by Jo Davis
“Suck me.”
Bastian bent to him, desperate to wrap his fingers around Michael’s hot, thick shaft, to touch his body. But his submission, his punishment, was part of this evening’s rules. As a bottom, his role was to give his master as much pleasure as possible, to surrender his body with complete trust. Allow his master to do whatever he wished. Michael would tolerate nothing less. A thrill knotted his stomach.
Bastian licked the wide, pearly head, then took the cock into his mouth. Sucked deeper, deeper. Cherished the silky skin between his lips. Michael groaned, hands pushing his head down in rhythm to his strokes.
“That’s my boy. Jesus, yeah. Suck it.”
He took the entire length down his throat, lips grazing the very base. He might be bound, but he had power over his master at the moment and it filled him, aroused him. Michael must have sensed this, and pulled out.
The man laughed. “No, you don’t. Lie on your stomach again, feet at the headboard.”
He did, turning his head to the side to rest his cheek against the bedspread, and the position stretched the chain to its limit. The collar exerted enough pressure to completely subdue him, remind him of his submission, but not enough to harm him.
His legs were spread wide, his ankles placed in the restraints. He craned his neck to look around at Michael, and saw him holding a riding crop, tapping it against his palm, eyes black with lust.
“Now, babe, you’ll start begging.”
“No,” he whispered, wiggling to get away. But there was nowhere to go, and he knew he didn’t really want to escape. Still, he begged. “Please don’t.”
The blow landed across his buttocks, sending shock waves of stinging pain and erotic gratification to every cell in his body. Especially his cock. Raw hunger washed over him, fusing with the sweet torture.
“Please, no!”
Whack. “Are you going to cause me another second of worry, like you did when I found you in that filthy alley?”
Probably. “I’ll try not to.”
Whack. “You’d better not! Who’s your master?”
He twisted, unable to move. “You! No more, I’m begging you!” But the blows intensified.
“You know how to make this stop. Say the word.”
“No,” he murmured. His cock was a lightning rod for this torment.
Whack, whack, whack.
No mercy, he thought, and tears seeped from his eyes. Several more blows fell and his voice broke, along with the last shreds of his resistance. He was lost to this. “Master, please, I’m begging you.”
He was barely aware of Michael’s movements as the crop was tossed aside and the other man lay beside him. A hand burrowed in his hair and then Michael’s mouth captured his, licking away the tears.
“You did well, but I’m not through with you — not even close,” he said softly. “Tell me again — who owns you, body and soul?”
“Y-you. No one but you.” He tried to still his thundering heart.
“And what am I going to do to you?”
“Punish me.”
“That’s exactly right. And you’re going to love every minute. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, sir.” Tremors shook him as he waited. The whipping had stung, but Michael had never truly hurt him. He wouldn’t. He’d said so. But just the hint of the unknown, that thrill of fear, nearly made him come.
Michael sat up and moved between his splayed legs. Bastian tried to see what he was doing, but couldn’t. Cool liquid was smoothed over his heated ass, easing the slight pain. His tormentor worked the oil over his skin, between his thighs, and rubbed his balls. Then his cheeks were parted and two big fingers plunged into his hole.
“Ohh.”
“Very good. That’s it, relax. Give yourself to me completely.”
Michael’s fingers stroked, working in the lube, stretching him. When his wet tongue joined his fingers, Bastian gasped as the fire surged again.
“You’re so tight. When I fuck you, you’re gonna scream.” He leaned over to the bedside table to get something. Bastian started when he saw that it was a rolled-up strip of black silk. “Wouldn’t want to wake the entire household, would we? Open your mouth.”
“No!” But Michael slipped the gag into place and tied it firmly at the back of his head.
“I’ve been in hell for so long, needing you this way. Dying to fuck you, but denying it to myself. You’re so damned gorgeous. Since you can’t speak, two fingers means ‘sable,’ okay?” Bastian nodded, and Michael moved to pick up something. “Remember this?”
