Tears rolled down Douglas’ cheeks at that line and he knew his boy saw through him in that most perfect of moments when he squeezed Connor’s hands.
Douglas repeated it for his turn, Connor giving up trying not to cry because dammit, this was his wedding and the second-happiest day of his life, next to Kayleigh’s birth.
Besides, Douglas was crying, and he wouldn’t let his boy cry happy tears alone.
“Before us now,” Loren continued, “these two men have promised to each other, and to God, that they wish to be forever joined as husbands. What God has brought together, may no one tear asunder. By the power vested in me by the State of Florida, I am happy to pronounce you married. You may kiss your husband. Congratulations, Mr. and Dr. Strickland.”
Connor swept Douglas into his arms, Kayleigh’s happy cheer at the last second reminding him he needed to keep this G-rated, and he kissed him.
His.
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Douglas’ as everyone else joined Kayleigh in cheering. “I love you so damned much, boy,” he whispered.
When Connor opened his eyes, through his tears he spotted Douglas’ peaceful smile beaming up at him. “I love you, too, Master,” he whispered.
* * * *
Douglas kept wanting to pinch himself as they signed the marriage certificate and Niall and Doyle insisted on taking a few more pictures, including the men with their daughters.
Then the grill was fired up, and it was a battle to keep Kayleigh out of the cake until it was time to cut it.
They kept the cake shenanigans to a minimum, mostly because Douglas knew Connor wanted to hurry up and go home for the real celebration between them. Connor was used to leaving Kayleigh with them overnight on occasion, but it took Douglas a few minutes to finally kiss Zee’s forehead and relinquish her to Etsu.
He’d never spent a night away from her before.
It was a little before six when they pulled away from Niall’s house after saying their good-byes. Connor had opted to take the keys and drive.
“Who’s my good boy?” he asked.
Douglas felt a flush of excitement wash through him. “Me, Master.”
“Yes, you are.” Connor glanced his way, a sexy smile on his face. “And I know you’re going to keep being my good boy all night.”
“Yes, Master.”
Connor’s smile widened. “Yeah, just keep saying that.” He reached over and laid his hand on Douglas’ thigh. “Just like that.”
But when they pulled up into their driveway, Connor didn’t shut the engine off immediately. He looked over at Douglas. “Anything you want to renegotiate? Anything off the table?”
Douglas shook his head. “No, Master. I trust you.”
“Your safeword tonight is—”
“I don’t want a safeword.”
Connor studied him for a long moment. “Why not?”
“Because I trust you. I have no business being married to you if I don’t trust you.”
“What if something happens and you need a safeword?”
“If I’m having a leg cramp, I’ll say that. If something hurts, I’ll tell you that. I don’t need a safeword because I know you’ll be careful, and I don’t want to have control over you. I’m yours, and we won’t get many nights like this while the girls are little. It’s been too damn long since I’ve been totally yours, and I need that from you tonight.”
“You haven’t played with me in over twenty years.”
“Exactly. But you were a kid and never harmed me, and we never used safewords back then. Hell, we didn’t know what a safeword was. I can’t imagine a man with over twenty years of experience will do worse than a kid who was always careful.”
Connor reached up and stroked his cheek, lips quirked in a smile. “How’s your ass feel right now?”
“Full, Master. And eager to be filled by you.”
He pulled him in for a kiss. “No safeword, then. I won’t stop unless I feel like stopping. Chapter 6, Verse 1.”
“Boy will always keep himself safe, even from Master, if needed.”
Connor slowly nodded. “Okay, then. I expect you to obey that.”
“I will. You don’t and can’t scare me, Connor.”
Another old rule—if in the middle of playing they used each other’s real names, that was a check-in. That they were talking as equals.
A flickering hint of coldness filtered into Connor’s blue gaze and hardened his smile. “We’ll see if you still think that by the time we go to bed, Douglas.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
This was their first chance to really play, and Connor wasn’t going to waste a minute of it. Not just sex, but loud, full-on sadistic time.
Connor led the way up the front walk and tried not to think about all the times as kids that they had the house to themselves, no worry of being interrupted, and he’d made Douglas scream in pain, cry for mercy, and beg for more—sometimes all at the same time.
He was lucky he’d never harmed Douglas during any of their play, especially the bondage aspects of it.
Connor had learned a lot since the last time they’d played, though.
I can’t wait to take him to Venture.
There was the briefest thought in his mind to take Douglas there tonight, except he wanted this alone time with his boy.
They needed it.
So Venture would have to wait until another Saturday night when they could ask the triad to babysit for them, at least for the evening.
Tonight was their honeymoon.
And Connor had a ball gag that he couldn’t wait to see how it looked in Douglas’ mouth.
Because Douglas was damn well going to need it.
Thinking back on their teenaged days together, it was amazing Douglas had let Connor get away with a fraction of the things he did to his boy. As an adult, Connor felt a little…not ashamed, exactly, because he wasn’t ashamed of what they’d had together. But the adult Dom would have placed a much heavier weight on negotiations before doing about ninety percent of what they’d done together on a regular basis.
