Galo’s gotten pretty good at telling when Kray had a rough day at work. It shows up on his body in the form of a bruise deeper than usual, a bite that draws blood, or just the aura of frustration around him when he fucks into him, digging metal fingers into his shoulder.
So he asks on a good day. He’s indulging in a rare moment, when Kray lets him rest his head on him after sex, when his body isn’t as sore as usual. Galo really isn’t that great with tactful suggestions, so he ends up blurting it out, voice half-muffled by Kray’s chest.
“Can I ever um. Uh. Top.”
Kray raises an eyebrow, pointedly shifting so Galo was pushed off of him. He smooths a hand over his face, looking distinctly unimpressed.
“You think you can fuck me? With that?” He said, looking Galo up and down with a critical eye. Galo tries not to waver.
“My birthday is coming up,” he suggests weakly, a final attempt. He already knew begging wasn’t going to work with Kray. Not about this, at least. “I just… I want to try it.”
Kray considers him for a long minute, before his brow smooths out again and he sighs.
Galo grins and barely remembers to hold back a happy laugh while Kray looks away, slightly irritated.
Kray rarely visits him, even on his other birthdays. It was the same protocol, year after year-- a generic card for every major holiday, and occasional visits and meals together. If Kray wanted him for other reasons, he’d call on a seperate number. No touching besides what’s necessary unless it was behind closed doors, and not a word to anybody about what they do there.
“They won’t understand,” Kray had simply said when Galo asked.
He didn’t pry any further.
There’s a sense of calculated calmness to him, as always. He picks Galo up personally, smiling serenely at the lady at the front desk, and doesn’t even look irritated when Galo chatters about his training and asks him about his day.
As Galo sits in the passenger seat of the car, his foot bumps against a plastic bag, revealing a slice of cake. He was being so uncharacteristically nice to him. Well. Kray was nice to Galo all the time! But he was a very busy man, who doesn’t usually have time for pretense, foreplay, or buying random kids stuff for their birthday.
He looks away, heart beating faster.
It’s embarrassing how much what he does affects him, even something as simple as a slice of store bought cake. But at the same time, he’s almost hesitant to just… accept it. There must be a catch. Kray must want something from him. He recalled the agreement he had gotten from him a few weeks prior, and flushes. Maybe he changed his mind, and this was just a way to appease him and shut him up.
Galo looks at him out of the corner of his eye, and shakes himself out of it. Here he was, the governor, taking out some precious time to see him. He should be grateful. Kray was only mean to him when he deserved it, anyways. He was helping him, in a way. Helping him grow up and learn to be strong.
When the car slides to a smooth stop in the driveway, Galo musters up the courage to give him a quick kiss, a peck on the cheek. Kray smiles, the corners of his mouth tight.
The house was just the same as he last saw it, immaculate and neat. Kray heads straight for the bedroom, and Galo follows. Maybe they were saving the cake for later? He doesn’t question it when Kray simply hands him the plastic container, paper seal already ripped.
“Happy birthday,” He says, low and quiet. As Galo digs in with the plastic spoon, Kray reaches over to light the candle on the nightstand.
Huh. That was new. Kind of romantic, actually! Did he prepare this all for him? He opens his mouth to ask, but Kray stares him down. The flickering light of the candle catches on his jawline, and he has a moment to consider how lucky he was before Kray reprimands him.
“Don’t speak with your mouth full.” He pauses. “And finish your food.”
Galo swallowed his current bite, and held the box out to him.
“You sure you don’t want any, Gov?”
“It’s your birthday, Galo.”
“Well, I’m feeling kind of full, but--”
Quietly, Kray firmly took the spoon from his hand, and scooped up the last bits of cake and frosting, holding it out to Galo. Galo looked a little nervous now, but complied and licking the spoon clean.
Kray pulls back, side of mouth tilted up. He places the spoon in the box, setting it to the side. His eyes remain on Galo’s lips, and he reaches out to push some frosting stuck on his lower lip in his mouth with his thumb. He obediently licks it clean, looking up at Kray through his eyelashes like he trained him to.
Kray smiles. “You said you wanted to fuck me?”
