Dont read this, this is just for stories i want read

its easier if you just take it

George wasn’t very good at behaving, his blatant brattiness left much to be desired, even for the harshest of tamers. Clay was yet to be put off. There was a sick thrill in getting George to do what he wanted, through all the hours he’d have to put in, pinning the smaller boy to the bed, using him until he’d lost all form of sense, until he was a begging mess beneath Clay.

Tonight was no different, other than George had been driving Clay mad all day, the brunet had been teasing him all day, flirting with anyone and everyone he could speak to. And to be quite frank, Clay had had enough.

George breezed into the apartment before Clay, the pair were spending a month in George’s Brighton apartment for Christmas and New Year, before they’d be returning to Florida with Clay for a few months.

“George,” Clay spoke slowly, his voice lower than it had been during the day, George paused, sensing the change in tone, placing his bag down on the countertop. Not yet turning to face Clay, he hummed in acknowledgement, starting to unpack the presents he’d bought earlier. “George. Look at me when I talk to you.”

“Clay,” George started, Clay noted the tension in his body, good, he thought to himself. Clay almost slammed the door behind him, letting it shut with a slight bit more force than usual instead. George flinched minutely, Clay felt himself smile slightly.

“Do you think I didn’t notice what you were doing today? Do you think I’m stupid?” Clay’s voice sent shivers down George’s spine, the aggression within his voice would have been noticeable to even the most oblivious of fools. “Do you think you’re funny? Flirting with everyone like that?” The British boy flushed, his pale skin blooming with something between embarrassment and arousal, he’d gotten what he wanted, Clay.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he swallowed, hard. Clay crossed the room in a few brief steps, looming over George’s delicate frame. George looked up at Clay, long eyelashes framing deep brown eyes, widening ever so slightly.

“Don’t lie to me, Georgie,” Clay’s lip curled as he sneered his name, relishing in the look of pure fear that washed over George’s face, he moves suddenly, his hand grabbing George’s throat, pinning the boy against the counter. “I can read you like an open book, and you’re just begging for trouble aren’t you.”

“I’ve never begged for anything in my life.” George looked defiantly at Clay, daring him to make the first move. They both knew that was a lie, and that by the time Clay was through with George he would be a begging mess. But it was fun to pretend. Clay practically threw George by his neck, in the vague direction of their room, making him stumble away.

“I am going to put some things away, and you are going to be in the bedroom, on your knees for me when I get there.” Clay’s tone left no room for argument, and when George opened his mouth to comment something stupid like what if I don’t , Clay’s eyes darkened, “you don’t want to try me tonight.”

“Sure thing.” George rolled his eyes, turning away from the American, almost missing the reaction, the glorious sight of Clay tipping his head back, his tanned throat all exposed, he huffed out, his Adam’s apple bobbing, if George wasn’t in as much trouble as he was now, he would have gone over to Clay and marked his neck up. Getting Clay to melt in his hands like putty.

Tonight, however, was not one of those nights, and George knew better than to push his luck. Stripping out of his jeans and hoodie, leaving himself in a top and pants. George paused for a moment, debating kneeling on the bed or the floor next to the bed before taking the risk and kneeling on top of the bed, waiting for Clay to come in. He could still hear rattling from the kitchen, so knew he was safe for a while to slide off to the side.