Served With a Twist

by Jet Lupin

  Cut had expected his disappearance to go unnoticed. Priya messaged him frequently asking after his whereabouts, as did the HR person at Deyaa, but Mikela had forbidden him from responding. When Samson eventually told his father Cut had fled, they needed the people who knew Cut to corroborate the story. He hated making either of them worry. He’d owe Priya a huge apology once this was resolved. The HR person, too. A gift would help when it came to smoothing things over.

  Cut set the table and waited for Samson to appear, but after ten-minutes went by and he hadn’t, Cut went to find him. In the bedroom, Samson lingered in front of the closet, his shirt unbuttoned, pants not yet on, a tie in each hand, the very same position Cut had left him in twenty minutes before when he went to make breakfast.

  Cut came up behind him and touched his shoulder. His fingers had barely lighted on Samson before he spoke, his voice low and strained.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  Cut stepped closer, wrapping his arms about Samson’s thick middle. He choked in a deep sigh, and his breath evened out. Cut relaxed too.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Samson took a thoughtful pause before he started. “People noticed you’re gone. No one’s outright asked me, aside from Amethyst in HR, and I didn’t know what to say to her. I’m not good at lying, but I just said I hadn’t heard from you. And the staff… they talk when they think I can’t hear. Some people think you’re on vacation and I’m playing favorites, but others are actually concerned. They’re worried about me. Four employees have already offered to take over your duties. It’s only been two days. I’m surprised they care so much.” His chest moved rapidly with his mounting panic. “What if this doesn’t work? What if they all lose their jobs? I should just—”

  Cut flattened his hand on Samson’s bare belly, the soft hairs tickling his palms and forced Samson back against him. Samson softly sighed. Cut guided him to follow his breaths. In slow, out slow. “Don’t even think that. No one’s going to lose their job. Mikela is gonna help us build an airtight case. You can’t start with a defeatist attitude. We get rid of Ramzan, and everything’s fine, right?”

  That was the case as Cut knew it. He doubted it was that simple, but they’d deal with whatever came their way. But if they adopted Samson’s mindset, they’d already lost.

  “Does it really have to be blackmail? Not everyone on the board is a reprobate like my father. Do we have to threaten all of them?”

  It was easy to forget that they came from very different worlds. Samson’s hands had likely never been dirty. In his place, Cut would have done anything to assure his victory, and here was Samson concerned about the lesser players. Lowering someone so good felt like a sin. But there was no avoiding it.

  Samson’s breath finally calmed, Cut let him go and walked around to face him. “We won’t make their secrets public as long as they cooperate. And Mikela worded the letter in such a way that it doesn’t mention you at all. Also they’re doing something with mail servers that even if they investigate, there’s no way they’ll link them back to you.” Cut threw that in, though Samson likely wasn’t concerned about that.

  “Think of it as a last resort. Mikela will try the easy approach first. If that doesn’t work, it’s good to have a Plan B. They’ll know that we know.”

  Samson chuckled. “You make a better businessman than I do.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” Cut said. “You came up with the false report idea.”

  “That was temporary. There’s no coming back from this. I don’t think I’d have had the guts to do this on my own.”

  “We work better as a team. I’m too jaded and distrustful, and you’ve got the heart. You always think of the human cost. Together, we even each other out.”

  “You could always take my place as president, and I run the restaurant and the research division.”

  “The board would really hate that.”

  A house alert hit their pods, letting them know that Mikela was leaving. The air suddenly felt heavy between them, charged with the knowledge that they were alone. Their last session was weeks back, but it might as well have been months with all that had happened.

  “I guess it’s just us now.”

  Samson froze, as if this just dawned on him. "Y-yeah...”

  “It's been awhile, huh?" There was no telling how much alone time they had. “Do you wanna…?”

  “Yes.” Samson’s gaze burned itself into him, his face so serious. Cut had to grin at that.

  He slipped one of the ties out of Samson’s hand. "Then assume the position, dove."