Galo tried to respond, but Kray pressed his thumb down on his tongue, silencing him. He simply nods instead.
“Fine. But control yourself, or I’ll do it for you.”
Kray reaches across him for the drawer, tossing a condom on his lap. Wordlessly, Galo puts it on. Galo would never admit it, but he secretly wished Kray would let him do it without. He also would never admit how long he’d been thinking about this, and how he didn’t want to ruin it with some detail. He was already getting a lot. He wasn’t going to be greedy.
(But he did think about it a lot. Kray’s always told Galo he looked nice when he was wrecked, cum dripping out of his ass. And in the porn he’s watched, he’d always been fascinated when the other guy pulled out, and--)
Kray sat on the edge of the bed, shirt off and folded neatly to the side. Galo tried to think about how they would do it usually.
“Um. Can you get on your back?”
Kray looks on unsympathetically, but reaches to unzip his pants. Galo gets undressed as well, taking the second when his shirt was over his head to hide a smile.
Kray doesn’t like it when he smiles too much in bed. Said it was off-putting. “Do people not laugh or smile during sex?” He had asked, when he was younger. Much younger.
“Not during good sex,” Kray had said.
He knows better now. When he’s completely undressed, Kray’s already laid out on the bed, slowly stroking his dick with his metal hand as the flesh one reached lower.
“I prepared beforehand,” said Kray casually, as he slid two fingers inside himself. “Get on with it.”
Bracing a hand on the headboard, Galo leans down to kiss him. When he pushes in, though, Kray makes a noise, slightly pained and surprised. A cool metal arm latches onto his hip. Galo freezes, but also takes a moment to get used to the feeling. It felt so much better than his hand, or even Kray’s, and-- and he didn’t know Kray ran this hot, he felt like he was burning up.
“Just a bit… larger than I thought. Hold still.” He sounded strained, and Galo almost wants to ask if he was okay. Not that Kray ever asked, but he just wanted to make sure he wasn’t hurting him or anything. Instead, he waits until Kray’s grip loosens, then pushes forward slowly, breath coming out in short bursts. Kray had recovered his composure again by then, and hooked a heel around to push against Galo’s lower back.
“C’mon, you can do better than that.” He said, dragging him forward for a sloppy kiss. Galo complies, clumsily trying to mimic what Kray would do with his hands. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a frame of reference. Usually when they did this, he’d play with Galo’s nipples, or rake his nails down his chest. Almost unconsciously, he moved his hand down to grab Kray’s pec, pinching his nipple between two fingers.
Kray makes a choked off noise, and his metal arm almost seems to flash hot for a second before he grabs Galo’s wrist, pulling it away from his chest and grinding the bones together painfully.
“That’s it,” he said, gritting his teeth. “We’re doing this my way.”
It never fails to amaze Galo how quickly Kray moves. He is pushed onto his back, and between one blink and the next, his hands were pinned above his head. Kray grabbed the rope stashed behind the headboard, and looped it around his wrists, just shy of too tight.
“Wait,” Galo says, but the rest of the sentence fades as Kray turns to glare at him.
“Sorry,” said Galo, wincing as Kray finished off the knot. He shifts so he’s straddling his hips, and guides Galo back inside with a sharp inhale.
“You don’t deserve this, but since it’s your birthday…” Kray slides his hand through his hair, pushing it back. “...I’ll indulge you.”
Kray sets a slow pace. Usually Galo’s sore from how fast he moves, he’d barely give him time to adjust before snapping his hips forward again, but now, the way he’s rolling his hips downwards is almost leisurely.
It’s not enough.
“Gov, please,” he says, hands closing into fists.
“Faster,” he said, almost breathlessly, and Kray sighs.
“You’re forgetting something.”
“Please, move faster, sir.”
Kray seems to consider it for a second, eyes slipping shut. Then he pulls Galo into another kiss, and keeps at the same torturous, slow pace.
