Do Not Return To Sender

by Unknown

  "You know I'm right." Dyson leaned back and reached into his jacket. "I've had enough so I'm going to mix it up a little."

  "What does that mean?" Trenton watched as he pulled out a crisp blue pamphlet. "I can't go on a trip right now."

  Raising his eyebrow, Dyson hissed. "So like you. It's not about going to the islands, although God knows I freaking wouldn't mind. This is far more appealing for you and perhaps for us."

  Trenton walked around his desk. "Now you have me intrigued. What's so appealing?"

  "This is really the kind of club you need and if I'm right, this will add more than spice to our relationship." Dyson held out the pamphlet. "Take a look with a damn open mind for a change."

  "I'm the master of open mind," he breathed as he grabbed the folder. As Trenton gazed down at the title, something rang a bell. "Male Order? Where have I heard this before?"

  "From our buddies, Mark and Sam. You know, the ones we never see any more?" Dyson laughed. "Seriously. The corporation is how they got together and while Sam was working for Mark's firm as well, they're now semi-retired. Course you wouldn't know that given you barely talk to them."

  "Fuck you!" Trenton said playfully as he flipped through the pages. "The club really exists?"

  "It not only exists but is thriving so I hear. They're a major corporation with a Board of Directors and the whole bit I had them checked thoroughly Mr. I-only-work-with-top-notch-businesses. Take a look and don't say no until you see what they have to offer. I've paid for a membership for you and all you need to do is take a physical and fill out some paper work."

  Trenton glanced at pages and sighed. "I don't completely understand. What's in this for you?"

  Dyson moved forward and brushed his fingers across Trenton's cheek. "I'm no fool, lover.

  We're going to be through if we don't do something. See, I'm not opposed to having another in my bed with you as long as you're in my life. If you can find the man you can share your other needs with then I figure we both win. Don't you?"

  Shocked at his suggestion, Trenton had no idea what to say.

  Dyson sighed and pressed the tip of his finger around Trenton's mouth in lazy circles. "I mean it."

  Trenton captured his finger, drawing it inside his wet mouth, savoring the flavor of him. Their problem had never been about sex. They were well suited together and he still hungered to have Dyson's thick dick inside his mouth. Unfortunately the passion had been tamped out from exhaustion more than anything. He wrapped his hand around Dyson's wrist as he pulsed Dyson's finger in and out of his mouth. His cock grew hungry, aching as it pressed against the tight linen of his pants.

  "Careful or I'll have to fuck you right here in the middle of your office," Dyson breathed.

  Trenton stole a glance at the closed door as he removed Dyson's finger and licked down the underside, teasing. "And I would mind why?"

  Cocking his head, a smile curled on Dyson's lip. "You don't really want to?"

  "Try me." Trenton palmed Dyson's chest and moved his hand down slowly as licked his lips.

  While his employees certainly knew he was gay, he'd never flaunted their relationship. He certainly didn't need staffers wondering about his dark hungers either. Trenton kept to himself when at work and few knew anything about him socially. Anonymity suited him just fine.

  "Well, my idea must have spurned something on. I think I like this wild side," Dyson cooed as he brushed his hand back and forth across Trenton's cock. "I can tell how excited you are."

  Closing his eyes, Trenton swayed, relishing in Dyson's strong touch. "Famished."

  Fumbling with Trenton's belt, Dyson unbuttoned and unzipped, slipping his hand inside.

  "You're hard."

  "Suck me," Trenton commanded.

  "No. You've been a bad boy."

  "Don't tease me or I'll punish you later."

  "This time I might allow you to do whatever you wanted. Would you like that? Would you like to chain me to the cross and flog my ass before forcing me on all fours and fucking me hard?" Cupping Trenton's shaft, he freed the throbbing muscle and stroked in long, even pulls the entire length of his cock.

  Trenton's eyes rolled to the back of his head and he gripped the edge of his desk. It had been long enough since they'd had sex that he ached with desire. "Yes." Panting, he wanted nothing more. Opening his eyes, Trenton gazed down Dyson's body and back before reaching out and yanking Dyson's shirt from his jeans. "I said suck me."

