"I guess it was enough to know what I didn't want. I lost the music out there."
"Have you found it?"
Sinn was silent. All those concerts that Will had attended, watching and studying Medusa's Thorn, and he knew what Sinn wouldn't admit. Something was missing. And that something was holding Sinn back from realizing his full potential. The caution and control he'd learned after L.A., still had a tight grip on him. And Will knew it stemmed at least in some part from fear of ending up right back where he'd been as the party favor of that LA. producer.
He'd started to reclaim some of his verve from younger days. But something was stopping him from truly immersing himself in his music. Will had watched him and Bobby in Reverie; and yearned to be like them. He’d even left Reverie to pursue his own dreams, landing in Seattle. He’d tried to forget about a dreamer by the name of David Garner until he’d stumbled across a photo on Facebook, featuring a band by the name of Medusa’s Thorn. That’s what started him on a road to finding a singer going by the name of Sinn Midnite.
The search had started in Seattle, backtracked to California. He’d found an old address for Davy through some of Bobby's old letters stuffed into a box of things his mother had sent him. He’d dug around learned his history. And now, here they were.
One thing Will knew was that Sinn was ready. Will had been at more than one club over the last year or so and Sinn had never noticed him before. But tonight, Sinn had been searching for something. Will sensed he was finally ready to break free. He looked at Sinn's back, at the faint thin scars that tracked across his skin. The use, the abuse had fundamentally changed him. But Sinn was strong or he'd have ended up on the street corners of the Strip, all used up and hooked on crack. But that's not what had happened. Beneath the wild blond hair, beneath the boldness, beneath the seemingly random actions, was a core of steely determination. He might stumble, but he would recover.
"So you'll remember the word. Boomer."
"Yeah. Like a boomerang, he'd always come back." His hands tightened on the grip. "I won't go back," he whispered. "I'm never going back there. Let's do this."
Will couldn't be certain which "going back there" he alluded to. Did he mean L.A. or Montana? Or just that dark place that he managed to climb out of? "Boomer," Will confirmed. But somehow Will had a feeling that Sinn wouldn't use the safe word. If nothing else, Sinn was not about being safe. He never had been. He'd find a way to protect himself, but beyond that, he was all for racing head long into danger.
Will would start slow. "Hang on," Will said, then circled around behind Sinn.
Sinn had a very nice ass. Slender hips, a sweet ass. Pale white at the moment, but soon that would change. Will lifted the crop, he gripped the dildoed handle, then he brought the crop down across that lovely white flesh with a firm, controlled swing. Sinn jumped, he sucked in a breath, but other than that he didn't utter a sound. A pale red line marred the lovely white flesh. Will brought the crop down across that tender white ass again. And then again. Sinn's ass was now blushed red, a glow that seemed to fan out across the surface of each cheek, darkening the crease between. Not quite enough, he decided and he moved around to come from the other side.
He didn't speak as he administered the whipping. He waited, he listened for any sign of distress, but his whole focus was on Sinn's beautiful ass, now flaming the color of an even shade of burn. Finally, he set the crop aside and moved in behind Sinn. He'd remembered to turn the air conditioning on high. The air was chill, but Sinn's body was hot, and ripe, and ready. Even through the thin veneer of the black leather gloves Will could feel the heat emanating from Sinn's tempered flesh. He flattened a hand across one cheek. Sinn sucked in air, released it on a groan.
"Are you done," he finally asked, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
Will smoothed both hands over his ass, watching the ebb and flow of color undulate across Sinn's skin. He cupped each cheek and spread the two halves open. He studied Sinn's little brown puckered hole, so dark against the reddened pale flesh of his ass. He kneaded Sinn's ass, stretched him wider.
"Hardly finished, love. Hardly that." He stroked his thumbs down either side of the dark crevice. This time Sinn shuddered. Pain and pleasure so seamlessly blended.
He released Sinn's ass, then reached beneath to surround his laced cock. Oh, yes, engorged, and hot, the laces biting into his flesh. He fingered his testicles. Heavy and bursting. When he finally did let him come, for Sinn the sensation would resemble fireworks going off on the 4th of July. He would feel it through his whole body. But not just yet.
"Oh, Christ!"