Galo almost whines in frustration, hands twitching uselessly above his head. Kray didn’t hesitate to let his whole body weight sink onto Galo every time he fucked himself on his cock, practically pushing his hips into the mattress. At some point, it was too much. Kray kept a steady pace, but Galo felt his chest tighten looking up at his hero, backlit with a light sheen of sweat. Kray was beautiful like this, and Galo needs to remind himself how lucky he is to be this close to him.
Galo comes first, which was rare. Usually if he didn’t finish while Kray was fucking him, he’d have to take care of himself after, muffling his moans into his arm. Kray even lifts his hips a little so that he could thrust up into him as he’s coming, thighs shaking from the effort.
Kray sneers, and doesn’t stop his steady moments even as he sees Galo’s arms strain against the rope. “Pathetic. So quickly?” Galo wants to protest, tell him that it was ‘cause Kray didn’t let him come the last few times, but more importantly, Kray keeps going.
“Wait,” he stutters, thighs clenching together uselessly. “Hold on.” Kray felt too hot, too tight, too much, and it was bordering on painful.
Kray ignores him. In fact, he speeds up, slick noises of lube and cum filling the quiet room.
“Please,” Galo said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He knew where this was going.
Just as he thought, a small smile spread over Kray’s face.
“I thought the birthday boy wanted me to go faster,” he said, casually reaching over to grab the candle with his flesh hand. He rolls it around in his hand like a glass of fine whiskey, looking at the pool of melted wax through half-closed eyes. His other hand slides up to Galo’s shoulder. Abruptly, he leans forward and empties the candle on Galo’s chest with little fanfare. Normally, he’d go with a few drops at a time, but it was getting cold out, which means Galo will be wearing a shirt, which means a few marks here and there wouldn’t be questioned. And the boy had been getting on his nerves a bit too much in these recent days, always wanting to fill up perfectly good silence with his endless chatter.
Galo holds back a yelp, and instinctively tries to sit up, muscles shifting beneath Kray’s hand. But Kray was leaning over him fully now, his full body weight keeping him pinned flat to the bed. He simply watches when Galo squirms, breath coming out in harsh pants and the wax drying on his chest in an obscenely cheerful splash of cream. Kray hoped it hurt, and judging by the look on his face, it burned.
“Don’t look at me like that, Galo. Let me have my fun.” He uses a bit of his power to make the candle burn brighter, hotter, and he drips a few more unnaturally hot drops onto his chest, relishing the way Galo flinched.
“I’ve been indulging you so much recently, it’s only fair,” He continued, in a soothing tone. Galo practically sobbed when Kray started moving again, setting a brutal pace. Kray’s less than careful with the candle (It’s not like he can get burned, after all), and sporadic drops of wax land on his shoulders and neck, dangerously close to his face. Galo shuts his eyes, and feels the tears gathered in them spill over.
“Little firefighter can’t handle a few small burns, hm?” Kray made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat. “I didn’t save you from that fire so you could cry at a candle, Galo.” He sets the candle back aside, and leans forward until their noses almost touch. “You owe me this. Understood?”
Galo can barely see him through the haze of tears, but he nods desperately, barely understand what Kray’s saying. Seemingly satisfied, Kray leans back.
Galo lets his eyes slip back shut. Kray was right, he was already treating him so well to let him fuck him. And if he focuses on the tight, wet heat around his dick, the burns on his chest didn’t feel half as bad. Kray shifts, changing the angle, and Galo could feel the pleasure start to build again, inescapable and sharp.
The second time he comes, it still feels obscenely good. Some cum from the first round had slipped out, coating the inside of his thighs, and he couldn’t help but moan when Kray absentmindedly brushed his fingers over a nipple.
“Sir,” he chokes out this time, when he realizes Kray is still going. The friction that felt so good before was painful, raw and overwhelming.
“I still haven’t come yet.” Kray says softly, pausing his movements to pick up the candle again. “You’re so greedy. Ungrateful. Coming twice and still complaining…?”
Galo flinches as more drops of wax land on his abdomen, hands clenched tight above his head.
“How-- How am I still hard?” he blurts out, breath coming out in shaky gasps.
“I knew you’d have some trouble keeping up with my stamina, Galo. I simply helped you out. Enjoyed your cake, hm?”
