"Good boy," Ansel murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down Lance's spine. But the words were laced with sarcasm, a cruel reminder of the power dynamic between them.
He reached out, grabbing Lance by the wrist and yanking him roughly onto his lap, forcing their bodies to align in the cramped space.
Lance's knees straddled Ansel's thighs, his exposed cock brushing against the fabric of Ansel's pants, already hardening despite the fear coursing through him.
Ansel didn't waste a second on foreplay.
His hands moved to his own belt, undoing it with one swift motion and freeing his thick, throbbing cock.
It stood rigid and demanding, pre-cum glistening at the tip.
Lance's eyes widened, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps as he realized what was coming. "Ansel, wait—please, not like this.." he pleaded, his voice trembling, but Ansel's expression didn't soften.
