Ranger (Pre-order)

Seven Symanski doesn’t need anyone, least of all Enzo Conti. As one of Jericho’s Boys, a vigilante crew that protects their neighborhood, Seven has a found family, a mission, and enough baggage to keep any relationship at arm’s length. When a favor introduces him to Enzo, a charming criminal defense attorney and the son of Francesca Conti—the neighborhood’s own Robin Hood—sparks fly. But Seven’s never been good at sticking around, and a one-night stand seems like all they’re destined for.

Enzo’s life is built on rules, order, and keeping his family’s shady dealings just this side of legal. But Seven is chaos incarnate, and Enzo has never wanted anyone more. When Seven ghosts him, Enzo takes matters into his own hands, offering a no-strings deal that backfires spectacularly. Enzo’s mother intervenes with a plan to teach him a lesson, and suddenly, the boy he can’t stop thinking about is right under his nose—and maddeningly out of reach.

But when Seven’s mother is accused of embezzlement, the stakes turn deadly serious. The only one who can help is Enzo, even if it means going against his own powerful law firm. Together, they must unravel a dangerous conspiracy while navigating the growing tension between them.

As their worlds collide, trust is tested, lines are crossed, and Enzo and Seven discover that love doesn’t always follow the rules. But with a little risk, they might just find a way to save the day—and each other.

Ranger is a lovers-to-enemies-to-lovers again, cozy dark romance with an HEA and no cliffhangers. It features an infuriatingly hot defense attorney with control issues and a fed-up, frustrated vigilante brat. As with any Onley book, you’ll find dark humor, steamy sexy times, and gratuitous violence, but only against people who totally deserve it. This is book 4 in the Jericho’s Boys series. Each book follows a different couple.

Seven Symanski lingered on the darkened uptown streets, standing outside Lorenzo Conti’s apartment building for so long the doorman looked two seconds away from calling the police. Seven didn’t blame him. It was late and Seven was acting a little suspicious even by his own standards. But he was just…stuck. 

He pulled his phone out for the hundredth time, reading over their text exchange. 

Seven: It’s Seven. We met the other day. I was just wondering if you were available? 

His response had come within five minutes. 

Law Daddy: Depends on what you have in mind. If you mean professionally, no, I’m off the clock. If you mean personally, ask me nicely like a good boy and I might tell you. 

Seven had gotten hard just from some words on the screen. He blamed his long shitty day and his vulnerable state for his response. 

Seven: Are you busy, Daddy? 💓 

Law Daddy: Not too busy for you, brat baby. Why? 

Seven: I was kind of hoping to see you. 

Law Daddy: Kind of hoping? Is that how you ask for something? 

Seven: Can I see you again? Tonight, I mean. 

Law Daddy: Like a date or do you want to play? 

Seven’s heart had plummeted into his stomach. He hadn’t had any agenda at all when he first sent the message. He’d just wanted someone to make him forget his shitty day for a while. 

You are receiving a collect call from…Stanley Symanski…an inmate at Greengate Correctional Facility. To accept this call, press one. To decline, hang up now. This call may be monitored and recorded.

He’d pressed one. It had all been downhill from there. He should have known. It would have been less painful to slam his balls in a car door than talk to his sperm donor. 

He shook thoughts of his father away. Fuck him. He was done giving his dad any more of his energy. If his mom wanted to keep letting him tie her in knots, that was their business. Seven was done. So fucking done. 

Seven: I wanna play.

Seven: Please.

Law Daddy: Okay, brat baby. Let’s play. I’m dropping a pin to my place. Top floor. The doorman will let you up. But if you come, I’m not letting you go before sunrise. Pack accordingly. 

He’d practically given himself whiplash with how fast he’d moved to obey, so he wasn’t sure why he was hesitating now. 

Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. He hesitated because he knew if he went up there they would have sex, and Seven—for all his talk—had only had sex with three other people, two of whom he’d never even learned their names. None of which he’d ever “played” with, whatever the hell that meant. All his encounters had been quick and dirty, fumbling around in the dark and then disappearing before his partner had removed the condom. 

This…wasn’t that. 

Enzo had probably fucked hundreds of people; Seven could see it in his demeanor. He’d even heard Jericho say his brother owned a sex club. A public one. Seven knew they existed. He wasn’t naive, but he didn’t know anyone who owned one. Well, Asa and Zane had their very own sex dungeon, but that was just private, weird, rich people shit. 

Wasn’t it? 

Was that what Enzo was into? Whips and chains? Spanking? The idea had Seven’s blood pumping a little faster. He wasn’t opposed to it. He knew he liked letting someone else take control. Or he would, if he found someone he could trust. 

It was clear just from their brief interaction that Enzo was used to controlling a room. He probably walked into every place like he owned it. He sat in a way that took up space. He didn’t think twice about doing bad things to bad people for good reason. He was, for all intents and purposes, a criminal. 

But so was Seven. 

On paper, Seven’s charges made him seem far more dangerous than Enzo. Seven had killed people. Tortured them. He’d beaten up gang members, broken their kneecaps, helped Jericho dangle someone off the roof of a six-story building once without even breaking a sweat. He’d watched his loved ones—those he’d chosen as his family—do things to the human body that would have scarred most people for life and then gone out for beer and chicken wings. 

Yet now, he was out there cowering on the corner over one sexy-as-fuck, terrifyingly confident attorney.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

The thing was, Seven did the violent stuff because it was necessary…not because he wanted to. When he was younger, Felix used to call him his soft boy. Anytime someone picked on him, anytime his father hit him or rejected him or just made him feel like shit, he would cry and Felix would hold him and pet him and tell him that sometimes people were just shitty and it had nothing to do with him. 

It only took a few years for Seven to build an iron shell around his softest parts, to learn to hide his pain beneath ten layers of sarcasm, to detach his conscience from his actions. Killing didn’t bother him anymore. The screams of his victims rolled off him. But when it came to things like this, like one-on-one interactions with other boys—well, men—Seven was still that soft boy.