  He stepped back, and Samson started to slip out of his shirt, but Cut made him leave it on, open, the way he’d found him. He started to kneel, but Cut made him stand, hands behind his back. He wound the tie around Samson's wrists and knotted them together. He gave them a tug, making sure they were secure, but painless. He found another tie, discarded on the floor and covered Samson’s eyes. He knotted it and worked a finger in between it and Samson’s hair with ease. Not too snug, but not loose enough to slide down either. Perfect.

  “Can you see?”

  “No,” came in a harsh whisper.

  Cut circled his captive, putting his improvised blindfold to the test. He stopped several inches away from Samson’s chest, staring up as the big man quivered with excitement. Cut waved a hand in front of his face to test how well he could see. Samson didn’t even flinch.

  Cut tilted Samson’s head so his ear was closer to Cut. He held the taller man’s head still as he whispered. “I noticed you’ve been swearing like a ship’s hand lately. This is your punishment.”

  With that, Cut left.

  He went out first to make sure Mikela’s room was in fact empty. Next, he went and gathered up their breakfast. It was cold now, but toast and boiled eggs were salvageable.

  He often had to remind himself that Samson's need for submission wasn't solely about sex. They hadn’t explored the other facets much, which was on Cut. But what better time to start then now? Sex was fun, and definitely in their immediate future, but when Cut said so.

  Cut returned to Samson, in the same position that Cut had left him in. He was panting now, his body bent forward. Cut might have to punish him more often.

  Cut took their food and sat on the edge of the bed. He nibbled at the toast and peeled the shells from their boiled eggs. Throughout all this, Samson didn’t move, keeping his back to Cut.

  “Why don’t you turn this way so I can see you better?” For once, Samson didn’t immediately follow an order, sending Cut’s brows up his forehead in surprise. “You don’t want to?”

  Samson furiously shook his head. But he didn’t speak. Cut got up to make sure nothing was wrong. He checked his wrist, the blindfold on his eyes, but when he started to lift the fabric, Samson turned away.

  He’d never done that before…

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Embarrassed,” he mumbled.

  Embarrassed? After all they’d done together?

  Cut walked around him, inspecting his feet and legs for signs of fatigue. The tremors were sporadic, but otherwise he seemed sturdy. He started at Samson’s calves, running a hand up to the backs of his quaking thighs, but when he came around to the front, he immediately saw the source of his lover’s issues.

  All Cut had done was loosely tie him up, and left him, yet Samson’s cock was so hard his briefs were stretched to the point the fabric was transparent in places. It looked painful.

  Samson’s face was as red as if he’d just finished a run. He turned away from Cut again, his brows pinched together. Cut gently touched his arm and he jumped.

  “Do you want to stop?” Once this was all over, they’d give it another try. Samson shook his head.

  “It’s… hard to face you when I’m like this. It makes me feel I can’t control myself. Like a pervert.”

  His words echoed in Cut’s head. A pervert. As if this were something
weird or dirty. It was a little strange, but it didn’t hurt anyone. Samson liked it, and Cut wanted to see him happy. How could something so intimate and personal be wrong?

  Cut put a hand on his cheek and the bigger man leaned into it. “Well you can’t see me, so doesn’t that make it easier?”

  “You know what I mean…”

  “Yes, yes… I know what you mean. And I don’t think poorly of you for the things you like. I never really have. I just wanted you to be safe about it. And what safer place than with me? You’re my pervert.” That gave him an idea. “Will you let me try something?”

  Samson nodded, incapable of much else.

  Cut patted his cheek. “There’s my dove.”

  With one more check of Samson’s restraints, Cut took him by the shoulders and turned Samson so he faced the bed. Then, Cut spent a minute finishing his breakfast.

  He stood when he was done, gripping the plate that held the rest of the food. Samson’s head snapped towards the sound of him moving about the room. “I’m still here. I just thought you might be hungry.” He nudged a boiled egg against Samson’s lips. Once his teeth sunk into it, Samson tried to seize the whole thing from Cut’s grip. Cut pulled it away. There’d be no choking on his watch.

