The Submission Gift

by Solace Ames

  “I feel like I’m starring in the best porn movie ever,” Jay said. “I’m totally with the program now. What’s next, Paul? Can I take my jeans off? They’re really uncomfortable. I mean, I bet you’re into the whole pain thing, but seriously, the zipper—”

  Paul laughed. Just for a few seconds. It was still amazing. The image she had of him as unreadable, psychologically impermeable, fell away to be replaced with something more layered. Jay could make him laugh, the same way he did to her.

  “Take them off,” Paul said. That crazy-intense you will do it and like it voice suddenly had an edge of good humor. “No, wait. Let me do it.” He beckoned upward with one hand. The other stroked Adriana’s hair in slow sweeps. He likes his hands in my hair, she thought dreamily.

  Jay rose to his feet. He stayed quiet as Paul unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Stayed quiet as Paul stroked his hips. And Jay stayed totally quiet—he didn’t even look like he was breathing—when Paul pulled down only an inch of waistband and ran his palms over the taut bare skin of Jay’s lower stomach.

  Jay sighed and closed his eyes when the jeans finally came down. Adriana helped at the last. The floating, waiting mood was delightful, especially now that Jay was in it too, floating along with her.

  “As your director,” Paul said, that touch of self-mockery making her smile inside, “I’d like you to lie down on the couch so I can watch your wife ride you. By the time she’s done, I’ll be ready to fuck your ass.” He turned to Adriana. “If that’s good with you. If you’re worried about his back, I know a good position for it.”

  “I trust you,” Adriana said, remembering he was also a massage therapist. Then she remembered they were consulting about this right in front of Jay as if he wasn’t even there. Which was weird and sick and wrong in a kind of hot way and obviously wasn’t bothering Jay, judging by his rock-hard cock and dazed eyes. “Come on, baby.” She took him by the hand and guided him, helping him sit and then lie down.

  Paul moved so that Jay’s head rested on his thigh. The pose seemed classical in the manner of a statue, and so composed it was almost innocent. Until Paul cupped the side of Jay’s face. There was possession in the curl of his palm. Acknowledgement in the shiver of Jay’s eyelashes.

  Adriana took off her panties—she could hardly believe she wasn’t even naked yet—and climbed onto the couch, on top of Jay. She felt predatory and submissive at the same time, out of her normal mind, driven.

  “Spread yourself,” Paul said. “I want to see how wet you are.”

  She rested her knees on either side of Jay’s hips, arched back, slid two fingers into her slit and spread them. Being reduced to this should make her ashamed—she was ashamed. Couldn’t even look him in the eye. She didn’t feel human anymore—she was something lower or higher, like an animal, like a fucking goddess. Divine. I don’t understand it. Just keep doing it.

  “Yes, that’s good. Take him in now.” Paul’s thumb caressed Jay’s upper lip. Jay groaned and all the muscles of his arms tensed; she heard faint, frantic sounds of his fingers digging into the fabric of the couch. There was another faint but very distinctive sound as she slid down onto Jay’s shaft.

  And then all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

  Jay was so good. Always. Not as thick and big as Paul but perfectly proportioned to his body size, and being uncut, his cock had the softest skin that stretched just the right amount for both to enjoy and now for Paul to watch them enjoying each other. She rolled her hips as she knifed up and down, squeezed on the downstroke and oh God just there right fucking there she felt him so far up inside her—

  Jay was too far gone to say anything, or maybe it was because Paul’s thumb was in his mouth, keeping his lips half-parted. But he wasn’t too far gone to run his hands over her body wherever he could, or to unhook her bra and tug it off. It was a wild feeling, two men watching her breasts bounce up and down—she arched back even more so they could see better. I’m here for you. Both of you. It was almost enough to make her come, but she couldn’t like this. That was all right. Later...

  She drove herself hard. Every labored breath reminded her how alive she was. She finally stilled for a moment, rocking backward on top of Jay, so far back her body was a sinuous open circle, so far she had to keep herself from falling with hands splayed behind her.

  Paul moved to kneel on the floor.

