Power Play

by Stein, Charlotte

  Though of course, I fail to avoid this one.

  ‘Thick,’ I say, and when I feel Benjamin shift restlessly behind me I’m sorry to report that I go one better. ‘Like he’s filling me – almost hurting me.’

  This time the shift is big, and for the first time he gives me something like a signal through the hand he’s still got on my breast. He squeezes, just a little, and it’s to his eternal credit that I know exactly what he means.

  Am I really hurting you?

  And I suppose it’s also to his eternal credit that this is the comment he wants to discuss, through the medium of minute shifts and little touches. He’s not bothered by Aidan, talking on about this bizarre situation we seem to have found ourselves in. He’s not fazed by my reaction, so calm and ready to take whatever there is to come.

  He’s just concerned that he might be hurting me, and once I’ve reassured him that I’m not – through the hand I’ve still got on his arm, and the little squeeze back I then give him – he goes right back to the state of breathless, over-excited acquiescence that he was in before.

  And I go right back to watching Aidan’s eyes close over the things I’ve just said.

  ‘Mm. That’s perfect,’ he says, after which I understand what his expression means. It’s not like Benjamin, when he lets his expression sag in that same way. Benjamin can’t control his reactions, and if something turns him on he just lets it show all over his face.

  But Aidan … Aidan can control himself. It’s obvious he can. And it’s also obvious that what he’s doing now is imagining how that very thing I’ve just described would feel.

  If maybe Ben was doing it to him.

  ‘It is perfect,’ I say, then just for good measure, just to really rub it in: ‘You want to see what it looks like when he really goes for it?’

  He flicks that cool gaze to Ben, though I understand why. The moment I say the words I can feel the reaction going through the man behind me, all shivers and grasping hands and oh that sweet little sound he makes, right on the end.

  It’s not quite a protest. But then again, it’s not quite anything else either.

  ‘I had nooo idea you were so kinky, Harding,’ he says, but he finishes with something sweet for afters. ‘Though I’ll be perfectly honest, I like this version of you. And I have absolutely no objections, if you want to give me more of her.’

  I do, oh Lord how I do. I want to be that person he’s so clearly seeing, so cold and aloof and perfectly in control. I’m in control, all right? I know what I’m doing and if Ben doesn’t like it, well … he can just say the word.

  Say the word, I think at him – but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.

  ‘Fuck me hard,’ I tell him, and he just obeys me, utterly. Those big hands slide down my body until they’re resting on my hips, and then he simply pulls me back onto his now impossibly hard cock. It’s like being nailed by an iron bar, but I can’t complain about that. I can’t complain about any of this, because oh good Lord it feels so good when he finally lets it all out.

  It’s all I can do to hold on, once he really gets going – and ohhh the sounds he makes. I can tell almost exactly what he’s doing – holding his breath, then letting it out, holding his breath, then letting out – but breaking it down into its component parts doesn’t make it any less arousing.

  He’s past the point of easy control, and now he’s deep into trying to hold off his orgasm. He’s so deep, in fact, that after a moment of these delicious, pounding thrusts his hand comes up and thumps right over my shoulder, as though he needs me for something other than frantic sex.

  He needs to hold onto me, desperately, while his body shudders through what I’m sure is his climax.

  And apparently Aidan has the same theory.

  ‘Did you just fill her ass with come?’ he asks, like he’s reading out the football scores. It’s remarkable, it really is, but it’s something else at the same time: exciting. Thrilling. Enough to make my clit swell and my body tremble minutely from head to toe in a way that says my own orgasm isn’t far off.

  I mean, for God’s sake. He just said: ‘fill her ass with come.’ Lately I’ve been getting turned on over the sight of someone’s trousers, so it’s not a surprise that comments like those almost put me over the edge.

  Or that I hardly realise what they’re designed for, until long after he’s said them.

  ‘Did you?’ Aidan asks again, and then it occurs to me.