Michael held the riding crop where he could see the rough crisscross weave of the leather handle. His eyes widened. It was shiny, slick with the oil.
“Let’s see if this end can make you beg, too.”
Bastian’s pulse tripped in alarm, half afraid Michael meant to go too far, and half afraid he didn’t. Walking the line between carnal pleasure and agony was a risky proposition.
His cheeks were spread and the handle probed his hole, inching inside, then out. In and out, delving deeper with each slow stroke. Exquisite little shocks radiated to every part of him. He whimpered into the gag, raising his hips.
“Like that, do you, my slut?”
A low, rumbling laugh, charged with lust, echoed in his ears. The handle worked faster, deeper. Treading the razor’s edge of pain, and still he silently begged for more. Didn’t know how far his lover would take this dangerous game, or how much he could stand. Suddenly the handle was removed, but he had no chance to recover.
“Scream, boy. No one will hear you. You’re mine!”
The weight of Michael’s body pressed him down, covering him like a blanket, the tip of his swollen cock pushing at his tight entrance. Teasing, tormenting. With a powerful thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.
Sensitized as he was by now, the cock owning his ass was pure agony and pleasure rolled into one. He screamed, thrashing, fighting against the restraints, but it was no use. His master rode him, strong thighs gripping his hips, heavy balls slamming against his. The collar compressed his throat as Michael wrapped the chain tighter, slowly cutting off his air as he fucked him. Bastian wasn’t afraid. He was riding high on euphoria, secure in the knowledge that Michael had him. Would never let him go.
At that moment, he knew what it was like to be totally owned, under another man’s complete command. Wild and forbidden.
Oh yes, yes. Don’t stop. Please ride me, fuck me…
His muffled screams turned to cries of helpless passion and mingled with Michael’s. Tears streamed down his face as he reveled in his lover’s big cock filling his ass, pounding him, splitting him in two. So ready to explode—
“Ahh! Fuck, yes!” Michael fell against his back, rocked with his release, spewing hot cum deep inside his channel. Shuddered again and again until he was spent, and then pulled out. Without allowing Bastian to come.
Bastian’s ankles were freed from the restraints. Then Michael flipped him on his back, hands still bound. He removed the collar, but made no move to take off the gag or untie him. Instead, he gave Bastian a sultry look.
“I’m going to feast on you, boy. Devour every drop you have to give, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Do you understand?”
He nodded, knew he couldn’t have spoken a word, gag or not. The other man placed a pillow under his hips, elevating him. His shaft strained, eager and pulsing.
“Spread your legs.” He did. “Wider.”
Dazed, he gazed up into the mirrored ceiling for the first time. His body lay sprawled before his lover like a decadent, tasty offering. He shivered, watching the bird’s-eye view of Michael’s dark head dipping low, moaned as his tongue licked away the warm juices streaming down his ass.
“God, we taste good.” Then he worked upward, laving Bastian’s balls, licking the ridge of his cock.
Bastian squirmed at the sweet torture of it. Michael grinned, took Bastian’s cock into his mouth. Sucking, eating him. Bastian arched his hips and b
egan to pump, mindless with lust. Oh, he had to have this man’s hot mouth working him. Had to have all of him, and give all to him.
The pressure built, molten fire. His cock exploded, and he screamed in ecstasy, viewing the scene through a haze. With only a slight hesitation at first, his master drank, throat working, his satisfaction apparent as their eyes met. Bastian shuddered, coming again and again. True to his word, his lover didn’t stop until he’d wrung every last drop from his body.
Spent, Bastian went limp, unable to move. His eyes drifted closed and he was vaguely aware of the gag and the last of the bindings being removed. Being pulled into the circle of Michael’s arms, tender kisses being pressed to his brow. The musky scent of them entwined together, slick with sex, sweat, and their natural, earthy scents, enticed his senses. He loved how good Michael smelled.
