“You’re not the Dom unless you prove it,” he croaked and I knew what he was saying, what he was asking of me. A moment of silence hung between us where the fight shifted to something else, and the energy in the room burned in a whole different way. “Prove it,” he demanded again and suddenly I was shoving him back down against the sheets and grabbing the bottle of oil from the bed, driven on by instinct alone. I freed my jewelled cock, pouring the sparkling oil all over it before yanking his sweatpants down.
This is not happening, what the fuck am i reading
