ALEXANDER
How long had I starved for this?
Eight years.
Eight years, three months, twelve days, fourteen hours, and twenty-seven minutes.
I glanced at my watch, the seconds ticking by and felt the familiar, bottomless hunger settle deeper in my chest. Twenty-eight minutes now.
For eight long years I had lived like a man dying of thirst while standing in front of an ocean he wasn't allowed to drink from. Ravenous. Consumed. Every waking moment clawed by the same insatiable craving: *him*.
Dashiell Harper.
He wasn't a choice. He was a necessity. The only thing that could ever gratify the gnawing void inside me.
I remembered the exact day it started.
He had been eighteen. Still soft around the edges, all wide eyes and nervous energy. His father, Ethan Harper, had brought him to a high-profile medical summit hosted by Astor Medical Group, a collaboration on cutting-edge neurosurgical techniques for pediatric congenital heart defects. The kind of event where families like ours pretended to care about saving lives while actually measuring whose empire was bigger.
I had been standing with my brother Anthony and his circle of trust-fund friends when I overheard them talking.
"Fuck, did you see the pretty boy from Harper Medical?" Anthony had laughed. "That ass in those slacks? I'd rail him until he forgot how to walk."
The moment I turned and saw Dashiell standing beside his father, listening intently, cheeks slightly pink as he asked intelligent questions something inside me clicked into place with terrifying finality.
From that exact second, he was mine.
I didn't care that he didn't know it yet.
From that second, I made sure no one touched what my eyes and body had already claimed. I quietly destroyed every subtle advance Anthony or anyone else made. A rumor here, a threat there, a well-placed word to the right person. They never even knew I was the one pulling the strings.
Eight years of watching. Waiting. Planning.
To normal people, that would sound like stalking. Psychotic. Horrifying.
I didn't care.
I didn't see it as stalking.
He was already mine, he just didn't know it yet.
I had orchestrated everything. When my father announced the marriage alliance with the Harper family to secure the merger, I had been quietly thrilled… until they said it would be the sister. I made sure she refused and now here he was, on his knees in front of me, face covered in my cum, throat raw from taking me so deep.
Perfect.
Dashiell's hoarse, wrecked voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
"N… no, you're satisfied now, aren't you? I'm leaving. You're not the one with… semen dripping down your face."
I looked down at him, cum streaked across his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips, his chin, even dripping from his eyelashes and felt another dark pulse of satisfaction roll through me.
In one fluid motion I gripped his cum-streaked hair again, yanking his head back so he had no choice but to look up at me. My much larger frame towered over his smaller, trembling one.
"Oh?" I said, voice laced with dark amusement. "You think I'm satisfied?"
He tried to pull away, but I held him firmly in place.
"I'm not even close, little anomaly," I continued, tapping my still-hard cock against his cum-covered cheek. "Look at you. Covered in me and your cock is still hard in your pants. You really think I'm done with you?"
Dash made a weak, embarrassed sound, trying to wipe his face with the back of his hand. "Alexander… please… I can't breathe properly. My throat hurts. Just… let me go."
I chuckled softly, the sound cold and entertained.
"Let you go?" I repeated, tilting my head. "You offered to make me feel better, remember? In fact, seeing you like this, face painted with my cum, voice wrecked, looking up at me like a used little toy is making me feel even better."
He whimpered, cheeks burning brighter. "You're… you're insane."
"Yes," I agreed easily, still holding his hair in that tight grip. "I am. And you married me anyway."
I leaned down until my lips brushed his ear. "Now be a good boy and stay right there," I murmured. "I want to look at my work a little longer. Then maybe I'll let you clean yourself up… or maybe I'll just fuck your face again until you pass out. Either way, you're not going anywhere until I say so."
Dash shivered hard, eyes wide with a mix of fear and unwilling arousal.
"My pretty little husband… you look so much better when you're marked as mine."
"Let me go," he whispered shakily, trying to sound firm but failing miserably. "I'm serious, Alexander. I need to clean up…."