  "And I said no." Crushing Trenton's mouth, Dyson pushed his tongue inside, entwining as he slid his hand to the base of Trenton's cock with one hand while he squeezed his balls with the other, causing Trenton to buck forward.

  Trenton grazed his hands up Dyson's arms, caressing his lover as a series of electric jolts trickled down his spine. The kiss a passionate roar of what used to be, he wrapped his hand around Dyson's neck and jerked him forward. Moaning through the kiss, his heart thumped hard into his chest. He was as hot and horny as he'd ever been.

  Breaking the kiss, Dyson inhaled and licked his lips as he pumped Trenton's hardness.

  "Mouth or ass?"

  "Me or you?" Seeing the brazen lust washing over his face, Trenton couldn't resist.

  "Maybe both."

  "Hmmm…" Eyeing the closed door, he grunted and pushed Dyson back, jerking his button fly roughly. "I can't wait until tonight," he grunted, his tone nothing more than a savage hiss. Every move more aggressive than the one before, he tugged at Dyson's waistband as he pulled him toward the desk. "I'm going to fuck you hard right here."

  Dyson's breathing became ragged as he held up his arms and allowed Trenton to take control, freeing his hard shaft. "Shit! You haven't been like this in a year."

  "Perhaps it's time to start." Pinning his gaze onto Dyson's throbbing dick, he dropped to his knees, lifted his cock and slid his tongue down the length to Dyson's balls, taking each in his mouth. Rolling the tender flesh over his tongue, he stroked the base, inhaling the rich scent of his musk.

  "Jesus!" Dyson breathed as he struggled to reach the desk, his legs shaking.

  Licking back up Dyson's shaft, he engulfed the tip, swirling his tongue around the head before relaxing his throat and taking him all the way down in one long drive, squeezing the base roughly.

  "Fuck! Holy…fuck…me…sweet…aaaahhhh!" Throwing his head back, Dyson clamped down on a strangled scream as his body bucked forward.

  Trenton used his strong jaw muscles to clench around his lover like a tight vice, holding him in his mouth and sucking for several seconds. As he moved up Dyson's cock, he raked his teeth across the sensitive flesh as he squeezed Dyson's balls until he grunted.

  "Ah…ahahah!"

  Removing his cock completely, Trenton let out a long hiss as he stood, towering over his lover. "Now I fuck you." Giving him no choice, Trenton yanked him over his desk, pressing his stomach hard over the edge. "You'll obey?" It wasn't really a question but a command about how the entire evening was going to go.

  "Yes…" Dyson panted as he scrambled to hold onto anything. Pushing a stack of files, they fell hard onto the floor with a thud, scattering papers across the floor.

  "What did you say?"

  "Yes!"

  Jerking the thin material of Dyson's shirt up from his ass, he ran the flat of his hand across both cheeks. "I can see you need a lesson in who's in control here."

  Crack! Slap!

  "Oooohhhh!" Dyson groaned as the force of the hard spanks pushed him into the desk.

  Crack! Pop! Slap!

  "I didn't hear you," Trenton hissed. Slipping into the other man, the dark and dangerous creature he kept locked away, he narrowed his eyes as he sliced another hard series of smacks across Dyson's ass. There was something about this moment and the thrill of being in his office that fueled the raging beast the dwelled in the darkest reaches of his soul. "Will…you…obey?"

  With every powerful strike, his eyes shimmered as he savored the way Dyson's ass was turning a bright crimson.

&nb
sp; Crack!

  "Yes, sir!" Dyson moaned.

  "Hmmm. Better." Rubbing Dyson's ass, he brushed his finger down the crack as he opened his cheeks with the other hand. Pressing his finger inside his mouth, Trenton slathered himself with saliva before sliding it around Dyson's tight dark hole. Slipping his finger inside, Razer inhaled deeply and pushed past the tight ring of muscle. "Yyyyeeessss…"

  Dyson groaned as he tossed his head back and forth, his breath coming in scattered pants.

  "Ready to be fucked?"

  "God. Yes!"

