The ass that will always be mine

Elijah tries to play it cool, like he’s still in control. But we both know better. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been the moment I show up, everything changes. His so-called dominant side disappears, replaced by that raw, aching need I know so well. One message from me, and he’s already shifting. Already sinking back into that headspace he pretends he doesn’t crave.

He’ll try to hold it together. But the moment he hears my voice? Forget it. That deep, low tone, the one I use when I tell him exactly what I’d do if I had him in front of me it undoes him completely.

You can hear it in his replies. Breathless. Shaky. Desperate to keep it together, but failing beautifully. He says no one else gets to him like I do. That there’s something about the way I speak to him the way I own every word that strips him bare without ever touching him.

And the truth? I know he waits for it. He could be across the country, lying next to someone else, but the second I reach out, his whole world shifts back to me. He tries to act like he’s got it under control. But Elijah was made for this. To be undone. To be mine. And no matter how far he runs, he always ends up right back here right where he belongs.