That was the problem. Everyone wanted the fake him, not the real one. But he couldn’t trust anyone with the real him. He had no idea what Enzo had in store for him once he got upstairs, but he also knew he wouldn’t say no. He wouldn’t refuse, no matter what he wanted. And that scared him a little. 

He was tempted to call his friends. But they would all say the same thing. Go home. Save it for a day when he wasn’t drowning in his daddy issues. But Stanley Symanski was hardly a father, despite his many, many children. Was it any wonder Seven kept looking for a new one? A better one? 

God, he was so fucked up. Freud would have a field day with him. 

Fuck it. 

He slung his bag over his shoulder and entered the building, locking eyes with the doorman to let him know he wasn’t casing the place. He made it to the two sleek-looking elevators before he remembered that he was supposed to have the doorman let him up.

When he stepped off the elevator, the doorman was smirking, looking at him expectantly. 

“Um, I think you’re supposed to let me up?” Seven mumbled, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“You’re here to see Mr. Conti.”

It wasn’t a question. 

Seven nodded. “Yeah. How’d you know?” 

The doorman’s gaze swept over him, and he didn’t even bother hiding his judgmental expression. “Lucky guess. Swipe the card over the keypad, then hit the button for the penthouse. That’s the button that says P,” he said, giving him a tight smile. 

Seven was too nervous to even say something snarky, instead walking away on wobbly legs. Once inside, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before following the doorman’s instructions. The elevator lurched into motion, as clumsy as his own stuttering heartbeat, leaving him staring at his own panicked reflection. Why did all these swanky places have mirrored walls? Why did rich folks like looking at themselves so much? 

Maybe he should have dressed in something better than jeans and a hoodie, but he didn’t want to look like he was trying too hard, even if he was. Even if he’d scrubbed every inch of his body like he was covering up a crime scene. 

The elevator came to an abrupt stop, then dinged. He expected to find a small hallway and a closed door, but instead was spit out directly into Lorenzo Conti’s actual apartment. Well, penthouse. 

No matter how many times Seven had pictured Enzo’s place on the way over, he was in no way prepared for what he found. Freckles and Jericho lived in a penthouse. It looked like a huge apartment with overpriced, overstuffed furniture. But this? This was a cathedral. The apartment sprawled out over hundreds of feet in either direction, and the glass wall in front of him spanned two floors before curving to become part of the roof. 

There was a huge orange couch directly in front of him, which he assumed meant this was the living room. It was all he could see without leaving the elevator; the soles of his shoes had melted to the floor. 

He stood, frozen, gaze darting around the parts of the apartment actually in his eyeline. What had he been thinking? 

He should just go. 

He reached for the button to the lobby when Enzo sauntered into the living room looking like pure, unadulterated sin in a pair of fitted black track pants, which were slung low on his hips, and a black tank top that showed off every single inch of colorful ink that spanned his perfect body, starting from under his beard and ending at his fingertips. 

He had a towel in one hand and his phone in the other. He gave no indication that he’d noted Seven’s arrival as he spoke abruptly to whoever was on the other line. 

“No, we’re not waiving privilege, not even partially. If they want those internal memos, they can issue a subpoena and we’ll fight it.” 

Seven’s ears burned. Should he be listening to this? Technically, this was all privileged information. He should definitely go. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood there, mouth dry as he watched Enzo’s well-muscled arm lift to run the towel over his damp chestnut hair before settling the fabric around his shoulders. 

“I don’t care what outside counsel is saying, we’re controlling the narrative, Drucilla. Client doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, doesn’t so much as blink without clearance from our office. You know this.” 

Enzo glanced out the glass window then froze. He’d finally noticed Seven standing stock still in the reflection. He turned, a knowing smirk breaking across his face, taking him from dark and dangerous to hot and rich in the blink of an eye. 

He took in Seven’s statue-like pose before he crooked his finger, beckoning him inside, making no attempt to hide the way his eyes roved Seven’s body from head-to-toe. 

Seven stumbled forward without thought. Once he left the elevator, Enzo crossed the room, not stopping until he was so close Seven had to crane his neck back to look up at him. He managed eye contact for approximately half a second before dropping his gaze to his shoes. 

Enzo laughed low, then chucked him beneath his chin, tilting his head up once again. Heat simmered low in his belly as Enzo took him in, making no attempt to hide his interest. 

Seven hoped Enzo didn’t try to talk to him. There was no way he’d hear past his own blood rushing in his ears. No man should be this beautiful. His eyes were the same chestnut brown as his hair, and his lashes were long enough to cast shadows on his sharp cheeks. He had full lips, a trimmed beard, and crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Seven wanted to look away, but Enzo pinned him in place with his piercing stare. 

So, he stood there, head empty, while Enzo studied him. Seven’s breath stuttered, pulse tripping as Enzo dipped his head. What the fuck? Was he going to…kiss him? Now? 

His breath hitched as cool lips pressed against his forehead, lingering long enough to have him reeling. Awareness zipped through his whole body as Enzo casually slipped Seven’s bag off his arm and placed it on a barstool, mouthing, Five minutes. 

Seven nodded woodenly, his skin still tingling where Enzo’s lips had touched him. The other man made a gesture like he could look around if he liked, then turned away from him to walk to a glass wall covered with a sleek black metal grid. The messy desk behind it told Seven it was a makeshift office of some sort. 

Seven’s fingertips skimmed his forehead. Had that really just happened? Fucking was one thing, but what kind of maniac kissed a stranger’s forehead like he was something important? This was just a one-night stand. 

Seven stayed rooted to the spot, his head on a swivel. On his left, there was a glossy wooden staircase with a glass railing that presumably led to the bedrooms. In the center, industrial light fixtures dangled from the sky-high cement ceilings over the large orange sofa and a coffee table so ugly it had to have cost a small fortune. The whole penthouse seemed to be decorated with fuck-you money, like Enzo was trying to prove something to someone. 