  And fucked her with his tongue.

  He ran the tip around her clit, then down to where Jay’s flesh stretched her open, then to her clit again. The inexorable heat and gentle pressure pushed her, lifted her, destroyed her. She’d been hovering on the edge so long, it felt like dying, and at the same time, going home. Nerves screaming, mind collapsing, she rode the orgasm until the last beautiful wave.

  The ceiling was a creamy white color. She blinked at it, stunned. Too much. She’d fallen back, was lying flat. The warm lapping sensation between her legs never stopped. Hypersensitive, she almost wriggled away, but then something changed and it was all good again. Oh God, Jay had come inside her and Paul was—Paul was—

  “Here,” Paul said. He slipped a finger into her, swirled it around, pulled it out, stuck it in her mouth. She sucked in automatic reaction. She couldn’t tease any flavors apart—her mouth tasted like pure sex, that was all.

  “Oh my fucking God,” Jay moaned.

  She straightened out her legs only to get them tangled again in Jay’s arms. With their heads on opposite ends of the sofa, lazing in blissful comfort, she might as well have been at a slumber party. No, wait, that was a strange association, what with the sun high outside. Sunday afternoon. Afternoon delight. She drifted back to many years ago, when they were only friends, and they’d spent that weekend in a cheap Anaheim motel... Adriana, we’ll always be together, somehow. The creamy white ceiling. Paul had dark green eyes, like malachite. Jay’s hair was all adorably mussed-up on the left side of his head. How much time was left? The seconds trickled away, infinitely precious, but she felt no loss.

  “Paul’s getting something from his bag,” Jay said. “This is pretty suspenseful.”

  “Just some lube and condoms,” Paul said as he came back to the couch, his tone even and reassuring.

  Seeing any other man walking toward her wearing nothing but a leather chest harness and a hard-on might have made her giggle nervously, but Paul carried it off with authority. He looked completely at home in his body. And the way he moved, oh God, from the very first second he’d walked in that door...

  “You first,” Paul said to Jay.

  “Oh. Okay.” Jay accepted Paul’s offered hand and rose to his feet. The air between them was charged with complex energy, and she halfway expected to see Jay stumble away as their bodies met, stunned by a static shock.

  Paul took Jay by the shoulders and kissed his forehead. She tensed and relaxed in the same moment as Jay received the kiss. They were gorgeous together, so different yet so vitally male; every contrast in their color and form and body language only underlined that common quality.

  “Has it been a while?” Paul asked, his strong arms drawing Jay closer, then shifting him a few steps to an open space behind the couch.

  “Sort of.” Jay let his head rest on Paul’s shoulder and took a deep breath. So did she, echoing him part automatically and part in conscious pleasure. “Adriana has a strap-on.” And then, more tentative, “But it’s not as, umm, ambitious—”

  “—as this?” Paul took Jay’s hand and placed it around his jutting erection. She felt heat pooling between her legs again, and a dryness in her throat.

  “No. Definitely not. Wow.”

  “Well, she needs to move up a size, then.” Paul looked at her and smiled. “Still, he can take me, don’t you think?”

  “Of course I can,” Jay said, a little indignantly. He looked at Adriana too, or at least in her direction—his eyes wer
e unfocused and drifting, the pupils enormous. “Just watch me.” He knew exactly how much this turned her on.

  “I’m watching you,” she whispered.

  “Take some photos, if you like,” Paul said. He turned Jay around, positioning him so that he was facing the same direction as the couch. “Put your hands down on the back of the couch. That’s it, good.” Paul knelt down to pick up something, stood back up, adjusted Jay’s position. “You don’t need to spread your legs so much. If this doesn’t work, we’ll try hands and knees. Mmm, you’ve got a hot ass. Going to work some fingers in there now. Feel nice and wet?”

  “Cold,” Jay said. “Wait. No. It’s good. Yes.”

  The changes passing over his face awed her. She settled back against her side of the couch and tried to relax her muscles, tried to get into that state of sympathetic concentration that porn summoned up, but it wasn’t quite working. No distance. No screen. Hardly any control over her body’s responses, because this was a million times more erotic than anything she’d ever watched or even fucking imagined. The sight of Paul carefully working Jay open bypassed her brain, burned into her core, hollowed her out with its intensity.

