by Willa Okati
The awakened animal within Harrison, a beast of wild magic, wanted to claim his mate.
Harrison decided he didn’t need to use words when actions would work so much better. He had nothing to sit down on, but he could improvise.
Using his greater body mass and strength, he shoved Martin away from him. As the Magician stumbled, Harrison grabbed his lover and turned him about, pushing the man against the nearest wall. No need for a prelude to a kiss, either. Better simply to dive in the deep end of the pool.
“Stand there, and don’t you dare move unless I give the word,” he ordered.
He could hear Martin’s smirk. “If you want, pet. I’ll let you play.”
“You will, will you?” Yanking Martin’s jeans down past his hips, pausing briefly to curse the material as its tight fit clung stubbornly, Harrison bared the man’s tempting ass. After taking a second to gaze at Martin’s tight cheeks in admiration, he brought the flat of his hand against Martin’s left buttock as hard as he could.
Oh! What a beautiful print his slap made, five fingers and a palm glowing richly pink on the golden skin. Martin swore; then he humped against the wall. The Magician liked this, then, yes, he did. So did Harrison, for that matter.
Harrison let himself snicker and then got busy. Striping an ass like a candy cane? More like painting a statue’s ass crimson. Each firm spank left Martin’s cheeks blazing brighter and still brighter, until his flesh was a fiery cherry red and nearly gleamed.
Martin did like this, apparently very much. After the few curses he’d spat at Harrison in the beginning, more for the show of it than anything else Harrison thought, the Magician gave up any pretense of being angry. In fact, he yowled and writhed like a cat in heat, wiggling his clearly burning buns to beg for more.
Burning buns. Harrison hooted, feeling five years in age and at the same time far older and wiser than he had ever been. He could see what Martin enjoyed so much about D/s now, oh, yes. God, he hadn’t played -- really played -- any kind of game since he was in his teens, racing Thyne through the forest, swift as deer and loud as wild horses.
To and in your memory, Thyne. I do believe you’d approve.
Harrison drew his nails up the contours of Martin’s ass. Though the nails themselves were cut short, he managed to leave some decent-looking scratches. Pretty, pretty. Prettier still the yelp, trailing into a whimper, from Martin.
Harrison pressed his mouth to the top of Martin’s spine and spoke against the arch of his lover’s neck. “I’ve warmed you up nicely, haven’t I? And you loved every second. I could get used to some kink with my sex.”
Martin gasped and snorted a laugh as he tossed his head. “You call this kink? Harrison, you have so much to learn.”
“And I look forward to you teaching me.” Harrison shoved Martin tighter against the wall. “Right now, though, I’m top of the class.”
“I’ll indulge you,” Martin drawled.
It was a challenge, but Harrison met the dare head-on and winged back by grasping Martin’s bright-red buttocks and giving them a hard squeeze that he knew had to hurt like hell. The tight grip was meant to cause pain, but not for the sake of cruelty. Harrison knew Martin would love the brief, bright flare of agony/ecstasy as much Harrison himself felt sure he’d love being treated the same when his own turn came.
But soon enough, soon enough, when he decided he’d let Martin have control again. Right then, though, Harrison had a beautiful scarlet ass flexing with anticipation in front of him, good and ready to be fucked.
Who could say no? Harrison knew he might well have refused only a few hours ago, but he’d been a whole lot dumber in what he’d thought was wisdom.
Live and learn. Not a bad motto.
Without bothering to be careful, Harrison thrust a dry finger into Martin’s crease and found his way to the man’s puckered hole. After Oliver’s betrayal, the casual and meaningless fucks Harrison had indulged in on rare occasions, all experienced bottoms, were always a tad loose no matter what they’d claimed about muscle toning. Not Martin. His lover’s entrance absolutely refused to give way with a light prod, or even a hard one.
Good God, was I this tight? How’d he manage?
“Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”
“Close enough. It’s been a few centuries.”
“Then here comes the end of the dry spell.”
“Pun intended or not intended?”
Harrison slapped Martin’s hip.
“Ow! You know, I am keeping a score sheet for later.”
“Talk, talk, talk.”