But who?

The kitchen stood off to Seven’s right. It was bigger than his entire apartment. The countertops were made of slick white marble with gold and black veins running through them. The island alone was four-feet across and long enough to hold six barstools comfortably. There were two ovens, stacked on top of each other, and two refrigerators built right into the wall, sitting side-by-side. 

One had a glass door, revealing it held only drinks—everything from soda to the fancy imported beer Jericho now drank—right there out in the open for all the world to see. The other refrigerator was double the size but hid its secrets behind a large stainless steel door. 

From a distance, he heard Enzo snort out a laugh, his voice echoing all the way back to Seven in the kitchen. “Right. Well, tell him if he wants to stay out of an orange jumpsuit, he’ll keep his mouth shut and let me handle it. Everything else can wait until tomorrow. Yeah, I might be late to the office…yeah, yeah. See ya.”

Enzo came back around the corner, smiling when he realized Seven hadn’t moved. “What’s wrong, brat baby?” 

“How rich are you?” Seven heard himself say before clamping his lips shut. 

Enzo laughed. “Rich enough to buy the entire top two floors of this building and do all this,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at him. “Do you want a drink? You look like you’re two seconds away from trying to fling yourself over the balcony to escape. You know I’m not holding you hostage, right?” 

Seven fixed him with a flat stare. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to live in an apartment the size of a subway station,” he snarked. 

“There’s my bratty boy,” Enzo taunted with a grin. “Have you eaten?” 

Seven startled at the question. Was this what one-night stands were like for older people? He dropped his gaze to his ratty Chuck Taylor’s. “I had something a while ago.” 

Enzo once more forced his gaze upwards with a finger beneath his chin. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he said softly. “When was a while ago?” 

Seven shrugged. “Like…three-thirty?” 

“It’s ten o’clock at night. You didn’t eat dinner?” He tsked, then shook his head, going to his giant refrigerator—the one with all its secrets—and opened the door, looking around for a minute before he returned with a protein shake. 

“Why isn’t that in the drink fridge?” Seven mumbled. “Isn’t it technically a drink?” 

“It’s a meal replacement shake.”

“So, you separate your food by purpose, not consistency?” Seven asked, staring at the bottle like it had teeth.

Enzo snorted, handing it over. “Drink this while I cook you something.” 

Cook him something? Seven’s hand flew out, grabbing Enzo’s bicep as he made to walk back into the kitchen, retracting it with a gasp just as quickly. 

When Enzo turned to look at him with a raised brow and a stern look, he muttered, “You—You don’t have to do that.” He cracked the protein shake and made a show of downing half of it in one go. “See? This is fine. This is great.” 

Enzo studied him for a long moment before his shoulders sagged and he shook his head. 

“You’re in law school, right?” Enzo asked. “Are you at Strawbridge?” 

Seven nodded, trying to look anywhere but at Enzo, hoping he didn’t see his hands shaking. “Yeah.”

Seven had just secured the lid back on his chocolate protein bottle when Enzo backed him right up against the kitchen counter, well-muscled arms caging him in. He fumbled the plastic bottle in his hands, making a dismayed sound when it fell to the hardwood floor, bouncing twice before rolling away. 

“Do I make you nervous, brat baby?” Seven flicked his gaze up, his mouth a hard line, but before he could answer, Enzo leaned in close. “Don’t even think of lying to me right now. I’ll know.” 

Seven’s cock twitched in his jeans. He swallowed audibly, hyper-aware of Enzo’s body pressed to his. “Yeah, you would make anyone nervous,” he managed, voice shaking. 

Enzo huffed out a laugh. “Not anyone. You should see the way my family treats me.” Seven jerked his head up in surprise, making eye contact. “That’s better,” Enzo praised. “Is it that hard to look at me?” 

“Kinda, yeah,” Seven admitted. 

“Is it because I’m so hot?” he said, his tone teasing. 

Seven scoffed. “No, it’s because you’re huge.” 

That wasn’t totally true. He was no more than five or six inches taller than Seven’s five-foot-eight, but he felt large, his frame much larger and broader than Seven’s. 

“Does my size scare you?” 

“No, it just gives me a kink in my neck trying to look at you,” he deadpanned. 

Enzo chuckled. “You didn’t seem scared of me the other day. And I’m way scarier at work.” 

Seven rolled his eyes. “At work, you’re not gonna shove me up against countertops and suck all the air from the room.” 

Enzo traced Seven’s jaw with his thumb. “Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that. I’m not exactly a model employee, and you are far too tempting to ignore. But if you want me to move, just ask.” 

He didn’t want him to move; he needed him to move. He couldn’t think with him so close. He could feel the heat of his body and smell the spicy scent of his body wash. Seven fought the urge to bury his face in Enzo’s neck. He swallowed loudly as he pictured himself doing just that while Enzo fucked him into the mattress. 

What was he doing there? This man was a hazard to Seven’s mental health. Why had he run to him when he was in a vulnerable state? 

Because you know he’ll baby you. You know he’ll take care of you…even if it’s just one night. 

If he lasted the night. He’d just gotten there, and he was already too worked up. Seven chewed on his lower lip, trying to muster the courage to say…something. Why did this man intimidate him so much? 

“Can you please move back? Just a little?” 

“Good job asking so politely,” Enzo whispered in his ear before taking two steps back. Seven immediately felt the loss, the air between them cold compared to Enzo’s warmth. 

Seven really was fucked in the head right now. 

“You’re useless. Of all my kids, you’re my biggest regret.”

Seven’s stomach churned. He hated his father, hated him more than he’d ever thought possible. So, why did his words still cut so deep? Seven was an adult. He was in law school. He paid taxes and…fuck, he killed people. But today, he felt emotionally stripped bare. So, why had he walked himself straight into the lion’s den?

