by Allan, S. H.
“Technically, T-shirts count as underwear.”
“But that’s all that’s in the bag. No boxers, briefs, boxer briefs, or jocks?”
“Exactly.”
“You want me to wear a T-shirt? Just a T-shirt?”
“Yes. I love seeing the curve of your butt peeking out from under your shirt. I can’t resist you when you look goofy and sexy at the same time. Plus easy access to your tallywacker.”
“Tallywacker?”
“Bait and tackle? Twig and berries? Skin flute?” Ryan offered as alternatives.
“Sex with you is so educational.” Mike laughed and finally looked at the T-shirt in his hands. “‘I would bottom you so hard’?” He snorted.
“What’s wrong with that? It’s accurate.”
“True.” Mike slipped off his clothes and put on the black shirt. The hem fell just halfway down his ass. He glanced sideways at Ryan to see his reaction. Ryan looked like he was resisting the temptation to lean over and take a bite.
“How does it look?” Mike asked, slowly turning around. From the look in Ryan’s eyes the swaying of Mike’s cut penis hanging out from under the shirt was having a hypnotic effect on his husband.
“Like you should never leave the house again.” Ryan growled.
“Like I can leave it now. Half my wardrobe consists of shirts I can’t wear around anybody but you.”
“My evil plan is working, then.” Ryan grabbed Mike’s wrist and yanked him into his lap.
“What evil plan?” Mike turned around in Ryan’s lap until he was straddling him.
“The one where I give you embarrassing T-shirts and you are forced to stay home.” Ryan grabbed Mike’s hips.
“Your evil and diabolical plan is to keep me prisoner in my own home through the use of tasteless T-shirts?” Mike trailed his finger down Ryan’s chest.
“That’s step one of my plan.” Ryan moved his hands to clutch the globes of Mike’s ass.
“What’s step two?” Mike mumbled as he mouthed at Ryan’s neck.
“I make you a very happy man, so that you want to be my prisoner,” Ryan whispered.
“Oh yeah? And how are you going to accomplish that?” Mike rubbed his now hard cock against Ryan’s abs.
“By wearing anything you want me to. Even ridiculous see-through underwear.” Ryan kissed Mike deeply in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. When had Mike forgotten how good making out felt? They should do this every day and twice on Sunday.
“Promise?” Mike whispered the question before chasing Ryan’s lips again.
“Promise.” Ryan touched his forehead against Mike’s.
“I think I could live with that.”
THE Third Date: Sit down with drinks (trust me, it helps!) and write out those fantasies. All the crazy things you’ve wanted to do and were afraid to ask you partner to indulge. Chances are your partner will be up for some spice; whether it’s cool cinnamon or habañero hot is up to you.
Mike poured them both ridiculously large glasses of wine, an almost sweet pinot gris for him and a nice rioja for Ryan, and set them on the coffee table.
“We’re really going to do this?” Ryan groaned. He pulled the overly large hoodie he was wearing over his hands as he grasped the wineglass. Mike doubted it was because he was cold. It was unreasonably warm in the room thanks to their perpetually faulty thermostat.
“Yes. We are really going to do this. Are you going to be shy about it? We’ve been together forever. Do you really think you’re going to surprise me or that I’m going to judge? We share a porn collection.” Mike pulled out the notebook he always scribbled in when he was planning a project. Maybe he should have gotten another notebook for this. It would be embarrassing to pull it out at the hardware store for dimensions and have it fall open to their fantasies, which would definitely not include Marla, the seventyish woman in charge of paint.
“Hell yes, I’m going to be shy about it. Secret fantasies are supposed to be secret for a reason! I really don’t want to know who you’re thinking about when you’re trying to get off with me or on your own unless it’s me!” Ryan was now gnawing on a thumbnail, something Mike hadn’t seen him do in years.
“Are you kidding?” Mike hadn’t seen evidence of Ryan’s jealous side like this in a very long time.
“No! Why? Do you want to picture me picturing someone else?” he asked.
