Snowed In

by August, Adira

  Cam reached for the water. “Come back to bed. But don’t lie down, sit cross-legged next to me.” He pointed to a wing chair. “Grab the afghan off the chair and wrap up in it.”

  Hunter complied. He rarely objected to anything Cam wanted in his own home; Cam had his reasons. And when they were at work, where Cam had gratefully accepted a civilian researcher position while his leg healed, Detective Lieutenant Hunter Dane was in charge. Cam didn’t question Hunt’s orders, either. It worked for them so far.

  “So far” being an admittedly few and very chaotic weeks.

  Cam waited for Hunt to settle on the bed before twisting the cap from the bottle. “Down this,” he said handing Hunter the cold water.

  Hunt lifted an eyebrow but did as he was told.

  “Now,” said Cam, putting the empty bottle aside. “You need to go to the club.”

  “Why would I go to the club? I just said I was feeling peaceful and safe.”

  “But you aren’t,” Cam said. “Not inside. So you started thinking about that night, about me giving you what you needed. Breaking you.”

  The wind’s muffled howl became louder and Hunter pulled the afghan tightly around himself .

  “There won’t be any flogging tonight,” Cam told him. “But since we’re both awake …” Cam held him with a searing look and pulled his shirt off.

  Hunter felt the familiar tightening in his gut at the sight of Cam’s bare torso in the lamplight. Hunt’s own Nordic sex god, upper body wide and solid, his chest deep. A line of light highlighted the slope from shoulder to neck, casting a deep shadow in the hollow of Cam’s clavicle that Hunter longed to have his tongue in.

  “Strip,” Cam told him.

  Hunter went full wood instantly at the order, at the set of Cam’s mouth and the ripples along his arms as he divested the bed of the comforter, once again. Hunter quickly obeyed.

  “Come around to my side.”

  Moments later, he was next to Cam, his shaft bobbing out over the mattress.

  “You always think too much,” Cam told him, idly fingering his foreskin. “It’s time for a lesson in obedience.”

  Hunter’s throat tightened in fear and anticipation.

  Cam reached into the bedside table drawer and placed some small tubes of lubricant on top. He moved over so his good right leg would be next to Hunt.

  Motioning Hunt to lie next to him on his side, Cam pulled Hunt’s leg over his own, and positioned him lying half on himself. “Move up.”

  Hunt scooted up until he felt Cam’s hand between his upper thighs, fingers sliding back to the cleft of his buttocks.

  “Lube,” Cam said, holding his other hand out, palm up.

  It was awkward, but Hunt unscrewed the tube and squeezed some onto Cam’s fingers.

  “Put it down and look at me,” Cam told him. He paused until Hunter was looking into Cam’s eyes as ordered. Cam spread Hunt’s cheeks apart with the fingers of one hand and slathered lube over his hole with the other.

  “Tonight you’ll obey me perfectly.”

  “Yes, Cam.” Hunter held himself very still, hyperaware of the fingers holding him open, the lube warming, his shaft throbbing with Cam’s words.

  “Without question or hesitation.”

  “Cam,” Hunter whispered, needing.

  “What will you do for me, Hunter?”

  “Anything,” he said, stumbling over the end of the word.

  “You’ll be a good boy for me?”

  Sonofabitch! Hunter’s erection jerked. “Cam-”

  “Answer me, sub.” The silky tone carried the threat.

  “I’ll be … I’ll be a good boy”—he strangled on his humiliation, heat rushing up his chest and neck to his face, pouring precum like water from an overturned glass—“for you. Obey you. No question. No hesitation.”

  “Or?”

  Hunt’s cock jerked hard. “You’ll punish me.” A hoarse whisper.

  “You think you’ll like it. Not this time. Remember the strap?”

  The cuff chain in his fist, Cam dragged Hunt’s manacled hands toward his ass, bowing his back.

  WHAP-WHAP!

  Once on each side, so fast they felt simultaneous. The pain exploded across Hunt’s cheeks. He cried out as the strap found his ass again.

  WHAP-WHAP!

  “Ah, God, shit!” The exact same spots. Cam was nothing if not a perfectionist in total control of his instruments. Hunt tried to move away, but the iron rod of Cam’s left forearm pressed.

