* * *
When Ben instinctively arched away, Haimar mercilessly squeezed his cock and pressed hard against that spot.
“Hyaa—!”
No—I don’t want this!
His mind went white.
His legs trembled in the air, unable to get used to the pleasure.
After weeks without it, the sensation was as intense as the first time, leaving him dizzy.
But Haimar showed no mercy, twisting the two fingers buried inside him.
“Haaah! I—I don’t—don’t want it inside…!”
“If you properly remember, I’ll stop.”
Lightning struck his foggy mind.
With no room to resist, Ben threw his head back and sobbed against Haimar.
Even through the tears, he knew—if he said he couldn’t remember, Haimar would torment him to the end.
Choking back a whimper, he forced out an answer.
“I—I remember, hk—so stop…!”
The moment he answered, Haimar pulled his fingers back to the entrance.
Despite himself, Ben’s insides twitched, clenching around the retreating digits as if begging for more.
But he was just relieved to catch his breath.
His cock, still gripped tightly at the base, was an angry red, ready to burst.
He’d almost come from just the fingers.
Now, all he wanted was release.
Just a little more—just rub the tip, and I’ll—
But Haimar, licking his ear, whispered in a heated voice:
“Then tell me.”
“…Huh?!”
“Is it here? Or… here?”
Of course.
He should’ve known Haimar wouldn’t make it easy.
Ben clawed at Haimar’s hand as the fingers scraped his inner walls.
But when they just brushed that spot, his abs tensed with a shallow tremble.
Just as he started to relax, the assault resumed—Haimar’s other hand fondled his balls while stroking his shaft.
“Ah! Stop—!”
“Hm? You said you wanted to come.”
He did, but—not like this!
If he didn’t answer now, Haimar might plug him up completely next.
The pent-up pleasure was already unbearable.
“Deeper—hk—there…!”
“Here?”
You bastard!
The fingers deliberately veered away, stretching him open wider.
The lewd sight of his reddened inner flesh peeking through made Ben reflexively clench—but Haimar was faster.
“Ah—no, deeper—haa!”
“Good. You remember.”
Listening to Ben’s tearful moans, Haimar pulled his fingers out slightly before adding a third and thrusting back in.
Ben’s back arched dangerously, his toes curling.
With his cock being stroked at the same time, the stimulation was too much—his grip on Haimar’s arm shook violently.
“Ngh! Ah—stop! It’s—it’s too much—hng!”
“Say it slowly. Call my name.”
“Inside—ah! Touching—haa—feels weird, H-Haima—!”
His green eyes, darkened with heat, locked onto Haimar’s gaze as his ears filled with the sound of his own name, uttered in a voice dripping with arousal.
Haimar methodically ravaged Ben’s hole, driving him wild.
Ben’s body, honed sharp by pleasure, trembled and cried out at even the slightest brush against his prostate.
So this is what it feels like to be bewitched, Haimar mused—or maybe he was already under a spell himself.
His breath roughened slightly as he ground his cock against Ben’s ass with deliberate friction.
“You do realize what’s reflected in front of you, right? It’s obscene.”
“Huh? Wh-what…?”
Ben’s ears were already overwhelmed—the slick, squelching sounds of fingers thrusting into him, Haimar’s ragged breathing, the wet drag of a tongue against his ear—all amplified by the bathroom’s acoustics.
When Haimar’s voice cut through the haze, Ben blinked tearfully, struggling to focus his blurred vision.
“Wh-what’s in… front…? N-no, don’t—I don’t wanna… see— Hahhk!”
What came into view was the glass partition separating the bathtub from the rest of the room.
It wasn’t a mirror, but the surface was polished enough to cast a hazy reflection.
His own image stared back—flat chest, nipples flushed and peaked obscenely, legs splayed open, his cock glistening with soapy lather, shamelessly twitching.
And between his thighs, three fingers stretched his hole, buried to the knuckles.
There was no trace of the composed, restrained Ben he knew.
The sight was unbearably humiliating.
“What’s so bad about it?”
“It’s—ah—embarrassing…!”
“It’s not even a proper mirror. You can barely see anything.”
“S-still… Ah—! Nngh—!”
“Stop whining. I’m not listening.”
Haimar’s fingers scraped over a spot that sent electric jolts through Ben’s body, making him jerk violently.
If he keeps hitting there, I’ll— His overheated flesh betrayed him, pulsing visibly with every deep thrust, the lewd display reflected back at him.
“H-Haima—! Hah… ngh!”
The shame of watching slickness drip between Haimar’s fingers was too much.
Ben thrashed, desperate to escape, but the soap-slick tiles gave no traction.
No matter how he struggled, he couldn’t break free.
Drip, drip. Even the trails of water sliding down his skin felt hypersensitive.
The heat from Haimar’s relentless thrusts spread outward—teasing strokes, sharp presses of nails, maddening skims over sensitive flesh.
Whenever Ben tried to squirm away, Haimar punished him with a deeper, rougher plunge.
Pleasure short-circuited his brain, white static flooding his vision as electricity shot up his spine.
There was no resisting the onslaught. All he could do was sob and tremble.
“Nngh! Ah—! S-stop, I’m gonna—!”
Only when Ben finally broke—clawing at Haimar’s nape, tears streaming—did he tip over the edge.
And all while being fucked from behind, the very thing he’d dreaded most.
“Ah… ngh…”
Thick streaks of white spilled messily onto the floor.
After being edged relentlessly, the release was overwhelming.
Ben’s mind went blank, his body collapsing like a wrung-out rag.
All he wanted was to escape this bathroom, this unbearable heat—
But he didn’t realize.
The real game hadn’t even started yet.
“Hahhk! Nn—! Ah—!”
Pinned face-down on the tiles, arms wrenched behind him, Ben choked on his own sobs as Haimar’s cock pistoned into him ruthlessly.
Each thrust teetered on the brink of slipping out before slamming back in to the hilt.
With no escape, no leverage, every brutal snap of hips jolted through him, rattling his vision, his stomach—
“Hah! Ah—! M-my stomach… feels weird—!”
Every movement filled him impossibly deeper, like Haimar was hammering against his very core.
Pleasure detonated like fireworks, relentless, melting him from the inside out.
His cock, already hard again, twitched pathetically against his stomach, dripping precum in time with Haimar’s thrusts.
“Cry harder, Ben.”
As if he wasn’t already sobbing uncontrollably.
Tears streaked his flushed face, his body a canvas of bruises and bite marks.
Haimar’s lips trailed over his damp shoulder, possessive, insatiable.
“Hah… nn—! I d-don’t like it…!”
“Liar. You love being fucked this deep.”
Haimar buried himself to the root and twisted slowly, deliberately.
The sensation burned through Ben’s tailbone like liquid fire, forcing his head back with a gasp.
Unlike the earlier punishing pace, this was slow, deliberate—agonizing.
When Ben turned to glare, eyes glassy with tears, Haimar only smirked.
Any silent reproach in that gaze was lost on him.
All he saw was Ben—flushed, lashes fluttering, tears streaming down his face—and he was too busy kissing those heated cheeks to care.
This is all Ben Plaskun’s fault for being so damn cute.
If he hadn’t squirmed so desperately to escape the reflection in the glass, Haimar wouldn’t have changed their position like this.
But he should’ve expected it.
If this had been an actual mirror, Ben might’ve fainted from sheer embarrassment.
Even when he’s this debauched, Ben Plaskun stays stubbornly prudish.
* * *
