Birthday Licks

by VJ Summers

  “Forgiven.” Thomas leaned back, crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. Ryan slanted a glance upward, trying to read the Dom’s face through his lashes. Thomas lifted his glass, a snifter with about an inch of amber-looking liquid swirling around the bottom, and Ryan had a brief moment to be grateful he hadn’t knocked Thomas’ drink flying when he’d fallen into his lap.

  “So, we’ve established you don’t want Vincent to spank you.” The amusement in Thomas’ voice was so dry it was almost undetectable, but it was also about a million times more authentic than Vincent’s raucous laughter had been.

  “No, Sir. I don’t want him.” Was that an invitation? A hint? Ryan thought he might have meant for it to be one. Would Thomas take him up on it?

  “But you want to be spanked.” Ryan nodded slowly. “By a Mistress?” Ryan’s gaze jerked up involuntarily. Was he kidding? Thomas raised that expressive brow and Ryan lowered his eyes again.

  “Hmmm.” Thomas shifted a bit. Ryan thought he might be taking a sip of his drink. “Some men, even gay men, prefer to have a Mistress. Domination and submission, while always intensely intimate, isn’t necessarily always sexual.” Thomas was silent a while, long enough that Ryan thought he should be starting to feel awkward, but somehow Thomas’ very presence kept him calm.

  “So, it’s not men you object to. Just Vincent.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Look around, beautiful. Do you see anyone who looks tempting?”

  Seriously? Did Thomas seriously not feel Ryan’s entire body yearning toward him? Ryan looked obediently around the room, not really seeing anything. A flash of green near the bar might have been Tristan. A glint of silver hovering a few feet from their little nest could have been Vincent, though Ryan deliberately refused to focus on him.

  Really, he didn’t want to focus on anyone at all. He wanted Thomas, and it was beyond belief that the Dom didn’t feel the thread of energy stretching between them as strongly as Ryan did.

  Ryan stole another peek at Thomas, peering up while trying to hide behind the hair flopping in his eyes. Oh, no. The Dom absolutely was feeling the connection every bit as strongly as Ryan did. An erection that looked like an iron bar strained at his faded jeans, and his lips looked full and flushed. But one finger tapped restlessly against the side of his snifter as he gazed pensively into his drink rather than at Ryan.

  It was awkward and embarrassing, but Ryan suspected a lot of D/s stuff would be awkward and embarrassing, probably for a good long while. The important part, he thought, was to push through the awkward and be honest. Because what was the point of any of this if he wasn’t being honest, right?

  “I want it from you, Sir.” He was proud of the fact he managed to keep his voice steady. Especially when Thomas turned dark, brooding eyes in his direction.

  “I’m not looking for anything but a scene tonight, boy.”

  Ryan frowned.

  “Isn’t that the goal? To play? To have a scene?”

  “It can be. If you’d played here before I’d expect a birthday spanking would be.” Thomas reached out, toyed with the ends of Ryan’s hair. “But this is new to you, and if it’s done right, it’ll be intense. Have you ever heard of the term ‘subspace’?” Thomas’ voice stayed low, hypnotic.

  “No, Sir.” Just please don’t stop touching me.

  “It’s a mental state, a place submissives find in their heads where they can let go of everything and just float. Where they can feel free and let their Dom make all the decisions.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure when he’d lost his position, but he realized he was leaning against the chair, pressed against Thomas’ leg while the man petted him, and he practically purred like a cat.

  “In a true D/s relationship,” Thomas continued, “the Dom and sub build up a level of intimacy and trust so solid that the Dom can recognize his submissive’s needs before the sub is even aware of them, and the submissive knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that every single one of his Dom’s commands are for his benefit.”

  Long fingers tangled in Ryan’s curls with a light tug.

  “You’ve got lovely hair, beautiful. Now display.”

  The words were level and softly spoken, like everything Thomas had said, but they jolted Ryan back into perfect posture.

  “Sorry, Sir. And thank you.” He meant thank you for the reminder as much as the compliment.

  “So, subspace is the headspace where the submissive gives over everything, trusting his Dom to protect him and to give him back what he needs.” Thomas uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, running a finger down Ryan’s spine. Ryan shivered and his cock made an earnest attempt to burrow through his zipper.