“But I don’t. I mean, we have the list. But I don’t actually picture myself with any of them. So I don’t think of Liev Schreiber doing kinky things to me in bed when I’m with you or by myself. I think of doing kinky things with you. If I’m exhausted and I need an extra boost to get over the orgasm hump, I don’t go ‘Oh Ryan… Gosling’ and come. I think of you bending me over the bed spanking me, and I get there just fine.” Mike chewed his lip, uncertain all of sudden. “Why? Do you picture someone else when you’re with me? Say, an actor from a certain Wednesday night show?”
“No.” Ryan paused. “No. Even when I get turned on by someone else, like when we’re watching porn or something, I’m always picturing you in the moment,” Ryan insisted.
“So what’s the harm in swapping fantasies?” Mike tried to still his hand from tapping his pen against his notebook nervously.
“Okay. Fine—you go first.”
“Will that make you feel better?” Mike asked.
“It’ll give me a chance to get enough wine down so I can get through this entire conversation.” Ryan gulped from his glass. Mike shoved a plate of crackers and cheese at him. Relaxed was one thing. He didn’t want to be nursing Ryan through a hangover tomorrow.
“Are you blushing? The guy who had a twenty-five-minute debate over representations of male genitalia in eighteenth-century literature with Professor Finklerose?” Mike snorted.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t talking about my kinks with the love of my life.”
“I should hope not. Finklerose was pushing eighty, and I’m pretty sure he was straight from all the harping he did on representations of female attributes in the same literature.” Mike ignored his own wine in favor of teasing Ryan and watching that blush turn darker.
“As I said before, you first,” Ryan gritted out between his teeth.
“Fine.” Mike took a calming breath. “Spanking.”
“Excuse me?” Ryan choked on his wine.
“I know it’s relatively tame, but I wasn’t being rhetorical when I mentioned it earlier. I. Want. You. To. Spank. Me.”
“That’s it? That’s your deepest, darkest fantasy? A little light S and M?”
“Light, yes. I’m not ready to go visit a dungeon or something. However, I want to be punished for something.” Mike grinned at Ryan’s muffled groan. “I take it that’s a yes?”
Ryan swallowed. “I think I can work with that. In fact, it might dovetail rather nicely with my own… um… fantasy.”
“Which is…?”
Ryan took another gulp of the wine. “I want you to be my naughty TA who needs a big favor from me,” he muttered.
“Say that again.”
“You heard me the first time. And this cannot get out. So don’t even think of gossiping about it with the other spouses at the next faculty dinner.”
“I wouldn’t,” Mike objected.
“You would. I couldn’t look Melanie’s husband in the face for months after you guys compared notes on sexual positions.”
“I mean I wouldn’t gossip about that. I mean, thank God your teaching assistants tend to be women, since yeah, I guess that wouldn’t do your reputation much good, at least not with the staff. Also, I’m not sure I want you to have a line of cute film grad students hoping you request them as your assistant next year.”
Ryan’s look turned speculative as he gazed at Mike. His voice got harsh.
“I think I might use you as my TA for next year again. But I’ll need some convincing first. Especially since you haven’t finished grading those papers for the freshman class yet.” Ryan looked stern and forbidding.
Mike co
uld feel his skin flush hotly. In a flash he schooled his face to look contrite and sheepish.
“I’m sorry, Professor Ivers. It won’t happen again. I’ll finish them first thing in the morning,” he apologized.
“That’s not good enough. I think you need to show me how sorry you actually are.” Ryan’s voice was quiet but threatening.
“How can I do that… sir?” Mike came over and knelt by Ryan’s side and tentatively placed his hand on the loose sweats covering the other man’s muscled thigh. They weren’t really dressed for this scenario, but being in comfortable yet easily removed clothing did have its benefits.
“Use that mouth for something other than excuses. I need something hard to punish you with,” Ryan demanded.