“Better, brat baby?” 

“Why do you call me that?” Seven muttered. 

“For the same reason you called me Daddy, I guess. It suits you.” 

Seven crossed his arms over his chest, giving Enzo a sullen look. “Don’t flatter yourself. I call every hot, older guy Daddy.” 

Enzo’s brow went up, a look of warning in those warm brown eyes. “Careful…I’m definitely the jealous type,” he said. 

Seven’s insides shivered. “Yeah, well…don’t get too attached. This is a one-time thing.” 

“So fierce,” Enzo mocked, but there was a fondness to his tone. Enzo walked back into Seven’s space, then took his hand, threading their fingers together and pulling him towards the couch. “Let’s talk.” 

Seven’s heart sank, tears threatening. 

Pull it together. He just wants to talk. 

Jesus. This was so fucking embarrassing. 

“About?” he managed. 

Enzo gestured to the couch. “Sit.” 

Seven collapsed as if Enzo had kneecapped him. The older man’s lips twitched, but he said nothing. When he sat down beside him, he made sure there was some distance between them. Seven was both grateful and bereft over it. 

“Why did you contact me tonight?” Enzo asked softly. 

Seven glowered at him. “I should think that would be obvious.” 

“You are so combative,” Enzo said, clearly holding back a smile while he studied him. After a moment, his brows drew together, all trace of amusement gone. “Are you okay?” 

It was like he’d punched a hole straight through Seven’s defenses. The younger boy choked on a sob, swallowing it down. He was not going to cry in front of a stranger like a loser. 

“I’ve just had a rough day,” he muttered, the words thick. 

Enzo dipped his head, catching Seven’s gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“If I did, would I be here with you?” he retorted, tone venomous. 

“You are something else,” Enzo said, brushing his knuckles across Seven’s cheek. 

Seven ducked away from his touch. “Don’t.” 

Enzo’s brows shot up. “Don’t what? Don’t touch you?” 

Seven felt like his lungs were going to burst from his chest. “Don’t be nice to me.” 

“You came here because you wanted me to be mean to you? Is that how you think I play, brat baby?” 

“You weren’t exactly nice to me in your office.” 

“You weren’t being nice to me either. But that’s okay. I know you were just attention-seeking. And look. It worked. You have my undivided attention now.” 

Seven scoffed. “Me and how many others?” 

“Are you jealous?” Enzo countered teasingly. “You just told me this was a one-off. Why do you care how many other boys call me Daddy?” 

“I don’t,” Seven spat. “Just stop treating me like I mean anything to you.” 

Enzo sighed, studying Seven until he felt like a petulant child. After a moment, he asked, “What did you think I meant when I said ‘let’s play’?” 

“I didn’t think you were inviting me to build castles in your sandbox,” Seven shot back, staring at his own hands, fingers twisting in his lap. 

Enzo gripped his chin and forced his gaze upwards. “Give me a real answer or this ends right now.” 

Seven seethed. “I figured we were gonna fuck.” 

Enzo blew out a breath through his nose. “You sure do have a mouth on you.”

“You have no idea,” Seven shot back, nostrils flaring. “Want me to show you?” 

Once more, Enzo examined him with an utter stillness that made Seven’s insides squirm and his dick throb behind his zipper. 

He watched as the older man settled deeper into the cushions, settling his elbows on the back of the sofa, his knees parting. “Sure, brat. If you think you can.” 

Seven just sat there, paralyzed by his indecision. He didn’t know if he was mad, sad, or horny. He’d stuffed that tangled ball of emotions deep down, his frustration causing him to squeeze his shaking hands into fists. 

After a minute, he jutted his jaw forward, moving to kneel between Enzo’s open legs.

A pillow landed on the floor. When Seven flicked his gaze upwards, Enzo said, “So you don’t hurt your knees. You’re gonna be down there a while.” 

Seven’s cock pulsed, leaking into his boxer briefs, his jeans already too tight against his painfully hard cock. “Okay.” 

He’d meant it to sound sarcastic, but it came out a little too breathless, a little too…bewildered. Only once he was on his knees, looking up at Enzo, did he truly falter. He’d hoped when he looked up he’d find the older man staring at him coldly, but instead, Enzo was watching him with equal parts curiosity and concern. 

Fuck him. 

He could do this. He could totally do this. He wanted to do this. He wanted everything to go away…just for a little while. He settled his hands on Enzo’s strong thighs, taking in the obvious bulge in his joggers. His fingers flexed into the thick muscle beneath as he chewed on his lip, suddenly unsure of every blowjob he’d ever given. 

Enzo sighed, reaching down, then Seven found himself straddling Enzo’s lap, knees on either side of his hips. “Hi.” 

Seven forced his gaze to Enzo’s. “Hey.” 

Enzo ran his hands up and down Seven’s arms soothingly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your downward spiral, but I thought of a few more questions I need you to answer for me.” 

“I’ve never had to pass a test to get laid before,” Seven muttered. 

“Are you going to behave, or should I just call you an Uber?” Enzo asked, sharp voice cutting through Seven’s resistance with precision. 

He knew Enzo was serious. He knew he would send him home. 

Seven nodded. 

“Verbal answers only.” 

“Yes,” he whispered. 

Enzo stroked the back of his head. “Good boy.” 

Seven bit back a whine. 

“Have you ever engaged in this kind of play before?” 

Seven struggled to hide his confusion. What kind of play? Roleplay? Calling a man Daddy? Did that require some kind of proper training? 

“Yeah,” he lied. “Of course.” 

Enzo stared at him for so long he started to shift restlessly. “Were you in relationships with those people?”

Seven huffed out an exasperated sigh. “What are you, my priest?” When Enzo continued to study him, Seven folded. “No. Did I need to be?” 

Enzo ignored his outburst. “Have you ever bottomed before?” 

Seven snorted. “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking. Do I need a resume to get dicked down by you? Are your services really in such high demand?” 