  “You most likely won’t find subspace tonight. In fact, I’d be shocked if you did. And I don’t really think you should. Not during your first scene, and not with a stranger. This is about learning: learning your limits and what works for you.”

  “You don’t feel like a stranger, Sir.”

  “But I am one. Don’t forget that.” Thomas’ eyes were dark and serious.

  “No, Sir. I won’t.” But it would be hard.

  “What concerns me most is that, because it’s your first time, and because,” he smiled a little, “I’m very good at what I do, you’re going to want to attach.” Thomas sat back, re-crossing his legs. “I’m not looking for attachments.”

  “I didn’t come here looking for a boyfriend.” He shook his head and hurried on before Thomas could comment. “I didn’t come looking for a relationship.” He shook his head again, wishing he could put the confused swirl of emotions filling him into coherent words.

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for, Sir. I just know I’m feeling my way along. The idea of submission? Feels right. The idea of being spanked? Feels hot. The idea of being spanked by you? Feels really hot.” Thomas made an amused-sounding huff, and Ryan smiled at the floor. What he said next, though, was deadly serious.

  “More important than the hot part, though…the idea of you spanking me feels right. The thought of anyone else doing it makes my stomach knot up.” Ryan really wished he could see Thomas’ expression, see his eyes, try to gauge how he was reacting to Ryan’s words.

  “I want it to be you tonight. I think I need it to be you tonight. Tonight, you’re the one I trust to show me…well, to show me whatever there is to see, I guess. I don’t expect anything from you, except for you to take care of me tonight.”

  “I’m still not convinced this is a good idea, beautiful. But I can’t deny you’re incredibly tempting. And I’m not a fan of self-denial.”

  He could hear it in his voice; Thomas was giving in. Ryan bit his lip and tried not to smile like a bloody fool. He figured he hadn’t been very successful when Thomas gave another amused, exasperated-sounding huff.

  “You need, I want… Let’s begin.”

  Thomas’ voice was low, rough and soft all at once, and it sent a shiver down Ryan’s spine.

  “A question, Sir?” Because it couldn’t be as easy as this, right?

  “Ask, beautiful.”

  He felt beautiful. He felt Thomas’ eyes on him, tracing the bare line of his spine, the dip and arch where his back eased into his buttocks, and for that moment he was beautiful.

  “Don’t we need…stuff?”

  Eyes on the floor, he couldn’t see Thomas’ expression, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that brow lifting. Particularly when the Dom’s voice came, low and amused.

  “What sort of stuff were you thinking of?”

  Shit. That sounded like he meant sex stuff. Condoms and lube stuff. And he’d figured out enough to know that expecting sex from Thomas was beyond presumptuous.

  “Like…I don’t know.” Way to wuss out. “Like paddles and stuff.” And how much more stupid could I sound?

  “Oh.” Thomas chuckled. “That stuff.” A firm hand, rough with calluses, stroked along Ryan’s side, and he unconsciously shifted, pressed into the touch as much as he could without compromising his stance.
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br />   “That stuff can be fun, but it’s all just accessories. What’s important is what’s going on in your head. What’s going on with your body is just a reflection of what’s happening in your mind.”

  Another slow stroke, and Ryan shivered. What was going on with his body was that it was melting, going soft and supple. Which made perfect sense, as his mind was going quiet. The questions that had been chasing around like hamsters in a wheel slowed down with each touch of Thomas’ hand.

  Thomas made a low, approving noise and Ryan wanted to preen, wanted to flush and show the entire room how proud he was of pleasing his Mas—of pleasing his Sir.

  “Now, are you ready to begin? No more questions?”

  “No questions, Sir. I’m ready.”

  So very, very ready.

  “Stand, then, and lose the pants.”

  Ryan shuddered and did as he was told.

  “Standing display. It’s the same as kneeling, but with your feet shoulder-width apart.”

  Ryan shuddered. Again. And did as he was told. Again.

  He still wasn’t quite sure what to expect. He’d had some idea of bending over someone’s—some man’s—lap. He hadn’t pictured standing stark-assed naked in a club full of people, waiting for direction from his…Sir.

