“I will have you and you alone,” he says quietly. “I told you I want you. I want you grimy and soil-stained, shining with sweat under the sun, on your knees and palms in an open field while I take you from behind. I want you secretly in some broom-stuffed closet while servants look for us outside. I want you splayed on my bed—I want to feel your tremors when you come on my tongue. I want you against the garden wall and on the desk in my library. I want your mouth on my cock while I sit on my throne. I want you now, in your youth and beauty, and I want you years from now, when we’re both slow
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