Joy and Pain

by Celia Kyle

  His hand on mine, a soft squeeze, stops me from rising completely. “Shh, it was all for you. Sit down. I ate plenty and the demonstration’s getting ready to start.”

  Right. The demo. But I can’t quit thinking about the fact that a man three times my size ate merely half of what I did. I squirm, wanting to scramble and fill a plate for him, serve him, make him happy. Only, I think it’s the “making him happy” aspect that’s pushing hardest. I want those smiles.

  He rests his arm on the back of my chair, easing down in his, spreading his legs and it looks like he’s getting comfortable.

  I fidget. Cause that’s what I do when there’s something I want to do and can’t. I pick at my nails, bounce my knee. Whatever I can do.

  Then a warm hand is on the back of my neck, thumb pressing just below my ear for a moment before it’s stroking the sensitive skin. Zeke.

  It’s soothing, having him touch me like this, just petting me in a way that’s not obvious to everyone. I’m not sprawled all over his lap, searching for his tonsils in a kiss that never ends. Oh, I’d like to do that. Just not in the middle of Gianni’s.

  Besides, there’re plenty of other people putting on that kind of show.

  The wiggle’s slow, but the tension remains. Humming.

  Again, he leans close, like every word between us is a secret. “You need to relax, Tevin. You’ll learn that I mean what I say. Let’s get through the demonstration and maybe we can go somewhere. Talk. Huh?”

  Yeah. Talk. I can do that. Right.

  * * *

  When the demo’s over and everyone’s back to eating and socializing, we duck out, Zeke holding my hand as he tugs me toward the front door, eventually the sidewalk.

  “Where are we headed, little one? It’s your city.”

  And there’s only one place I want him. “We could go to my place. It’s nearby and we could watch the game, order pizza...whatever.”

  Please, if there is a god, let him interpret that right.

  Because, really? I want him. I have no idea if his kinks are anywhere near mine, but even if I only get some cuddles out of our time, I’d be happy.

  He releases my hand, traces the line of my jaw with a finger and brushes my lower lip, teasing me, tempting me, making my dick go hard. “That sounds good, little one. Where’s your car?”

  “Oh. I live a couple blocks down. I walked.”

  His eyes narrow, disapproval written all over his face. True, the area isn’t the greatest, but it’s not bad. I mean, we are near Crestview, right? It’s just that even bad neighborhoods can be near good ones.

  “You walked?”

  I nod. I’m not going to feel bad about this. At least, not a lot.

  “Well, I’m driving. Come on.” He laces his fingers with mine, pulling me toward the parking lot and a large, black SUV. I’m realizing he’s doing a lot of leading while I’m following.

  I’m also realizing that I don’t care all that much. I may, at some point, but right now it’s all good.

  A beep comes from the car, headlights flash once, and then Zeke’s holding the passenger door open for me while I crawl in. Within moments, he’s across from me, engine rumbling while he pulls out of the parking space and I give him directions to my apartment.

  Okay, now, I’m thinking going to my place might have been a bad idea.

  Again, the area isn’t bad, per se, but it’s got character. Which is a nice way of saying it’s sorta run down.

  Zeke’s frowning as he pulls into a space. “Tevin...”

  “It looks a lot better on the inside. Besides, it’s, like, a historic landmark or something.” Okay, that was a lie, but it’s got wood floors that I wax once a week and a large living room for me to practice in. I don’t really care that the walls are thin or that I can’t play my music very loud. Who didn’t like classical?

  Oh. Right. Mrs. Murphy downstairs.

  This time, I lead while we stomp up the stairs, me digging in my pocket as we approach the front door. I precede Zeke, snagging an errant shirt from the floor while I lead him into the apartment, trying to remember if I even bothered to tidy my room, even a bit, before I left today.

  Zeke’s quiet while I kick off my shoes, pad through the apartment, him trailing behind until we get to the living room. It’s sparse, furniture pushed to the edges of the room. But it’s home.

