by Jaime Samms
It was like the first drop of water to his lips after years in the desert. He reached greedily for the entire ocean of experience Vance seemed willing to provide, but found himself being held back.
“Easy, darlin’.” Vance pulled back from the brief kiss to look into his eyes again.
“Don’t stop,” Lenny begged, desperate for something, anything, to let him feel like he wasn’t going to be carried away on the wind and rain blowing in gusts against the window.
“One night, Len. You understand that? This isn’t for keeps. Not until you agree to the rules.”
The man was crushingly honest.
“You’ll bed me and kick me out in the morning?”
Vance smiled. “I’ll bed you. Then we go to the hotel and talk to your band and figure out what comes next.”
“Kiss me like that again,” Len pleaded. He needed to feel the touch, the care Vance used and the strength behind it. In that moment of anticipation, as Vance gazed down at him, he needed that like he needed to breathe.
“You make that sweet sound for me again, Len, and I’ll kiss you like that a hundred times over, and every other which way you want too.”
This kiss was firmer than the last, though, and so was the touch. When Vance moved away, the fire in his eyes turned every goose bump on Len’s body to an infinitesimally small flame that licked across his skin and left him shivering.
“Take my clothes off you,” Vance said, voice a low, roughened growl.
The reminder that he was wearing Vance’s borrowed generosity, the order, issued in that undeniable near-caveman voice rounded out by his drawl prompted a wash of hot, liquid desire, and Len hurried to comply. Every other thought and worry fell to the wayside with the clothes.
Vance touched a knuckle to the underside of his chin as he straightened, lifting his face and studying him. There was no denying the heat or the lust in that gaze. No hiding from the command, hard-edged and dangerous as it appeared.
Len resisted the urge to lower his gaze. Instead, he drew himself up and met Vance’s scrutiny with as much honesty as he could muster. He was nervous. Shy about being naked next to the fully clothed man, and turned on as hell that Vance was looking at him like that.
“You want me,” he said, still slightly in awe of the fact.
Vance growled and drew him into another kiss, this one so consuming Len’s brain glitched and he had to cling to Vance to stay on his feet. His knees suddenly didn’t work, and his blood crashed through his body, drowning out everything behind the sound of its thundering progress straight to his dick.
Peripherally, he was aware of Vance’s hands on him everywhere, smoothing over his skin, down his back, calluses from his guitar and from his horses rough on his bare ass. It was heaven to feel the strength tempered by gentleness. He’d never admitted how much he craved that, how he’d tried to force that kind of touch out of Trevor with his own rough handling, or how he’d endured Ace’s hands—too hard to ever be soothing like this—because he wanted the power used on him. Not the beatings. Just the strength.
“Like that?” Vance asked, kisses traveling along Len’s neck as he firmly kneaded his flesh and yanked him closer.
“Ungh.” Len groaned at the touch and let his body, now pressed firmly to Vance’s, answer for him.
“Let’s see what else you like, darlin’, yeah?”
Vance backed away and Len wobbled where he stood, momentarily lost in his own desire.
“Oh, yeah,” Vance crooned, running fingertips over Len’s shoulder and down his arm. “What to do with you.”
Len swallowed hard, fixing his gaze on Vance’s chest and the red and white plaid covering it. “Whatever you want,” he said, voice soft. “Isn’t that how this goes?”
“Like Ace?”
Len went cold.
“Of course not,” Vance answered for him, before he descended into full-on panic. “But he’s in there still.” He tapped the side of Len’s head. “And I want to be very careful we don’t let him out. Not tonight, anyway. That’s what the shrink is for.”
Len nodded. “So. What do you do with me?”
Vance gazed at him, speculative, and touched a finger to his lips. “Suck my cock?”
It was a request. Sort of. Len didn’t have the feeling he’d be turned away if he refused. He did want to please Vance. He wanted to be worthy of what he was being offered and show him he merited the effort. Wordless, he sank to his knees and waited.