  Placing the tip of his rock hard cock at the entrance to Dyson's ass, Trenton gripped his hips.

  "Good."

  "Mr. Masters…oh…oh!" Sheila's sharp screech filtered around them.

  "Fuck!" Trenton breathed as he swallowed hard.

  Dyson burst out laughing. "Perfect."

  Chapter Three

  "No, I understand completely, Bart," Razer hissed. Sure as shit I do, you mother fucking asshole prick son of a bitch. "I kinda figured you wouldn't need me for the shoot." Phillip had made damn good on his threat. This was the second job Razer had been cut out of in less than a week. Rubbing his eyes, he gazed down at his checkbook and groaned. He'd have to dig into the last of his savings just to purchase groceries by early next week. Damn it! At least he'd taken Blake's advice and contacted an art gallery and they were interested in seeing some of his work.

  "It's nothing personal, Razer. We just had too many guys on the shoot. That's all," Bart's voice was terse.

  Razer chuckled. "I've been around the damn block more than once, guy. Tell me somethin'."

  "Sure. Anything."

  "How many times a week do you allow him to slide his fat little dick inside your ass?"

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  "What? Hit a sore spot there, Bart? Do you suck him in between takes or does he allow you to save it all up until the end?"

  "You…fucking…son…of…a bitch! How dare you condemn me when I know you've allowed him to taste you, you worthless…"

  "Go fuck yourself!" Slamming down the phone, Razer lifted it and tossed the cordless across the room. Shattering against the wall, the broken parts slid to the floor in slow motion. "Fuck!"

  Jerking to his feet, he walked into the kitchen and snatched out a beer and then laughed.

  Four beers, one two liter bottle of coke and a half dozen eggs were the only things inside his refrigerator. Razer popped the top and took a long pull of the golden liquid as he glided back into the living room. With Blake gone for a couple of weeks to secure a place to live, he had little to keep him occupied at night. Think of the bright side. You're all approved for Male Order and they're sending you a match tonight.

  Grunting, he shook his head. Was this a stupid move or what? Everything he had read about the corporation including reviews from happy clients glorified the group. Run by a well known Neurosurgeon, a public relationship guru and a relational psychologist, the team put the company together years before, building their clientele through word of mouth. While engaging in certain conversations was encouraged, nothing was required. Razer could back out at any time.

  "What the hell." Razer knew he sure as shit didn't have a damn thing to lose. He checked his email before walking into his studio. Flipping on the light, he cocked his head and stared at his latest creation. The oversized piece depicted the rage buried deep inside him. Splashed with bold strokes of scarlet and orange, the lone figure standing on the hill was haunting. It turned out exactly as he'd hoped. The man in the painting appeared alone and very lonely.

  He glided through the selection of canvases and sighed. Suddenly the entire lot seemed sad and given the limited critical acclaim he'd received, he remained convinced that the pieces were worth trying to sell. Razer set his beer down and grabbed an empty canvas. Art was nothing if not a healing mechanism for him. Reflecting on when the painting started, it was right after he'd fled the dungeon like confines of Tim's house and the very city he'd grown up in.

  Placing the four by six canvas on his easel, he gazed down at the array of colors in his palette and selected a vibrant purple. Passion Purple. It was an interesting choice for what he was about to delve into.

  Grabbing a brush, he walked to the small stereo nestled in the corner and turned on his favorite hard rock satellite station. The pulsing strains of Rev Theory suited his mood perfectly.

  Draining the beer, he set the bottle down with a hard thud and went to work.

  Glancing at his watch a few minutes later, Razer was shocked. Almost three hours had gone by. He stepped back and looked at his creation and gasped. "Wow!" The vibrant mixture of powerful colors and textures was perhaps the finest work he'd done in years. Nearly complete, the stunning setting reflected deep in his soul. Swallowing hard, he moved toward the wall and turned on several lights, illuminating the canvas.

  Laughing, he shook his head. While he was no expert, Razer knew this piece was a money maker. "Shit!" Content for the first time in months, he sang along with a Kamelot song as he put away the paints and cleaned the brushes. Turning out the light, he walked toward the computer to find out who was interested in him.

