"Put your hands on the wall. Don't move them or I'll stop.” Teeth scraped the vein in Val's neck. He shivered. “Don't come until I tell you. And don't turn around."
Yes. God.
Obediently, Val placed his palms against the wall. The cold stone contrasted with the hot breath on his neck and the warm body at his back. He could have come from sheer anticipation. He was about to get fucked in a public place by a guy whose last name he didn't even know, whose delicate beauty hid the heart of a dominant. That, in itself, would have been enough to push him over the edge. But being taken and controlled and commanded not to come was more exciting than he could have imagined. He wasn't about to do anything that might risk his not getting this man's cock inside him within the next five minutes.
The hands on his hips disappeared suddenly and Val started to protest. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a condom packet being torn open. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, he turned his head just a little. He was dying to see Dylan's cock. Just a peek was all he wanted.
Oh my fucking God!
Val's anus clenched in anticipation and pre-come dripped from the head of his prick.
"You aren't being a bad boy and peeking, are you, my little Valentine?” Dylan smoothed the Day-Glo orange condom down his shaft, taking his time, not looking at Val.
With a groan, Val rested his forehead against his upper arm and silently recited Latin verb conjugations. It didn't help. God, he was so close.
"Gonna get you ready now.” A cool, slick finger pressed into his ass. A moment later a second finger joined the first, twisting to find then stroke his gland. A moan was torn from Val's lips. He pushed back, fucking himself on the fingers, enjoying the penetration. He didn't bother to tell Dylan that he didn't need much preparation. Those fingers felt so fucking good. And how they must look, the two of them—Dylan fully clothed, his cock jutting proudly from his jeans, and him half naked, fucking himself on Dylan's fingers.
Then the fingers were pulled out. “Brace yourself, baby."
Val braced. The blunt tip of Dylan's cock pressed, warm and slick, against his entrance. Gripping Val's hips, Dylan pushed. Val gasped as the head popped through the tight ring of muscle, stretching him just enough to sting.
"That's it, baby. Gods, but you're tight. Tight and hot and sweet.” Dylan grunted and thrust, shoving his cock in then pulling out just a little.
"Oh God, please.” Val braced with his forearms to keep from being smashed into the wall. Another thrust shoved him forward, his arms scraped against the stone, burning a little. It was nothing compared to the burn and stretch in his ass. Another thrust and Val felt the prickle of Dylan's pubes, his hole stuffed and stretched around the thick base of Dylan's cock.
Dylan rested his chin on Val's shoulder. “You okay, my little Valentine? My big cock too much for your sweet little hole?” Val's sweatshirt was yanked aside and his shoulder nipped. “Want me to stop? Shall I pull my dick out?"
"No,” Val sighed. “Fuck me. Fill me up. Let me come for you."
Dylan's chuckle rumbled against Val's back. “Okay. You asked for it, sweetheart. Gonna fuck you so hard you'll remember me for days."
Dylan pulled out almost all the way then shoved in, nailing Val's gland. Val whimpered and bit his lip to keep from crying out. Again and again Dylan thrust hard, shoving Val nearly flush against the wall.
Val's skin prickled with goose flesh, his nipples standing out as hard little points even as sweat dripped in his eyes. He blinked against the sting. The muscles in his arms strained to keep his face from smashing into the stone as Dylan fucked his ass. One hard thrust after another. God, it felt amazing.
The tingling began low in Val's belly, the first signal that he was going to come. His knees shook. The scent of his own arousal mixed with Dylan's musky aroma filled his head.
Not yet. He would not come yet. He wanted to feel that gorgeous cock pulsing inside him, wanted Dylan's permission before he blew his load.
"Ah, gods, but you're sweet.” A hand closed around Val's cock, stroking and teasing the sensitive glans, dragging the orgasm ever closer to the base of his prick.
Val's stomach muscles clenched and his balls drew tight against his body. Dylan pulled out, leaving just the head inside his ass. His muscles fluttered and clenched, every spasm trying to draw Dylan's thick shaft deeper inside his sensitized passage.