“Then shut up and fuck me, why don’t you?”
Harrison was definitely ready and would have gone right ahead, but he knew enough to hold back until the Magician was physically ready. Spanking and scratching were one thing, but dry fucking was something else entirely, and he wouldn’t go that far with anyone. It would be torture, not pleasure, and he meant to drive Martin wild with bliss.
“Lube?” Harrison bit down on Martin’s shoulder just as he himself had been bitten, pinching the soft flesh between his teeth. A thought occurred to him, damnably too late. “Condoms?”
“No need for condoms. Being tied to Amour Magique keeps me from catching or passing anything. Should have thought, though, should have asked. Sorry.”
“Should have, could have, didn’t. I’m clean, too, as it happens. I get tested routinely and received my latest results in the mail not a week ago.”
Harrison decided he liked the taste of Martin’s skin, nicely salty with sweat, and took another nibble. “Apparently I need to repeat myself.”
“God, how can you talk like a lecturer when we’re--”
“Practice. You have no idea how many pretty students give a person something to hide behind his lectern.”
“Love to hear about them sometime.”
“Twisted imp.”
“Yeah, but I’m fun.” Martin wiggled lasciviously. “Let’s see. You want lube? I can get you lube. Hold out your left hand. Palm up.”
Harrison played along, entertained. “Let me guess. You’ll conjure some out of thin air.”
“Close enough.” A slight shimmer appeared in Harrison’s palm, flickering like fairy lights, and then it solidified into a bottle of appreciably high-quality olive oil. “Summoning spell,” Martin explained. “Use it. Fuck me.”
“I said lube, not oil.”
“Works the same. I like oil better. Fuck me!”
“If you say so.” Harrison gave in, mostly due to the demands of his cock, which was definitely not immune to Martin’s buttocks, his tight, tight pucker, and the rest of the Magician for good measure. He wanted to fuck as much as Martin wanted to be fucked.
Oil it would be, then.
He found wrestling loose the bottle’s cork a challenge, as the stopper had been sealed with wax so hard he eventually had to pick slivers away with his fingernails until the thing gave up its fight.
“Fuck. Me.” Martin was evidently quickly running out of what little patience he’d had.
“Not yet. I won’t hurt you.”
“I like pain.”
“No one likes being fucked dry. Stop teasing and let me do this.”
“Say pretty please.”
“Up yours,” Harrison replied cheerfully, and matched words to action by slicking one finger and thrusting the digit past Martin’s snug ring up the channel within. Martin hissed sharply, as if he didn’t like this much despite what he’d said. “Too much?”
“Two hundred years. Remember. Two hundred.”
“And here you said you liked pain.” Harrison drizzled oil over another digit and gently shoved it in beside the first. His fingers were thick, and he worried more than a little about causing Martin real damage, but after initially drawing up tight, Martin quickly relaxed with a moan. “Good?”
“Damn you.”
“Wonderful.” Harrison began pushing his fingers in and out, taking his time about loosening, stretching, opening. As he worked, Ma
rtin’s grumbles of discomfort quickly changed their tune to mewls of pleasure. Harrison kept going until the Magician was finally thrusting back onto his fingers, Martin’s hole greedily gulping at their intrusion.
Martin arched his throat. A drop of perspiration ran down the back of his neck. “Ready,” he declared breathlessly. “Honest. Really, truly ready. Fuck me already, would you?”
“I’m a lot bigger than two of my fingers.” Harrison added a third slick digit and scissored his fingers wide. He burned to bury his cock in Martin’s relaxing entrance, but, no, he wouldn’t bruise or tear. Play aside, Harrison had never been and never would be a true sadist.
Perhaps that was why he seemed to find the role of “pet” appealing. He and his cock both liked the idea of Martin playing rough with him when their turn came.
Somehow, though, Harrison knew Martin would be equally diligent about not leaving any lasting damage. The Master would take good care of his pet. As soon as the Master got through writhing on his pet’s fingers.
“Now, now, now,” Martin chanted. “Now!”