  She focused for a second on Paul’s left hand and its firm hold on Jay’s hip. Holding him still.

  “Just a little bit now,” Paul said. He kissed Jay’s ear, tongue flicking out to trace the top curve.

  And then he tightened his hold, and moved.

  Jay sucked in a sharp breath and opened his mouth as if to call out a name, but didn’t say a word. She imagined how it must feel for him—the heat and the stretch and the force of will to welcome that.

  “Breathe. Relax. I’ve got you,” Paul said, with shocking tenderness. “Tell me when you’re ready for more.”

  Jay closed his eyes, and his breaths became shallow, more rhythmic. He adjusted his hold on the back of the couch. “Now.” His mouth twisted. “Don’t stop. Oh fuck.”

  The idea of getting up for anything—a camera, a vibrator, a glass of water—was totally out of the question. All she could do was lie there hypnotized by their joining.

  “Should I go harder?”

  Paul. Paul is asking me. It took more than a few slow strokes into Jay for the question to really register. The deciding role made her feel...uncomfortable.

  But then, Paul was playing with what was hers. Why shouldn’t he ask?

  God, this was weird. And wrong. And insanely hot. Paul’s special combination, she was beginning to understand. “Yes,” she said. “Yes. Not too hard, but more. He can take it.”

  Paul changed something about the angle of Jay’s hips, and then drove into him faster. The slap of flesh against flesh marked the pace. High, mindless sounds from the back of Jay’s mouth escaped into the air. She knew he’d started this for her, but he’d gone too deep into his own pleasure now—by those sounds, he’d probably forgotten the outside world.

  She wanted to go there with him.

  Paul looked at her again, never stopping, the well-defined muscles that bridged his neck and his shoulder flexing as he turned. “He’s taking it like a champion. I’ve got my cock so far up his tight ass—you fucking love it. Show me. Make yourself come. Do it.”

  The fact that she was still half-numb below the waist didn’t matter, not when Paul used that voice on her. He might as well be fucking her, taking her over, just like he was doing to Jay. A litany of please him please him anything he wants anything anything crowded out any other thought.

  Do it. She frantically rubbed at her clit with the stiffened forefinger of her right hand. Anything. No shame at how her face must be twisted now. Do it. A small ache, a greater friction, a strange blunt ecstasy spreading outward from her core then clawing up and down her legs, curling her toes. It hit like a hammer. She might have screamed. Anything. Do it. Anything.

  Time passed in a languid haze. She became dimly aware that Paul and Jay had stopped moving against each other. Paul held Jay tightly, arms like bars caged around Jay’s chest. Both had their eyes closed.

  The look of abandonment on Jay’s face didn’t surprise her. But the one on Paul’s face did.

  He came back into himself gracefully, though. A few blinks. A lazy smile. Arms relaxing, caressing Jay. “I didn’t come in you,” he murmured. “And that wasn’t easy. Maybe next time.” He guided Jay to the front of the couch and motioned for him to sit down.

  Jay did it gingerly, but seemed to settle in all right. He looked in-between both in his state of arousal—dick half-hard, bobbing and curving—and in his focus—gaze flicking between Adriana’s stillness and Paul’s motion. But it wasn’t like when they’d started, because he also looked happy to wait. Happy to accept whatever happened.

  “Is this the door to the bathroom?” Paul called out.

  “Yeah,” Jay answered, his voice wobbling. He coughed as they heard the bathroom click shut, and flashed Adriana that familiar mischievous smile. “What do you think he has in the bag?”

  “No idea,” she said. “Wouldn’t it be funny if it’s just a change of clothes and a toothbrush?”

  “As long as it’s not my mom popping out of there. Or yours.”

  “Oh my God, why would you even—you’re evil.” But she laughed along with him, too giddy for the horrifying image to ruin the mood.