Enzo caught Seven’s hands in his, massaging them gently. “Retract the claws, brat. We’re not doing anything until I know you really want to do this.” 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” Seven shot back. “If you’re not interested, I’m just gonna go.” 

Enzo tightened his grip. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t interested. I just want to make sure you’re here because you want to be and not because you’re…punishing yourself.” 

Seven wanted to scream in frustration. “I’ve had a shitty fucking day. The worst kind of day, really. I came here because I thought you could make me forget about it for a few hours. But if this is gonna turn into a therapy session, fuck it. I’ll go find someone else.” 

Enzo cupped his face with both hands, once more forcing him to look at him. What was with this guy and eye contact? “So, that’s why you’re here? You want to shut it all out for a while?” 

“Is that so wrong?” Seven asked. “I didn’t think I had to be emotionally regulated to get laid.” 

Enzo gave another heavy sigh. “You don’t have to be anything. You can be a mess if you need to be. I just don’t want to give you more than you can handle.” 

“Isn’t that what safewords are for?” Seven quipped. 

Enzo chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. What’s yours?” 

Seven scrambled to think of one. “Starburst,” he answered, thinking of the candy currently sitting in his pocket. 

“Good boy,” Enzo purred, petting his head once more. “A couple more questions and we’ll play. Alright?” 

Seven gave a stilted nod, then corrected himself. “Fine.” 

“You seem to like when I instruct you. Is that right?” 

Something unknotted in his chest. “Yes.” 

“You want me to take charge?” 

Seven was nodding before he even finished his question. “Yes, please.” 

“Do you want me to be rough with you?” 

He exhaled shakily, heat pooling low in his belly. “God, yes.” 

“Do you want me to praise you?” 

Seven’s face was on fire. This was so embarrassing, yet he’d never been more turned on. “Yes.” 

“Do you want to call me Daddy?” Enzo murmured. 

Seven’s breath stuttered. “Please.” 

Enzo shook his head, a genuine smile splitting his face. 

“God, you’re fucking cute,” Enzo mused, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. 

Seven flushed, his ears burning with embarrassment. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“You can say no,” Enzo said. “You can safeword anytime you want. You can leave anytime you want. This is only fun if we both want it. You know that, right?” 

“Yes. I consent. Fuck, just…touch me,” he all but wailed, exasperated. 

“Poor brat baby,” Enzo crooned. “Want me to make it all go away for a while?” 

Seven’s eyes fell shut. He didn’t even care if he’d said it mockingly. “Yes…please.” 

Enzo’s nose brushing against his was the only warning he got before he felt the older man’s warm lips capturing his mouth in a kiss that stole his breath and ignited something deep inside, causing him to grip Enzo’s shirt and press forward harder until their teeth clacked together. 

Enzo eased back, smiling when Seven chased his lips. He flushed at Enzo’s steady gaze. He stroked his thumb across Seven’s full lower lip, drawing it down and letting it snap back with a pop before curling his large hand around the back of Seven’s neck, reeling him in to crash their mouths together once more. 

Arousal shot through him, a feeling so overwhelming it made his head swim. It was just a kiss. Why was he so desperate for more?  

“Open your mouth,” Enzo murmured. 

Seven’s lips parted on a choked sound, and his hands fisted on Enzo’s broad shoulders as he swept his tongue over his. Seven’s hips rocked down without thought, desperate for some kind of friction, pressure. Anything to take the edge off just for a minute. 

“Not yet, brat baby. You said you wanted me to make you forget. I’m gonna take my time with you,” he said, licking across the roof of his mouth, then sucking on his tongue until Seven moaned. 

What would people think if they knew one kiss from this man had his insides melting like an ice cream on a summer sidewalk? Seven may not have fucked a lot of men, but he’d kissed plenty. But none of them kissed like Enzo. He kissed in a way that consumed Seven, setting his blood on fire. Each time their lips met, it was like Enzo was siphoning away every doubt, every fear, and every time they parted, Enzo praised him. 

“So good for me.” 

“My good boy.”

“My perfect boy.” 

“Doing so well.” 

“Look at you.”

“So pretty for me.”

It was like being hypnotized, his head growing hazy. His only goal, his only worry, was pleasing Enzo…his Daddy. 

When Enzo’s palms settled on Seven’s ass, his hips kicked forward once again, another desperate whine escaping before he could stop it. 

Enzo broke their kiss to mouth at his throat, scraping his teeth behind his ear, breath ragged as he said, “Fuck, I knew my bratty baby would be so whiny for me. So hot.”

“More…please…Daddy,” Seven begged, even as he tilted his head to give Enzo more access. 

Enzo’s hands squeezed his ass, thrusting up as he dragged Seven down, ripping a low whine from deep in his chest. 

“You’ll get more…when I decide you will,” Enzo growled against his ear. Seven choked on a sob but nodded helplessly, giving himself over completely to Enzo’s will. “Say ‘thank you, Daddy.’” 

“Thank you, Daddy. Thank you, Daddy,” Seven chanted breathlessly while Enzo devoured him, beard scraping along his skin as he sucked marks that Seven prayed would still be there tomorrow. 

His whole body was vibrating with need, his eyelids heavy, lips swollen and bruised. Would anyone who looked at him know Enzo had taken him apart piece by piece? He hoped so. He wanted to feel claimed, used, owned…wanted. At least for one night. He could be good for just one night. Give himself over to Enzo in every way to feel whole inside. 

By the time Enzo reached for the hem of Seven’s hoodie, he felt barely corporeal—a ghost of himself. He raised his arms without being told, earning another quiet “Good boy” that set his soul on fire. 

When he tugged on Enzo’s shirt and said, “Now you, please, Daddy,” Enzo looked at him with a hunger that stole the air from his lungs, peeling his own shirt off, tossing it blindly. Seven’s palms found Enzo’s torso, trying and failing to take in all the ink on his body. There was so much religious iconography there it would take him a year to see it all. But that didn’t stop him from appreciating the ridges of his abs or the planes of his pecs. 