  WHAP-WHAP!

  Hunter screamed. The pain unfettered, explosive. His orgasm had exhausted his resources. Endorphins receding. No defenses.

  WHAP-WHAP!

  He yowled, head back, tendons stretched in agony, now.

  WHAP-WHAP!

  “Red!” Hunt screamed.

  Hunter Dane had never safeworded before. The fear he felt now had no tinge of lust. The pressure in his groin subsided.

  “I remember, Cam.”

  “You understand?”

  “It’s not a scene,” Hunt said.

  “Oh, Hunter Dane,” Cam said softly. “It’s never a scene. Not between us. It never was. Never will be.”

  Cam’s finger circled, teasing the tight ring guarding Hunt’s entrance. “Do this,” he said, pressing a little harder so Hunter would not mistake his meaning. “Do it to me.”

  To Cam? No question. No hesitation.

  Hunt wrapped an arm around Cam’s waist and slid him down. Cam’s fingers left a trail of lube over Hunt’s sac and not-so-stiff cock.

  Hunter Dane was a bisexual switch, a sub to men, Dominant with women. As a Dom, he’d had his dick in every orifice, as confidently controlling as Cam was with him. But only with women. If Cam expected him to switch now, Hunter would fail him.

  Sitting up, he took his time working Cam’s sweats over his hips, rocking him back and forth, not asking him to lift himself. Cam still wasn’t allowed to put weight on his shattered femur.

  “Are you stalling, sub?”

  Hunter slipped the sweats off over Cam’s feet. “Yes, Cam.”

  Bending from the waist, Cam reached for Hunter, grabbed him by the back of the neck and dragged him up and into a bruising kiss. Cam forced him open, invading his mouth. His other hand closed around Hunter’s throat, collaring him.

  Hunter whimpered, chest to chest, submitting to whatever angle pleased his Dom, waiting for Cam to cut off his air.

  Finally ripping Hunter’s mouth away from his own, Cam held him up over himself by the throat. He tightened his grip enough to feel the wildly beating pulses in Hunt’s neck.

  “You’ll feel what I make you feel, come when I make you come or won’t because I say no. You’ll endure punishments I decide on. Perform actions as I order. Because I order. Did you forget?”

  Hunter’s breathing slowed, his heartbeat became regular, his cock could pound nails. “No, Cam, I didn’t forget.”

  Cam swiped a thumb over Hunter’s carotid and larynx in comfort and threat. “You’re very hard, now, aren’t you, Hunter?”

  “Yes, Cam.” He waited for the fingers to tighten. They did. “I’m very - ah - Cam.”

  “You’ll put yourself in my ass, just the way I want, as long as I want.”

  Hunter felt himself sink into the soothing depths of submission. His body relaxed, all his weight for Cam to bear beneath him. “Yes, Cam.”

  Cam’s hands glided down over his sub’s shoulders, around and back up, into his hair, claiming him. He couldn’t fix the things eating Hunter from the inside: the residue of the attempt to take his life, the half-decomposed corpse sliding onto a metal table, the torture of a gentle soul who only wanted to bring help to his people. That would have to wait.

  But Cam would get Hunter through the storm.

  With instincts honed on the bodies of dozens of men, Cam knew how to help his sub. He’d known the first time they met, passing one another in the club entrance.

  Now, he’d give Hunter the security of his domination an
d push him past the limits of submission. Hunter needed to know how much he could trust Cam, even when his Dom shifted his reality.

  Cam swept his hands down Hunter’s sides and snugged them under his glutes where they met his thighs. His lifted and spread, and his fingertips found the tight, moist ring. Hunter’s eyes closed.

  “Look at me,” Cam told him quietly. “Do you get to come?”

  “No, Cam.”

  “Who gets to come?”

  “You do.”

  “Who’ll make that happen?”

  Hunter’s body tightened, hips flexed. “I will.”

  “Say it.” Cam allowed a fingertip to penetrate his sub.

  “I’ll ma-”—Hunt choked on the word—“make. Make you come.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you say so.”

  Cam relaxed back, letting his hands fall to the mattress. “Do it.”

