Ethan was used to being in control. He was the kind of man who filled rooms without trying, sharp suits, crisp cologne, the kind of money that made rules bend for him. A sugar daddy, people whispered, though he preferred benefactor. He enjoyed the role; taking a boy under his wing, giving him the luxury of velvet restaurants and weekend getaways, and in return, getting devotion, obedience, and the kind of youthful body that made his forty-five years feel almost irrelevant.
Leo was supposed to be the same as the others, pretty, young, pliable. A toy. But from the very beginning, something was different.
The boy was nineteen, all soft skin and bright, mischievous eyes, with a lean dancer's frame that made strangers stop and stare. But he wasn't shy. He wasn't obedient. He teased. He challenged. He smiled at Ethan with lips that promised submission but eyes that glittered with rebellion.
The first time Ethan tried to lay down rules, curfews, expectations, the little rituals that kept their dynamic intact, Leo only tilted his head and asked, "Why do you think you're the only one allowed to set the rules?"
Ethan had laughed then, a deep, indulgent chuckle. "Because I'm the one paying for dinner, sweetheart."
Leo leaned forward across the table, tongue darting to lick the corner of his mouth. "Maybe I'm the one you'll end up begging for dessert."
It had been a joke. Ethan thought so, at least. But that night, when Leo kissed him for the first time, the boy's mouth had been commanding. His tongue took, demanded. Ethan, to his horror and thrill, had let him.
Now, weeks later, they were in Ethan's penthouse, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city skyline, jazz humming low in the background. Leo sprawled across the leather couch in nothing but boxer briefs, all long legs and confidence, scrolling casually through his phone as though he owned the place.
Ethan loosened his tie, a scotch in hand. "You've gotten too comfortable," he drawled. "My apartment isn't a playground."
Leo's gaze slid up, slow and lazy, and then he smirked. "Isn't it? Feels like one to me."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but when the boy padded closer, every ounce of irritation dissolved into heat. Leo straddled his lap without hesitation, phone discarded, hands sliding into Ethan's hair. "You love it when I take what I want."
"I allow it," Ethan corrected, though his voice wasn't steady.
"Do you?" Leo's lips brushed his ear, teasing, daring. "Or are you just waiting for me to make you lose control?"
The kiss that followed wasn't sweet, it was a storm. Leo kissed like he owned him, like Ethan was the one who belonged. The scotch glass slipped from Ethan's hand, forgotten, as fingers dug into Leo's waist, desperate.
The slow burn ignited. Shirts were peeled away, skin pressed hot against skin. Ethan tried to flip him, tried to reassert himself, but Leo only laughed breathlessly, pinning Ethan back against the couch with surprising strength. "Not tonight, Daddy," he whispered, grinding down against him with a deliberate roll of his hips. "Tonight, you're mine."
The words shocked Ethan, but the shock melted into a moan he couldn't contain. The red mark Leo left against his neck was proof. proof of a shift he couldn't stop.
Leo took his time, exploring, savoring, making Ethan unravel piece by piece. His hands were both gentle and demanding, coaxing pleasure with an authority no boy should have, yet Ethan yielded, drowning in it. Every gasp, every involuntary buck of his hips only seemed to make Leo bolder.
"You're beautiful like this," Leo murmured, lips brushing his chest. "So used to being in charge… look at you now."
Ethan hated how much he loved hearing it. Hated, and craved more.
By the time Leo finally drove him over the edge, Ethan was wrecked, sweat-slick, trembling, undone in a way he hadn't been in years. And Leo, with his messy hair and wicked grin, looked down at him not like a boy with a sugar daddy, but like a king with his prize.
As they collapsed together, the city lights flickering around them, Ethan realized the truth; he hadn't found a toy. He'd found his match.
And maybe, just maybe, that was even better.
Ethan lay there, his chest heaving, skin damp with sweat, but Leo wasn't finished. The boy propped himself up on one elbow, eyes gleaming in the city light, still tracing lazy patterns across Ethan's chest with his fingers. Every brush sent shivers through Ethan's spent body, making him feel alive in a way he hadn't in years.