God, Kray had drugged him? Was there something else in there to make him weak, so he couldn’t fight back?
Kray puts the candle back, but reaches lower in the drawer.
Galo almost passes out when he pulls out a knife.
He starts struggling in earnest now, but Kray pays him no mind as he flicks it open with a practiced movement. He drags the point of it across Galo’s skin, making the wax flake off and leaving little red lines.
“Keep still or you’ll get nicked.”
The cold metal on his overheated skin pressed down firmer, and Galo clenched his teeth, trying to keep his breathing shallow. He was a mess of tears now, making strands of hair stick to his face.
“Gov, no, please don’t,” He breathes, lightheaded with fear.
“Useless. All you have to do is lie there and you still can’t be a good little toy for me?”
He turns his head into the pillow to muffle a scream at the first cut, but Kray wrenches his face back up to make eye contact.
“I want to see you.”
Galo couldn’t hold back his next strangled scream when Kray makes a parallel cut on his chest, and cries harder when he realized that Kray was drawing something.
“You owe me this.” He whispered fiercely, making cut after methodical cut. “I saved your life, and this is just a little reminder that you’re mine.”
And with that, he made one last line before placing the knife back on the nightstand.
“You want to know a secret?” Kray bites out, carefully slicked back hair falling in his face. “You look the cutest when you’re crying.”
It all felt so numb. He tried to focus on the gentle touches instead, where Kray’s left hand is resting on his bicep. His right hand was prodding at the fresh cuts, swiping up beads of blood to smear across his chest. Galo tried to not think about that. He must look like a mess right now, tears running down his face and his chest covered in cuts and pools of dried wax.
He doesn’t really remember the third time he comes. Nor the fourth, or the fifth. He’s pretty sure he passes out at one point, but Kray doesn’t bother stopping for something as trivial as that. He vaguely senses splashes of something on his stomach and a soft grunt from Kray, but it’s difficult to focus on any other sensation than the raw, pulsing pain on his chest. The weight on his hips shift, and Kray gets up. There’s some shuffling, a quiet snap of an old camera, before Galo’s vision fades and he passes back out.
He wakes up to an empty bed and a silent room. His cheeks are still wet, and the cum on his chest is half-dry— He’s not sure if it’s Kray’s, or his, or some mix of the two. So he wasn’t out for that long. His condom was simply dumped on his thigh, and his arms were untied. When he tries to get up to clean himself off, he’s almost physically pushed back down with a wave of pain.
But Kray will kill him if he got more blood on his sheets.
He has to get cleaned up.
Gingerly, he sits up and makes his way to the bedroom, avoiding his own eyes in the mirror as he wets a washcloth. When the first wipe comes away bright red, Galo has a minute of panic about dirtying Kray’s things. He steels himself and continues, pieces of wax and half-coagulated blood coming off.
He supposes that Kray did indulge him for his birthday. He had, of course, let him top, bought him cake, let him rest a bit in bed instead of kicking him out directly after. But he isn’t sure if he wants to ask for more favors like that if this is what he’d have to do in return.
As he’s washing the washcloth, he couldn’t help but catch the reflection of his torso, and couldn’t hold back a soft gasp. His chest was spotted with little burns from the wax, his torso divided up unevenly with thin, pink scratches. Absentmindedly, he noticed that his dick was still hard. Whatever Kray gave him must’ve been powerful, he thought detachedly.
Then, of course, the cuts on his chest.
With a sinking feeling, he realizes that the straight lines Kray carved into his chest was the Foundation’s logo. It was precise and neat, like almost everything Kray does.
He exhales shakily, running a hand through his hair. Rummaging around for the familiar first-aid kit Kray kept in one of the drawers, he slapped a quick gauze patch over his chest, swallowing a few painkillers.
He could do this. It was over.
He walks out of the bathroom with shaky legs, and is embarrassingly relieved to find the rest of the house empty. On the table next to the door, he sees a generic store-bought birthday card. Galo doesn’t know if the pain in his chest is from the cuts, or from his heart.
“Happy 18th!” it read in cheerful gold font.
Kray didn’t even bother signing it.