  When Cam laid back, Hunter spent a few moments drinking in the sight of his Dom spread before him: the sculpted landscape of his powerful body, the golden trail of hair that led to his solid, thick cock, erect but not straining. His white-blond sleep-mussed hair that shone in the lamplight, flopping over his forehead to shadow his cold blue eyes.

  Hunter had never fucked a man. He’d wanted to touch Cam before, wanted it badly. But Hunt wasn’t sure how to please him. And he had to negotiate one leg fully encased in a cast from hip to ankle.

  “You’re thinking, Hunter,” Cam said. “Stop it.”

  PER HIS INSTRUCTIONS, Hunt had made a platform for Cam’s torso from the thick folded towels and positioned him face down, with some pillows supporting his upper chest and head. He angled Cam’s cast leg to the side.

  Small tubes of lube with the caps already off waited on a hand towel within easy reach, a dispenser of baby wipes next to them. But when Hunt had taken a condom from the drawer of the nightstand, Cam’s hand clamped down on his wrist. Hard.

  “I did not tell you to do that. You’ll feel everything.”

  Cam was fastidious about cleanliness. But this night was a lesson in obedience. Hunter dropped the condom.

  It was seven years since Cam’d had a cock in his ass. But it didn’t matter. He closed his eyes and took several deep, centering breaths. Focusing. Preparing. He’d made championship runs through pain and cold and exhaustion. This was for Hunter.

  “Lie down against me.”

  Hunt positioned himself next to Cam.

  “Put your leg over the cast, bend it, knee against the inside of my thigh.”

  Hunt swallowed hard and licked his lips. As he threw his leg over the cast, his body pressed hard along Cam’s side. When he bent his leg as ordered, he pushed Cam’s thigh aside with his knee. His asscheeks, round and full, developed to control a body hurling down a mountain at highway speeds, opened enough to reveal the shadowed furrow between.

  “Are you hard, Hunter?”

  “Yes, Cam, I’m very hard.”

  “Lube yourself and shove up against my side. I want to feel it. Shove it against me but don’t move it.”

  Bastard, Hunter thought, reaching across Cam’s body to the towel, squeezing a pile of lube out and scooping some up. He slathered it over himself and let his body lean into Cam’s.

  “What did I tell you to do, Hunter?”

  Hunter’s throat tightened. “Touch you the way you touched me.”

  “Lay your head on my shoulder, Hunter. You can’t relax holding yourself up. … Good.”

  Cam wriggled against Hunter’s slick stiffness and clenching abdomen. “Oh, Hunter, the things I’m going to make you do. … Put your hand on me.”

  Hunter knew exactly what Cam meant. His right hand still covered with lube sought between Cam’s cheeks for what he could not see. When the pad of his middle finger found Cam’s puckered hole, he stopped.

  “Remember what I did to you that first time, bent over the bathroom counter. Do that.”

  Hunt cock throbbed. The first time … naked … restrained …

  The hand left his waist and fingers combed through his hair as Cam massaged his ring with the other hand, around and around, pressed in the center, went back to massage. …

  Caught in the memory, Cam’s back warm against the side of his face, Hunter was barely aware of his fingers moving over Cam, circling, pressing, stroking …

  … he slid inside until his curled fingers and knuckles pressed against the insides of Hunt’s ass cheeks. …

  … his middle finger penetrated Hunter again. Slick with lather, he slid in easily, but not deeply. … The pad of his finger moved in and out, working his way around …

  Hunter concentrated—biting his lip—controlling his breathing, so turned on he could taste blood in his mouth.

  It wasn’t like the times he’d touched women, the muscle under the tender surface skin more substantial. Cam was so tight Hunter’s fingers ached keeping up the movements. So hot … so slick …

  Hunter scissored his fingers, spreading them slightly, and rotated. He felt the vibration of a rough sound deep in Cam’s chest, and moaned in response. Rock-hard, his hips flexed

  “Do not move!”

  The command brought Hunt back to the moment. Frozen, his whole body tense. With an effort, he relaxed.

  “You disobeyed me, already, Hunter?”

  “I didn’t - ”

  “You didn’t … what?” Cam’s hands were fisted under the pillow, head down, concentrating on blocking the feelings Hunter generated with his simple manipulations, the weight of his body, the sound of his breathing.