  The bathroom door closed. “Back,” Paul said. He sat down between them and unwrapped another condom, totally matter of fact. There was instantly only one point of focus in the room. The sight of his cock made her throat ache, her thigh muscles twitch. The stretched-out condom gleamed even in the low light. She remembered one of the words in his ad and others: worship. She hadn’t quite understood it then. She did now.

  Available for worship.

  “You’re next,” Paul said to her. She stirred. “Oh, you don’t need to move. I’m just going to hold you down and fuck you. Hold you hard enough to hurt.”

  Every inch of her body screamed yes. Only one warning note sounded in her mind—Jay—but when she managed to focus past Paul enough to see Jay’s face, he didn’t seem anxious. Alert, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, but not upset or angry. He’d be okay. He knew this was what she wanted.

  And then Paul was on her, his weight pressing her hips way down into the couch. She tried to wriggle into some other position; Paul checked her, blocked her, wrapped those big, powerful hands around her forearms and squeezed. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t—

  He slotted into her. Stretched her open wide and went deep. No patience, no tenderness. Like she was made to take his cock, completely available for him, and there was no need to acknowledge anything else.

  He fucked her like a doll as she writhed against him and sobbed.

  Because it hurt. A triangle of hurt. Her arms, caught in two vise grips. The dull ache high in her cunt when he slammed balls-deep against her. The hurting ebbed and flowed and changed in quality, but it was always there, almost verging on pleasure and not quite tipping over and driving her absolutely mad.

  He came to a halt at last, still weighing her down. Kissed and licked the tears from her cheeks—his mouth felt so sweet, like a blessing—then pulled out, sparking a different kind of ache for his absence. “On your knees again,” he said, and when she didn’t move fast enough because she was still shaking, he helped slide her over and guided her down to the floor. “This is all for you. Open.”

  She tipped her head up and opened her mouth to receive.

  He pumped his shaft once, twice, and unloaded onto her tongue. A jet hit the roof of her mouth and trickled down the back of her raw throat and she almost gagged, stomach heaving, but she was good for him, oh yes, and stayed open and took every last drop. Worship.

  “What do you say?” Paul asked, the back of his hand brushing her cheek.

  “Thank you,” she murmured thickly, mouth full of com
e, and swallowed and licked her lips.

  He stroked her face in silent approval. She rested there at his knees, totally at peace, until he guided her back onto the couch.

  Jay put his hand on hers, and they wove their fingers together.

  Thank you.

  Chapter Five

  They curled up together under a fleece blanket Jay had brought out when the heat of their exertions had begun to fade and the post-coital sleepiness had set in. The blanket covered a multitude of sins that would probably have to be steam-cleaned, although Jay was too pleasantly dazed to dwell on the details.

  Jay rubbed the instep of his right foot along the outside of Adriana’s thigh, soaking up warmth and comfort, and bit into a grape. The juicy inside burst with tart, sweet flavor. “Table grapes on ice. That’s really all you had in the bag?”

  Paul nodded. “Regular seedless. Well, organic seedless, actually.” He ate one slowly, stripping the skin off with his teeth before licking down the bit of bare green flesh.

  Adriana was too busy popping them in her mouth two at a time to say anything other than “Mmm.”

  “We burned up a lot of calories. Not to mention the endorphins.” Paul’s smile faded into that look of intense detachment—paradoxical, but somehow he made it work—that Jay remembered from the coffee shop. “You might feel really good for a while, then crash,” he added, looking at Adriana as he passed her another bunch. “That’s not out of the ordinary, but stay close to home for a while. Take it easy.”

  “We were planning on it. We’ve got some movies to watch.” She opened her mouth as if to ask him something, then closed it again.

  A jolt of recognition hit Jay. The future had come knocking. It was time for him to step up and deal with it. He could do it, though. He felt like he could do anything.

  “Are we okay on time?” he asked Paul.

  “We’re over about fifteen minutes. I’m not late for anything. We’ll just round it down.” His harness was a little askew, hanging lower on his right shoulder than on his left. Jay had the urge to reach over and straighten it for him. But the time for that had passed, rolling away as gently but relentlessly as the tide.