“You’re so hot,” he breathed, distracted by the flesh in front of him. 

“Me? Look at you. I can’t believe you were hiding all this beneath that oversized hoodie. Maybe you were just saving it all for me. Yeah?” 

Seven was nodding even as his mouth found Enzo’s once again, unable to stop himself from plunging his tongue inside, massaging it over the older man’s. He just needed another hit. He now understood the term “drugging kisses.” Enzo’s lips were addictive. Seven rutted against him as he sucked his tongue, his fingers exploring Enzo’s body. 

When large hands landed on Seven’s hips, stopping him from grinding down once more, he whined, giving Enzo a sullen look as he fought his hold. 

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing kisses to the corners of his mouth, his nose, his forehead, anywhere but where he wanted them. “You’re so worked up already and we’ve barely started. You need to calm down, baby.” 

Seven flushed, chest tight and blinking back tears as humiliation burned through him. Enzo wasn’t wrong. He was overwhelmed, desperate in a way he hadn’t even thought possible. Every little thing felt so high stakes, like if he couldn’t have it right now, he’d never get it at all. 

“Can I…can I suck you off, Daddy?” He needed some distance from Enzo’s lips for his own waning sanity. “Please? I’ll do it just how you want it. Please?” 

Enzo took his chin into his hand, dipping his head to bite down on Seven’s lower lip before pulling back. “On your knees, brat.” 

Seven sank to the floor, tipping his head up, his lids at half mast. Enzo looked like some kind of god, his brown eyes now black as he stared at Seven with the gaze of a predator. And Seven was his prey. He trembled at the thought, his cock leaking even more. He was so wet down there. Enzo would probably laugh if he could see how he was so gone already. 

“What do I do, Daddy?” he asked, head empty. 

“Take my cock out,” he instructed, not a hint of shyness in his voice. 

Seven’s hands shot to Enzo’s waistband as he raised his hips, letting the younger boy drag them down and off. Enzo’s cock slapped against his belly. Spit pooled in Seven’s mouth. Enzo was slightly above average in length, but he was thicker than anyone he’d ever been with before. Would that even fit in his mouth? 

Seven dropped his cheek to the ink covering Enzo’s thigh, hoping the other man couldn’t see how undone he was. He rubbed his cheek against his skin, the hair there tickling his face. 

Enzo palmed his chin, forcing his gaze upward once more. “Change your mind?” 

Seven shook his head quickly, face burning when Enzo chuckled. Seven returned his limited brain function to the task at hand, taking in Enzo’s cock. 

“Don’t look so intimidated. It’ll fit,” he teased, taking himself in hand and stroking slowly. “Come here. I’ll show you.” 

Seven came up on his knees, mouth parting obediently. His eyelids fluttered as Enzo swiped the head of his cock along his lips, rubbing the beads of pearly white fluid across his skin. Seven’s tongue swept over it, and he moaned at the bitter taste before taking the tip in, sucking almost delicately. 

Enzo’s hand found the back of Seven’s head, but he didn’t press him down or try to force him to take more. If anything, it was like he was trying to be…reassuring. It made his already muddy thoughts even muddier. 

“You can take more than that, brat baby,” he said, his tone tight, like maybe he wasn’t quite as in control as he pretended. It spurred Seven to be brave. He opened his mouth wider, sinking down until his jaw ached and his gag reflex triggered. He coughed wetly, pulling off only long enough to regroup before going back in. 

This time, he wrapped his hand around the base, then bobbed his head, taking him only deep enough to meet his own fist. Enzo’s blunt nails scratched at his scalp, a low groan and a quiet curse letting him know that he was doing something right. He hollowed his cheeks, dragging up his length, before digging his tongue into the slit. 

Enzo’s hips kicked up, making Seven gag. 

“Sorry, baby,” he murmured. 

Seven gazed at him with hazy eyes, his insides lighting up as he saw the effect he was having on him. He pulled off. “Can you…can you make me take it, Daddy?” 

“Christ,” Enzo muttered. “Are you asking me to make you choke on my cock?” 

Seven dropped his arm between his legs to grind the heel of his hand against his neglected length, wincing as the zipper dug into his chafed skin. “Yes, please, Daddy.” 

“Fuck, yeah. Okay. Tap my thigh twice if you want me to stop.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

“I’m serious.” 

Seven met his gaze. “Okay, Daddy. I promise.” 

Enzo’s head fell back with a grunt like he was trying to pull himself together. This time, when Seven closed his lips over Enzo’s cock, there was the steady pressure of Enzo’s hand pushing him down as he rolled his hips up. Once more, Seven gagged, then panicked. 

“Shh,” Enzo soothed. “Relax. Breathe through your nose. You’re doing well.” 

Seven did as he was told, muscles loosening as he realized he wasn’t going to suffocate. Each thrust of Enzo’s hips pushed him farther and farther into Seven’s throat until even breathing through his nose wasn’t possible. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s it. Fuck, that’s my good boy. You look so good drooling on my cock. Such a pretty little slut on your knees for me.” 

Seven gave a desperate whine that had Enzo groaning, hips kicking upward, forcing him deep enough for Seven to give another wet gag, only Enzo didn’t let up this time, holding him in place as he thrust as deep as he could. Only when Seven felt his nose pressing to Enzo’s skin did he realize he was all the way inside. 

Enzo’s other hand came around his throat. “Fuck. So good for me. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

Seven had tears and snot running down his face, drool dripping from his chin. There was no way that was true. But Enzo said it, so he believed it. Even as his air supply dwindled and the euphoria set in, he stayed there, jaw aching and throat on fire because his Daddy hadn’t given him permission to stop. 