  Thomas didn’t leave him floundering for long, though. After a moment, he rose and began to walk around Ryan. Eyes toward the floor, Ryan couldn’t see Thomas examine him, but he sure as fuck could feel it. The Dom’s eyes were every bit as tactile as his voice.

  A couple slow circuits around him, and Thomas ran a finger down Ryan’s spine. This time, without the interference of Ryan’s pants, Thomas traced his finger lower, toying with the divot at the top of his crack. Ryan’s breath caught. Fuck. Who knew that was a hot spot?

  “You’ll have two safe words. One as a warning, one for a full stop. They should be words you’ll remember easily, but won’t accidentally say in the heat of the moment.”

  Ryan nodded, but he was frowning. One of the things he thought he wanted was for Thomas to push past his instinctive denials, to push him to take more sensation, give more surrender.

  “Question, beautiful?”

  Damn. Maybe Thomas really was reading his mind.

  “Kind of. It’s just, I’m here because I want you to push me, Sir. I don’t want you to stop.”

  “And for what we’re doing tonight, you probably won’t need me to stop. But if you decide to experiment in the lifestyle, you’ll become involved in increasingly intense scenes. You’ll push boundaries, and sometimes you’ll need a time out. That’s when you use your warning, when you need to pause and talk through something. Sometimes, you’ll push too hard, or too soon. That’s when you’ll need your safe word, your word to bring everything to a full stop. Safe words aren’t something to play with. You use them when you need to, not just because you’re uncomfortable or upset.”

  Ryan nodded again, thinking hard. It made sense, but that didn’t keep it from feeling like a cop out.

  “You understand in your head right now,” Thomas said. “But when the time comes to use them, you’ll understand in your gut. It’s enough for the moment that you choose two words, and promise to use them if things get too intense for you.”

  “Okay. Okay, Sir. Um. Sparrow. Sparrow and crow.”

  “Very good, beautiful. Sparrow to pause, crow for a full stop. So.” Thomas’ voice rubbed over him, that combination of soft and rough that he could practically feel stroking his skin. “Twenty-one, eh?”

  Ryan nodded, not entirely sure he was supposed to answer, but unable to stop his body from responding on a purely instinctual level.

  “That’s a lot of blows, beautiful.” Thomas stroked his free hand over Ryan’s ass, lingering to cup the fullness of one cheek. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “No, Sir.” This time his response was verbal. Thomas didn’t comment, so he thought it must have been okay. “But I know I want to try. I need to try.”

  “Hmmm.” Thomas stepped away from him to resume his seat, and Ryan shivered at the loss of his body heat. He hadn’t realized just how close the man was standing until he wasn’t there anymore. There was a pause, a faint clink as if a glass was being set on a table, then a soft whisper of fabric as Thomas shifted back in his seat.

  “Over my lap, beautiful.”

  Awkward. So awkward as Ryan draped himself over Thomas’ knees. As the Dom adjusted Ryan’s cock to fall heavy between Thomas’ thighs. As he cupped Ryan’s balls, shifting so they’d get enough pressure to be distracting, but not enough to hurt in a bad way.

  The seat was low, and Ryan was tall. He ended up with his own knees bent, feet and palms planted for balance, ass high and vulnerable to Thomas’ stroking hand.

  “We’ll start with a set of…five, I think.” He squeezed, digging fingers briefly into Ryan’s skin, and Ryan shivered. Sensation. Anticipation.

  Please, please, please…

  “Count them off,” Thomas instructed, and with no more warning than that, the first blow landed.

  Thomas didn’t hit hard. It barely even stung. Still, Ryan’s breath clogged in his chest and his mouth went dry.

  “You aren’t counting,” Thomas observed quietly.

  “Sorry, Sir.” God. Was he always going to screw up the simple stuff? “That was one, Sir.”

  “If we didn’t have a set number, I’d say that one didn’t count. Don’t forget again.”

  “No, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  Another blow, still too light to do more than sting a little.

  “Two, Sir…three…four…” The intensity of the blows didn’t increase, and Thomas spread them out. By the time he was saying, “Five, Sir,” Ryan’s ass was feeling nicely tingly, but not sore.