Will released him. He pivoted around and headed back to the cupboard.
* * *
Sinn tried to hold on. The whipping - he thought it would be different. More like when his stepfather used his belt on him; or when the producer and his friends went after him in sport. But that wasn't what this was like. Each time the crop connected, arrows of that burn soared through him, spearing right into his heart. Will took his time and obviously was expert in a way Sinn would never have thought. The contact wasn't quick, one after the other. This was a connoisseur's savoring of a glass of expensive wine. After each hit, Will waited, as though he knew and wanted Sinn to absorb the very specific sensation zinging through his body.
He never connected in the same place, so the pain that went through Sinn's body seemed to strike at a range of nerve endings, flooding him with a bloom of sensations. A rose with a stem of thorns–the scent fragrant and pleasing, the thorn a sharp contrast, the beauty of a rosebud opening fully and releasing its fragrance. Such is how Sinn started to feel. The scent of the room, the cold air, the heat in his ass, rising through him. His strapped cock bursting, his balls heavy, sweat dripping from his brow. He gripped the handholds tighter though his hands were slippery wet. His forearms bulged, his arms hurt, his thigh muscles quivered. But he would not give in.
As the crop was laid across his ass once more he blinked beneath the mask, then blinked again. Something inside him was breaking, something he always feared to release. No! He would not bend, he would not break. The crop struck again. This time connecting with the other cheek. He sucked in air, released it slowly on a shuddering breath.
Then there was a pause. He jumped when Will's gloved hands settled upon his burning ass. He bit his lower lip, tasted blood. Bit down again as Will eased his ass cheeks apart. Was he going to fuck him now? Finally? The burn of the whipping pulsed through him, arousing him. Every nerve ending seemed exposed, the lightest touch sending him soaring.
He dropped his head forward, focused on not begging. There was no thought in his mind of using the safe word to stop what was happening. No, he wanted more. He needed more.
And then Will's hand surrounded his throbbing cock. Fuck he wanted to come. He couldn't stand much more. This man was a devil, torturing him with pleasure. No, that wasn't the right word. There was so much more to it than simple pleasure. That was a surface word, it didn't go deep like a slender stiletto burrowing purposely into his heart–piercing his soul, bleeding him out with exquisitely slow purpose. He throbbed–not just his ass, but his whole body. Every inch of him had become the sexual orifice, ever cell quivering for more.
He jumped when the line of lube ran down his crack. Yes, more. Will's hand thwacked across his ass cheek. Yes, that. More of that.
"Do it again," he finally managed to beg. "Again."
He hit him on the other cheek. Still not enough. "Again." Even to his ears it came out more as a demand. The hairline crack in his self-control was ignored. He felt it, knew what it portended, but he couldn't stop now.
"Not enough!"
Will's hand came down again and again and again igniting the crop whipping. Firing him. Smoke rising into the air as kindling catches and flares. The acrid scent filling his mind as he envisioned his body bursting into flame. His nostrils flared. He felt it–was right there, right at the precipice. But he still needed...more.
His ass felt ra
w, flaming, throbbing.
"Will! Break me!" he screamed. "Break me apart!" He had to have it. He had to reach that spot. He had to shatter. "Ahhh!"
Ass throbbing, he stopped breathing when Will's two fingers entered his tight orifice. Slow, so slow he penetrated. A dip, a retreat. Dipping deeper, full retreat. Heat swirled across his flaring puckered anus, now so sensitized, Sinn wasn't sure he could bear it. His cock, hot, hard, throbbing, tethered tight, his balls close to bursting. His ass cheeks raw with sensation. Will’s thick-gloved fingers burrowing into his hole. Curling, thrusting, searching, stretching. Sinn backed into the penetration. Pain, pleasure, sensations meeting him at every turn. There was no freeing himself from the chrysalis of sensations barraging him on all levels.
In his mind he envisioned Will–a renegade pirate, a commanding king, a triumphant captain. Sinn was dizzy with the emotions flooding him. He gasped, he twisted, he thrust back against Will's hand. Three fingers now embedded in his ass, stretching him taut, a biting squeeze against the walls of his anus. Stretching, stretching, until he was certain he couldn't take anymore.