When Enzo pulled him off, he dropped his head back to his thigh, sucking in panting breaths, head swimming and stomach swooping dangerously. Enzo pushed three fingers into his sloppy mouth. “You have no idea how badly I want to come right here,” he rasped. 

His words knocked a whimper from behind Seven’s teeth. He sucked on Enzo’s fingers, cock twitching as he groaned above him. 

“Fuck, look at how messy you are for me,” he murmured, fucking his fingers in and out in short, shallow thrusts. 

When he pulled them free, Seven made a noise of complaint. 

“You like nursing on my fingers that much, brat? I bet you’d love cock warming, huh? Would you like that? Just having my cock on your tongue for hours.” The wanton moan that escaped had his ears burning. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. A sub through and through.” 

Seven’s brain had switched off, his head empty and his body aching for more. Enzo stood suddenly, pulling Seven to his feet, gripping him around the waist when his knees buckled. “Easy.” 

When he could stand on his own two feet, Enzo’s hand found the button on his jeans. Seven watched, floating on the ceiling as Enzo stripped away the last of his clothes, his cock springing free, wet and messy. 

“Fuck, even your cock is pretty,” Enzo said. “So wet for me.” 

When he wrapped his hand around him and squeezed, Seven’s knees threatened to give out once more. “Please…” he said. 

“What are you begging for, pretty boy? Tell me.” 

Seven shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know,” he said, tears gathering in his eyes. “Just…help me. It hurts.” 

“Shh,” Enzo soothed. Seven gasped as Enzo’s hands closed around his thighs, sweeping him off his feet, giving him no choice but to wrap his limbs around him or risk falling. “I got you, brat. I won’t let you fall.” 

Seven’s chest was going to explode. Enzo had reduced him to this desperate, needy creature who would do anything to get more. He didn’t know if he kissed Enzo or Enzo kissed him, but when their mouths clashed, it was Enzo who fed Seven his tongue, exploring roughly as he walked them up the stairs like it was something he’d done a thousand times before. 

That thought made his stomach churn, so he pushed it away. Once inside the bedroom, Enzo tossed him on the bed. The room was dark, but the living room provided just enough light for him to watch Enzo crawl up the bed to hover over him. 

“Roll over, beautiful. It’s my turn.” 

He did as he was told, grabbing one of Enzo’s silky pillows and burying his face in it, the icy fabric cooling his overheated skin. His breath hitched as Enzo’s lips found his neck once again, settling his weight over him, letting Seven feel how hard he was. Goosebumps erupted along his skin, breathy little sighs escaping every time Enzo bit his earlobe or traced the shell of his ear with his tongue. 

“I love the way you shake and shiver every time I touch you. I bet you’re making a mess of my comforter, huh?” 

Seven squeezed his eyes shut. “Sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Enzo echoed. “It’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You’re so responsive. I wonder if you’ll be this twitchy when I’m inside you. Hmm?” 

“Fuck me and find out,” Seven mumbled, trying to rut against the mattress. 

“Patience, brat.” 

Seven wailed, wanting to kick his feet like a child having a tantrum. He’d been patient enough. He was so empty, and his stomach twisted in knots only Enzo could untangle. “Please…” 

Enzo chuckled, then disappeared, only for Seven to feel his open mouth on the swell of his ass, teeth sinking in until he yelped, his lower body jerking in response. Enzo kissed it like it was an accident, then did it again. Then again. Each time, Seven cried out, and each time, Enzo kissed it better. 

After a few minutes, Enzo gripped his cheeks tight enough to bruise, spreading him apart, and then…nothing. Seven groaned, knowing Enzo was just looking at him. “Please, don’t.” 

Humiliation burned through him, but it did nothing to quell his hard-on. If anything, it only made him more desperate, his hips rutting against the comforter until Enzo bit him once more—this time just beneath the crease where his ass and thigh met. 

“Ow,” Seven sobbed. 

“Did I say you could hump my bed like a needy little puppy?” 

“No, Daddy,” Seven said, voice barely audible. “Sorry, Daddy.” 

“You don’t sound sorry,” Enzo said, almost to himself. 

Seven let out a breathy moan as Enzo’s soft, wet tongue dragged across his hole. He heard Enzo’s laugh, but couldn’t even defend himself. The moment Enzo began to lap at his rim again, Seven started to twitch and whine just like Enzo had said. But he couldn’t help it. His fingers dug painfully into his skin while his tongue worked him over in ways that made him feel like he had ascended somehow, like this was all a dream. 

He couldn’t think, wouldn’t even know he was still breathing if he couldn’t hear himself panting like a dog. He could feel his heartbeat in his neglected cock, his vocabulary shrunken down to a sobbing string of please, yes, and more. 

By the time Enzo worked his tongue past his rim, Seven was ready to offer up anything, anything at all. “Please…hnf…oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I need you inside. Please, Daddy…please.” 

“I am inside,” Enzo teased, thrusting his tongue deeper, but not nearly deep enough. 

Seven gave another frustrated sob, unable to formulate any kind of rebuttal. 

When Enzo’s mouth disappeared altogether, Seven actually began to cry, real tears soaking into the expensive bed sheets. 

Enzo crawled up to lie beside him, rolling him over and gathering him into his arms. “Okay, baby. Okay. No more teasing.” 

Seven stared up at him, dazed, as Enzo pressed his lips against his feverish skin. The way he looked down at him flayed him open, making him feel like his insides were spilling out. He could feel the wetness on his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop the flow of tears. He let his eyes fall shut, gasping when Enzo’s hand pressed between his legs, slick fingers probing at his entrance. 

“Spread your legs a little more for me,” Enzo murmured before his lips closed over Seven’s once more. 

Seven did as he was told, letting Enzo lick into his mouth, letting him fuck his tongue inside, his whole body pulsing, his cock leaking onto his belly. Seven whimpered as Enzo’s finger slipped inside, working in and out lazily. After a minute, he added another, spreading them each time he pulled back, curling them whenever he slid inside, making Seven jolt like a live wire each time he glanced his prostate. 