  “How are you feeling?” Thomas’ hand was still on Ryan’s skin, petting gently over his back, squeezing the globes of his ass casually.

  “Good, Sir.”

  “Excellent. Another set of five. Begin at six.”

  Swats six through ten were harder. The tingle became a burn. Ryan squirmed a little bit, unconsciously trying to direct the blows to less sensitive places. One hand, rough with calluses, warm and dry, landed in the center of his back, pinning him firmly in place.

  “Nice try, but no. Unless this is more than what you thought you wanted. One word and I’ll stop.” Thomas didn’t sound as if he wanted to stop. He didn’t sound as if he thought Ryan wanted him to stop.

  The burn in his skin, the hand holding him down, the caress of Thomas’ voice—all of it went straight to Ryan’s dick, which was harder and hotter than he ever remembered it being.

  “Sorry, Sir. Please don’t stop, Sir.”

  “Five more, then. Eleven through fifteen.”

  Eleven…twelve…

  “Oh fuck. Thirteen, Sir.” Every blow echoed through his balls, forced his dick into maddening contact with Thomas’ thigh. By fifteen, Ryan was feeling Thomas’ erection pressing against his hip, rubbing roughly with each heavy hit.

  Things were soft around the edges now. Not tequila soft, though the buzz was still there. No, this was a different kind of soft. As though there were no sharp edges anywhere. As though Ryan had lifted a little bit out of himself. As though the burn of Thomas’ hand on his ass grounded Ryan more firmly in his skin than he’d ever been before.

  Crazy. Irrational. So very, very real.

  “Still with me, boy?”

  “M’here, Sir. Please. Don’t stop.”

  “I’m not stopping, beautiful. Not because you asked me. I’m not stopping because I don’t want to. It pleases me to see your ass all rosy and tender.” Thomas shifted. “Stand up.”

  You said you weren’t stopping.

  Ryan bit back the protest, didn’t even whimper. He just pushed off with his hands. His cock and balls dragged over the inseam of Thomas’ jeans, so sensitive that even the worn-soft fabric scraped the painfully aroused flesh.

  To his surprise, Ryan wasn’t steady on his feet
. Maybe the blood rushing from his head. Maybe the pulse pounding in his ears, his dick. Whatever the reason, Thomas reached up and steadied him until the dizziness passed.

  “On your knees, beautiful.”

  Ryan dropped as gracefully as he could. Then that hand again, guiding him to hands and knees, urging him downward so that he braced on his forearms. The position left his ass wagging in the air. With a little less tequila Ryan might have been self-conscious, but as it was, he was conscious of himself only in relation to the room around him.

  The air was warm, a little smoky and seemed to almost caress his skin in gentle currents. His balls hung low and heavy, swaying as he swayed. His cock was an iron bar, cool at the tip where the air hit the precum collecting there. He felt every whorl of Thomas’ fingerprints branded into his skin.

  He wanted. No, he yearned.

  Thomas slid off his seat, landed on one knee beside him. Long, rough caresses, dragging over enflamed skin, aching oh, so right.

  “Set of five. Begin at sixteen.”

  It hurt more now. His skin felt tender, flesh swollen and hot. He hadn’t realized how much of the impact Thomas’ thighs had absorbed when he’d been over the Dom’s lap. Now it was all him.

  Thomas was aiming carefully, hitting the place where his thighs and buttocks met, jolting his balls with every blow. Ryan counted, every number more breathless, close to a whimper.

  He didn’t realize he was shaking until they’d reached nineteen, and Thomas laid his hand on Ryan’s back. The touch, firm between his shoulder blades, grounded him. No petting, just steady support; a reminder that Thomas was there, Ryan wasn’t alone.

  “Twenty! Thank you, Sir!”

  He wasn’t sure where the thanks came from. Thank you for understanding what I need even when I don’t, or maybe, thank you for keeping me tethered to my body because otherwise I’m afraid I’d just float away.

  Whatever the source, gratitude flooded him. He felt it in every slam of his heart against his ribs, in every throb of his flaming ass, in every aching twitch of his cock.