ALEXANDER
I couldn't stop watching him.
Dashiell sat beside me in the private booth, cheeks flushed pink, lips still swollen from my kisses. He was trying so hard to act normal, carefully lifting pieces of salmon with his chopsticks, fingers tapping lightly against the table between bites.
But I saw everything.
The way his foot rubbed frantically against his ankle under the table. The way his breathing had grown shallow. The way his eyes kept flicking to my mouth.
My little anomaly was painfully turned on.
And I was starving.
I leaned in closer, sliding my hand higher up his thigh beneath the table until my fingers brushed the hard bulge in his sweatpants. Dashiell jolted, nearly dropping his chopsticks.
"Alexander," he whispered, voice hoarse and scandalized. "We're in public. Someone could come in."
I smirked, pressing my palm firmly against him and stroking slowly.
"I don't care," I said, completely unfazed. "Let them see. I could buy this entire restaurant right now if I wanted to."
Dashiell's breath hitched. His fingers tapped rapidly against the table as I continued rubbing him through his pants.
"You're being inappropriate," he mumbled, but he didn't push my hand away. His hips twitched into my touch. "People are eating."
I bit his earlobe, whispering hotly against his skin.
"Then let them watch me eat my husband."
I turned his face to mine and kissed him deeply, tongue pushing into his mouth, tasting ginger and miso. Dashiell whimpered into the kiss, one hand clutching my shirt as I stroked him harder under the table.
When I pulled back, his eyes were glassy, lips wet and red.
"Alexander…" he breathed. "You really don't care if people see?"
I smiled, cold and hungry.
"No." I squeezed his cock, making him gasp. "I want them to know the pretty little neurologist belongs to me."
Dashiell's face burned crimson. He rocked slightly in his seat, torn between embarrassment and need. His hand covered mine under the table, not stopping me, just holding on.
I fed him another piece of salmon from my chopsticks, then kissed him again immediately after, licking into his mouth while my hand kept working him slowly.
"Eat," I ordered against his lips. "You'll need your strength when we get home."
Dashiell let out a soft, embarrassed moan and obeyed, chewing while I stroked him.
He was perfect like this, flustered, overwhelmed, trying so hard to stay composed while I played with him in public.
But suddenly Dashiell grabbed my wrist, stopping me. His cheeks were scarlet, eyes glassy but determined.
"Alexander," he whispered. "We need to leave. Right now. My brain is too loud and I'm too hard… I don't like feeling like this in public. It's too much."
I studied his face, the rapid tapping against my wrist, the frantic foot-rubbing, the slight rocking. He was right on the edge of overload.
I pulled my hand away and stood immediately.
"We're leaving," I said firmly.
I dropped a thick stack of cash on the table and grabbed his hand. Dashiell stood quickly, flushed and breathing hard. I pulled him through the restaurant, my hand firm on his lower back.
He stumbled after me on the balls of his toes.
"Alexander, slow down," he hissed, cheeks burning as people stared. "People are looking."
"Let them look," I growled, not slowing down.
The valet had the car ready. I pushed Dashiell into the passenger seat, buckled him in, and got behind the wheel.
The second the doors closed, I grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him hard, one hand sliding between his legs to palm his aching cock.
Dashiell moaned into my mouth, fingers clutching my shirt.
"You're really impatient," he gasped when I pulled back to start the engine.
I smirked, pulling out of the lot faster than necessary.
"You have no idea."
The drive home was tense. Dashiell's soft, shaky breathing filled the car while my hand stayed between his thighs, stroking him slowly through his pants the entire way.
By the time we pulled into the garage, he was a mess, lips swollen, eyes glassy, pants tented obscenely.
I turned off the engine and looked at him.
"Inside," I ordered. "Now."
Dashiell nodded quickly, voice breathless.
"Yes… please."
The second we stepped inside the house, I slammed the door shut and locked it.
I lifted him up, his legs wrapping around my waist as I carried him upstairs. His fingers tapped rapidly against my shoulders, breath shaky against my neck.
"Alexander, slow down…" he gasped, but there was no real protest, only need.
I kicked the bedroom door open and dropped him onto the bed. Before he could say another word, I pinned his wrists above his head and yanked his pants down.
"You've been hard since the restaurant," I growled. "My perfect little husband, dripping for me in public like a needy slut."
Dashiell whimpered as I freed his cock, flushed and leaking.
"I couldn't help it," he admitted breathlessly. "You kept touching me and.."
I took him into my mouth in one smooth motion. Dashiell cried out, back arching, wrists pulling against my grip.
I sucked him deep for a moment, then pulled off, stroking him fast.
"You're not coming yet," I ordered. "Not until I'm inside you."
I flipped him onto his stomach, yanked his hips up, and pushed into him in one hard thrust. Dashiell screamed into the pillow.
I fucked him deep and brutal, one hand pinning his wrists, the other gripping his hip hard enough to bruise.
"Mine," I snarled against his neck. "This tight little hole is mine. Say it."
"I'm yours," he sobbed. "Only yours, please.."
I pounded into him faster, hitting that spot with every thrust until he was shaking.
"You were so good in the restaurant," I growled, biting his shoulder. "Letting me touch you. Letting me feed you from my mouth. You liked it, didn't you?"
"Yes I liked it, so much.."
"Come," I commanded.
Dashiell came with a broken scream, body convulsing around me. I fucked him through it and buried myself deep, flooding him with hot pulses.
I stayed inside him for a long moment, then gently pulled out and turned him over. Dashiell looked completely wrecked, glassy eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, swollen lips, body trembling.
I brushed damp hair from his forehead and kissed him softly.
"Good boy," I murmured. "So perfect for me."
Dashiell buried his face in my neck, fingers tapping weakly against my chest.
"You're going to kill me one day," he whispered, voice hoarse.
I smiled against his hair, holding him tighter.
"Yes," I said softly. "But you'll die mine."
I stayed buried inside him for a long moment, savoring the way he clenched around me and the way his body trembled from overstimulation. Then I slowly pulled out, watching my cum leak from his used hole with dark satisfaction.
Dashiell whimpered softly at the loss and immediately curled into my chest. I wrapped my arms around him, one hand stroking slow, soothing circles on his back while the other held the back of his neck possessively.
"You did so well," I murmured against his hair. "Took everything I gave you like a good boy."
He nodded weakly against my chest, still catching his breath.
"I liked it," he admitted, voice hoarse and shy. "Even when it was too much… I liked it."
I pressed a kiss to his temple.
"Good. Because I'm nowhere near done with you tonight."
Dashiell let out a tired, shaky laugh.
"You're insatiable," he whispered, but there was no real complaint in it — only exhausted fondness.
I rolled us so he was lying on top of me, his head on my chest, legs tangled with mine. My hand never stopped stroking his back.
"Sleep for a bit," I told him quietly. "Then I'll wake you up and fuck you again. Slower this time. I want to watch your face the whole time."
Dashiell hummed, already half-asleep, fingers tapping a slow, content rhythm against my chest.
"Okay… but only if you let me sleep for at least thirty minutes. My brain needs to reset."
I chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating through my chest.
"Thirty minutes."
He nodded, pressing closer. His breathing gradually evened out as he drifted off in my arms.
I lay there in the dark, one arm wrapped tightly around my husband, the other hand still possessively on the back of his neck.
Mine.
Completely, utterly mine.
And no one, not Calliope, not Anthony, not anyone in this fucking world was ever going to take him from me.