  “Gentle, dove.” It wasn’t going anywhere. Cut wouldn’t let him hurry things along.

  The rest of the meal went down smoother. He gave Samson a sip of lukewarm tea, but that didn’t go over nearly as well. Cut tipped the cup too much when Samson tried to drink from it, spilling tea over his hand and down Samson’s chin and front. Next time, they’d use a straw. For now, he pressed his hand to Samson’s mouth.

  “Clean it up for me.”

  That tongue flicked out, immediately attacking what little tea remained on his skin. Cut watched him fascinated. He really didn’t understand this, this need for submission. One day they’d sit down and talk about it at length so he could pick Samson’s brain more thoroughly. They might even try to switch roles for part of a session more thoroughly than they had when he’d had to make amends for meeting with Rami. But not today.

  He took his hand away. It was as clean as it was going to get this way. It was only going to get dirty again in a moment.

  “Good boy.” He caressed Samson’s cheek again. “That kind of obedience deserves a reward.” The mere mention of reward got Samson whimpering again. Cut had never seen someone as turned on as Samson, but was this his limit?

  Cut traced the strap drops of tea still clinging to Samson’s collarbone with his tongue before he sank to the floor, tugging Samson’s briefs down with him. Samson had never asked, which of course he wouldn’t, but Cut should have offered. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much about it, conforming his habits to whatever Samson’s needs were at the time. This time Samson was at his total mercy.

  Samson’s cock was hot to the touch and pulsed with the beat of his heart. He was so excited. Cut had to share in it, his own cock starting to bother him in his shorts. He didn’t know why he hadn’t gone down on Samson sooner.

  When he worked aboard water harvesting freighters, Cut developed a slight distaste for the act. It wasn’t that he didn’t perform; it was that he often put it off until the last minute. That lot wasn’t renowned for their cleanliness. In spite of being surrounded by vats of ice crystals melting into water, very little of it was allotted for their personal use. Some guys had no problem dealing with the buildup of sweat and funk that came from only getting to shower once every two weeks, but Cut wasn’t one of them. Even his early fumblings as a youth hadn’t been under the best conditions, but he’d made do with what he had.

  Yet, somehow, this hadn’t ever really been an issue when he was with women. They lived in the same conditions on the freighters, yet somehow they managed not to smell like a locker room. He suspected witchcraft.

  Funk had never been a concern with Samson. He always smelled of soap and the very distinct musk that was him, even when he wasn’t shower fresh. Cut couldn’t get enough of his scent. Cut didn’t think he had a kink, but this came close.

  With both hands on Samson’s ass, Cut drew him forward until cock met cheek. He inhaled, trying to take his scent deep into his lungs. Samson let out a little grunt of surprise. There wasn’t enough time to linger. Cut had to revisit this again soon.

  He cupped Samson’s balls, flattened his tongue along the underside of Samson’s length, and that was just the start. He’d show Samson every skill he’d picked up, make it so he’d never questioned his desirability again.

  He was so heavy on Cut’s tongue, a pleasure to feel between his lips. The salty taste of him was heady. Cut was losing himself to it, needing to squeeze his own cock to relieve some of the pressure. Samson seemed fit to burst before. Cut had to work for that release now.

  He backed off, inspecting that cock in his slick grip. It was so dark and swollen, like Samson was on the verge of release. Cut wished he could see Samson’s eyes, to get a reading on him, to better drive him wild. Next time.

  “Why haven’t you come yet? Is there something you need me to do?”

  “Haven’t said I can…” Samson’s groaned more than said. Devoted to obedience even now. Cut hardly knew what to make of him, yet his heart swelled with affection all the same.

  “Come for me. Give me all of it.” Cut hastened his strokes, watching him, so helpless, yet so obliging. He was so close. Cut sucked a finger and pressed into Samson’s ass. He let out a sobbing cry before he thrust his hips forward. Cut lowered his head, taking Samson into his mouth once more, working Samson with his hands, feeling him nudge the back of his throat.

  “I’m… I—” His mouth moved like he wanted to say more, but no words came. His body spoke for him.