  “Here,” I snag a pair of jeans from the couch. “Have a seat and I’ll get some drinks, yeah?” I head over to the coffee table, lift it off the floor and then he’s there, plucking the thing from my hands like it weighs nothing.

  “What are you doing?” He’s growly and that weird part of me that likes it gets turned on.

  I stand up, arms crossed over my chest. I can be just as growly and I’m not some porcelain doll. “I’m moving the table so you have somewhere to put your feet. And your drink.”

  “I can do that.” He turns and thumps it down on the ground before he’s facing me again, hands on his hips.

  “So can I. I do it all the time, damn it.”

  He narrows his eyes, glaring at me. “Is that necessary?”

  I pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What? Moving the table? Yes, I dance in the middle of the room and don’t usually have it in front of the couch. I thought I’d move it to make you more comfortable.”

  He rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not really doing this right, am I?”

  The shift catches me off-guard and I drop my belligerent stance. “What?”

  He waves a hand between us. “This.” Zeke runs a hand through his hair, ruffling the style, leaving bits standing straight and making me giggle.

  The tension eases in a moment and he’s half-glaring, half-smiling at me. “What are you laughing at, Tev.”

  I can’t hold back the smile, the bark of laughter. “Mister Domm-y man not knowing what to do.”

  With a growl, he’s after me, laughter in his eyes, and I’m racing to the bedroom. I want him there, but if it doesn’t go further than a tackle, at least I’ll fall on something soft.

  I’m ducking around furniture in the dining room, slithering down a hallway and tumbling into the bedroom, the big man on my heels, and he tackles me from behind, sending us flying onto the bed. But he’s bracing his weight, like he knows how big he is and doesn’t want to hurt me.

  Zeke’s laughing, whole body shaking with it. He rests his head on my shoulder, taking deep breaths. “You’ll keep me on my toes, won’t you?”

  I wiggle against him, against the flesh growing hard on top of me. “Maybe.”

  “Hmm...Definitely.” He eases to the side and I do the same until we’re facing each other. We’re on equal ground now, two men lounging on a rumpled bed. Eye to eye.

  “It’s not a line, but I feel like I know you. And it’s hard not to tackle you, make you mine.”

  Zeke’s words floor me and turn me on at the same time. I’m having a very hard time figuring out which head to listen to.

  For now, it’s the big one. Damn it.

  “What makes you think I’d let you?” I’m not a pushover sub who runs into anyone’s arms. Regardless of how I’m acting with him.

  “Because you want to. Because every time I talked to Luca these past few years, he’s told me about you. About your dancing. Your injury, recovery and eventually, ending up at his club.” He reaches out, strokes his fingers along the length of my arm and twines his fingers with mine.

  I like it. Like touching without sex being the result. Affection.

  “I know how you play with him. About how you’d like to play with someone who can meet your needs.”

  My mouth goes dry. I don’t care that he knows about Luca. It’s not a secret I’d ever keep. He’s a good boss, but a better friend and no matter what, any other man would have to accept Luca’s presence in my life and what he represents.

  It’s the other part I have difficulty with. I lick my lips, suddenly unsure. “What do you mean?” My voice is barely a whisper.
/>   Zeke pulls my hand up, kisses the back of it with a gentle press of his lips. “You want a partner and a Daddy. Someone who’ll treat your right, but make you do things you think you don’t want to do. Who’ll take care of you, treasure you like you should be.”

  Age play isn’t really popular in our local scene. Oh, Luca indulges me now and again, but it isn’t his kink and he’ll only go as far as calling me puppy.

  I decide to play it off. Like it isn’t a big deal that Luca’s been revealing my secrets. “You have been talking.”

  I try to play it off, smirk and wink.

  He doesn’t buy it.

  Zeke pulls me to him until my body is aligned with his, head resting on his shoulder. “Don’t belittle yourself, what you like.” He strokes my back, small circles, before he brings his hand to the back of my neck, thumb rubbing the spot beneath my ear once again. “I swear, I think I’ve already fallen in love with you even if I don’t know a damn thing about you.”

  I start, pushing on his chest so I can look in his eyes. Love is...deep. Too deep.

