The master suite of the penthouse was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the distant, glittering skyline of the city filtering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The silence was heavy, broken only by the frantic, shallow breathing of Frank Heifer.
Frank had retreated to the absolute edge of the mattress, his body curled into a tight, defensive ball. He hadn't even dared to take off his shoes, let alone his trousers and hoodie. He lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, praying for sleep to take him before the door opened. But the door did open, the heavy click of the latch sounding like the cocking of a hammer.
Drake stepped into the room, his presence immediately eating up the space. He looked at the trembling lump at the edge of the bed and let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated in the quiet air.
"Careful there, Frank," Drake murmured, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "Any further and you'll be sleeping on the hardwood. You look like you're trying to merge with the mattress."
Frank didn't move. He didn't even breathe.
"Relax," Drake said, moving toward the mahogany dresser. "I don't bite. Not unless you ask me to. Get up. You aren't sleeping in those street clothes; I don't want the grit of the campus on my Egyptian cotton."
"I'm... I'm comfortable, Drake," Frank whispered into the pillow, his voice muffled. "Really. It's fine."
"I wasn't asking," Drake's tone shifted, the velvet slipping to reveal the steel beneath. He turned around, holding a bundle of dark silk in his hand. "Get up and put these on. Or, if you're too tired to move your limbs, I'd be more than happy to strip those trousers off you myself. I'm quite good at undressing people, Frank. I'm much less patient when I have to do it by force."
The threat acted like an electric shock. Frank bolted upright, his hair messy and his face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. He snatched the silk from Drake's hand, but as he unfurled the pajamas, his heart plummeted.
In his hands were a pair of silk shorts so short they were practically scandalous, and a matching shirt that was clearly a crop top, designed to end well above the navel.
"Drake, I can't... I can't wear these," Frank stammered, his fingers trembling as he held up the tiny garment. "These aren't decent. These shorts... they won't cover anything. I'll basically be naked."
Drake leaned back against the dresser, crossing his massive, bare arms over his chest. The moonlight caught the ripple of his muscles. "That's the point, isn't it? I want to see you, Frank. I want to see exactly what I've bought with my silence. Now, hurry up. My patience is a very thin thread right now."
Frank scrambled under the heavy duvet, creating a makeshift tent. He tried to wiggle out of his trousers and into the silk shorts, desperate to keep even an inch of his skin from Drake's predatory gaze. But Drake had no intention of playing along.
With a sudden, violent snap, Drake reached out and yanked the duvet entirely off the bed, tossing it onto the floor.
Frank let out a strangled yelp, freezing in his tracks. He was caught mid-change, clad only in his simple cotton underwear. His skin was pale, almost luminous in the dark room, and his legs looked impossibly long and delicate.
Drake's gaze traced. It moved from Frank's ankles, up the smooth curve of his calves, over his knees, and settled on his thighs. "Beautiful," Drake rasped, his voice thick. "Have you ever even shown those legs to the sun, Frank? They're like ivory. I wonder if they'll turn red when I grip them."
"Stop it!" Frank cried, hurriedly pulling the tiny silk shorts up. They were even worse than he feared—the hem barely reached the top of his thighs, leaving the vast majority of his legs exposed.
Shaking violently, Frank reached for the crop top. He lifted his arms to pull it over his head, exposing his midriff. In that moment of vulnerability, he felt a pair of large, searingly hot hands wrap around his waist.
Drake had moved with silent, athletic speed. His palms settled on Frank's tiny, flat stomach, his fingers splaying out across the pale skin. He began to move his hands in a slow, rhythmic massage, his thumbs dipping into the shallow dip of Frank's navel.
"Ah! Stop... that tickles!" Frank gasped, trying to squirm away, but Drake's grip was absolute.
"It's perfect," Drake murmured, his hands moving upward to measure the span of Frank's waist. His fingers nearly met at the small of Frank's back. "The right size. Sexy. I can fit my whole world right here."
Frank finally managed to pull the shirt down, though it barely reached his ribs, leaving a wide expanse of his stomach bare. He practically dove back onto the bed, curling up and pulling a spare pillow to his chest, closing his eyes and praying for the nightmare to end.
Then, the mattress groaned.
A wave of intense, radiating heat washed over Frank's back. He felt a body settle behind him—a body that was clearly, undeniably stark naked. The contact was electric. He could feel the coarse texture of Drake's pubic hair brushing against the small of his back, and then, the heavy, unmistakable pressure of Drake's resting member prodding against his hip.
Frank let out a small, terrified whimper and tried to shuffle toward the edge of the bed.
Immediately, a heavy arm draped over his waist, pinning him back against Drake's chest. The athlete pulled him close, tucking Frank's smaller frame into the curve of his massive body until there wasn't a single millimeter of air between them.
"Don't move, Frank," Drake warned, his breath hot and smelling of wine against Frank's neck. His voice was a low, dangerous vibration. "My 'sleeping member' is the only thing keeping you from a very long, very painful night. If you keep squirming, you're going to wake him up. And if he wakes up, I'm not going to be gentle. I'll fuck you raw until you're sobbing my name, and I promise you, you won't be able to walk to your classes tomorrow morning."
Frank went deathly still. He lay there, pinned by the weight of a man who owned his future, feeling the steady, rhythmic thud of Drake's heart against his back. He was trapped in the heat, trapped in the scent of his captor.