  He’s trying to get Ben to talk. In fact, he’s not even doing something as simple and straightforward as trying.

  He’s cajoling Benjamin into talking. He’s making his voice like the slither of a snake, and he’s just worming it across the carpet and up over Ben’s obviously overheated and extremely shuddery body.

  If he hasn’t come yet, he’s going to soon. And Aidan obviously knows it.

  ‘Or are you just hovering on the edge, waiting for her to say the word?’

  Still no reply from Benjamin – though I’m not sure how much that is to do with his obedience any more. It’s hard to say if he can talk, in the middle of all this crazy, kinky sex.

  ‘Maybe you’re just being a gentleman, waiting for her to come first,’ Aidan says, before delivering his final one-two shot: ‘Though I suspect you don’t have the restraint for something like that. I bet you’ve coated her in come a thousand times before now because … well. Just look at you. You look like an eager, flushed little slut.’

  I can’t hold back my gasp, once he’s said the words – they’re just too close to things I’ve thought myself a million times over, and I’m sure they’re going to have the right effect on Benjamin. At the very least I’m certain he’s going to protest.

  But he doesn’t.

  Dear God he doesn’t, and once I realise that he’s not going to – not ever, not for anything – it’s like all of whatever he’s not acting on transfers itself to me. A big surge of feeling goes through my helpless body, and I just blurt it out.

  ‘You can talk,’ I tell him, breathlessly. ‘Talk, please talk, it’s fine – just do it.’

  And oh it’s glorious, when the first thing he does is laugh. I don’t know why, to be honest, because I know now that I’m pushing and pushing him and I’m not doing it to be kind. I’m doing it because of the make and the love and the kiss, and if he’s not saying no I shouldn’t be happy.

  So why does it make me so, when he purrs: ‘That’s because I am an eager, flushed little slut,’ as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world?

  I just don’t know myself any more. I don’t understand what I want, or what I’m doing – I only understand what the most visceral part of me needs right now. And it’s not anything to do with emotions.

  It’s just these two men talking, while Ben’s cock eases back and forth inside me, slow, slow.

  ‘I see. And was I right? Did you come in her tight little ass?’

  Those thrusts get just a tiny bit jerkier.

  ‘No. I’m close, but no.’

  ‘And is she close?’ Aidan asks, which just seems like the weirdest thing. They’re talking around me, like I’m not here – though I can hardly say anything about that. I talked around Benjamin as though he wasn’t here, a moment earlier.

  And besides … it’s getting me close just hearing it.

  ‘Probably not. I’m waiting for her to ask me to do something else – you know, like maybe stroke her clit, or finger her pussy.’

  ‘But you won’t do it unless she orders you to?’

  I actually feel Ben shrug, in that lovely boyish way he has of going about it.

  ‘Is that so weird?’

  And then of course Aidan shakes his head, in a manner best described as ‘filled with inexplicable danger’.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ he murmurs, and for the first time he offers us just a little hint of what he’s feeling – though when I say hint, what I really mean is that he stretches like a cat in his seat, and we get a glimpse of his actually and obviously very sti
ff cock. ‘In fact, I’d say I appreciate a man who can take orders very much.’

  Oh, Lord.

  ‘Seriously?’ Ben asks, but it’s the wrong thing to say – and I think he knows it, about five seconds later.

  ‘Definitely. It just makes it so much easier when what I really want to see is your fingers on her clit.’

  At this point, Benjamin has to slow the erratic thrusts he’s going with altogether. But let’s be honest here … it’s kind of obvious why. An idiot would know what forces him to grind to a halt, because the moment Aidan says the words Ben moans, unsteadily.

  If he wasn’t close to orgasm before, he definitely is now.

  ‘Rub her clit,’ Aidan says again, and this time ohhh this time Ben actually does it. He just obeys, wordlessly, one hand sliding around my body until he finds my very wet and very swollen slit.

  And then he simply works his way through all of the mess I’ve made until he finds what he’s looking for.