  “Shh... I’m not saying I am in love with you. Just that it’s very, very close based on all of the stories I’ve heard over the years.” I relax again, just listening to his deep voice. “About how your first scene went and that Luca nearly kicked the guy’s ass, then took care of you. And then the first time the two of you played. That you worked so hard just to rebuild your strength and still couldn’t get back on stage and then you ended up at his club. Your life for the past several years has been described in excruciating detail by that meddling man.”

  I snort. Meddling is right.

  I prop my chin on his chest, stealing a peek at Zeke. “Are you disappointed?”

  “Nope. You?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good.” He leans closer, kisses the tip of my nose. “How about we give it a shot, hmm? Are your limits still condoms, no fluids, nothing but bruises and no sharing?”

  Fuck, but he knows me. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” This time, he brushes his lips across mine, a hint of a kiss, before he pulls away. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow night from the club. We’ll have dinner.”

  I nod. My shift ends pretty early. It’d be a late dinner, but still dinner. I’m a little disappointed we don’t get skin to skin right now, but he’s doing it the right way.

  I hate it.

  But then he’s moving away from me, nudging me aside while he rolls from the bed, tromps toward the bedroom door.

  “Wha-”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, little one. Come let me out.”

  Grumbling, I follow him, pouting the whole way.

  At the door, he calls me on it. “Quit it, Tev. I’ll see you tomorrow night. I may even watch you dance. You can give me a private show, okay?”

  Zeke leans down for another kiss and I rise up to meet him, anxious for a real taste. Our lips start out soft, learning, before he opens his mouth, tongue sneaking out for a taste and I return the favor. He’s earthy and dark and sweet at the same time. All musk and man as I slip my tongue into his mouth, explore and take whatever he’ll give me.

  He wraps his arms around my waist, hoists me higher against him and deepens the kiss. I can’t not return the embrace, pull him closer and breathe him in.

  My cock’s hard, wanting, needy...but I’m focused on him, on dragging a deep moan from his chest, giving and taking whatever he’s got until he pulls away and, damn it, I whimper at the loss like the puppy Luca calls me.

  He rests his forehead against mine. We’re breathing each other’s air, panting. I can feel the rapid tattoo of his heartbeat against my chest and I smile knowing he’s as affected as I am.

  Then again, his hard cock could’ve told me that, too.

  “You are too much, little one.”

  I whimper, this time in need instead of begging. God, I want. The kiss, his body, those names. All of it just gets to me.

  Zeke eases me down his body, muscle after muscle meeting me. “Tomorrow, baby. Tomorrow.”

  With that, he’s out the door, closing it behind him with a soft click and I flip the deadbolt.

  Tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  Tonight’s song has a deep bass line, throbbing in time with my heart. I keep scanning the crowd, but Zeke’s nowhere to be seen and I tamp down my disappointment.

  It wasn’t a promise, right? He didn’t say, “Tevin, I promise I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Nope, he didn’t.

  The bouncer is a bit more vigilant after what happened with Marcus. An eye on me and a bigger one on the crowd, making sure they don’t get out of hand.

  Of course, last time, it was Marcus’ fault.

  It’s not long until I’m down to the G, dancing and feeling my way across the stage, giving the kiddies something good to see.

  It’s then that I spy Zeke sitting in one of the chairs in the back. He’s slumped down, legs extended and spread before him, hand resting on his hip and dangerously close to his fly.

  God. Damn.

  Tonight.

  Music’s thumping harder and I know the end is coming. I almost snort. Coming.

  Except, tonight my cock’s twitching at the idea that Zeke’s watching me. His entire focus is on me. That twitch turns half-hard and I’m actually enjoying pinching my nipples, fingers sliding over sweat-soaked skin easing beneath the fabric, surrounding my cock. Fuck, it feels so good. Not just good, but fucking phenomenal.

  Because not only am I touching myself in front of strangers, but Zeke’s there, too. And I’m imagining it’s Zeke’s callused hand sliding along my shaft. Zeke growling the words to the song as he pleasures me, gives and takes with each thump of the speakers.