“God, Bastian, did I hurt you? Because if I did, I’d never forgive myself.”
He managed to pry open an eye, and gazed up into his lover’s anxious face. “No — well, not much, and it was in a good way. That wicked side of you scared me a little, but it sent me up in flames, too. You’ll notice I didn’t use my safe word.”
“Did you like it enough to do it again sometime?”
“Are you kidding? I came so hard I thought I’d turn inside out! I’d love to.” He thought a second. “I think this sort of scene would be a little rough for our girl, though.”
“Maybe not. She likes naughty toys, and she likes it rough sometimes. She sure liked the scene behind the club, not to mention when you two performed for poor John. But right here and now? This is ours.”
Ours. Another word he never thought he’d hear from Michael. His insides hummed in happiness. “Sounds like heaven.”
“Bastian, I want you to know something.” His arms tightened. “I love you. Always have.”
His lover had said the words in the hospital, but Bastian had been recovering from a grave injury then. Hearing them now, when wrapped in the afterglow? Nothing could ever be more perfect. “And you’ve known for a long time how I feel. I love you, too. Even though it hasn’t been that long, I feel the same about Katrina.”
“Me, too. About us… I’m sorry it took me so long to wake up, but it’s the truth. I may not say it enough, but you’ll always know it.” He paused. “After we’re recovered, I’m going to make love to you.”
He smiled. “You just did. That’s what we did, even if the loving had an edge.”
“Make love again, then.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Michael grinned, his dark eyes feral. “I wasn’t asking.”
Fourteen
Katrina met Emma and Blaze in the foyer just as Simon shut the front door behind them. Blaze was carrying a large duffel she assumed held the stuff he and Michael would need for their disguises.
“Hey guys,” she said, moving forward to greet them. “The terrible twosome is upstairs. This way.”
“Are they still arguing about tonight?” Blaze asked as he and Emma trailed her.
Glancing over her shoulder, she made a face. “Like a couple of old women. Bastian had a bad dream last night that’s got him freaked out and he’s begging Michael not to go. Of course, our resident leader is committed to this no matter what, because he wants to put an end to Dietz as quickly as possible.”
“He’s got even more reason to want that now,” Emma observed. “He’s got you and Bastian to protect.”
“That’s what scares us,” she admitted. “He’s so obsessed with Dietz, we’re afraid he’s going to ruin his health.” Or make a critical error, though she’d never say that to two of his employees behind his back. Besides, she had a feeling their friends were thinking the same thing.
In the bedroom, they found the two men arguing, clearly at a stalemate, as they stood facing each other.
“Why do you have to be the one? We’ve got at least two dozen agents available right this second who could go with Blaze to poke around and ask a few simple questions!” Bastian glared at his friend.
“Exactly!” Michael shouted. “It’s just a few questions, and there’s no need to bring anyone else in!”
“Are you forgetting I’m your CEO? I don’t work in the fucking mail room, and I get a say in this!”
“That can be remedied,” Michael snarled, and his partner paled.
Blaze dropped the duffel and stepped between them, placing a hand on each man’s chest, pushing them apart. “Whoa! Hey, guys, time out. Both of you shut up and breathe. In and out — there you go.”
The two combatants stared at each other, chests heaving in anger. Gradually, however, cooler heads prevailed and they glanced away, both appearing sorry for the argument. Michael, in particular, was ashamed.
“Bastian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that last remark,” he said with remorse. “You’re my right hand, and I believe we’ve already established that I couldn’t do without you.”
“Forget it.” Bastian still wouldn’t look at him.
Michael persisted. “I swear I’ll be careful.”
“Fine. Do what you want, like you always do. It’s not like I or anyone else can stop you.”
From Michael’s expression, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. But it was all Bastian had left to say.
Blaze glanced between them and lowered his hands. “So, we’re good here? We’re gonna get down to business?” Both of his friends nodded, and he picked up the duffel, sitting it on the bed. “Great. Emma, show them what you brought for us to wear.”