He had only instinct and a few corny porn movies to guide him in how to behave, but it was worth a try.
“That a yes?”
Len nodded his head. “Yes, please.”
“Please, even. You consider it a privilege to have my dick in your mouth?”
Len nodded again and Vance crouched in front of him.
“I would consider it an honor to accept. Come here. I get the feeling I’m going to want to sit down for this.”
SETTLING ON the couch, Vance watched Len climb to his feet and move closer. Slender and pale, maybe a little too bony, the man was still a surprise to the singer. Usually, he went for older, stronger men who didn’t look like subs on the outside. He liked the pushback he got from a lover who knew his own strength and mind.
He couldn’t deny, though, that something about Len’s vulnerability had captured him from the start. He wore his brokenness right out there on the stage, used it to draw in the crowd, but it took strength to admit it was there. That was what Vance craved—the strength. The willpower it would take for this man to let go of the hurt he held up like a shield to keep it from happening again was a sort of strength Vance rarely encountered. Maybe in that way, Len reminded him of Stan, who had let go of a lot of hurts and disappointments to become someone Vance admired.
Len reached him and settled down on his knees on the carpet, but he was watching Vance very closely.
“Where are you?” Len asked warily, hand moving to cover his hard-on. “What are you thinking about?”
Like clear, bulletproof glass, Len’s defenses came up and Vance silently cursed for breaking the spell with his distraction.
“I’m sorry, darlin’.” He sat forward and stretched out a hand, waiting a heartbeat for Len to accept the gesture and lean forward to meet it. “I was just thinking how much you remind me of someone.”
“Who?”
Vance smiled. “One of the strongest, bravest people I know.”
Len frowned and pulled away again. “I kneel at your feet and you compare me to someone strong. I don’t get it.”
Vance reached again, taking him in hand this time, dragging him closer yet until he was kneeling between Vance’s jean-clad legs. “You will, darlin’. You will.” He closed the subject with a kiss, driving his tongue into Len’s mouth with all the conviction of a Dom who was done negotiating.
Len stiffened only for the time it took to gasp in the air Vance breathed into him. Then he gravitated forward, catching himself with both hands on Vance’s thighs. His body trembled with the strain of reaching for more of that kiss and giving all Vance demanded from it.
Someday, he’d take more. The picture in his mind of Len in restraints, teetering on the very edge of his devastating need while Vance took his own pleasure easily erased the fleeting memories of the stand-ins he’d had over the years. He was the one standing on the edge tonight, looking into eyes as blue as the wide, open sky. This was his future. Only he couldn’t claim it. Not yet.
Tonight had to be about trust, restraint, and drawing the first precious lines of the picture-perfect future he wanted.
Finally, he gathered his wits and pulled back, though he left his hand on the back of Len’s head, holding him in place. “You promised to use those lips more constructively, darlin’.”
Len nodded, feeling his way to Vance’s crotch without breaking eye contact. His fingers walked lightly up Vance’s dick inside his too-tight jeans, like he was picking out a complicated melody on his guitar.
Vance groaned.
The effect of that sound on Len was spectacular. Uncertainty dropped away, replaced by determination and the beginnings of real confidence.
Len looked away long enough to see what he was doing to get Vance’s belt and pants open and pop the snaps of his shirt.
His nimble fingers worked their way up Vance’s midsection to his chest, sliding into his hair and stopping. Len sighed, his body relaxing further as he slowly ran warm, exploring palms over the full expanse of Vance’s hairy chest. Eyes half- shut in contentment, Len leaned in and licked at one of Vance’s nipples, as though tasting him.
The sight brought a smile to Vance’s lips. He didn’t know if Len knew how eloquent his body language of pleasure was, but it was enough for Vance to feel relief he hadn’t taken the Men’s Health photographer’s advice and waxed all that hair away.
He closed his hand over one of Len’s and guided it slowly downward.