“But Professor—”
“I said no excuses.” Ryan’s voice came out as a raspy whisper. He grasped Mike’s face with one hand. The bruising grip made Mike’s breath hitch and his cock start to thicken. “Unless you want everyone to know what an incompetent excuse for an assistant you are, you will not say a word. Do you understand?” Mike nodded. “Use your mouth properly.” Mike shuffled on his knees until he was between Ryan’s legs. He reached up to pull down the waistband of Ryan’s sweats. “I said use your mouth!” Ryan swatted away Mike’s hands. Mike clasped his hands behind him so he wouldn’t be tempted to use them. He gripped one end of the drawstring tie with his mouth and pulled slowly until the bow unraveled. He then gripped the remaining slack tie in his mouth and pulled until nothing held up the pants except Ryan’s hip bones. Mike licked at the sparse treasure trail with his tongue until he reached the top of the pants and bit down on them and pulled. Ryan sucked in his breath as his husband’s cheek brushed against his burgeoning cock. He raised his hips to make Mike’s task easier, and the pants fell to Ryan’s knees.
“Keep going,” Ryan urged.
Mike buried his head in the crease of Ryan’s thigh. He loved the smell. Just a whiff of musky maleness worked better than an hour of porn to spike his arousal. He tilted his head and rested it on a trembling thigh that indicated that Ryan was just as turned on. He took a tentative lap at the slowly engorging muscle in front of him, wondering if he should act reluctant or enthusiastic. He pretended to hesitate, only to have Ryan egg him on.
“You can do better than that.”
Mike licked the underside before surrounding the head with his mouth. God, he loved Ryan’s salty-bitter taste. He sucked at the end before taking a deep breath and plunging down on Ryan’s length as far as he could without choking on it. He sucked hard as he withdrew before doing it again, encouraged by Ryan’s stifled groans. He could feel his own cock getting painfully hard. He loved sucking Ryan. He had never done this with anyone before Ryan, so he didn’t know if he would have enjoyed it as much with other men. But the smell and taste of Ryan made him hard and leaking faster than he thought was possible. Mike could feel Ryan tensing up and pulled off. He didn’t want the game to end prematurely. He looked up at “Professor Ivers” and very deliberately licked his swollen lips.
“Pull down your jeans and bend over the desk.” Ryan’s hands were gripping the couch cushions so hard his knuckles were white. Mike hurried to comply. He yanked down his jeans and bent over the desk, placing his elbows square on the surface.
“Pick up that pen and check those papers for grammatical mistakes. You obviously can’t be trusted to grade them,” Ryan instructed him.
Mike looked down at the stack of papers on the desk. Oh, this was either going to be very good, or very bad for the students if he actually tried to correct them. “I’m going to punish you for being so slow to finish your work. If you take your punishment satisfactorily. I will let you come… back next year. Now, what do you think would be an appropriate number?”
“Number, sir?”
“Number of smacks to demonstrate your contrition. Think carefully. Too few, and you won’t convince me that you are truly sorry.”
Mike swallowed. His breath was getting shallow from his arousal. Why hadn’t they tried this before? He gulped for air before requesting, “Ten, sir.” He paused. “Please.” The plea in his voice was obvious even to his ears.
“All right. If you don’t take your punishment, you won’t get the TA position, and you will fail to get a recommendation. If at any point you feel that the task is too great for you, all you have to say is ‘fail’, and I’ll stop immediately. However, I’m not entirely unsympathetic to the challenge facing you. If you need a minute to collect yourself, just put the pen down, and we will pause. Do you understand?”
Mike had dreamed of Ryan putting him over the desk like this but had been too embarrassed to ask. He had been so inexperienced when they had gotten together, and this fantasy, while relatively harmless, had seemed too dirty to suggest. He had to bite down on the inside of his lip to stop from coming at the mere thought that Ryan was actually dominating him.
“Yes, professor.”
“Pull down your underwear. I won’t be able to tell if you’ve been adequately punished if I can’t see how your skin reacts.”
Mike placed his cheek against the pile of papers and reached back to hook his thumbs in the waistband of his boxer briefs to pull them down. The action exposed his golden skin to Ryan’s avid gaze.
Ryan ran his hand reverently across the soft globes before raising his hand quickly and smacking it abruptly across the right cheek.
“One,” he counted. “Now start marking those papers,” he demanded.