  ‘Ohhh man, her clit’s all stiff,’ he says, while I think: yeah, tell me something I don’t know. Or at least, I try to think it. Mostly I just jerk forward against the desk, one hand skidding on the papers there in the exact way Ben’s had, all that time ago.

  ‘And you like that?’ Aidan asks, but really, what on earth is he going on about? Of course he likes it. He sounds like he’s about to die, as he regales Aidan with one hundred and one tales from my various body parts.

  ‘God, yeah. Yeah, I love it. She gets so wet, and so excited … you think she’s all aloof, but underneath she’s absolutely dying for it.’

  Did he seriously just say that? And more importantly: is that actually how I seem? Cold and aloof on the outside, sluttish and horny on the inside – despite all my best efforts to get the two sides of me to match up?

  Man, I’m just failing at everything lately. Being normal, having a relationship, not fucking somebody in front of my second-in-command.

  ‘I’ve always suspected as much,’ Aidan says, and when he does he winks at me. Dear God, I’m never going to be able to scrub the shame of Aidan’s winks off me now.

  Though even worse – I’m not sure that I want to. In fact, I’m certain I don’t want to, because the combination of all of these things – Ben’s fingers circling and circling my clit in messy spirals, Aidan’s amused and delighted reaction to just about everything, those words about me being full of desire – is shoving me into the biggest orgasm of my life.

  I can’t even moan when it hits. All of the sounds I want to make and the words I want to say hit hard against some impossible barrier, and I’m left in a very embarrassing sort of state. Mouth open, with nothing coming out. Most of me trying to get away from Benjamin, as the sensation pours through me.

  Though naturally I don’t succeed. If he wants someone to stay close to him and experience every little last drop of pleasure, they don’t really have much choice in the matter. His arm turns vice-like around my middle. The heel of his palm presses harder against my slippery mound, that finger working and working over my clit until I really can’t take any more.

  I have to tell him.

  ‘Enough,’ I say, but this time he doesn’t obey immediately. He waits – he actually waits – until Aidan suggests the same, which probably just makes matters worse. I’m very aware of how disastrous I look, how little power I now have, and I can’t deny that those things contribute to the way I then behave.

  Even if I don’t want it to be the case.

  I don’t want to slow my breathing so quickly, or drag myself up off the desk. Most of me just wants to fall asleep right there and then, while they most likely fuck each other to death on my office floor.

  But I can’t do that. I have to order Benjamin away from me instead, and once he’s gone I do something ridiculous, like snap my skirt down. I straighten my jacket, as though doing so is going to make me look like a completely ordered and totally aloof person again, instead of the horny mess everyone in this room apparently knows I am.

  ‘Tidy yourself up, Benjamin,’ I say, but really I’ve no idea if such a thing needs to happen. I daren’t look at him, for reasons best left untouched. And after I’ve sat myself back at my desk all nice and calm and without a single wince whatsoever, I still can’t quite bring myself to take in all of him.

  I have to do it in sections, starting with his right elbow. And then maybe I can progress to his chest – which is still practically heaving – and the clothes he’s rezipped and straightened over his-stripped-of-a-condom cock, and that lower lip I so often dream of kissing, or licking, or any number of other things I shouldn’t do.

  Then finally, his gaze. His blazing bright and beautiful gaze, that’s so the opposite of Aidan’s ever-still and quite amused one. It’s like he’s trying to push every ounce of feeling in him up and out through his eyes, and I can’t bear it. It’s too much like a challenge, which I unfortunately have to meet.

  ‘You know, Benjamin, it’s very impolite to leave a guest waiting,’ I say, while straightening things on my desk that don’t actually need straightening. It’s practically become a habit now – this return to something that looks like mild uninterest – but it doesn’t have quite the effect I was expecting.

  And nor do my words.

  I’ll be honest – I thought they were just cryptic enough to invite hesitant questions, maybe give a little space for refusals – all of which are bound to be coming. They’re bound to be, because I have a very specific order in mind.