  ****

  Trenton sat behind the computer and gazed at the website, a glass of bourbon within reach.

  It had been a long week and he was grateful that Dyson had been called away on business. It was the first time in weeks he was home and settled in before the clock struck ten. Swirling his finger around the edge of the glass aimlessly, he read and re-read the information on Razer Willis. The man certainly seemed like his type and he was a damn good-looking hunk to boot. At thirty-seven, Razer was college educated and had lost his job almost a year ago. He had a few modeling gigs in the interim. Hell, that was easy to see. With his shoulder length raven hair and dazzling eyes, Trenton was shocked the guy wasn't gracing the covers of every magazine on the stand, even at his age. He had no criminal record, was physically clean and from the report, came from a reputable family in upstate New York. That's where his past dropped off. There were several years Razer refused to talk about. Perhaps it was nothing more than a job experience he didn't want anyone to know about.

  Trenton grabbed his glass and brought the dense crystal to his lips. His gut instinct told him the guy was hiding something a little darker. Perhaps it was the haunting look in the man's eyes. In every single picture Razer was frowning, his eyes almost hazed over. Leaning forward, he fingered the computer screen, tracing his handsome face. "What are you hiding?"

  What surprised him the most were Razer's answers. While frank as he could imagine, they were also telling. When asked about his sexual proclivities, he answered to the point that Trenton had to wonder whether the guy was playing. No one wanted the kind of domination Razer admitted to. And then when asked about a relationship, he was sketchy. Trenton flipped through the other answers. Razer had been involved until recently with one partner. Hmmm…

  there was something missing. Regardless, Trenton wanted to meet the guy.

  As he went to Razer's private email, he thought of what to say to the man to entice him.

  Taking a long sip of his drink, he relished in the tang as the bourbon slid down his throat. Razer had his information as well and while Trenton was the contract owner per say, he didn't want this to be anything but a mutual sharing. He eyed the screen as Razer popped on. "Hhhhmmm…

  What do I want to know about you? The one thing Trenton realized Razer failed to mention was playtime other than his craving to learn more about BDSM in a controlled environment.

  Razer, I'm Trenton. I've been reading your profile. I'm very intrigued. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?

  He decided on a simple question first. What do you enjoy doing? Taking another sip of his drink, Trenton thought about everything Dyson said about his childhood. Since Trenton was barely thirteen he'd been fascinated with finding out more about control. He didn't understand at the time but his curiosity with pain and pleasure bl
ossomed as he grew thirsty for a taste of sex. During his teenage years he had engaged in activities he was shocked he'd never gotten a disease or raped because of. Then there'd been the dark years. Shaking his head, Trenton willed the ugly thoughts away. Swearing off the brutal practices when he left his beloved city for a scholarship at UVA, he maintained a fairly vanilla lifestyle throughout the years. While he enjoyed women periodically during his college days, he found the relationships unsatisfying.

  As his tastes darkened he studied more, talking with several Dom/sub societies that gave him a full understanding that the relationship was about trust and bonding, not about pain.

  Although Trenton had to admit he craved finding a man that could handle controlled infliction of pain. The people he had talked to lived in an entirely different world than what Trenton experienced during the dark years. He thought about Dyson realizing he adored the man and didn't want to lose him entirely but Trenton couldn't deny his needs were growing. Taking Dyson in the middle of his office behind closed doors had proved unprofessional and telling.

  Something had to change. Growling, he shook his head and wondered if Male Order was right for him. You have few choices unless you want to engage in additional dangerous behavior.

  The thought was true enough. Trenton cruised bars before entering into his current situation finding only young boys that wanted to get off on the pain. Pain freaks were a rage and while he wanted nothing to do with being involved in any kind of sex in that manner, he understood their needs. He'd tasted a few along the way. And he thanked God he'd practiced safe sex.

  Trenton held the glass to his head and groaned. Maybe there was something wrong with him like his brother was constantly reminding him. Little did anyone know about the pain he harbored.

  The subtle blip brought his attention back to the computer screen as he eyed Razer's answer with growing interest.