Mike picked up the red pen and desperately tried to focus on the task instead of the jolt of lust he felt at the afterburn of the strike flooding across his ass. He wasn’t at all confident he could even start the task he was given when his cock was drooling precome at an alarming rate. He tried to read the title of the top paper. “Slashing the Superhero: Homoerotic Subtext in Comic Book Cinema.” Mike was supposed to grammar-check a paper on homoerotic imagery in the Avenger films? This had to be the seventh circle of hell. He could tell because his body was on fire.
“Two.” Smack. This time it was the other cheek. “If you don’t finish at least one paper, I won’t be able to show you how much you pleased me.”
Mike frantically started to look for typos. The student with a gender-neutral name had obviously used Internet fan sites for most of his or her research. They had misspelled Asgard in at least three places to amusing if unfortunate results. He couldn’t help giggling, momentarily distracted by the inadvertent pun.
“Focus!” Ryan demanded. “Three. Four. Five.” Mike gasped at the flare of pain. “I think you need to work on how to act properly contrite.”
“Yes, Professor Ivers. Sorry, Professor Ivers.” Mike quickly corrected the typos.
“We can stop this anytime. Just say the word ‘fail’.” Ryan rubbed his hand over Mike’s ass in a soothing manner.
“Please, sir. I will do anything to get another year assisting you,” Mike pleaded, his mind firmly back on the scenario.
“Six.” All the blood left Mike’s brain in a frantic effort to get to his lower regions, and his handwriting’s legibility dramatically decreased.
“Seven.” Ryan’s breath sounded rough and uneven. “Your ass looks good with my handprints on it.”
“More, please….” Mike’s voice cracked.
“Eight, nine, ten.” Ryan quickly smacked Mike’s globes three more times before he lunged for the desk drawer where they kept lube in case they ever decided to have sex in the living room. He struggled with the cap; they had never even broken the safety seal. He frantically slathered lube on himself.
“Will you prove to me that you will assist me in anything I ask?” Ryan asked.
“God. Yes. Whatever you need. I swear.” Mike tried to focus on anything that would prevent himself from coming.
“Even if I need someone to see to my every need.” Ryan ran his lubed finger around the edge of Mike’s ring before pushing in.
“Use me as you see fit. I will do anything you require,” M
ike begged.
“Anything?” Ryan’s voice was rough as he quickly thrust another finger inside the first. Mike started gibbering nonsense.
“Please, fuck me, Professor. Use me. Anything.”
Ryan couldn’t wait any longer. He thrust into Mike in one long push. Mike didn’t stop pleading. “More. Harder. Come on. Punish me.” Ryan pistoned his hips, slamming against Mike’s body even as it thrust back to meet his.
“Oh fuck!” Mike groaned.
Mike looked down in amazement to see spurts of creamy white spunk hit the front of the desk and the floor despite the fact he hadn’t touched his cock. In the next moment, Ryan hurtled over the edge too.
“I didn’t even touch you!” He panted against Mike’s back.
“Did I get the job?” Mike asked as he laughed. His arms trembled with the weight of holding them both up.
“Um… yes?” Ryan’s laughter joined Mike as he pulled him up off the desk and turned Mike’s head sideways for a kiss. “The pay’s lousy, but the benefits are pretty good.” He paused as he ran his hand up and under Mike’s shirt. “And I’ll write you one hell of a recommendation.”
THE Fourth Date: Have a game night. Make sure there are forfeits. Clothing? Kisses? That way no one loses and everyone wins.
“Monopoly?” Mike held up the board game.
“Too long, and you always win,” Ryan complained.
“So? Is it my fault that I’m good with money?”
“So this is supposed to be an everyone-wins scenario. Trivial Pursuit,” Ryan countered.
“You always win.”
“I don’t.”
“You do, and if you don’t, you grouch about it for the rest of the day. I never thought of Trivial Pursuit as a blood sport until I met you.” Mike ducked to avoid the pillow Ryan tossed at his head.
“Well, it could be fun. For every question you get wrong, you have to remove an item of clothing or perform a sexual act.” Ryan pondered.
“That has potential, even if I’ll be completely naked or on my knees in about five rounds,” Mike said, “but I want to play Truth or Dare.”
“Really? Don’t you think we’re a little too old for that?” Ryan rolled his eyes before flopping back on the couch.