The air in Adrien's mansion was thick with expensive cologne and silent power. Alex knelt on the plush Persian rug, his soft, smooth body completely bare and trembling. A delicate silver cage encased his little dick, a constant reminder of where his pleasure was allowed—only from behind.

Adrien Agreste stood over him, a mountain of rugged muscle in silk trousers. His gaze was a physical weight. "Look at you," his voice, a low rumble, made Alex's hole clench instinctively. "My pretty little simp. Always wet for me, aren't you?"

Alex could only nod, his eyes glued to the formidable bulge straining Adrien's pants. He’d dreamed of this, obsessed over the idea of that monster stretching him open, being the only thing that could make him feel full, make him *feel*.

With deliberate slowness, Adrien undid his fly. His golden cock sprang free, thick and veined, a truly massive piece of meat that made Alex's mouth water and his asshole pulse. It glistened already with pre-cum.

"Open," Adrien commanded, and Alex leaned forward, taking the fat, salty head between his lips. He suckled, worshipping the sheer girth, the musky taste. Adrien fisted his hair, controlling the bob of his head. "Good boy. Getting my dick nice and slick for your greedy hole."

After a few minutes of face-fucking, Adrien pulled out with a wet *pop*. He released the restraints holding Alex's wrists, only to push him forward onto all fours. "Arch that pretty back. Show me what's mine."

Alex obeyed,