by Qeturah Edli
“I didn’t know you’d be here. If I did, I would have brought us a gift to share. He’s fond of me and would do anything I asked.”
How intriguing. Next time. “I’m here.”
James put a hand on Domingo’s waist, looked about the alley, and pulled Domingo to him as he backed against the wall. “You could have me here and now, if you wanted,” he murmured, pressing his front up against Domingo’s.
“It’s been a while. I don’t trust you not to scream.”
“You think I can’t manage?”
“You think you can?”
“I know I can.”
Domingo smirked.
“What? Do you suppose the Royal Navy hasn’t kept me in tip-top condition?” James snapped. “I’m used to obeying orders.”
Domingo laughed softly through his nose. “You’re used to giving them.”
“I take them too. It’s how the navy works.”
“Not my kind of orders.”
“So says you.”
“Do your superiors ever strip you, lash you to the wall, and flog you?”
James grinned. “Yes, actually.”
Domingo ground hard against James’s front. James’s grin mutated into a grimace and he drew a hissing breath of appreciation.
“Do they humiliate you?” Domingo raised a hand to the front of James’s neck and squeezed lightly.
“All the time,” James croaked.
Domingo applied more pressure. James coughed. “Do they make you come?” He eased off.
“Hardly ever.”
“Ah.”
“Ay, there’s the rub.”
“All in due course.”
Domingo released James and began to walk down the alley in James’s original direction. James knew well enough to follow.
* * * *
When they were in Domingo’s dim inn room, the shutters drawn, James sat on the lone bed. He had doffed his sweaty wig, hat, coat, and waistcoat the second the door was closed behind them. Domingo set his sea bag on the blanket and sat next to James. They shared a pitcher of cool coconut water purchased downstairs by James in silence but made eyes all the while. The metal pitcher was biting against Domingo’s lips and the drink was marvellously fresh on his tongue. He felt restored from the inside out by the time they reached the bottom of the jug.
“What’ve you been up to these long months?” James asked, looking refreshed as he set the pitcher on the bedside table. Domingo could tell James was still aroused, but his upbringing meant he felt compelled to make conversation before they began. Domingo would have rather talked after, but he had come to respect James’s quirks.
“Sailing,” Domingo replied, resting a hand on James’s knee. James was never allowed to touch Domingo without invitation during these sorts of encounters. By the way he gazed at Domingo’s hand but did not make an advance, it was clear James had remembered this rule, at least.
“Where?” James pressed.
“Are you asking as my lover or as His Majesty’s servant?”
“Good point. Don’t give me details. Did you have fun?”
Domingo made a throaty sound of distaste.
“Well, as much fun as you can have at sea?” James modified.
“I suppose.” Domingo slid his hand to the interior of James’s thigh.
“I still can’t persuade you to remain ashore, can I? You’d be well looked after, I swear.”
“I don’t belong on shore.” Domingo began to drag his hand up the inside of James’s leg.
“You’d be safer here.” James leaned closer to Domingo, his breath, sweet like coconut water, coming deeper. Still, he did not touch Domingo without permission.
“I’d be in hiding here.” Domingo reached James’s groin and took hold of the bulge there. He squeezed. James drew a halting gasp.
“I’m never going to stop trying to reform you, you know that, right?”
“An old cat will never learn to dance.”
“Nobody’s a lost cause. Least of all you. I know you’re a good man, no matter what you’d have the world believe.”
Domingo kneaded James through his breeches as he glided into James’s lap and straddled his thighs.
“You talk too much,” Domingo muttered. He pushed James flat onto his back.
“I could pull some strings and get you a position on the Royal Sovereign if you insist on being at sea,” James continued as Domingo undid his cravat for him.
“I’d be recognized.” Domingo finished with James’s cravat and tossed it to the floor. “Take off your shirt.”
“I’d have Burnham transferred,” James said, peeling off his shirt. He balled the damp cloth and threw it across the room.
“There were others.”
