Pen Pal, ME. [MxM] (Short Story)

8 -Savour the moment and the taste.

Armand towered over him, his presence filling the room as he gazed down at Andre with a hunger that sent a shiver up Andre's spine.

His heartbeat thundered in his chest, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling inside him as he lay there, exposed, vulnerable.

Armand's eyes roamed over him, dark with desire, as though savoring every moment of seeing Andre beneath him.

Dominating.

Possessive.

He looked as though Andre belonged there, as though he had always been meant to be in this exact position—under Armand's control, ready for whatever the man wanted.

Andre's pulse quickened, his body tensing in anticipation of what would come next.

The weight of Armand's gaze made him feel both helpless and incredibly seen, as though Armand wasn't just looking at him but claiming him with his eyes alone.

Armand's hand shot out, gripping Andre's ankle with a firm, unyielding grasp, and in one swift motion, he yanked him closer, dragging Andre's body toward him effortlessly.

Andre let out a surprised yelp, his eyes widening as he met Armand's gaze.

The intensity on Armand's face—focused, unwavering, and filled with determination—sent a wave of heat through Andre, a sharp contrast to the cool air against his now-exposed skin.

In what felt like mere seconds, Armand's fingers worked deftly, unfastening Andre's pants and stripping him of both his pants and underwear with swift precision, leaving him utterly bare beneath Armand's dark, burning gaze.

Despite their shared gender, Andre had never felt so completely helpless, so at someone's mercy, as he did now.

It was the way Armand looked at him—like he was something to be consumed, something to be worshipped and devoured all at once.

Andre's body trembled, not from fear, but from the unfamiliar feeling of being so thoroughly vulnerable yet cradled in Armand's undeniable control.

Armand's grip tightened around Andre's legs, spreading them wide, eyes locked on his vulnerable form.

The tension between them felt like an electric current, pulsing, demanding. Andre's heart raced, a wild rhythm of anticipation mixed with fear, and his mind struggled to stay grounded under the intensity of Armand's gaze.

"Mon chéri," Armand's voice was low, like a growl rolling through the space between them.

He didn't have to say more for Andre to know—he was completely at Armand's mercy, and yet, he craved it.