Harrison couldn’t wait any longer himself. Dashing oil over his cock, swollen dark and rock hard, and then casting the bottle aside, he lined up with Martin’s entrance and began to push inside, not so roughly as to hurt, but not so gentle as to make him--
Oops. Martin had snarled and thrust backward, spearing himself on Harrison’s cock. Harrison’s mouth gaped wide in a silent cry of surprise and ohmygodsogoodsotightsohotsogood.
“Why did you stop?” Martin grated. “I told you to fuck me!”
Harrison swallowed until he regained control, not at all easy with Martin’s muscles pinching him almost painfully -- but such a wonderful pain! Just to get the last word in, he murmured, “Yes, Master,” and began to move.
Then, the oddest thing happened. Time decelerated. Literally. What Harrison had intended as a rough, fast thrust turned into an unhurried, easy slide. Martin bore down on him almost lazily, squeezing centimeter by centimeter.
Interesting. Magic, or a trick of the mind? Who knew? Who cared? Harrison shrugged aside a host of other questions and got down to business. Really, this felt a bit like making love in a pool of warm syrup, but not at all bad. Nicely depraved. I’ll have to remember the idea for suggested use in the future.
As it was, he had what felt like the leisure to take all night and part of the next day on this fuck if he wanted. Which, Harrison decided, he did. Nothing he’d ever felt or done before could compare to these languid thrusts into deliciously constrictive, silky heat. He breathed in and out as slowly as if he were asleep, the sex-scented air filling his lungs with tingling warmth.
With the leisure to decide, Harrison worked out what to do next and moved lazily around to grip Martin’s cock. As his fingers floated closed around that engorged organ, he heard Martin moan, the sound deep and hollow as it lingered around them.
Delighted, Harrison tightened his grip and began pumping the Magician’s prick, hard on the upstroke, feather-light teasing of the head and slit, more intensely on the downstroke. He recaptured his own rhythm and manned a double assault.
Lust, passion, and arousal filled Harrison until he thought he would burst, pop wide open and spill out every bit of his essence in a blaze of glory. Not quickly, though. In this stretching length of time, he could enjoy every second.
Martin arched his back in slow motion, the shout he gave once again thick and heavy. Harrison felt, first, a gentle wash of hot seed gliding down his fingers and then an inexorable squeeze against his cock no man could stand against.
He did explode, then, in the best way possible, his balls flush against Martin’s cherry-red ass, shooting gradual, thick jets of come so deep inside he wondered if he wouldn’t flood up to Martin’s chest cavity.
Harrison whooped and shouted in triumph.
The spell broke.
Time, regular time, rushed back in on them, taking Harrison, and apparently Martin, too, by surprise. Lazy and graceful fumbled as they collided with a rapidly ticking clock, making both men clumsy. Harrison had just enough presence of mind to pull out, fast -- just as they lost their balance. Both of them went tumbling to the floor.
Martin growled indignantly from his position, face-first and down. Harrison, who’d landed on his ass and sprawled onto his back, started laughing and couldn’t stop. He felt much too damn good. A fuck like never before plus hilarity in the afterglow. He could get used to this.
Harrison patted Martin’s scarlet butt, well-pleased. “Come here and lie on my chest, if you like,” he offered agreeably.
Martin cursed and swore as he righted himself, all elbows and knees until he was on his belly. “You are entirely too wordy when you’re not in subspace,” was the indictment. “Which, by the way, is the mental state a submissive enters into when he’s being dominated. It’s a bit like being hypnotized, although I did not hypnotize you. Lots of interesting things happen when a person surrenders their will. Oodles of good chemicals flood the body. Fun times.” The Magician arranged himself on Harrison’s arm, head over Harrison’s heart. “Well, I do have to say that was a good show. You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Harrison considered the question. “More than likely, I think.”
Good show, kids. Very good. Now that’ll put heart into a guy. Get it? Heart?
Both Harrison and Martin flinched. “Fuck!” they said together.
And how. Forget where you were, kids?
Harrison and Martin exchanged glances, Harrison unable to do anything but feel himself blush beet-red and yet finding the sight of a tongue-tied Martin intriguing. It was definitely a new look on the man.
