“Oh, habibi, I’ll have you on your knees, begging for my truth by dawn.” He slaps my cheek, quick, stinging, my dick jumping. Gay sex “Still ain’t your socialist, pretty boy.” He slaps my face, sharp, sting pushing my buttons, and I grin, loving the fight, cock throbbing.His hand slides to my briefs, palming my cock, fingers tracing the outline through the damp fabric, slow, torturous. I gasp, arching as he drags it down my abs, icy burn making my cock strain, briefs soaked. “I thrust, you count, up to twenty. “Please, Amir, I’m fucking begging,” I choke, frantic. Need to suck you, please…” He laughs, unmoved, his cock brushing my lips, teasing. “Your pride’s a cage,” he growls, striking again, my skin on fire. “Say it, ya noor,” he demands, fingers circling my cock. “Say it, ya noor,” he demands, fingers circling my cock. I do, every drop, his taste overwhelming, my pride shattered.He pulls back, ripping off the blindfold. The penthouse is a wet dream—floor-to-ceiling windows spilling city light, LED strips casting a moody glow over black leather furniture, air thick with oud and musk, like sex and rebellion. “Please, Amir,” I gasp, no longer the brat, voice raw. “Socialism’s freedom, community.” I moan, my body and mind buckling, his words
