Fingers traced his throat, and then Asher’s hand slowly closed around it, holding gently and seeping warmth into Sid’s flesh. The floor was already trembling under their feet.
“Because you used to have such a vibrant sex life before I came along,” Asher mocked in a low voice. A ray of light seeped in, reflecting off one of his brown eyes and making it the focus of Sid’s existence. In the uneven illumination, it looked as if one was honey colored, while the other—black. Two sides of one person.
Sid snarled. “Oh, fuck you. I did stuff. Maybe not all the stuff I wanted, but I’m no monk.” And yet a part of him whispered about how deliciously devious Asher was, how he seemed to have no qualms about giving Sid exactly what he wanted.
Asher smirked into Sid’s face. “And wasn’t it all fantastic? All those dicks that couldn’t get you the kick you wanted. But no, you need to keep your fucking options open, like a forty-year old fuckboy.”
Sid rolled his eyes, even though the words hurt. Maybe because they were true. “Why are we even having this conversation? I don’t need to explain myself to you. We know where we stand, right? This is only for the tour, so why are you trying to make things complicated?”
Asher squeezed his hand around Sid’s neck gently and cocked his head with a mean-looking half smile. “Because I think you are an amazing artist, and I want you to shine. People are fucking dumb and can’t see beyond the front of the stage, even though there would be no music without the drummer.”
The answer threw Sid off, confusing him further. The compliment was like ecstasy, boosting his ego so rapidly he felt lightheaded, but he squashed the smile that threatened to break out. “Don’t praise me when we’re arguing.”
Asher groaned. “For God’s sake! You asked, I answered. Can’t help that you keep assuming I have bad intentions!”
“Because it’s what you do!” Sid raised his arms, pretending that strong hand on his neck wasn’t affecting him one bit. “You scheme until you get what you want, how you want it. I won’t be a part of it. We’ve got an arrangement, and it works. I’m sure you can come up with better ways to spotlight me than relationship gossip.”
Asher swallowed, and the smile was gone from his face. Seconds passed in silence, yet the pressure around Sid’s neck was going nowhere. He swallowed against the warm palm.
“Okay,” Asher said in the end.
“Good.” Sid decided that was that, so he tried to slide out of the hold and pass Asher, but that wasn’t about to happen when Asher only pressed harder on his neck, until he forced Sid to sit on one of the beds.
“Where are you off to? Are you running?” he asked, leaning into the cramped space of Sid’s bunk. His spicy scent made its way into Sid’s lungs, filling them with pleasant heat.
Sid shrugged. “Why would I be running?” But it was painfully obvious that the game of cat and mouse between them had started the moment the other guys left the bus. They both knew it. What they had was already much more fucked up than what he used to share years ago with Paul.
First of all, Paul was…well, Paul. He’d worked in sales. Wore ill-fitting suits. Had a languid way of speaking that had driven Sid mad. What Paul had been good at though, was giving pain. But not in the violent, grabby way Asher had proven to be more than competent at. No, with Paul, things had always been much more organized, deliberate, calm in his excitement. Paul would have never stuck around for a passionate argument.
Asher? Asher was intoxicating. Addictive. One sniff of him and Sid was gone, walking a thin line between reason and insanity.
“How about you get to your knees and show me you’re not?” Asher whispered, pushing his leg between Sid’s knees.
Sid curled his hands into fists so hard the nails bit into his palms. “I’m not your blow job dispenser.” How had they even moved so smoothly from Asher getting him fries to… whatever this was? Sid had no idea. It left him breathless every time.
A groan left Asher’s mouth, his nostrils widening as he leaned in, rubbing the tip of his nose against Sid’s cheek, sniffing him shamelessly. “Not yet. You will be.”
The thrill of those words went down to Sid’s knotting stomach, but then all the way to his balls. He was so fucking messed up. He shouldn’t like this. He so shouldn’t.
All he managed was a whimper.
“Get. On. Your. Knees,” Asher repeated straight into Sid’s ear. In the bus, with the hum of the nearby highway as background, they were completely isolated, Sid’s shameful needs hidden away.