"Oh God, please,” Val whimpered. “Please, I need it. I want it. Fuck me. Give me all of it."
He shoved himself back, impaling himself on Dylan's prick until he swore he could feel the head in his throat.
And the shed door opened.
Val froze.
"Hello? Somebody in here?” The voice came from just the other side of the pallet, the boxes the only thing shielding them from discovery. Footsteps scraped along the cement floor, the beam of a flashlight tracked along the ground, illuminating the shadows. Something squeaked and scurried away from the light.
Oh my God!
Val held his breath, Dylan's cock still balls deep in his ass. Quietly, he tried to pull away, but Dylan held him pinned. He was crazy. They would be caught.
"Be still.” The command was little more than a breath. Teeth nipped his ear, hard. The hand on his prick began stroking again. The cock in his ass was dragged over his gland then thrust back in.
Val swallowed and heard the click in his throat. He had zero spit left in his mouth. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the light to expose them.
From the other side of the pallet came the sound of a walkie-talkie.
"Frank, it's Roger. You there?” An indistinct reply mixed with static. “There's nobody in here but the rats, man. You're seeing things."
Frank said something indecipherable.
"I did look.” Footsteps retreated. “You fucking dickhead.” This last was muttered just under Roger's breath. The door opened then closed.
Silence, except for the sound of Dylan's breathing in Val's ear.
Dylan began to move again. Harder and deeper, he fucked Val's ass, matching his rhythm with the stroking of his hand.
"That's it,” Dylan breathed. “Give it up for me. Be my slut, you know you want to.” Val's cock was squeezed, Dylan's thumb rubbed over the head, a sharp little pain as he pressed his thumbnail lightly into the slit.
God, he did want to.
Fingers gripped his balls and squeezed, yanking him back from the edge of orgasm. The biting edge of pain blended with pleasure, ramping up his need as Dylan shoved in deep. Val fought not to groan.
Faster and harder, Dylan worked him, the grip on his dick punishingly fierce as Val rocked into the motion, the sound of Dylan's balls slapping against his ass drowning out everything else.
"Come for me now,” Dylan whispered. Teeth sank into Val's shoulder as Dylan's cock swelled and pulsed against his hole.
Val choked back a scream as the orgasm raced down his spine and exploded out his cock and he sprayed the wall with pulse after pulse of spunk.
As the last of the come drained from his prick, Val's knees buckled. A slender arm wrapped around his waist, holding him up. Dylan's cock slipped out of Val's ass. Lips brushed his ear as he rested against Dylan's chest.
"Are you okay, my Valentine?"
"Don't know.” He tried to stand and found he was still shaky. “We almost got caught."
"No way.” Dylan laughed. “That wasn't even close."
"God, you're a lunatic.” Val's lips curved and he leaned his head back against Dylan's shoulder.
"Maybe.” Lips nuzzled just under his ear. “But it was exciting. And you liked it, didn't you?"
Val rubbed his cheek against Dylan's. “Yeah, I liked it."
Liked it, hell. It was fucking heart-stopping. And he'd come so hard he nearly passed out.
Gradually Val steadied and regained his feet. Turning in Dylan's arms, he wrapped himself around the other man and nuzzled the side of his neck. He inhaled the scents of sweat and sex and Dylan's skin. “That was fucking fantastic."
> Dylan chuckled. “Yeah, it was pretty great, wasn't it?"
Val's jeans were pulled up, his cock tucked gently away before he was buttoned and zipped. His shirt was straightened, his lips kissed.
"Okay?” Dylan brushed Val's hair back from his face.
Val nodded.
"Where did you say you live?” Dylan took Val's hand in his.
"Just across City Avenue, maybe four or five blocks from here."
"C'mon then, I'll walk you home."
"You don't have to."
"I want to.” Tugging him to the door, Dylan pushed it open a crack and peered out. “Let's go.” He shoved it open the rest of the way and stepped out.
