The first time they touched, it wasn’t with hands—it was with looks.
Elias had spent months watching Daniel across the room, memorizing the way his throat worked when he swallowed, the way his fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh. But it was the way Daniel looked at him that undid him—like he was already undressed, already his.
Tonight, there would be no more waiting.
The private booth in the back of the club was secluded, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sin. Daniel didn’t speak when Elias guided him inside, didn’t protest when strong hands pinned him against the wall. His breath came fast, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts, his body already betraying him.
Elias leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of Daniel’s ear. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
Daniel’s hips jerked forward, a silent admission.
“Say it,” Elias demanded, his teeth grazing Daniel’s earlobe.
Daniel’s voice was a rasp. “Yes.”
That was all Elias needed.
His hands slid down, gripping Daniel’s waist before flipping him around, pressing him face-first against the wall. The first strike of the belt against his ass made Daniel cry out, the sting blooming into something far more intoxicating.
“You like that?” Elias growled, his free hand tangling in Daniel’s hair, yanking his head back.
Daniel’s answer was a broken moan.
Elias smirked. Good.
Because tonight, Daniel wouldn’t just speak—he’d scream.
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