^{Silk and Denim, Wine and Want}

The heavy oak front door clicked shut, sealing out the noise of the city. Adrian loosened his tie, the silk sliding against his collar, his eyes immediately finding Johnny in the hallway. Johnny stood there, looking soft and eager, his blonde hair slightly mussed from the day. Adrian didn't speak immediately; he just let his gaze rake over the younger man, a silent command that made Johnny’s breath hitch.

"Go to the bedroom," Adrian said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the quiet space. "Shower. Then put on the black jockstrap. The one with the thick waistband." He stepped closer, invading Johnny’s personal space, smelling of expensive cologne and hard work. "And make sure you’re wearing the medium plug. I want you full before we even leave the house."

Johnny’s cheeks flushed a deep pink, but he nodded, turning toward the stairs without a word. The obedience was ingrained, a sweet surrender that Adrian never tired of seeing.

An hour later, they sat across from one another in a dimly lit corner booth of a bustling restaurant. The tablecloth was crisp white, hiding the dirty little secrets Johnny carried beneath his tight jeans. Every shift in his seat sent a jolt through him, the silicone plug pressing against his prostate, a constant, teasing reminder of who controlled the rhythm of the night. Adrian cut into his steak with precision, his eyes never leaving Johnny’s face.

"Does it hurt?" Adrian asked, taking a slow sip of wine. He knew the answer by the way Johnny gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles white.

"A little," Johnny whispered, his voice cracking. He reached for his water glass, his hand trembling slightly. "It feels... heavy."

"Good." Adrian’s foot slid under the table, finding Johnny’s inner thigh and pressing firmly. He rubbed the denim slowly, dangerously close to the bulge constrained by the jockstrap. "You look beautiful like this, Johnny. Sitting there, stuffed and aching, trying to act normal while everyone else eats their dinner."

Johnny bit his lower lip, a small, desperate sound escaping his throat. The friction of Adrian’s shoe against his crotch was maddening, contrasting sharply with the dull, stretching pressure in his ass. He could feel the pre-cum leaking into the pouch of the jockstrap, wet and sticky against his skin. The public setting amplified the shame and the thrill, making his heart hammer against his ribs.

"I need..." Johnny started, but the words died in his throat as Adrian pressed harder with his foot, grinding the sole against his trapped erection.

"You need to wait," Adrian corrected him, his tone dark and final. He signaled for the check, his eyes locked on Johnny’s dilated pupils. "We’re going home. And when we get through that door, I’m going to pull that plug out of your hole with my teeth and fuck you until you can’t remember your own name."