With a heavy, decisive exhale, Malcolm clamped his hands firmly onto Dahmer's hips and lifted the trembling Enigma entirely off his lap, pulling his thick steel completely out of Dahmer's tight, slick entrance with a wet, heavy slide.
Dahmer collapsed back against the seat, his head thumping against the headrest as he panted frantically, his chest heaving, his silver eyes wide and glazed with tears of physical shock. His body twitched involuntarily, his legs shaking as the sudden emptiness left his sensitized rim throbbing in raw, sensitive heat.
Malcolm pulled his trousers back up over his waist, re-buckling his belt with sharp, practiced movements before turning his full, serious gaze toward the breathless man beside him.
"You weren't meant for this, Lukas," Malcolm said softly, his voice low and firm, carrying a steady, protective weight. "You were meant to fuck, not to be fucked."
