your hair in his hand.

He’s obsessed with your hair, and the longer it gets, the more he plays with it.

He thinks you don’t know, which is ridiculous.

You’re pretty sure you know all Kai’s secrets.

He doesn’t know that he’s carved into your skin like a hidden tattoo.

With hands that only shake a little, you roll his briefs down his legs.

Gracefully, he steps out of them and kicks them aside.

You have to rise up on your knees to get your mouth at the level of his crotch, he’s so tall.

Not wasting time with teasing or licking him, you take the full length of his soft penis into your mouth.

Erect, Kai is eight or nine inches. You’ve never measured, but you know he’s big.

This might be the closest you ever get to deep-throating him.

You remember the first time you ever blew him, on the jet flying home from a charity event.

He was worried about hurting your throat and messing up your voice, and you remember thinking how oddly sweet that was.

Kai is the sweetest guy you have ever dated; possibly one of the sweetest you’ve ever met.

Maybe that’s what makes this scene so appealingly dirty.

Dragging him outside his comfort zone. What , you wonder, does that say about me?

Your nails dig into the thick muscles of his thighs as you suck him from root to tip.

He’s starting to unfurl inside the cavern of your mouth, but it’s slow.

Gradual. His hand makes a loose ponytail of your hair, his thighs are spread.

If you had to guess, you’d bet that he’s watching you closely.

For your part, you close your eyes. Inhale his scent of clean sweat and taste the salt of his skin.

The hand that isn’t holding your hair back finds your cheek.

He slaps you twice in quick succession, just the fingertips.

Doing so probably feels gentler to him, but it actually stings more than the meat of his palm.

Your eyes water a bit, and the blackness behind your eyelids swirls in galactic shapes.

“Five and six,” he says.

You feel hungry and hollow, something with a fragile backbone that might collapse in on itself if not supported.

He’s almost fully hard now and making you gag on his length, which you refuse to dislodge from your throat.

Not only is he long, but he’s thick. His cock feels enormous in your mouth, making you salivate around it.

Normally, Kai would pull back to stop you from taking too much. Normal Kai isn’t here, tonight.

He waits until you start choking in earnest, snot coming from your nose and viscous drool from your lips, before he tugs you back with one hand fisted in your hair. You gasp for breath inelegantly. Kai affords you about fifteen seconds of fresh air before he pushes your head back down.

This time, you are smart enough to get a fist around the base of his dick to stop it from going all the way into your throat.

Propelled by his strong hand, you begin to bob your mouth over him in earnest. He said to do it the way he likes, and he was right—you do know just that.

On every downward stroke, you wiggle your tongue over the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, and every time you come up, you lick over his slit.

Your fingers work in counterpoint to your mouth, twisting around the root of him.