  I increase my speed, the pressure, with each note. Struggling toward release. The pole is at my back, cool in the stifling heat, but it doesn’t ease the burn.

  I pinch my nipple, tug hard and then rub away the pinch. Bite my lip to keep quiet. Not that the pervs would mind. I’m not sure if they can tell that it’s real this time or if they just enjoy a good show.

  Doesn’t matter. Cause I search out Zeke, find him still sitting in the chair, but now his hand is on his fly and rubbing his length. Yeah. Yeah. I’m doing that to him. My performance is getting him hot and bothered and I wish it was his hand I was fucking.

  I am fucking now, dick sliding through the circle of my fingers, sweat acting as lube. Faster and faster I move, eyes on Zeke, begging him to let me come. Somehow, his permission is suddenly the most important thing in the world.

  I am so totally fucked.

  I’m jacking myself fast now and I’m sure the idiots in the audience can see it all. My cock and balls on display as I practically rip myself out of the spandex.

  Fuck it.

  I’m practically fucking air, aching and wanting until the pleasure is coursing through my veins like a drug. It’s tingling along my spine, gathering and growing with each passing second. I’m so close it’s laughable, but I refuse to push over until he says I can.

  Damn it, this is hard.

  And I want something in my ass.

  Preferably Zeke.

  The crowd’s getting rowdier, pushing my arousal and need higher with each hoot and holler. Fuck ‘em.

  It’s all centered around my dick now, balls drawn up tight, ready to explode as soon as I relax. I swear to fucking god he better do something soon.

  As if on cue, he nods and I come, liquid spurting from the tip of my cock, coating my hand and G in cum as spasm after spasm of pure ecstasy course through me, out of me.

  Dimly, I know that the crowd is freaking the fuck out, that I’m probably fired and that I’ll get paddled for the display.

  I can’t seem to care. Not when Zeke looks at me like he’s a starving man and I’m a steak.

  I slump against the pole, cum coating my hand, the tops of my thighs. Fuck it. I’m just going to catch my breath and then I’ll hustle off stage to grab my things. Tremors are still working
their way through me, tiny shards of pleasure reminding me of what I’ve just done.

  Good just can’t describe it.

  Between one blink and the next, the bouncer is there, shoving me toward the side of the stage, growling and bitching the whole time while trying to yell at the customers. I don’t even get to grab my costume.

  Then again, I doubt Zeke will let me keep working here even if I’m not fired.

  I get shoved through the doorway and still. Wait. Do I want him to be able to let me do things? Let him let me do what I’d like.

  Kinda.

  Yeah.

  The idea freaks me the fuck out cause I know I’m jumping ahead of myself. Way ahead.

  Cum is coating my upper thighs and groin, sliding down my legs as I make my way to the dressing room. It’s there that I’m met by a grim-faced Luca.

  I can practically feel the anger, disappointment and confusion warring within.

  I don’t slip past him into the room, instead, make my stand in the hallway. Face him.

  “You’re taking at least a week. Maybe more.” He sighs, shakes his head. “I don’t know what to do with you, Tevin. You’re a friend, an employee and something to the man in there. And he’s the closest to a brother I’ve got.” His jaw is clenched, vein ticking.

  God, I’ve never felt shame before. Not ever. But I cross my hands over my groin, hide myself, and I feel about a foot tall. I don’t know what the hell to say. So I don’t.

  Luca runs a hand through his hair, showing me how frustrated he is. “Get in there. I’ll get in touch.” He spins on his heal and stomps away, leaving me alone in the dimly-lit corridor.

  Taking a deep breath, I head into the dressing room and come face to face with Zeke. A very angry, very disappointed, Zeke.

  “Zeke-”

  “Not a word.” He points at a chair. “Sit.”

  I lick my lips, mouth suddenly dry, and sink onto the seat, hands still covering the front of my g-string protectively.

  Zeke stomps closer, arms crossed over his chest, frown firmly in place as he glowers at me. “You shared something, with a bunch of strangers, that should have been mine, boy, and you nearly caused a riot in Luca’s club.”