"You think we're done?" Leo teased, voice soft but edged with wickedness. "Daddy, I haven't even had my turn."
Ethan's breath caught. He wanted to protest, to say he'd given enough, but the sight of Leo's swollen lips, the flush on his cheeks, the confidence in his grin, burned all resistance away.
Leo slid down his body slowly, deliberately, kissing his way across Ethan's chest, down his stomach. Each kiss lingered, hot and wet, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Ethan groaned, his hand flying to the boy's hair, fingers curling reflexively. He was used to guiding, but now his hand only clutched, helpless, as Leo took control.
When Leo's mouth finally closed around him, Ethan swore he saw stars burst across his vision. The wet heat was unbearable, perfect, the boy's tongue swirling with a skill that defied his age. Ethan's hips jerked, a strangled moan ripping from his throat.
"Fuck! Leo"
Leo pulled back just enough to smirk up at him, lips glistening. "Didn't think the old man could beg so easily." Then he swallowed him down again, deeper this time, his throat tightening in a way that made Ethan's control snap like glass.
His hand gripped harder, tugging at Leo's hair, desperate, but the boy only moaned around him, vibrations sending Ethan to the edge of madness. Every sound in the room, the wet slide, the muffled groans, the faint jazz still humming in the background fused into a symphony of desire.
When Ethan thought he couldn't take more, Leo pulled away with a sinful pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes burning. "Turn around."
"What?" Ethan rasped, stunned.
"You heard me," Leo said, voice firm, unwavering. "Get on your knees."
Ethan's heart hammered. Never in his life had anyone dared speak to him like that. He hesitated, until Leo's hand pressed against his chest, urging him down. And to his own surprise, Ethan obeyed. He sank to his knees on the couch, body trembling with anticipation and fear, the city skyline stretching out before him like an audience to his undoing.
Leo came up behind him, pressing kisses along his spine, biting lightly at his shoulder until Ethan moaned again. Strong hands spread across his hips, pulling him back, positioning him. Ethan gasped, body betraying him with eagerness.
The first push was slow, deliberate, making Ethan shudder with a sound that was half-moan, half-plea. His fingers dug into the couch, knuckles white, every nerve set alight as Leo pressed deeper, filling him, claiming him.
"Breathe," Leo whispered against his ear, voice husky, coaxing him through the burn. Ethan did, and when the sting gave way to fire, to pure molten pleasure, he nearly collapsed.
Then Leo moved.
The rhythm started slow, teasing, deliberate, as though savoring the moment. Ethan's breath hitched with every thrust, the heat building unbearably, his control unraveling thread by thread. Leo's grip on his hips tightened, pulling him back, making him take it, making him want it.
"Say it," Leo growled against his neck. "Say you're mine."
Ethan's pride fought, but his body betrayed him, arching back, craving more. "Yours," he gasped, the word ripped from somewhere deep. "Fuck Leo, I'm yours."
The boy groaned, slamming harder, faster, the sound of skin against skin filling the room, the couch creaking under their weight. Ethan's world narrowed to nothing but heat, sweat, and the relentless drive of the boy who was no longer just his sugar baby, but his master tonight.
When release finally tore through him, it was shattering. His whole body tensed, then collapsed, trembling and undone, a moan echoing into the city night. Leo followed soon after, burying himself deep with a cry, collapsing against Ethan's back, breath ragged.
For a long moment, they stayed like that, pressed together, sweaty, gasping, the air electric with what they'd just done. Ethan's chest still heaved, but he felt something strange and intoxicating in his bones. Surrender.
Leo kissed the back of his neck, softer now, tender. "Told you I'd make you lose control."
Ethan closed his eyes, a laugh catching in his throat, broken and breathless. "And you fucking did."
As they fell onto the couch in a tangled heap, city lights painting their bodies gold, Ethan realized he didn't care about titles anymore, not Daddy, not benefactor. Because tonight, with Leo's arms around him, he wasn't the one holding power.
And God help him, he never wanted it back.