Enzo drank from his lips the whole time, swallowing every whimper, moan, and sob like he was feeding off Seven’s desperation like some kind of sexual vampire. An incubus, he thought vaguely. He gasped when Enzo pushed in with a third finger, clenching down, which only made it worse. 

“You’re doing so well,” Enzo said, pulling back. “Open your eyes, brat. I want you to watch me open you up with my fingers.” 

Another choked sob escaped. Why was he doing this to him? But again, he complied, gazing up at Enzo helplessly as he stared at him with a raw possessiveness that Seven was almost stupid enough to believe. He couldn’t breathe. This was all too much. It was like an iron band constricted his lungs. 

When Enzo’s fingers slipped free, Seven clenched his eyes shut. He didn’t know how many minutes passed before he felt his weight blanketing him, the blunt head of his cock probing at his rim. “Tell me you still want this,” Enzo whispered against his lips. 

Seven forced himself to meet his gaze. “Please…” 

Enzo began to slowly press inside. Seven’s hands shot to his shoulders, clawing at him as pain cut through the haze of his desire. He gasped, his mouth falling open as he stared up at the older man. 

Enzo ghosted his lips across his. “Relax. Just breathe, let me in. You’re okay.” When he pushed in another inch, Seven dug his nails in until Enzo hissed. “Just kiss me, brat. Concentrate on that.” 

“Okay, Daddy,” Seven whispered, opening to Enzo once again. 

He didn’t know how long they laid there, Enzo lazily rocking against him until his body—finally— relented, letting him slide all the way inside. Even once he was fully seated inside him, Enzo didn’t quicken his pace, his tempo slow and steady, the head of his cock glancing that bundle of nerves whenever he moved, pleasure washing over Seven in waves. 

Soon, it wasn’t enough. “Harder…please, Daddy.” 

“Yeah?” 

Seven nodded frantically. “Yes. I need it.” 

Enzo sat up, hiking one of Seven’s legs up over his shoulder, withdrawing almost all the way before snapping his hips back in. They both moaned. “Fuck.” 

Enzo did it again, then again, each thrust hitting Seven’s swollen prostate directly until he was almost positive he was going to come untouched. His cock was leaking onto his stomach with every roll of his hips as he babbled incoherently, promising almost anything if Enzo would just let him come. 

“Look at me,” Enzo growled. 

Seven pried his eyelids open, breath hitching at the state Enzo was in. He was drenched in sweat, eyes flashing, jaw clenched, his muscles flexing as he braced his hand on either side of Seven’s head, practically bending him in half. 

Fuck, he was so beautiful, so powerful. Possibly the most beautiful person Seven had ever seen up close. Just seeing the desire in Enzo’s gaze had Seven hurtling towards his own release. He wanted him. Enzo wanted him. It was a heady thought, making his insides clench. 

“I’m gonna come,” Seven panted. “I’m so close.” 

“You’ll wait.” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Seven sobbed. 

“You can and you will. You can come once I fill you up.” 

Seven gasped, clenching his eyes shut as his orgasm crashed into him, making him spill between them. 

“Fucking hell,” Enzo groaned, hips falling off rhythm as he continued to thrust inside. It only took another moment for him to follow, grunting as he ground his hips against him like he wanted to be as deep inside him as possible. 

After a minute, Enzo carefully set his leg back on the bed, slipping free of his body. Seven watched him dazedly as he walked naked to the trash, slipping off the condom and tossing it in the trash. When had he even put that on? Seven was grateful he had. He hadn’t even thought about it. Fuck. Enzo was hazardous to Seven’s well-being in every conceivable way. 

He didn’t realize he’d dozed off until a warm, wet washcloth wiped over his belly, then between his legs. When Enzo helped him sit up, he tried to escape his grasp. “I should go home,” he mumbled, his words slurring. 

“Drink,” Enzo said, forcing a Gatorade into his hands. When he almost dropped it, Enzo held it to his lips, forcing him to down at least half before he let him settle back onto the pillows. “Sleep, brat baby. You can run away in the morning.” 

And he did. 

He woke hours later, eyes burning, muscles aching, his ass and throat sore. The sky outside was just starting to brighten, allowing just enough light for Seven to look down at Enzo. He looked less dangerous when he was sleeping, lashes fanned out over his cheeks, all the tension gone from his face. 

Seven’s heart somersaulted behind his ribs. Fuck, he had to get out of there. Now. Before Enzo woke up and this got…complicated. He carefully inched his way to the edge of the mattress, freezing when Enzo mumbled in his sleep, forehead creased with…something. Once he was safely off the bed, Seven located his phone plugged in on the bedside table, using it to attempt to locate his clothes. 

They weren’t hard to find. 

They were neatly folded on the chair in the corner. Not the ones he wore last night, but the clothes he’d packed in his bag. There was a bright pink sticky note on top of the pile along with ibuprofen, a granola bar, and four Hershey’s kisses. 

He snorted out a bitter laugh at the peculiar combination of sundries. 

If you’re reading this, you’re most likely plotting to run away. The ibuprofen is for the pain that’s probably already setting in, the granola bar is because I know you’ll skip breakfast, the chocolate is because your blood sugar might crash after last night. There are more protein shakes and Gatorade in the fridge. Help yourself to anything else before you leave. 

You were perfect for me. Such a good boy. Study hard in school today, brat baby. Let me know if you ever wanna play again. 

~D 

D? 

Daddy. 

Fuck. 

Seven rushed to put his clothes on, shoving his feet into his shoes, grabbing his backpack and stuffing his snacks into it. He did grab a Gatorade on the way out, fighting the urge to look at the man sprawled out on the bed one last time. He made it all the way to the sidewalk before regret kicked him in the teeth. 

He’d just made a huge mistake. The biggest of his life. 

He just didn’t know if it was leaving without saying goodbye, or showing up in the first place.