  “Know,” Hunter said.

  “I can feel you, Hunter. You’re about to brand me with the red-hot dick drooling down my side, and you didn’t know? You’re slipping into subspace, and that is not allowed. You understand?”

  “Yes, Cam.”

  “Do you understand?”

  Hunter’s voice cleared. “I’m with you. Any way you want me.”

  “On top. Knees on the outside. Lay your dick between my cheeks. Make sure everything’s lubed.”

  While Hunter positioned himself, Cam brought his hand out from under the pillow. He stretched his fingers, cramped from clutching the sheet so tightly.

  Hunt’s good, thick shaft slide against him, tucked between his glutes.

  This was new for Cam, this solid length of heat pressing against his hidden flesh. He’d done it to may, to Hunter, knew the feeling of control that came with it.

  It was this that would undo his sub.

  Hunt laid himself down, curving over the top of Cam’s backside, his lean supple body pressed. He felt so good to Cam: not holding Cam down, but trusting his support. Cam rocked his pelvis slightly, to rub Hunt’s cock against himself. He felt the hitch in Hunter’s breathing before he heard it.

  “Reach down and grab me, hard. But don’t move. Keep your eyes open.”

  “Cam.” It sounded like a prayer.

  The towels and pillow made a space above the cast where Cam’s hip and leg joined. Hunter tucked his hand inside the space and reached, wrapping Cam in his own heat and need. He felt the throbbing pulse of Cam’s cock against his palm. Hunter trembled, but he did not move. Pressed against Cam, buried between mounds of solid fiery flesh, it was like Hunt held himself in his hand.

  It took all his will to remain motionless. His desperate need to come became a state of fusion with his Dom, instead of a need he contended with.

  Hunter Dane was the most responsive man Cam had ever known. He felt what no one else felt, and more deeply. He felt Hunter’s forehead press into his neck, warm breath on his spine. “Cam … Cam …” A mantra. “Anything ...anything …. Cam …”

  It was time. Cam reached for the lube and then for his cock, pushing Hunter’s hand aside.

  Hunter made a small noise of protest at the loss.

  “Take hold of yourself,” Cam ordered.

  Bracing himself on one forearm, Hunt buried his fingers between Cam’s cheeks and around his throbbing, slick-with-lube cock. He wan
ted to bring his knees inside, between Cam’s legs. But he hadn’t been told to.

  As so often with Cam, he was desperate and needy and off-balance and held fast by indomitable will.

  “Slow.” Cam made the word clear and strong.

  He could picture Hunter’s cock perfectly, the weight and length and shape he’d held and sucked and tormented and satisfied. He knew the wide head with the well-defined ridge would be unyielding. He relaxed his jaw to breathe his anxiety into the pillow as silently as possible.

  Hunter would be careful, take his time. But what Hunter didn’t know, what Cam had never told anyone, was that he’d only bottomed three times. It had been agonizing.

  THE COMPETITION IN STOWE when he was 15 was the first time his mother had let him go on his own. The other boy, 17, seemed experienced and worldly to Camden Snow, shy and longing for the touch of a being like himself, who wanted the things he wanted. The things he didn’t know how to get.

  David. The other boy’s name was David. He and Cam had been eyeing each other during the last few competitions. Unlike Cam, David knew how to get what he wanted. When he found himself alone in an elevator with Cam, he’d said, “Let’s go to my room.”

  Cam blinked shyly at him and smiled. And followed him.

  David was a good kid, a good young man. He got Cam to tell him how inexperienced he was. He soon had Cam on his stomach, his pants on the floor. David used an ocean of baby oil, all he could find in the hotel gift shop. He spent some time getting Cam ready with his fingers. A good kid.

  Cam was incredibly excited, afraid he’d shoot at the first touch of the slick glans against his anus. But David rubbed him with the head a little and pressed. He was careful; he instructed. (“Push out … yeah … hold still now … ”) David guided himself steadily and slowly, and his knob slid into Cam with little resistance.

  David stopped to ask Cam how he was doing but-

  “Jesus, fuck! Jesus fuck, fuck, oh Jesusfuck!”

  David froze. “Is it hurting you? Should I … tell me what …”

  “Not hurt, it’s just - oh shitshitshit!”