I would apologize for watching, but, nope, I’m not sorry. You two were so pretty together I had to slow down the clock and enjoy.
“So that was you,” Martin managed. “I wondered. I didn’t think Harrison could do that at present, but I wondered, and then I thought maybe I had lost control.”
Nah. All me. Hope you liked.
“I’m not objecting,” Harrison said dryly.
Bet you’re not. Best sex ever, huh? Call it another gift. It won’t always be like this, but let Martin introduce you to a few of his toys, and you’ll pretty much have a rockin’ good time every time.
“Oh, yeah. And speaking of which, would you mind if Harrison and I...”
Nah. On your way, kids.
“Thanks.” Martin waved at the Heart. “Let’s go, Harrison, pet. Repeat after me. pet. Small ‘P.’ I let you get away with dominating once, but once is all you’ll get.”
“Let me? You loved every single second.”
Martin glowered at him. “Don’t confuse me with your ever-present logic. Let’s go. pet. We don’t have to walk if you don’t want to.” He got up, stretched luxuriantly; then he snapped his fingers. “Here, boy!”
“‘Pet’ or not, I am not going to answer if you call me like a dog.”
“Wasn’t talking to you.”
A small black spot popped out of thin air. It wiggled against Martin in an apparent fit of enthusiasm, then drew back and expanded until what had started as a pinprick dot yawned into an oval that was tall and wide enough for both men to fit through.
If Harrison wanted.
Which he didn’t.
Emphatically didn’t.
The oval looked flat as a mirror, but when Harrison peeked inside, he got a sense of terrible height and deep distance. “No way. No way on God’s green earth.”
“Tough.” Incredibly, Martin picked up Harrison with a hearty heave-ho and shoved him tumbling forward. “This is a portal,” he explained helpfully before the thing gulped Harrison whole and sent him on a screaming freefall from Hell.
Harrison felt and fought an unmanly urge to shriek like a little girl.
Mercifully, almost as soon as the horrifying plummet began, it stopped. Harrison found himself butt-booted out onto the floor in front of Martin’s door, landing on his hip. Martin himself stepped out graceful
ly, except for a moment’s awkwardness when he realized his jeans were still down around his thighs and yanked them up with a snort. He grinned at Harrison.
“Beats elevators, huh?”
Harrison glared.
“Manners, pet, manners.” Martin patted the oval. “You can go now.”
The yawning black void shrank to a pinprick again and then disappeared. Harrison gaped. “Did you make those?” He examined his fingers, still slick with oil from their recent sexual romp, and snapped experimentally. “Can I make them?”
“The portals? No. They’ve been around since long before my time. They like me, though, and once they’ve finished hazing you a dab they’ll like you, too. Magic calls to magic.” Martin shoved his door open with one bare foot and held extended a hand to Harrison. “Up and at ’em. Inside. Sex and talk, talk and sex. Questions. Answers. Come on.”
Martin led the way inside his quarters, not stopping until he reached his stone table. “Er, you sit. I’ll stand.”
I’ll bet you will, Harrison thought, but didn’t say. He arranged himself like the best little sub he could imagine, gazing up at Martin through eyes as wide and liquid as he was able to make them.
Martin stared at him, and then he cracked up. “Give me a break. You have no idea how ridiculous that looks.”
Harrison fluttered his eyelashes, sending Martin into another fit of giggles. “Okay, okay. Point made, pet. Hokey puppy eyes aside, I do have to remind you that you agreed to be ‘pet.’ We made a contract.”
Harrison dropped the woeful spaniel look with a shrug. “Which I’m not going back on.”
“Then why the big-top song-and-dance, not that it wasn’t fun?”
“I needed to know if I still could.”
Martin eyed Harrison with a mixture of Masterly disdain and ordinary human curiosity. “And are you satisfied you can?”
“Partly. Look, I still don’t quite get it, but I feel more comfortable like this now.” Harrison went to his knees. He caught Martin’s hands and held them in his own. “If I remember anything about D/s correctly, I’m permitted to ask my Master about things when I need clarification.”
“True.” Martin relaxed a touch. “Tell me honestly: the occasional topping treat aside, you’re really going along with the bargain?”