Except Douglas was right about one thing—he’d never needed elaborate safeword systems with Connor. If Douglas told him something hurt, Connor evaluated how to take and use that information. If Douglas got a leg cramp, Connor fixed his position to alleviate it and helped rub the cramp out so play could resume.
Even back then, Connor had a compass, one that worked to strike a balance between sating his needs and exploring Douglas’ limits, all while trying to keep the play going as long as possible for both of them.
Douglas had always been willing to try to meet him there, stay with him, hang in there. Very rarely had Connor ever had to actually call a halt to play because he sensed Douglas was too far at the edge and needed to be reeled back in.
A natural submissive and masochist, even back then.
Once they were inside with the door locked behind them, Connor grabbed Douglas by the throat and slammed him against the door, pinning him there.
Not a hint of resistance from him.
Connor leaned in close. “Last chance,” he growled.
Douglas’ grey gaze never wavered, never so much as flickered from him. “I belong to you,” he said. “I’m yours to do whatever you want to, Master.”
Connor licked the side of his face. “Get naked, go to our bathroom and take that out, wash it, and leave it on a towel on the counter to dry. Then clean yourself out good and meet me out here when you’re done. Naked.”
He released him and stepped back, struggling not to giggle as Douglas ran—literally ran—for the hallway.
He had to reach down and adjust his cock in his shorts.
Once he knew Douglas was busy in the bathroom and would be stuck there for the next several minutes, Connor moved fast, grabbing not only the storage tub from their closet, but the clothes and boots he wanted. He hurried out to the living room to set up everything the way he wanted and get dressed, including the quick prepara
tions he made in the kitchen.
* * * *
The first time Connor had made Douglas have an enema, it’d not only freaked Douglas out, it had also forced him to learn to fully trust Connor. He’d desperately wanted to please Connor and push himself to comply, and together, they’d gotten through the experience. During their time together, it’d become a sort of ritualized thing with them.
Yeah, okay, so he understood more than he cared to why he’d become a priest. Rituals and all the accompanying trappings appealed to him. Combined with kneeling…yeah.
He got it.
He hadn’t had an enema since he was a teenager, but even as he removed the toy and cleaned it and started prepping everything, his cock hardened and wouldn’t soften.
Anticipation.
Didn’t matter how long it’d been, his body remembered, as did his soul.
It was nearly thirty minutes later when he emerged, hurrying out to the living room. Connor sat in the middle of the couch, his arms spread along the back on either side of him, his boot-clad feet propped on the heavy wooden coffee table, legs crossed at the ankles. He’d changed into jeans, shirtless, a black armband snapped around his left bicep.
Douglas assumed the towel spread on the floor in front of the couch was for him, and he rushed over to it, kneeling and assuming a formal bow with his head on the floor.
“Good boy,” Connor said. “You remembered. Sit up.”
He did, back straight and lacing his fingers behind his head, elbows out to the side. Douglas was aware of music playing on the stereo but honestly, it was just background noise to him at this point.
His full focus lay on Connor, on his blue eyes, on Connor’s intense gaze as he visually examined every inch of Douglas’ body. Connor finally sat up, feet on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I’m going to make you bleed for me tonight, baby. I’m going to make you cry, and scream, and probably curse the day you ever fucking met me.”
Douglas’ pulse galloped with every quiet syllable, but he remained in position, well used to this mind-fuck and more than a little surprised to realize exactly how much he’d missed it.
Although, even at Connor’s most harsh, it wasn’t exactly a mind-fuck if he made some or all of those promises come true.
And he probably would.
He’d bled plenty of times for Connor, without hesitation, accidentally and on purpose.
Why should tonight be any different?
Especially on their wedding night.
Connor grabbed something from the coffee table, which Douglas now realized held several items, but with his focus on Connor he couldn’t look to examine them.
He honestly didn’t care what they were.
He was more intent on focusing on Connor’s blue gaze and his wedding band on his left finger.
His.
Peace flowed through Douglas, the likes of which he’d never felt before, ever.
Yes, he’d suffered loss and grieved and maybe it made him a shitty person, but he would fully embrace this, them, Connor—because Connor might make his body hurt, but he was the only thing to truly soothe his heart and soul.
The only thing he’d been lacking up until now had been his Master.
“Open.”
Douglas opened his mouth and Connor quickly buckled the ball gag into place, not painfully tight but Douglas couldn’t dislodge it, even a little. He worked it around in his mouth, getting it settled, biting down on it.
Connor’s gaze narrowed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in sadistic amusement. “Don’t want to scare the neighbors.”
Connor stood directly in front of Douglas, putting his bulge right there in front of him.
Douglas whined when he realized that he wouldn’t be able to go down on Connor like this. He stared up at Connor, silently pleading with his eyes, wanting to suck his Master’s cock.
Connor ruffled his hair. “Oh, don’t worry, baby. You’ll get my cock, trust me. But you’re going to thank me for that in a few minutes.” He grabbed something else from the coffee table and made quick work of buckling wrist cuffs onto Douglas, then pulling his arms down and clipping the cuffs together behind him, immobilizing him.
“Stand.”