"Fuck me!" Sinn screamed. "Fuck me with your damned cock. Let me come. I've got to come." He begged, he screamed, he shook with the soul-deep need.
Will's fingers exited, leaving Sinn gaping. So hungry to be filled. Something else was shoved into him. Just as big as Will's three fingers, but it wasn’t human. It wasn't Will's cock.
"Damn you!" Sinn rotated his hips. Shoved back. His anus felt like it was going to split open, but he knew there was more–so much more. Then he knew what it was. He remembered looking at the crop, at the handle Will's fingers curled around. Thick, and fat, and shiny black. That's what was shoved up his ass. Will rotated it and Sinn felt every measure, every nook of that sculpted cock as Will circled it inside him. Pushed it into him, pulled it back, shoved it in again.
And then Sinn was floating, separated from himself in some odd and unusual way. It was as though all the scattered sensations that had been swirling around him, inside him, finally melded together, and he floated in a nirvana he never wanted to leave. He soared at the gates of paradise. And finally, and truly, he gave himself up to Will in every sense of the word. And slowly the walls inside him at last started to crumble.
It was then the dildo exited leaving him more exposed then ever. But he could not move, could not utter a sound. He knew Will was not finished with him yet. And whatever Will demanded of him, Sinn possessed no more will to resist. This man owned him in a manner that went soul-deep and body complete.
"Will." One word, one name, that said everything.
CHAPTER NINE
Will sensed the moment Sinn's barriers crashed. He twisted the dildo one last time. Sinn shoved back, ground his hips against the impaled object. Sinn was now all emotion, all about sensation. The shackles of his past shattered, his primal nature–his instinct–kicked in. Will pulled the dildo out and tossed it aside. He gripped each of Sinn's cheeks, spreading them, flexing his fingers against the hot reddened flesh. He was ready, more than ready. Pliant and eager.
Will unlaced his pants, parted the front, and released his cock. He stroked the length, ready and just as eager to burrow into Sinn's ass. He ripped open one of the condom packages and sheathed his prick. He moved behind Sinn and pressed the tip to Sinn's opening. Sinn stilled; he tensed. Will smoothed a hand over his ass.
"Don't tense up. You should know better." He slapped him on the ass cheek. "Yield, lovely. Yield for me." Will felt the tension ease. The pressure lessened and Will slipped the head of his cock inside. He watched as the bloomed puckered flesh stretched and then closed in around the crown of his cock. Lovely. The grip on his cock was still tight, but not too tight. Inch by inch, until four inches filled Sinn, then Will pulled back until just the head remained inside him. He played him, his fingers trailing over the exposed crack, tickling at the stretched opening. Sinn shuddered.
"Do it," Sinn cried out. "Bury your cock inside me. All the way, dammit. I can't take much more."
Again Will pushed four inches into Sinn. And then one more. Sinn tried to push back, to take Will deeper, but Will fastened his hands to Sinn's hips and halted any further movement.
"At my speed, in my time," Will said.
Sinn began to tremble. Again, his head dropped forward, his shoulder muscles tensed. The slope of his back became more defined. Will had learned a connoisseur's eye and appreciation for the fine detail of the human flesh. And right now Sinn's couldn't look more beautiful to him. Sinn tensed, his channel drawing tight and snug around Will's prick. Ah, God, what a grip. A bite of pain shot through Will. It was a pleasant pain fueled by conquest and submission. He rolled his hips and another inch of his cock pushed deeper into Sinn. He pulled back and thrust again. No more than five. Engorged, stretching the flesh. Keeping Sinn opened to him on every level. He leaned back to study the fusing of prick to ass. He admired the tones of red–stripes across Sinn’s ass cheeks, his cock blood-engorged to a purplish hue, the reddish-brown tone of that crease of flesh he penetrated. The black of his glove resting against Sinn's ass.
He buried another inch into Sinn. He slapped him. A swift, sharp connection. First one cheek, then the other. One on the full, fleshy roundness of a cheek, the other at the descent of roundness morphing into upper thigh.
"Ahhh!" Sinn cried. Droplets of sweat glistened and collected at the small of his back.
Another inch found its depth. Almost there, almost home. Almost anchored completely. Pressure built. Will's balls drew up close to his body. He pulled back, and then just as quickly he shoved home–all the way home, tunneling his way in with raw passion, fusing himself up to the balls in delicious Sinn.