THE SCRATCH of wiry hair on his tongue did something to Len. He couldn’t describe the sensation. Only that it felt like heaven. The movement of the hair under his palms, a slithering shield between him and his lover’s skin sent a thrill through him like nothing else. It made him ache. Made him want to rub his whole body up against it.
He’d waited to grow hair like this himself. It never happened, and now he was glad. It left him smoother, his skin open to the sensation of that abrasion, and he had no doubt he could come just from that.
“You have a fetish, I think,” Vance whispered.
His bass voice. Oh, how Len loved the way that rumble, even at a whisper, vibrated right through him, akin to the friction of the hair on his skin.
He shivered.
“We’ll explore that in a moment. Now.” Vance cupped his chin and turned his face upward. He forced his eyes open. “You owe me a blow job.”
He would have nodded, but Vance’s grip kept his head immobile. Another zing of pleasure raced through him as he realized he couldn’t move.
“Words,” Vance said.
Len blinked at him. “Blow job,” he managed. “Yes.”
“Yes….” Vance lifted one eyebrow.
“Yes. Okay.” Len wasn’t sure what else was expected. He had agreed, but Vance hadn’t released his face. “Yes, please?”
Vance leaned in and gave him another one of those toe-curling, brain-frying kisses. Short, hard, completely compelling. “Sir,” he said as he moved away. “You may call me Sir when you’re on your knees.”
Oh. Len’s whole body throbbed. He tried to nod again, remembered the grip, and parted his lips. “Yes, Sir.” If sound came out, he didn’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears or the adrenaline coursing through him.
Vance’s pleased smile let him know his intention had come through.
“Good boy.” His grip fell away and he sat back. “Focus.”
Len refrained from running his hands all over the man’s chest again, contenting himself with letting his gaze wander there, admiring the planes of muscle and dark circles of nipples. His fingers twitched to touch but he managed to stay on task and get Vance’s rather generously proportioned, uncut cock out of his pants and underwear.
He caressed that instead, enjoying the smooth, velvety skin sliding over the hardness beneath. The only other time he’d given head to a guy with an uncut cock was almost lost in the mists of his memory. One thing he did remember was how very sensitive the tip had been. How the lightest tease of his tongue around the inside of that foreskin could drive his lover wild. He bent his head and licked, base to tip, before slipping his lips around the girth.
“There you go,” Vance purred, running fingers through Len’s hair and lifting his hips to resettle in a more comfortable position.
Len hummed softly in acknowledgment of the praise and tested his theory.
Vance’s gasp as he slid his tongue under the foreskin and around the tip beneath was a gratifying sound. It encouraged him and he applied himself to giving his “Sir” a blow job he wouldn’t soon forget.
THIS WAS the reminder Vance needed. If some parts of his life were in crisis, still, Len was a grown man with a grown man’s experiences, and fuck, did he know how to give head.
“Jesus, Len!” His hips bucked, momentarily out of his control as he reached for more, deeper, trying for the orgasm just out of reach. Lots of subs were good at this. Lots of Doms liked it. Hell, most men jonesed over a mouth on their dick.
No one had ever managed to tease Vance so close to the edge and hold him there like this. Len never even used his hands, just his mouth and his very, very talented tongue. He didn’t refuse Vance’s movement or shun his guidance, but he didn’t give over control of what he was doing to Vance either. He allowed the hands in his hair, moaned at the force of Vance’s grip, and remained in full control of the pleasure he was giving.
Vance gripped him harder and thrust, testing Len’s limits. His eyes, darkened and glittering with lights in the night-blue depths, gazed up at him. His tongue slowed, softly caressing the underside of Vance’s head. Len waited.
“Jesus, I want to fuck your mouth, you little tease.”
Len didn’t move. His eyes darkened further. Tension rippled through his body, hardening muscles under Vance’s hands.
Vance pulled free. “You don’t want me to?”
Len licked his lips and sat back on his heels. “I’m not a tease,” he said, softly but firmly. He clasped his hands behind his back, leaned forward with his lips parted and watched Vance, clearly inviting him to take what he wanted.