"Are you a classics major?” Val fell into step beside him.
"I'm undeclared.” Dylan kept Val's hand in his as they walked along the alley.
"What made you take Mac's class?"
"Mythology is sort of a hobby of mine."
When they reached the street, Dylan paused. “Which way?"
Val pointed to the left. “That way."
Dylan squeezed his hand. “Lead the way then, my pretty Valentine."
* * * *
"Don't tell me you're all out of the Arabian coffee.” The woman in the white polyester pants huffed out a breath.
"There should be some over there on the rack. Let me just...” Val started around the counter.
She rolled her eyes. “I already looked. There isn't any over there."
Val stopped. “Well, then I guess we're out."
She let go a long-suffering sigh, like he had just pissed in her cheerios. “Well, do you think maybe you could look in the back?"
Not for you, bitch.
"Sure.” Val pasted on a smile and turned to the manager. “Eddie, I'm going in the back.” Without waiting for Eddie's reply, Val left the drinks station and the obnoxious woman and escaped into the stockroom at the back of the shop.
"Fucking bitch.” Val scanned the shelves, looking for the beans the customer wanted. Somebody should tell her those pants make her look like an albino elephant. Unfortunately, it couldn't be him. Too bad.
Why did people have to act like that anyway? Or maybe it was just him. Eddie, the friend and housemate who'd gotten him the job at the Bean Bar, never seemed to have these problems with the customers. Maybe he just wasn't cut out for the service industry.
They were out of the beans she wanted. Crap. He was about to return to the counter to break the bad news when he caught sight of the boxes stacked in the corner that had yet to be opened and stocked. Checking the labels, he found the Arabian beans. He opened the box. The redolent aroma of the dark roast assailed him. Even though he didn't drink coffee, he loved that smell. He took out two bags and, feeling good, headed back to the front of the shop.
The woman was nowhere in sight.
Val turned to Eddie. “Where'd the lady in the white pants go?"
Eddie glanced up from his magazine. “What?"
"The customer who wanted the Arabian."
"Oh, her?” He turned a page. “She said something about not having all day and she left."
"Bitch.” Plunking the bags of coffee down on the counter, Val picked up the nearly empty decaf pot.
"Where were you anyway?” Eddie flipped the magazine closed and slid off the stool behind the register. “Some guy was just in here looking for you."
Val's heart leaped and his hands stilled.
Dylan.
No. Don't be an idiot. Dylan was a hook-up, nothing more. No matter how hot the guy was, a single fuck in an equipment shed did not a relationship make. Though in the two days since that encounter, Val had thought of little else. Especially when he was alone with only his hand for company.
He kept his tone deliberately casual. “Who was it?"
"How should I know? I didn't ask for his ID."
It wasn't Dylan. Couldn't be Dylan.
"What did he look like?"
Eddie shrugged. “About your height. Black hair in a ponytail. Young."
"Did he have green eyes?"
"Dude, I was not checking him out."
Dylan.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I did.” Opening the pastry case, Eddie selected a chocolate frosted donut, bit in and chewed, delivering his next words around a mouthful of pastry. “You didn't answer. I figured you were taking a leak or something."
Fucking great.
"Did he give you a message or anything?"
Eddie shook his head. “No message. But he left something for you."
"What?” Val bobbled the coffee pot he was filling. Water splashed over the counter and onto the floor. Setting the pot down, he lowered his voice. “He left something for me? What is it?"
"Hey, man, watch what you're doing.” Stuffing the rest of the donut into his mouth, Eddie reached under the register, withdrew a small bag with handles and held it out.
Val took it. “What's in it?"
"How the hell should I know?” Eddie grinned. “It looks like a present. I looked, but it's all wrapped up.” His gaze dropped to the water puddled on the floor. “I'll get that if you want to take your break now."
God, Eddie was human after all.