  Samson’s ass tightened, sucking in Cut’s finger, as Cut took him down in as far as he could take him. Then Cut withdrew.

  Samson just missed Cut’s mouth, pinning ropey strands of come at the corner of his mouth.

  With his hands bound and no way to stabilize himself, Samson sank to his knees. Cut hurried to untie him before he got too stiff. He removed Samson’s blindfold as well and set it aside.

  Now free, Samson crawled over to Cut and rested his head in his lap. He seemed happy here as he came down. Cut let them stay there until Samson seemed more himself.

  “Let’s get in bed,” Cut whispered.

  Samson was finally ready to move. He kicked his briefs off his legs and got to his feet. Cut tried to follow him, but both his legs were asleep from the knee down. He got his feet under him, but when he tried to walk, he stumbled forward into Samson’s arms. His face was still flushed, but he was stable enough to keep Cut from hitting the floor. “I’ve got you,” he said. When Cut regained his footing, those bright eyes were staring at him, warm and full of concern.

  Cut ducked his head feeling exposed, not exactly in a pleasant way, but it felt right.

  They made their way to the bed where they lay together for hours watching movies until they got hungry.

  Mikela wasn’t home yet, so Cut had no qualms imposing upon them to bring back food for the three of them. Luckily, they were already on their way.

  “I’ll call something in to the Cupboard. They’ll just have to give their name. Are you guys OK with me picking out a few things?”

  Cut laughed. “Are you kidding? They’ve been practically licking the plates clean every night. They’ll be fine as long as there aren’t too many pickles or onions.”

  Samson flushed, but went ahead and sent out his text while Cut sent his. As expected, Mikela jumped at the chance to stuff themself with good food, so it was a done deal. Cut lay back, folding his hands behind his head. It was about time for a nap. He thought he’d rest until Mikela arrived. He closed his eyes, yawned.

  The bed dipped as Samson turned to face him. “Remember I had some questions for you? I’m cashing in now.” He didn’t sound upset, but Cut wasn’t going to let that fool him.

  He hadn’t forg
otten his promise; he’d just hoped Samson would. He fought back the urge to sigh. “Go ahead.”

  “How long have you known Mikela? How did you meet?”

  Something easy to start, then.

  “Oh, forever. We’re both from the same coastal town. We knew a lot of the same people, but hadn’t met each other until we had finished school and were at a party. I spilled a drink on them; they were ready to fight me because they thought I did it on purpose. We cleared that up and have been friends ever since. They’re the reason I’m out here in the first place. They’re a few years older than me, and once they managed to get off world, they kept in touch with me. When I made enough money to leave myself, they hooked me up with my first job out here. They’re all I’ve got. I’ve stayed with them off and on—never in a romantic sense—when I was been between jobs, trying to figure out what I’m doing next.”

  “So they’re your oldest friend?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “If they left Izanami, would you leave too?”

  “Maybe eventually? I’m not exactly following them around, but it’s good to have a port of call, a place to come back to. But it doesn’t have to be Mikela.” He ran his fingers through Samson’s hair. He already knew that if he had to choose between staying with Samson, or leaving for any reason, he wasn’t going anywhere. Not even for Mikela. As long as Samson wanted him, Cut would be wherever he was.

  Samson sighed happily, enjoying the gentle scratches at his scalp. “What about your family?”

  “I’m from a pretty big family. They probably don’t miss me. I was just another mouth to feed. The last I heard, my siblings were mostly still there, helping my parents out. I just… there was no point in me staying there. There wasn’t enough money to set us all up for a better life. I was the last in line, so I stepped out of it. No one was happy about it, but I had to do it.”

  Cut rolled onto his side, facing away from Samson, his hands tucked into his arms. That was all he was willing to say at present. He hoped Samson dropped it. He hated thinking on what he’d left behind. He did check in on his family from afar, and they were all doing swell without him. It was probably best for all of them that he’d gone. He didn’t like reopening old wounds. He wanted to share more of himself with Samson, but not all this. Not yet.