Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 15: Laid down rules
"Thank you.."
Ansel nodded and left the bathroom, heading to his own private room to take a shower and have a change of clothes not before tapping the intercom button for his assistant to bring a new set of clothes for Lance.
Lance took his time under the shower, letting the warm water run down his back as he tried to scrub his brain back into order.
His legs were still weak, his body still reacting, still tingling in places he didn’t want to acknowledge too loudly.
He washed carefully, he had to, if anything was left inside him he could definitely get sick.
He tried not to think about the reason he had to clean so thoroughly, but it was pointless.
His body remembered every single thing.
He felt it down to his bones, like Ansel had rewired his entire system.
"Damn..." he muttered to himself, leaning one hand against the tiled wall.
He wasn’t going to brag, but... Ansel was good.
Unsettlingly good.
Good enough that Lance actually felt it in his soul, like the man had reached in and rearranged his insides and nerves in a way he wasn’t prepared to process yet.
He rinsed the last of the soap off and sighed.
He already hoped Ansel would call him soon.
He wasn’t proud of it but he hoped.
He wanted to know what else that man had in store for him.
When he finally stepped out of the shower, he froze.
A new set of clothes was folded neatly on the counter.
Lance blinked. "That was fast..."
He quickly dried off, rubbing at his skin until it felt warm again. He pushed his damp hair back, then unzipped the small pouch he removed from his pocket.
This was his mini skincare kit he carried around for situations like this.
He applied a light layer of moisturizer to his face, neck, and arms, then used his chapstick twice to make sure his lips didn’t look dry.
After that, he slipped into the clothes Ansel had provided. They fit almost perfectly, soft fabric, clean lines, and the not so subtle scent of luxury.
He folded his old clothes neatly into the bag, then stood in front of the mirror.
He touched his hair once.
Adjusted the collar.
Then turned slightly for a side view.
"...I hope this is pretty enough," he whispered to himself before rolling his eyes at his own reflection.
Why did he care about Ansel’s approval, that would be ridiculous.
But the thought lingered anyway.
He stepped out of the bathroom quietly, heading back toward the desk.
Ansel was seated, a fresh change of clothes on him as well.
He has changed to a grey three piece suit, he smelled faintly of shower gel, with some damp hair sticking over his forehead.
Ansel looked up.
"Well, you clean up nicely," he said, voice low, calm as ever. "Come closer."
Lance obeyed without thinking, stepping toward him until Ansel’s hand caught his wrist and pulled him gently but undeniably into his lap.
Lance wasn’t fully sitting, he was just close enough that he felt his breath hitch.
Ansel didn’t do much. He didn’t need to.
His presence alone was enough to rattle Lance’s pulse.
He rested one palm lightly on Lance’s hip, fingers relaxed but firm, as though testing the shape of him without making it obvious.
"You fit here better than I expected..." he murmured, almost to himself.
Lance swallowed, unsure of what to say, unsure if he should say anything at all.
Ansel leaned back slightly, eyes flicking over Lance’s face, then down his neck, then back up.
"I’ll call you again," he said, tone matter-of-fact, as if scheduling a meeting instead of whatever this was. "Might be sooner than expected. Or..." his gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, "whenever I feel like fucking you again."
-_-
Lance clenched his fists, how soon was soon?
"Can’t you give me a specific date?"
Lance’s question hung in the air for a second too long.
Ansel’s fingers shifted from Lance’s hip to his chin and the temperature in the room seemed to drop instantly.
Lance froze. Ansel tilted his head up with just two fingers, forcing him to meet his eyes.
There was nothing warm in them anymore.
"Did you forget your place that quickly?"
Ansel asked, voice quiet but cutting. "I didn’t take you for someone who needed reminders."
Lance swallowed hard. His pulse jumped against Ansel’s fingertips.
"I—I didn’t mean—"
"You didn’t?" Ansel said calmly, tightening his grip just enough to make Lance’s breath hitch. "You asked for something you don’t have the right to ask for."
Lance’s stomach went cold.
"I wasn’t trying to—"
"You obey, Lance.." Ansel continued slowly. "You wait when I tell you to wait. You answer when I call. You don’t demand dates, you don’t negotiate, and you don’t question me."
Each word was measured, steady, but the weight behind them pressed into Lance’s spine like a warning.
"I dislike disobedience more than anything.." Ansel added, his thumb brushing Lance’s lower lip once, almost testing how far he could push before Lance flinched.
"And I have no interest in entertaining someone who forgets what they are to me."
Lance froze slightly, Ansel was right, just because the sex was good. He shouldn’t forget that he was just a slave to Ansel and slaves had no right.
He had gotten carried away.
"I’m sorry, Sir. I won’t happen again.."
He released Lance’s chin only to guide him off his lap, not harshly, but with a controlled firmness that made it clear the moment was over.
Lance stood there, heart beating too fast, unsure if he had been dismissed or warned.
Ansel adjusted his cufflinks, not looking at him as he spoke.
"I will call you soon enough, I’ll give your hole the cock it deserves soon. But for now, head home. Benjamin will drive you back."
Lance nodded, he stared at Ansel for a brief second before turning and heading for the door.
Ansel finally looked up, watching Lance leave, as he reached for the door knob. Ansel spoke up.
"And one more thing. You’re not allowed to sleep with any other person during these three months, you’re free to date as you please but I’m the only one who gets to fuck and kiss you.."