He licked his lips, considering putting up a fight, even if a fake one, but the dominance he could smell on Asher made him too lightheaded for resistance. He couldn’t find his voice, so maybe it would be for the better if he filled his mouth with cock. And Asher’s dick was just as attractive as the rest of the man, so it was hardly a chore. He’d only complained on principle.
Before he could have made up his mind, Asher twisted his hands in Sid’s T-shirt, pulling so hard the fabric cried out. The impact sent him to his feet, weightlessly lingering in front of Asher, who stared at him with a tight smile.
“Am I not speaking clearly, bitch?” he whispered. He pushed Sid down without waiting for an answer.
Sid groaned but stayed in the narrow space between two beds and put his palms on the mucky floor. He couldn’t think straight, his mind already going fuzzy around the edges from excitement. Every time Asher showed him he was in fact fucking strong enough to manhandle Sid was as if he was lighting a candle in a cave full of moths, and each one of those insects was Sid.
Asher watched him, and his breathing, strong and regular, was almost like touch rubbing its way up Sid’s legs. “Bring me the latest edition of Noise. Go on your knees,” he said silently.
Sid licked his lips and had to use up a large part of the brain power he had left to make his muscles move. The magazine was outside of the bedroom. On hands and knees, Sid pressed forward, afraid someone would notice him through the window, even though he was on the floor and between sofas. His kink wasn’t exactly obedience, but the force Asher exuded right now made Sid comply.
So wrong. But so good.
All his life he had fought to be free, and the key hanging on a chain from his neck symbolized that struggle, but here he was. Crawling to a man who would cause him pain. He slipped back behind the blanket serving as a curtain with the magazine in his hand, and offered it to Asher without a word.
Asher slowly sank down, sitting on the edge of the bunk as he looked through the pages until something made his face light up. “That’s hilarious. I wonder what your fans would think of you if they saw you like this, crawling like a dog bringing his master the morning paper,” he said and showed Sid a picture of him by the drums. The photoshoot had been a bother, but they all loved its effects.
Sid shook his head. “You’re not a ‘Master’.”
Asher rolled the magazine and slapped the tube of paper hard against Sid’s cheek. “What was that, bitch?”
Sid bit back a yelp, but the violence went straight to his dick. He was so Asher’s bitch. It was hell and heaven all at once. What Asher offered was too tempting to refuse.
Before Sid could recover, Asher slapped him on the arm, much harder this time. “I asked you a question.”
“I said you’re not a Master,” Sid repeated just to say something quickly and avoid another slap. Which was surely coming anyway. Which he didn’t actually want to avoid.
Asher leapt forward, grabbing Sid’s jaw so hard it already felt bruised. As the sharp, unexpected pain spread, Sid’s heart rose to his throat when he felt fingers unzipping his pants.
“Really? Last time I checked dogs had masters.”
Would Asher make him say it? Fuck, Sid was already hard. Asher had a way of pushing all of Sid’s buttons. More than Dusk with his stupid comments, more than seeing a mention of Crash Landing online.
“I guess,” Sid muttered in the end, unable to meet Asher’s gaze, and yet more lost when Asher lowered his pants and unde
rwear with one hand, so matter-of-factly as if he was taking care of a sick relative rather than undressing a lover.
“Then what do you call me, bitch?”
With his erection so blatantly on show, even Sid’s ears went aflame. “A master,” he whispered. Not in the ‘Sir’ kind of way Paul had liked to be referred to as for respect. In the way where Sid was a lowly dog to a master who ruled by fear not treats.
“That’s right. Remember this, and I might consider putting a chip in you. It’s not like anyone would care for a lost mongrel, but they might send you back to me instead of putting you to sleep,” Asher said in a low, raspy tone. When Sid watched him from his knees, he looked even bigger, stronger, taller, more menacing, and the scene transformed his personality into something so dark Sid’s balls already throbbed in anticipation.
Sid’s heart rattled as if he really were trapped in a cage somewhere, torn between his cruel master coming to pick him up and a syringe that would put him out of his misery. His cock throbbed more insistently, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Asher’s knee.