  It’s just that I don’t actually have to give it.

  ‘You want me to suck his cock?’ Benjamin says, and of course I realise then: I don’t have any power whatsoever. I was fooling myself in ever thinking I had.

  He has it all, all of it, all of me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

  ‘That is, if you’re agreeable, Aidan,’ I say, though I can think of a million other things I’d rather go with. I’d rather tell Benjamin that he’s more fearless, more amazing, more everything I’ve always wanted than any other man I’ve ever known.

  But it’s easier to turn away from his perfect face, to Aidan’s clearly shocked one. Somehow, in the last hour I’ve managed to propose marriage in my head to Benjamin, and actually almost stun Aidan Harcroft.

  It’s been a strange day. And it’s getting stranger.

  ‘Let me see … would I like to get a blowjob from this walking Calvin Klein ad in front of me?’

  Benjamin’s not a walking Calvin Klein advert at all, but I see what he means. He’s like a walking Calvin Klein ad, if Calvin Klein had been a fat nerd in high school – because that’s how Benjamin looks. He’s just ever so slightly excessive, just ever so slightly edging over into weird, with his too long eyelashes and his pretty mouth and the rest of him so big and masculine.

  And of course, those eyes … those eyes that are almost a colour that doesn’t exist. If you cupped your hands around them, I suspect they’d glow.

  ‘It’s a hard one you’ve posed there, Harding, I’ll grant you,’ Aidan finishes, finally, just on the end of what seems to be some sudden and completely unseemly drooling on my part. Next thing you know I’ll be painting nude pictures of him while aboard the Titanic.‘I’m not a fan of posing easy ones,’ I say, but it’s Benjamin’s gaze I hold. Benjamin who tells me with his eyes: go ahead and try. Go ahead and give me a challenge you think I won’t meet. You’ll come away the loser, every time.

  Or the winner, depending on your view of man-on-man action.

  ‘You want me to go over there and do it to him like that?’ Ben says, and he doesn’t stop there either. ‘Or maybe you’d prefer it if he stood over me, and just forced his cock into my mouth.’

  Of course I know why he’s wording things this way. I’ve heard him respond very well to similar ideas before, so really it’s sort of obvious what he’s doing, here – he’s suggesting things he likes. He’s giving me little reminders, under the guise of being an obedient little submissive.

  And I’m only too hap
py to oblige him.

  ‘Fuck his face,’ I tell Aidan, and then all I can do is watch with something like a gutful of impatience as Aidan slowly gets to his feet.

  In fact, he doesn’t just stop at being incredibly, annoyingly slow. He also removes his jacket and folds it with exquisite deliberateness over the back of the chair he’s just been seated at. Removes imaginary fluff on his near-pristine shirt – the perspiration circles under his arms spoil the perfection somewhat, but I feel I can forgive him for that – before finally getting around to facing Ben.

  Who’s the exact opposite of the way Aidan now seems. He’s lost that bit of steel he had a moment ago, and now he’s just right back to being a panting, shaking mess again.

  ‘Get on your knees, kid,’ Aidan says, and I flashback to all the times I’ve called Ben boy. It isn’t the slightest bit true – his personnel file lists him as twenty-nine, and he’ll be thirty in January – but oh it so fits for occasions like this.

  It makes it seem less like Aidan’s a good six inches shorter him – though of course, other things help with that, too. Like Aidan’s cool gaze and his immaculate suit and oh then oh then … the way he unbuckles his belt …

  It’s like he’s going to lash Ben with it afterwards.

  And I think Ben is thinking the same thing, because he can’t seem to take his eyes off Aidan’s thin-fingered hand as it works. Everything so slow, so deliberate in a way that should probably remind me of Woods.

  But it doesn’t. Woods would never have smiled while he did it. He never looked like he enjoyed any of the things we did, and he certainly wouldn’t have said the thing Aidan then does.

  ‘I can’t wait to feel that sweet mouth on my cock.’