The woman stepped forward, eyeing her bosses warily. “Right.” Unzipping the bag, she pulled out several articles of clothing, a wig, and a baseball cap. “I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but the main thing to remember when going incognito is that people see what they want to see. For this outing, we’re going to do some basic alteration, no heavy makeup or anything elaborate.”
They all watched as she sorted the outfits into two specific sets. Even Bastian moved closer, interested in the process.
“These are for you,” she said to Michael, gesturing to the clothes. “When I’m done with you, all anyone will see is an average street person who’s maybe a little down on his luck and could use a shower.”
“Great. I’m supposed to get my contacts to talk, not run them off,” he muttered, and everyone laughed.
Well, everyone except Bastian.
Emma shook her head. “You won’t run them off, because they’ll no doubt look just like you. Here, go put these on.” He took the clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. She turned to address her lover. “Since you’re already wearing the jeans, all you need is the rest. Take off your shirt and put these on.” She indicated the black T-shirt and matching leather jacket adorned with silver rivets.
Obediently, Blaze stripped off his shirt, and Katrina couldn’t help but admire the view. The man was ripped with muscle, more than two hundred pounds of mouthwatering male perfection. She wanted to run her fingers through all that silky black hair falling to his big shoulders. Yum.
She glanced at Bastian, and from his smirk, she realized he’d caught her looking. His grin said, Look all you want. I’ve had some of that! Impulsively, she stuck her tongue out at her lover, which only amused him more. Dammit, she was jealous.
Michael emerged from the bathroom, wearing ratty jeans with holes in the knees, a stained, yellowed T-shirt, and a plaid flannel shirt worn over it as a jacket. He went to stand beside Blaze, who’d donned the studded jacket. “How come he gets to wear the cool stuff?”
“Because it fits his persona,” Emma explained. “He’s too big and brawny to come across as a poor, little street waif, so he gets to be the badass, don’t-fuck-with-me guy.”
“I think I just got insulted.” He scowled, which made the ladies giggle. “Hey, I’ve got your little right here.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Anyway, let’s get this wig and the ball cap on you.” Working quickly, she covered his short sable hair with the wig, transforming him
into a man with shoulder-length, dirty-brown locks. With the whole outfit, topped off with the ball cap, he looked like a different man. Walking the street tonight, even his friends would be hard-pressed to spot him.
“Oh, and don’t smile,” Emma said. “Your teeth are too white and perfect for a street rat. They’ll give you away in a second.”
Standing in front of the mirror over the dresser, Michael studied himself and tried an experimental smile. “You’re right. No smiling — not that either of us will have a reason.”
“Now you.” Emma combed back Blaze’s hair and tied a black bandana over his head, gang style. A pair of silver stud earrings capped the outfit, and she stood back, eyeing him critically. “Crap.”
Blaze looked at himself. “What?”
“That getup makes you look even sexier than when we started. The idea is for you to blend, not attract every male slut and biker bimbo within twenty miles who’s looking for a hard ride.” She did not appear pleased at the prospect.
“Aww. I’m not giving rides to anyone but you, sweetness.” He gave her a smooch on the lips, which seemed to placate her.
“He won’t blend, but I seriously doubt anyone’s going to mess with him,” Bastian pointed out. “Not if they don’t want their asses kicked.”
“I think we’re ready.” Michael looked at Blaze. “Which car did you bring?” SHADO had a garage stocked with cars they used for undercover ops. Most of them had been confiscated from criminals during busts.
“The old blue Chevy. Looks like a rattletrap, but she’s a beast under the hood.”
“That’ll do. Let’s get out there and see what we can learn.”
Blaze busied himself with giving Emma a heated good-bye. Michael walked over to Katrina and Bastian, held open his arms. She walked into them, but noticed that their other lover stayed off to the side, face turned away. Michael kissed her thoroughly, giving her a promise of delights to come. He pulled back and gave her a small smile, eyes shadowed.