"No."
I stood up fully, still holding his hair, and used the grip to pull him up onto his feet. He stumbled, smaller body colliding with my chest. I immediately backed him against the wall, caging him in with my much larger frame, one hand braced beside his head, the other still fisted in his messy, cum-streaked hair.
"You're not going anywhere," I said flatly, leaning down until my lips brushed his ear. "Not until I've had my fill. You offered to make me feel better, remember? Running away now would be very rude, little anomaly."
Dash's hands pushed weakly at my chest, but there was no real strength behind it. His breath came in short, shaky bursts against my neck.
"You're scaring me again…"
I pulled back just enough to look at his ruined face, cum, tears, and spit mixing together in a beautiful mess. My cock twitched at the sight, but I decided I'd had enough of his throat for now.
With a calm motion, I tucked myself back into my pants and zipped up, still towering over him.
"Fine," I said, voice cool and commanding. "No more mouth tonight."
Relief flickered across his expression for half a second.
Then I continued, flat and merciless:
"Pull your cock out."
Dash froze, eyes widening in shock. "W-what?"
"You heard me." I braced my hand on the wall beside his head, leaning in closer so he had to tilt his head back to meet my gaze. "Take your dick out, little anomaly. I want to watch you stroke yourself while you're still covered in my cum."
His face turned a deep, mortified red. "Alexander… no… I can't, I'm not— please don't make me…"
I gripped his chin with my free hand, forcing him to keep looking at me. My voice dropped, low and dominating.
"Do it. Now. Or I'll do it for you and I won't be gentle."
Dash's hands shook as he fumbled with his pants, clearly embarrassed and overwhelmed. He finally managed to push them down just enough, pulling out his flushed, pink cock. It was already leaking steadily, the tip glistening.
He looked so small and shy like this, cock hard and twitching in his hand while his face was still painted with my release.
"Stroke yourself," I ordered calmly, eyes locked on every movement.
Dash shivered hard, hand trembling as he wrapped his fingers around his length. He gave one hesitant stroke, then another, breath hitching.
"Good boy," I murmured, watching intently. "Faster. I want to see you fall apart while you're still dripping with me."
His strokes grew a little quicker, shaky and uneven. Soft, broken groans started slipping from his wrecked throat. His hips jerked involuntarily, eyes fluttering as the pleasure built despite his embarrassment.
"Look at me," I commanded.
He forced his teary eyes up to mine, cheeks burning, hand moving faster on his cock.
It didn't take long.
He shuddered hard, eyes locked on mine, and came with a wrecked, broken moan. His cock pulsed in his hand, shooting ropes of cum across his own stomach and shirt, mixing with the mess I had already left on him.
His legs shook. He nearly collapsed against the wall.
I watched the entire thing, not moving an inch.
"Look at the mess you made. Covered in my cum… and now you've made your own. Such a filthy little husband."
When he finally stopped trembling, I reached down and smeared a finger through the combined mess on his stomach, then brought it to his lips.
"Clean it," I ordered.
He obeyed weakly, tongue darting out to lick my finger, eyes glassy and overwhelmed.
I smirked, wiping the rest of the mess on his turtleneck like it was a rag.
"Good," I murmured, almost fondly. "Look at you. Covered in both our cum, voice destroyed, legs shaking. You really are my perfect little husband."
Dash made a small, embarrassed sound and tried to hide his face, but I gripped his chin, forcing him to look up at me again.
"Don't hide," I said coldly. "I like seeing what I've done to you."
He shivered under my touch, still breathing hard.
I finally stepped back, giving him a little space.
"Clean yourself up properly this time," I told him. "Then go to bed. You'll need the rest."
I turned toward the door, pausing only to glance back at his wrecked, cum-covered form.
"And Dashiell?"
He looked up at me, eyes wide and exhausted.
"Next time you offer to 'make me feel better'… be careful what you wish for."
I left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind me.