“They can’t tell the average powder monkey from a midshipman if they aren’t blood,” James protested. He arched his back when Domingo tweaked one of his nipples.
“I don’t care to work for His Majesty,” Domingo said. He extracted the first candle and his flint and steel from his sea bag.
“If it’s because you’re too proud—”
“It’s more than pride.” Domingo did not want to address the politics of it. “Now silence.”
James caught sight of the candle. His Adam’s apple bobbed and a droplet of sweat coursed from his temple into his hair. “This conversation isn’t over,” he said, and then clamped his mouth obediently shut.
“Take off your shoes, stockings, and breeches, lie on your back in the middle of the bed, and don’t move.”
Domingo rose and started a small fire in the grate with his flint and steel. The concentrated heat it created added to Domingo’s sensation of feeling hot and bothered, and he wished for a second pitcher of coconut water. He could feel James watching him as he lit the first candle. Domingo blew out the little fire in the grate once the candle was lit, for he had no desire to heat the already sweltering and now smoky room further.
“I saw this once in Macau,” Domingo said, returning to the bed and sitting next to James. He held the candle high, illuminating James’s naked body. The candle popped and a spark spiralled toward the ceiling. “I think you’ll like it.”
He admired James’s still, supine form for a few minutes as the candle burned. He followed the familiar landscape of James’s body with his gaze: James’s messy curls, plastered in clumps to his sweaty brow, his glinting eyes and juicy mouth, his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and abdomen, his developing erection, his thick thighs. His tan lines and scars. James was a rare example of a strong and beautiful man. He must have scrubbed with sugar and citrus recently per Domingo’s request, for he was nearly hairless. From this, Domingo inferred James had hoped he would find Domingo in Nassau. Did he prepare for the possibility of an encounter before every shore leave?
James endured Domingo’s appraisal patiently, his only movements his slow blinking and the rising and falling of his smooth and shining breast. Normally, Domingo blindfolded James or told him not to look at him. Today, Domingo wanted to see James’s eyes.
“I am going to pour hot wax over your body. You must tell me if it hurts in the wrong way. You know the word,” Domingo said. There was a small pool of liquid wax collected at the base of the candle’s wick.
He tested the wax on himself first, pouring a droplet onto the inside of his wrist. It was hot, but it did not burn. The contact made Domingo’s back prickle and a jolt of burning excitement shoot through his body. He smiled and caught James’s eye.
“For every time you fail to obey a command perfectly, I will spank you once,” Domingo said. “Nod once if you understand.”
James nodded once.
Domingo held the candle about a foot over James’s chest and tilted it.
“Holy hell!” James roared when a stream of hot wax collided with his skin. It splattered over his sternum, glistening pearls rolling down his ribs, leaving pale rivers like hot cum in their wake. His skin blossomed pink banks.
It was clear James had never experienced wa
x play. Domingo’s excitement mounted as he thought about how, yet again, he would initiate another of James’s firsts.
“Ah, ah,” Domingo chided. “I thought you said you were in tip-top condition? You’re disobeying my orders already.”
James clenched his jaw shut and breathed heavily through his nose. His chest and abdomen rose and fell in waves. No intelligible words passed his lips.
“Better,” Domingo said. He saw the spark of elation in James’s eyes at the dry praise. James was pleased to obey and to have his obedience recognized. Domingo awarded him with another short rainfall of wax to his chest, and James writhed but did not speak, a whimper choked in his throat.
“I told you not to move,” Domingo said as he watched the fresh wax trail over James’s skin. The old rivers had started to go dull with age. “You’ll crack the dried wax.”
James’s eyes widened at the renewal of the seemingly impossible challenge, but he did not protest. When he saw Domingo begin to tip the candle again, he drew a deep breath as though to steel himself. Domingo could see how James’s muscles tensed beneath his skin, but he did not shift position or disturb the drying wax when Domingo awarded him with a heavier rainfall.
