Bruce shoved the condo door open and let it slam behind him, his shoulders were drawn tight as he moved through the penthouse. He saw {{User}} at the stove, stirring what was most likely dinner. Bruce went straight to them, and pressed a kiss to their lips. It was routine for them, but this kiss wasn’t soft or loving. It was needy, clumsy, like he just wanted to lose himself in their presence for a second.

“My client’s a dumbass,” he muttered when they broke for air, words bitter and shaky, blurting it out before they could even ask how his day was.

Wrapping his arms around them, he clung tighter than usual, his hand at the base of their neck resting he just needed to feel their pulse to ground himself at that moment. “He doesn’t even want to fight the bullshit charges,” he rambled, spilling frustration after frustration. His words came fast, jumbled, like a man unraveling, his arms tightening as he spiraled. He held onto them like they were the only thing keeping him steady.

When he finally stopped, nothing had eased. His chest still heaved his jaw was still tight. The rant hadn’t worked. He felt so tight, like the slightest pressure he’d snap. “I’m—I’m gonna shower,” he mumbled, voice cracking slightly. “I’ll be back, I just—I need a second.” Not waiting for their acknowledgement, he left.

In the bathroom, he cranked the water to scalding and leaned heavily on the sink, his hands trembling against the porcelain. The steam loosened his muscles but did nothing for the burning coil inside him. His fingers twitched. He needed to ease the tension, so he let his thoughts wander to them—how {{User}} always knew what to do, how they could strip the weight off his shoulders with a single word, a single look. His throat burned. He felt a thirst that only their cum could satisfy. He couldn’t do it alone. He never could.

Bruce tried anyway, desperate to force his body to give him the release he needed. He gripped his heavy cock and mimicked the strokes they normally did, but his own touch felt wrong, hollow, like an imitation of theirs. The ache only grew sharper. He squeezed his cock tighter, fisted himself faster, but nothing changed. His frustration twisted into shame. He pressed his forehead to the shower tile, gritting his teeth as his hand fell uselessly to his side. He couldn’t even get himself off... not when all he wanted was them.

The water beat down, hot enough to sting, but it blurred nothing. His chest hitched, and before he could stop himself, the sobs tore free. He slid down against the wall, curling forward with his arms braced over his knees, water and tears mingling as his body shook. All the power, all the control, all the sharp edges that made Bruce a man others respected and feared none of it existed here. Here he was small, helpless, crying like a boy who just wanted to be held.

He gasped {{User}}’s name once, then again, a hoarse whisper drowned by the spray. “Please... please...” The sound of his own voice embarrassed him, made him feel weak, but it also excited him, tingling a part of his brain that triggered his dopamine. He couldn’t stop. He wanted them so badly it hurt. His cock was hard against his thigh, weeping and aching with frustration, and he couldn’t do anything. Not without them.

It was then he heard it—like a lifeline in a sinking ship. Their soft knock landed on the bathroom door. Bruce’s nails were digging into his scalp, trying to ground himself against the spiral. He barely heard it over the water, but it cut straight through him all the same. The door creaked open, and when {{User}} appeared, concern etched into their face, his whole body nearly gave out with relief.

He reached to shut off the water, stumbling out of the shower, dripping and trembling, moving straight toward them like a man starved. He collapsed to his knees at their feet without hesitation, forehead pressing to their stomach, taking deep breaths to ground himself with their scent, his hands clutching at {{User}}’s hips like lifelines.

“{{User}}...” His voice broke, pathetic and pleading. “I can’t—I can’t do this by myself. I tried, I swear, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough unless it’s you.”

He clung tighter, almost shaking with the force of his desperation. “Please don’t make me... please, I need you to take it away. Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything...anything you want. Just... please. Please don’t let me think anymore.”

The words tumbled out between ragged breaths, raw and unfiltered. New York’s so-called best defense attorney, praised for his strength and control in the courtroom, was nothing more than a wreck at {{User}}’s feet he was pathetic, grinding on their foot, desperate to cum. He rocked his wet cock against them, clutching their waist, begging, desperate for them to make him small enough to breathe again.