**Title: Shy Boy on the Couch**

Elliot had been nervous all night, fidgeting beside me on the couch as we half-watched some forgettable movie. His hands kept twisting in his lap, his cheeks flushed pink every time our thighs brushed. He was so damn cute—small, lean, with those big innocent eyes and that hesitant little mouth. I’d been teasing him all week, dropping hints, letting my touches linger just a little too long whenever I reached past him for the remote or the popcorn. Tonight, I decided, was the night I’d push him past that shyness.

I stretched my arm along the back of the couch, fingertips ghosting over the side of his neck. He stiffened, then melted into it a second later. “You okay?” I murmured, leaning in a little.

Elliot swallowed, his breath hitching as my fingers traced the shell of his ear. “Y-yeah. Just… warm.”

I smirked. “Yeah? You look a little tense.” I let my hand slide lower, down his shoulder, my thumb rubbing slow circles. “Maybe you should relax.”

He bit his lip, his thighs pressing together just slightly—just enough for me to notice. “I dunno how.”

I leaned closer, my breath hot against his ear. “I could help with that.”

His breath hitched again, and when I tilted his chin toward me, his lips were already parted, waiting. I kissed him slow, savoring the way he gasped into my mouth, how his fingers clutched at my shirt. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, but when I licked into his mouth, he moaned and let me take control.

I pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips. “C’mere. Sit on my lap.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t argue. He shifted awkwardly at first, straddling my thighs, his hands braced on my shoulders. He was so light, so close—I could feel the heat radiating off him. My hands settled on his waist, thumbs pressing into the soft divots of his hips.

“Daddy’s got you,” I murmured, sliding my hands up under his shirt, feeling the smooth skin of his back, the slight tremble in his muscles. His breath stuttered when my fingers found his nipples—tiny, tight buds already pebbled under my touch. I rolled one between my fingers, and his hips jerked forward in response, pressing his ass right against my growing hardness.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, arching into my touch.

“That’s it,” I growled, squeezing his other nipple, pinching just enough to make him whine. “You like that, baby?”

He nodded frantically, his cock straining against his jeans, pressing right against my stomach. I could feel him leaking already, dampness soaking through the fabric.

One hand slid down, tracing the curve of his ass through his sweatpants before slipping beneath the waistband. He gasped when my fingers found his hole, still dry, but so fucking eager—clenching around nothing when I traced the tight rim.

“Oh fuck—*please*,” Elliot begged, squirming in my lap.

I spit into my palm, coating my finger before pressing it back to him, circling slow, teasing. “You want this?”

“Y-yes, Daddy—” His voice cracked as I pushed in, just the tip of my finger breaching that tight ring of muscle. His whole body shuddered, his cock throbbing against me.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” I groaned, sinking my finger deeper, feeling him clench around me. His hips rocked back, fucking himself on my hand, his breath coming in shaky pants. I crooked my finger, searching—and when I found that sweet spot, he *screamed*, his back arching, his nails digging into my shoulders.

“Oh my god—oh fuck, right *there*—”

I fucked him with my finger, slow but deep, while my other hand kept playing with his nipples, tugging, twisting just the way he liked. His cock was dripping now, leaving a wet spot on my shirt, his thighs trembling. I could tell he was close, his moans getting higher, his body tensing—

“Cum for me, baby,” I growled, pressing hard against his prostate.

Ellit came with a broken cry, his cock pulsing, spilling hot stripes between us as his hole squeezed around my finger. I kept working him through it, milking every last drop until he was limp against me, panting, his face buried in my neck.

I pulled my finger free, admiring the way his hole fluttered, still twitching. I brought my hand to his lips, smearing his own slick across his mouth. “Clean it up,” I ordered.

Blushing, he licked my finger clean, his tongue warm and soft.

I kissed him again, deep and filthy. “Good boy.”