How could someone so inexperienced even manage to bring him into such a rattled state? Maybe it was precisely the lack of experience in dominating other people that gave Asher this raw presence? Or maybe Asher was just brimming with a negativity he rarely got to express, so all its tar-like darkness was left to drizzle all over Sid. Controlled revenge for the years of rejection and humiliation.
“Good. I’m happy we understand each other. Now smell my balls.”
Sid had to take a deep breath to calm himself, but being so obscenely exposed wasn’t helping. Still, he delved between Asher’s thighs and pressed his face to Asher’s package with a groan. He really was a dog. A very horny one. And he wanted to taste the arousal that soaked into the denim that blocked him from touching Asher’s warm sac.
Asher groaned and spread his thighs wider, pulling on Sid’s hair to press his face harder against the pulsing bulge at the front. “That’s right. You’re mine now. And you’re gonna serve me and wag your tail when you see me.”
Sid pressed his thighs together at the humiliation of it, accepting every sensation that came his way, even the grime biting into the palms of his hands. Who could have thought after years of chase and rejection their roles would be reversed so completely? Sid on his knees on the dirty floor, Asher fucking up Sid’s mohawk even though anyone else would have gotten slapped for as much as touching it.
“What if I bite?” Sid rasped and pressed his teeth to Asher’s flesh through the denim. He wouldn’t really, but he could only stay obedient for so long. His tongue always itched to talk back, to push the other man, to earn his punishment.
In the tight space of the bus, Asher’s grunt tore through the air split seconds before he grabbed Sid and hauled him up, forcing him to lie across Asher’s lap as if he were a child.
The floor was grimy under his face as he hung with his head down and his feet uselessly kicking the floor. He was graceless like a slug and could have been squashed if Asher used too much pressure.
“Then we’ll have to put a muzzle on you, and if that doesn’t help, get rid of those teeth,” Asher whispered. Something swished through the air, and smacked Sid’s bare ass hard.
He yelped from the shock, but then bit his lips to keep quiet. His heart rattled in his chest like a rat in a maze with no exit. The swat itself wasn’t even so bad, but his skin had been continuously gaining new bruises throughout this past week, with new colors added each day.
A low rumble escaped Asher’s throat as he rubbed the rolled-up magazine up and down Sid’s buttocks, the paper so cold in contrast to the fire of Sid’s flesh. “How does it feel to be punished with your own face? Maybe I should try to fuck your ass with this?”
Sid’s jaw dropped, even though he knew it was just teasing—or was it? His dick pulsed against Asher’s thighs whichever way. “You’re such an ass,” he complained before he could think it through.
The strike that came down on him next was so brutal that air fled Sid’s lungs along with a muffled cry, and he only then realized that the first one had been just a prelude. His skin and muscles tensed, throbbing as if Asher had somehow sunken his fingers into them and twisted the flesh from the inside.
A drop of sweat rolled down Sid’s nose. He could barely breathe from the shock.
“You’re so loud,” Asher whispered. “If you ask me nicely, I might help you out with that.”
Sid gritted his teeth, bracing himself for more spanking. “I’m fine.” He clenched his fists, stiffening over Asher’s lap and hardly believing he was allowing this. But he was, he so was.
“Are you?” Asher raised his arm high, about to smack Sid’s ass with the magazine again, but the moment Sid braced himself, Asher let out a laugh. “Look at you, scared like a little baby. You call yourself a man?”
Sid opened his mouth, about to talk back when the hard roll of paper came down, striking so close to his hole it almost felt like there was something entering him.
Sid hissed, his face surely as red as his buttocks. “Fuck this, and fuck you.” He scrambled to get off Asher’s lap, but as soon as he tried, Asher rolled him to the floor. Sid’s battered ass met the dirt, making him hiss again. Asher descended on him in the cozy darkness like a lightning bolt, and he turned Sid to his stomach with a yank at his arm. The grime scratched against Sid’s chest, his thighs, his dick, and the sheer humiliation of being treated like this, like a sheep about to be sheared, was making something break in Sid’s mind in the best of ways.