Douglas did, Connor roughly grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to his feet, keeping him from losing his balance and falling over. Sweet subspace swirled around and through him, a desperately missed sensation he’d longed to feel over the years. The closest he’d ever come to it was when he’d spend hours on his knees in prayer in the empty sanctuary at night, meditating and, yes, reliving these kinds of days in his mind.
Connor buckled ankle cuffs on him, and Douglas barely processed there were also coils of rope on the coffee table before Connor grabbed them and then shoved him facedown onto it.
The man made quick work of trussing his arms and legs to the table with his thighs spread wide, his ass and cock hanging off one end of the table and his head off the other end.
He walked around Douglas, examining his work, then knelt in front of him. Those black leather motorcycle boots. Douglas wanted to kneel before him and kiss them, lick them, nuzzle them, feel the heat of Connor’s body through them.
Connor cupped Douglas’ chin and coldly smiled. He brushed his thumb over Douglas’ lips, where they were forced apart by the gag, and he also realized Connor had put towels under both ends of the table.
Because, let’s be honest, he’d be drooling from his mouth and his cock. Connor was no stranger to Douglas’ body, and some things never changed.
“Last thing, baby.” He held up the blindfold, which looked like it wasn’t leather, maybe PVC or pleather or something. “You ready?”
Douglas nodded, even though he wished he wasn’t being blindfolded. He wanted to watch Connor watching him, wanted to see the way his muscles stood out as he flexed to take every swing, wanted Connor able to see the tears he’d no doubt shed for him.
Connor always did enjoy making him cry like this.
They’d both enjoyed it.
Especially the aftermath, when Connor would hold Douglas’ face cupped in his hands and feather his lips over his flesh, licking the tracks of his tears, kissing them away, whispering what a good boy he was.
That’s why he’d take anything Connor dished out—to hear those two words.
Did it make him sick and twisted in the eyes of some?
Maybe.
But they ain’t seen nothin’ yet.
Connor brushed a kiss across his lips, around the ball gag. “Good boy.”
The world went dark.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Connor had decided he wouldn’t hold back any punches tonight, literally or metaphorically. This would be their only chance to get loud and raunchy and have a full-tilt scene for the foreseeable future.
It’d have to last them…a while.
A tiny infinity, in which Connor would be itching to make his palms sting from spanking his boy’s ass, hear the zwhhip of a cane through the air, the gasping cry as his boy responded when it left a stripe of fire across his flesh.
Unconstrained screams bit around a ball gag.
Making him flinch and struggle, helpless against his bonds.
Maybe Connor had purchased this coffee table in hopes one day to use it like this, with Douglas. When they were kids, they did most of this kind of activity in his room, behind a locked door, and he’d drag a hassock his mom had into his room, tie Douglas over that.
He’d quickly learned to drape a beach towel over it so Douglas didn’t leave cum stains on it.
His boy’s cock was already leaking, dripping streams of pre-cum onto the towel below him.
Connor released Douglas’ chin and stood, walking around him to his ass, where he reached in and kneaded Douglas’ flesh. Douglas still wasn’t super-hairy, thank goodness. He’d once wondered if his boy had become an otter or bear as he’d aged, and fortunately, he hadn’t. Just enough hair along his ass he could see it plaster
ed down where he was already sweating, a little on his back, not much.
In the rush of the past week they hadn’t even settled back into certain protocols, but soon would. Including he’d be making Douglas keep his bush and chest hair buzzed down with the electric trimmers under his bathroom sink.
Except he was still thinking about that gorgeous beard and mustache his boy sported last Sunday, what it had felt like against his face as he’d yanked him in for an impossible kiss.
Hmm.
He increased the pressure, his fingers digging into flesh and turning Douglas’ sweet moans into pained ones, his body flexing against the ropes.
Another thing Connor was grateful for—that he’d never accidentally harmed Douglas with rope bondage when they were kids. Tonight he had run the rope through the D-rings on the wrist and ankle cuffs, where the bulk of the strain would be concentrated, and then used extra turns around several places mid-limbs, over fleshy, muscled locations and not joints, evenly distributing the pressure.
Connor grabbed the bottle of lube and drizzled some down the crack of his ass, using his thumb to press against his rim, rubbing, thrusting and finding little resistance as Douglas pushed to allow him access with a soft grunt. Connor smiled as he thumb-fucked him and watched Douglas strain against the ropes, trying to hump his hand.
Once he’d had him lubed, he inserted the vibrating butt plug and turned it on low, Douglas’ rolling moans making Connor’s cock jump and strain against the denim of his jeans.
“Yesss, I know, boy. That’s mean of me, right? Remember, if you come without permission, you’ll be punished. Oh, you know what? Maybe I have something to help with that.”
He cleaned his hands with a wet wipe and then grabbed the zipper-top bag full of ice cubes and held it between Douglas’ legs.
Douglas screamed around the ball gag, wrenching his body against his restraints to try to escape Connor’s hand, but it had the desired effect—his cock shrank.
“Bet you’re regretting taking safewords off the table now, hmm?” Connor giggled. “This is just the warm-up. Eh, metaphorically speaking.”
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