“Blast,” James grunted, flushing. Domingo could tell James was trying his hardest to obey commands, and yet he still could not keep from crying out. Domingo’s cock stirred as he watched James wrestle with himself to remain quiet and still. He wanted so badly to please. Domingo brushed James’s wet curls back from his forehead.
“What did I tell you?” Domingo asked softly. He laced his fingers through James’s hair and pulled. James winced. He gazed at Domingo, radiating trust and lust. “That’s three spanks already.”
Domingo kept a hand in James’s hair as he continued with the wax, a thin coat of tallow spiderwebs crisscrossing James’s chest and abdomen. After a while, James seemed to have grown accustomed to the sensation, for he barely jolted with each new addition that pooled below his ribs and curved down his sides.
It was time to change things up a little.
Domingo leaned close to James and whispered into his ear. “I fear I have been too easy on you.” He heard James gulp. “You’ve had nothing but mist yet. But, as I’m sure you’re aware, it’s hurricane season in Nassau.”
Domingo lit the second candle and released a deluge of hot wax over James’s body after a few minutes of quiet waiting. It descended on his nipples, drained down his sternum, filled his navel, and coursed over his groin and thighs. James wriggled and moaned.
“Ahh…” James drew a shaky gasp when the first drops connected with his balls. His knees bent and his toes curled. Domingo tugged James’s hair again to signal the addition of more spanks to their encounter. “Ahh…oh…damn…”
James got harder the longer Domingo drew out their play.
After more than an hour, Domingo could no longer see James’s groin. He did not need to see it to know James was still aroused, for his cheeks were glowing and he had started to chew his lower lip, eyelids fluttering as he sighed and stared at Domingo. The candles were exhausted, and Domingo was left with stubs and burned and waxy fingers. The inn room was stifling in the stagnant afternoon heat.
“Stay,” Domingo said, depositing the stubs on the bedside table beside the empty pitcher. The metal pitcher, at least, was cool against the back of his hand. He removed his damp shirt and folded it neatly, then placed it next to the stubs. He took the pitcher and applied its side to James’s neck. “You must be warm,” Domingo said softly. James thanked him with his eyes, and Domingo rolled the pitcher over both sides of James’s sweat-streaked neck for several minutes to soothe him. When the pitcher was as warm as Domingo’s hands, he placed it back on the table.
James’s discomfort now managed, Domingo returned to the task at hand. He ran a hand down the length of James’s chest, tracing the cool, hardened mountains and valleys of wax encrusting it. “Eres hermoso,” Domingo murmured.
James raised his head to get a look at himself. The wax on his abdomen cracked.
Quick as lightning, Domingo put his palm on James’s forehead and pushed him back into the pillows. “I said stay.”
Domingo stood and continued to admire his work for several minutes more, circling the bed until he returned to James’s side and sat again. “Now for the best part.” Domingo peeled the length of one hardened rivulet from the side of James’s ribs.
“Shit,” James mumbled, closing his eyes. He gasped and moaned as Domingo husked him, revealing the pink flesh beneath the layers of dried wax. James gave a broken cry when Domingo reached his groin, shedding a few tears before Domingo finished freeing him from his waxen shell. Chips remained, but James was almost clean.
“Guau,” Domingo said, unable to contain his admiration once James’s groin was revealed. “Voy a devorarte.” He dipped a hand between James’s thighs and massaged his balls, then stroked the length of him once.
James was wide-eyed and panting, his tears drying on his shining cheeks.
“You did well,” Domingo said, “but you did disobey me. Six times. You know what that means.”
James gazed at Domingo with a hungry expression.
James had a spectacular ass. It was round and firm, two bubbles of well-developed muscle and just the right amount of fat. Domingo could slap it all day and not get bored. He laid James over his knee, James’s groin pressed into Domingo’s thighs, and gazed at his ass.
Domingo massaged James’s ass and watched it bloom under his touch. He struck hard and fast without warning. James started, hips bucking, and gave a strangled cry.