Vance waited. Rules were rules and while they hadn’t negotiated much, he had made it clear how Len should address him.
Len drew in a breath and let it out. “I’m not a tease, Sir.”
“But the fucking doesn’t bother you,” Vance said, even as he nodded his approval for Len’s correction.
“You can take it that way if you like,” Len agreed. “But I can give you something better. Sir.”
“You think so?” Vance had always been a power Dom. But then, he’d always played with subs who could match his power, at least physically. Len was no match for him that way. He was beginning to see, though, what his little guitar player lacked in size and physical strength, he more than made up for in other ways. He was going to challenge Vance in ways no one ever had. And still he was willing to give Vance all the physical control he wanted.
“Let’s do it your way, then,” Vance agreed.
Len grinned and the tension broke. He didn’t move his hands, though. Just leaned forward until he could reach Vance’s cock, and resumed the exquisite torture he’d been administering previously.
“Fu-uck.” Vance groaned and thrust, straining to keep his need in check. But Len drew it to the surface, time and again, his efforts clearly focused on driving Vance completely around the bend before bringing him off.
It became a challenge between them, Vance struggling to keep his passion in check and Len seeing how long he could drag out the torturous pleasure. Vance couldn’t let his sub win a battle of wills. He couldn’t break his trust by going back on his word either, and he’d agreed to let Len do this his way.
And holy hell, his balls ached. He needed release.
In the moment before Vance snapped completely, Len’s eyes drifted closed and his lips slackened. He drove down, engulfing Vance with heat and wetness and all his body tension eased away. His tongue pulsed gently on the underside of Vance’s cock, and he went still.
Vance snarled, frustration seeping in. He gripped Len’s hair with both hands, thrusting deep, until Len’s gag reflex engaged and his eyes flew open. Vance thrust again, looking straight into his eyes this time, owning him, his attention, his body, his very breath. He expected fight. Resistance.
Len whimpered softly and gave, body relaxing, throat opening, eyes closing.
“Shit.” Vance groaned and thrust more gently once, twice, and he was spilling into Len, fire and ice ripping through him in waves as he orgasmed like he hadn’t in a very long time.
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nbsp; Len suckled at him as he came down, mostly with his tongue, and the soft, gentle suction of his lips, since he still couldn’t move his head, gripped in Vance’s fists as he was.
“Fuck,” Vance muttered. “Get up here.” He released his hold and Len started to rise, lifting a hand to wipe it across his mouth.
Catching him midmotion, Vance clamped a hand around his wrist and yanked him forward, taking a kiss and pushing his tongue inside Len’s mouth. He wanted to taste himself inside his lover, and know on that primal level where he’d been.
He moved Len away from him when he was done, giving himself enough room to stand and savor the view of his sub on his knees, lips swollen from his endeavors and one hand captured in Vance’s. God, but he looked good, gazing up at Vance like that. Almost enough to make him hard again even that quickly.
“Up,” Vance said softly, giving a little tug.
Len complied and followed willingly to the bed, where Vance gave him a shove, down onto the mattress.
He landed with a plop and once more sat gazing up.
“Could eat you alive,” Vance said, letting go a snarl and crawling onto the bed, crawling over Len, laying him out flat beneath him as he went.
Len groaned and sagged into the mattress, writhing slightly as Vance lowered his weight onto him.
“Oh, you like that,” Vance observed, not minding the way Len seemed to need the feel of his skin rubbing against Vance’s hair. Another departure from the men he’d always preferred, this lack of body hair.
Len’s answer was a small moan and more wiggling. Len’s cock rubbed against Vance’s thigh and he had to wonder if the rough feel of the jeans was another pleasure for the man.
“You want to get off too,” he said, not really needing to form it into a question.
Len reached for another kiss, and Vance allowed it, once more tasting himself on Len’s breath. He lingered, gentling the kiss, owning and controlling it until he had Len under him, splayed out on his back, before he pulled away to gaze down on him.
“Go ahead.”