As soon as Sid was chest down, Asher sat on his back. “Feet up.”
Sid considered struggling again but gave up with an exasperated sigh.
Trying to keep his head above the dirt, he endured the weight on top. The knee dug into the small of his back as Asher yanked one of Sid’s long laces out of his boot. His mind went back to a moment two nights ago, when he couldn’t sleep and Asher had messaged him out of nowhere, as if he somehow sensed Sid’s mind couldn’t get any rest. They’d met up in the parking lot and Asher made Sid take his dick in the backseat of the car, whispering the dirtiest of things straight into his ear. And at the very end, he even slipped a tenner into Sid’s pants, as if he were a paid whore.
The rest of that night, Sid had slept like a baby.
His breath caught when Asher forced his ankles to cross and proceeded to tie them together in swift, efficient movements. Having tall combat boots was paying off, because there was more than enough of the lace for all sorts of wicked fun. He didn’t even care that his friends were waiting outside. Asher had paid for their fucking sandwiches and drinks, so they could wait.
Every time Sid was overpowered, tied up, or held down, he fought it at first, yet there was a sense of peace to realizing there was nothing to be done. With his boots tied together, Sid was stuck under Asher, so he stopped struggling altogether, taking it in silence and enjoying the ride.
When Asher pulled one of Sids arms back, Sid’s dick reminded him once more that it kept rubbing against dirt, but he still let Asher do whatever he pleased, too excited to stop. Asher took hold of his other arm too, Sid’s chest lifted off the floor, and he gasped for air, both confused and elated as the other shoelace went through the metal hoops in Sid’s leather bracelets, effectively turning them into cuffs. Second after second, the tie became more of a strain to Sid’s body, curving back his spine and sinking an ache deep into his thigh and arm muscles. By the end of it, he was unable to move, with the hogtie allowing very little give.
“Look at you. Little skinny pig prepared for gutting.” Asher said, and the moment he let go, lost balance, and rolled to its side.
Even without a gag, Sid couldn’t find his voice, too overwhelmed by the position and impromptu restriction. He pulled on the laces time and time again, just to check that he was trapped. On their own fucking tour bus, between their beds. He would never look at this place the same again.
Slowly, he raised his gaze to Ash
er, who was no longer a nuisance, but a man who held Sid’s life in his palm and could crush him, blackmail him into things Sid didn’t want.
Asher could have easily taken photos of him during the past few days. Bound, humiliated, blindfolded. Sid wouldn’t even know if Asher betrayed his trust, but he chose to have faith in him. It was madness when taking into account their history and the fact that Asher had been obsessively following him for years. He shouldn’t put any trust in Asher at all, yet there he was, once again allowing Asher to walk all over him and reveling in it.
Was it because Asher was worthy of that trust, or was Sid just so desperate to get off this way that he couldn’t help himself?
“Nothing to say? Maybe I should drag you out of here? Show everyone what a pig you really are,” Asher said, slowly rising from the cot, like a giant looming over Sid in the coziness of the familiar space.
“No,” escaped Sid’s lips, even though the taunting was for his fucked-up pleasure anyway. And yet any time Asher turned into this authoritarian Dominant, he didn’t seem to do it just to please Sid. He was there. He was engaged in every second of it and his brown eyes burned with a fire Sid hadn’t seen there until two weeks ago, as if all Asher had ever needed to bloom was the explicit permission to put his rough hands on Sid.
“No? You sure? What would you offer me in exchange? Because I really want to see their stupid faces,” Asher said, approaching a line used for drying laundry at the back of the bus. He removed the two T-shirts drying on it and started untying the cord from the bunks.
Sid only needed one look at the clothes pegs to know where this was going and anticipated their bite so intensely a shiver went through his whole body. “What you want. I’ll give you what you want. I’ll suck you.” Saying it out loud made the tremble in Sid’s muscles more violent, and he pulled with his wrists for good measure, but all that did was tug his feet closer. He gave up with a deep exhale, admitting defeat. Having to do so in words was yet another wall crumbling inside of him.
The Underdogs Box Set - Books 1-3 (gay rockstar romance) Page 23