Liam POV
He still fights, even when his body is nothing but trembling, wrecked muscle and bone, even when he’s leaking and sobbing and tied down so tight he can barely breathe. He spits curses at me like they can shield him, like they can patch over the cracks splitting him wide open under my hands, but the venom’s gone from them now, and all that’s left is fear. Not fear of me. Fear of what it means if he lets go. Fear of what it means if he gives up the last piece of himself he’s been clinging to with bloody fingers for years.
I f**k into him harder, relentless, punishing, dragging him right up to that edge again, feeling the desperate way his body claws for it, the way he jerks and writhes and whimpers without pride now, his c**k leaking, untouched and aching, his muscles locking tigh