He counted for Domingo, because it was his duty. “One.” James’s voice was higher than usual. He buried his face in the blanket and lay still.
“Where are your manners?” Domingo asked.
James groaned. “Thank you, sir.”
Domingo struck James again with his open palm.
“T-two.” James whined into the blankets. “Thank you, sir.”
“Why so shy?” Domingo asked. He worked James’s ass with the palm of his hand. It was time for the other cheek. “You may speak freely.”
Instead of replying, James ground his front into Domingo’s trouser legs the longer Domingo kneaded.
“Are you rubbing yourself against me?” Domingo asked. He spread James’s cheeks and worked his ass again. “I didn’t say you could do that.”
James stayed his hips. “Please, sir…” he whispered.
“Say it louder.”
“Please, sir.”
“Louder.”
“Please, sir!”
Domingo slapped James again.
“Three! Thank you…thank you, sir…”
Domingo could feel James’s full erection against his thigh as he continued to writhe. Breaking their slow pace, Domingo slapped his ass again.
“Four!” James balled his hands into fists and pounded the mattress. “Oh, thank you, sir!”
“I thought you were accustomed to flogging? It appears the Royal Navy is good for nothing.” Domingo raised his hand, saw James flinch, and paused.
James peeked at him out the corner of his eye.
Domingo hesitated a moment more, just to see the longing surge in James’s eyes. Anticipation was a potent aphrodisiac for James, he knew.
When Domingo struck next, James bucked forward, twisting his hips as he thrust against Domingo. His ass was blushed a gorgeous red to match his face. He almost slipped from Domingo’s lap, but Domingo grabbed hold of James’s hips and steadied him.
“F-five! Fuck! Thank you, sir!”
The last spank was as hard as Domingo would ever hit James. James growled, shoving his forehead into the mattress. “Six,” he cried. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re so untrained,” Domingo said reproachfully, squeezing James’s ass. He jiggled the flesh there and felt his own arousal rise. “All my hard work undone. I don’t think you’re ready to have me inside.”
“What?” James demanded. Domingo h
eard some of his usual haughtiness escape, and it made him want to pin James to the bed and fuck him into total submission. “I am too!” He forgot the honorific.
Domingo slid a finger close to James’s entrance but did not touch it. James shivered.
“I don’t think you are, James,” Domingo repeated. He only used James’s name as a warning during their encounters.
“I swear, it’s fine! Sir.”
Domingo shook his head. He had wanted to fuck James since they first met, but he knew he could not today. “You didn’t do the preparations I prescribed. I can tell.”
“I don’t need to!”
Domingo sighed. “You do this to yourself,” he said, strumming James’s ass absently with his fingers. “I refuse to fuck you if you can’t be bothered to maintain your body. You know that, James.” He wanted to dominate James completely, but he wanted James to enjoy it. He knew he would not in his current state.
James scrambled to a seated position in Domingo’s lap. “I wasn’t expecting you here, sir,” he said. He made to touch Domingo but stopped. He still remembered that rule, even after everything. Good. “I’m sorry. I know I should have been more diligent, but it’s hard on a crowded ship and—”
A crowded ship where James still managed to groom his body hair from chin to ankles before shore leave. “If you want me to fuck you, you’ll find a way.”
James bowed his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry, sir.”
Domingo lifted James’s chin and gazed at him. “You can make it up to me,” he murmured.
“How?” James asked. Domingo could see he craved approval. “I’ll do anything, sir.”
“Lie down. I’m going to make you regret your failure to complete your preparations even more.”
James stared.
“Did you hear me?” Domingo asked, deepening his voice.
“Back or front, sir?” James wanted his punishment so badly, Domingo could see his left pectoral bounding with his heartbeats.
“Back, again,” Domingo replied.
James flopped onto his back in the middle of the bed. “Here, sir?”
“Yes. Spread your legs and don’t say a word.”
James did as bidden, and Domingo lay between his knees, pushed James’s hips skyward, and put his lips to his ass.