For one moment he lost the ability to breath.
"Help me," whimpered Sin. "I have to–I have to–"
Will reveled in the feel of Sinn's ass surrounding his prick, bearing down on him, sheathing him tight–so tight. Will reached around Sinn's tightly laced prick, so fat, so hot, dripping with need. Slowly, he unlaced him, the thong falling to the floor. He gripped Sinn's prick. Sinn shuddered beneath him. Then slowly he rode him, prick to ass and hand to cock.
"Now, come for me, baby. Come for me."
Sinn screamed, a raw sound that filled the room. Will thrust one last time, then exploded, his orgasm an explosion that ripped him open. Sinn's prick, hot and silky, imprinted by the leather thong, veins popping, pulsing.
"Let go," Will said. Still embedded inside Sinn, he dragged him up from the horse. Like a rag doll, Sinn offered no resistance, so totally claimed by sensation. Will fused him, one arm wrapped around his torso, the other hand wrapped around his prick. His hand rode up the front of his chest, flattened, up toward his neck. When Sinn came, it was an orgasm that rocked his whole body.
"Ahhhhhh!" Will forced his head back against his shoulder. His channel undulated around Will's cock still buried inside him, like a hand milking him. Just as Will did to Sinn. Milked him as he gushed, and spewed his orgasm onto the mat, spurting his seed, wetting Will's glove as he continued to jerked his prick until ever last ounce of cum–of emotion had spilled free.
The only thing holding Sinn up was Will. Slowly, he brought him down to the mat. Slowly he pulled his softening prick from inside Sinn; he ripped the mask from his eyes and tossed it aside. The man still shuddered in the aftermath of the full body orgasm. Will did not leave him, but sat upon the floor and pulled Sinn into his arms. He dragged off his gloves, then cradled Sinn in his arms; he soothed him and held him close.
He turned Sinn's head toward him. There was a quietness in his expression. He opened his eyes and gazed up at Will.
"What did you do to me?"
Will leaned forward and kissed him softly. Then claimed him more thoroughly. He lifted away.
"Rest. It will take a while to get your strength back. Close your eyes and rest for a moment."
Will knew the range of emotions that had to be going through Sinn at the moment. He recalled all too w
ell the first time he'd been taken to such a point. Feeling raw and exposed hardly described the sensations. It wasn't something quickly resolved. Physically he'd recovered quickly, but emotionally it had taken many months to come to some sort of understanding of what he'd experienced. He expected it to be the same for Sinn. Resolution in such matters did not come easily.
He gazed down at Sinn, stroked his hand across his chest. Sinn's eyes were closed, but Will knew he was not at rest. The experience with Sinn had been more than he'd expected. It had taken more out of him than he thought it would. But what would happen when it was over and Sinn left? Could he bear the separation? Sinn wasn't known for constancy in his lovers. Would tonight be any different?
He pulled Sinn's head closer to his chest and he waited. Tonight was not over yet and that's the only thing he could be certain of just at the moment. For now, holding Sinn in his arms was enough.
* * *
Sinn's mind wandered, just floated from thought to thought, running free, no fences, no walls. He was almost unaware of his body, though there was a sense of soreness and of exhaustion. But it seemed so very incidental. He sensed now that all the anger and rage that had built up over the years, that had fueled so many of his choices was finally receding. He'd never understood before, but now, there was this certain clarity that spurred his thoughts and memories.
One thing he was more than aware of was Will's strong arms wrapped around him, anchoring him in a way that kept him from falling too deep or flying too high. He was centered and he could allow his thoughts to wander unencumbered and still feel safe. When he thought about it, he'd never really felt safe. Everything he'd done, everything he'd been had been spurred by a certain desperation that had colored everything.
He reached out and clasped Will's hand that lay upon his chest. He threaded his fingers through Will's. Will—this man here and now, was someone Sinn had never known before. He still couldn't seem to resolve that Will–this dominant young man was the same thirteen-year-old boy, Billy Keyser, he'd once rather shrugged off as the pain-in-the-ass younger brother of his best buddy. He was to be tolerated, but no more than that.
Delicious Sinn Page 7