Val opened his mouth to say thanks, but before he could speak, the door opened and a gaggle of teenage girls entered, all talking at once. Val counted nine of them, all wearing their little Catholic schoolgirl uniforms.
So much for his break.
Stashing the bag back under the counter, he took his place at the register. “What can I get you ladies today?"
A girl of about fifteen with bright pink hair eyed him up and down then licked her lips. “I don't know...” She cracked her gum. “I think I want something hot and sweet. You got anything like that?"
Her friends giggled.
Oh brother. This was going to be a long day.
A half hour later the door closed behind the last of the girls, leaving the shop blessedly empty and quiet. Val sighed just as Eddie wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.
"I didn't think they'd ever leave.” Eddie grinned. “That one with the pink hair had the hots for you, dude."
"You think?” Grabbing a paper towel, Val wiped down the counter.
"Hell, yeah. Wonder what she'd say if she knew you'd rather go out with her brother."
Val chuckled, imagining himself telling the little hussy he was gay. Not that it hadn't crossed his mind to do just that. She'd been relentless, flirting outrageously the entire time he was making her drink, then when he went to hand it to her, leaning way across the counter and giving him a perfect view down her shirt at her perky little breasts.
Tossing the paper towel in the trash, Val returned to the register. He reached under the counter and pulled out the bag.
"I'm going outside for a smoke."
"You don't smoke."
"I just started.” No way was he opening the package in front of Eddie. Not without knowing what was inside.
Val pushed open the back door and stepped out into the alley behind the shop.
The bag was smallish, about the size they used to hold two pounds of coffee. Val opened it and pulled out the box. About eight inches long and four or five inches wide, it was wrapped in white paper printed with gold and silver bows and arrows. He shook it. No sound. He was dying to rip into the pretty paper but forced himself to go slow, picking at the tape then carefully peeling it back before he unwrapped the box and raised the lid. Inside, a card lay atop neatly folded tissue paper.
Setting the box on the window ledge at his elbow, Val picked up the card. It was small, made of heavy white paper, the front embossed with the same gold and silver design as adorned the wrapping. Slowly Val opened the card.
Wear it for me.
He turned the card over but that was it. No date, no signature, not even an initial, just a command to “wear it for me."
And it was definitely a command.
What was in the box? And was it something he would want to wear?
Oh yeah, he could do with more of that.
Val reached for the box at his elbow and slowly unfolded the tissue paper.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
It was a corset.
Val's hand shook as he lifted it from the box. White leather, about seven inches wide, with long laces to cinch it snug around the wearer's waist. Around his waist.
And he would wear it, just as he'd been told to. For Dylan.
* * * *
Val studied his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The corset, laced up and holding him tight, accentuated the arch of his spine and his taut, flat belly. Aside from that, it was impossible to tell, unless you knew, that he was even wearing it.
But Dylan would know. Not that he would be seeing Dylan. Maybe. Probably. He was going to the library to do homework, not to look for Dylan.
Val's cock twitched at the thought of Dylan. Ever since he'd opened the box and slid the cool, supple leather around his waist, his prick had been more than a little interested. Now that he was laced up tight enough to feel it with every breath, his prick was throbbing and wet at the tip. He'd thought about jerking off, then hadn't done it. He liked the feeling of edgy anticipation that wearing the corset gave him. Not that there was anything to anticipate, not at the library.
Val straightened the loose tails of his shirt and checked his reflection one last time. With his shirt out, you couldn't even tell that he had a hard-on. Good.
Now, where were his books and his laptop?
* * * *
Val ran a fingertip along the edge of the shelf and scanned the spines of the books. The translation he needed wasn't there. He glanced down at the note in his hand. Maybe he had copied the info wrong. He would have to go back to the computer and check the reference again.
Fuck. He didn't have time for this. His translation was due in the morning and despite an hour of tedious labor—Greek wasn't his strongest subject—he still had pages left to translate.
Turning, he left the dusty stacks and ran straight into another person.
The Ties That Bind Page 10