by Clancy Nacht
Holding Sloan’s hand, Upton led the way down to their cabin. It had been cleaned while they were out, bed made, dishes cleared from their midnight snack. Going back to real life was going to be rough.
Upton slipped through the door, and Sloan shut it behind them. Upton slipped off his shorts, revealing his glorious ass slowly, smirking over his shoulder. “Where do you want me?”
“Everywhere. On every possible surface.” Sloan grinned slowly and raised an eyebrow. He’d already had Upton almost everywhere on the yacht in the past several days. For this, he wanted control of the setting—privacy and safety for Upton.
Sloan pointed at the bed. “Lay down on your back and get comfy. I need to set the scene, prepare. It might be a little intense, and I don’t want to leave anything to chance.”
As Upton obeyed, Sloan gave him an approving smile and then focused on gathering what he needed from what they had on hand. Silk ties would stand in for his preferred hemp rope, which would limit what he could safely do, but not overmuch. He needed his mood music—some dark, sensual cello seemed apt—and some scissors just in case Upton panicked and needed to be freed immediately. He gathered some sensory comforts for afterward to pamper and soothe Upton, laying everything out where he could find it easily.
It was the first time he’d really had a scene with Upton, and it had to be perfect to set the tone for everything else they could maybe be to each other someday, all the deeper nuances of this exploration. So, he lit candles around the bedroom as Upton lay on the bed beautifully naked and watched him.
Sloan centered himself and prepared mentally for what he was going to do, growing more aroused as he thought about it. Then he stood beside the bed, giving Upton all his focus.
“I’m going to tie your wrists together behind your back, and I’m going to bind your ankles. I’ll blindfold you as well, but I won’t gag you. You tell me yellow if you need me to slow down or renegotiate, red if you want everything to stop immediately. Do you feel up to that?” Sloan reached out to run his fingertips lightly down Upton’s belly, stopping just shy of his cock, but he kept his gaze on Upton’s face. “Do you need something else? Don’t just do it to make me happy, Upton. I need your willing submission, given because you feel good about it.”
Upton bit his bottom lip and sucked in his breath as if he could will Sloan to touch his cock. “Can we start with my ankles? I need to… I need a moment to prepare for my arms, I think.”
This was not a man to whom submission came readily, but Sloan could tell he wanted it. That desire was plain on his face as he looked around the room, drinking it in. The more Upton breathed, the more relaxed he became. He pressed his legs together and then scooted his arms under himself, assuming the position as if to practice.
“That’s good. Look at you. You’re a natural.” Sloan picked up the first silk tie and moved down to stand beside Upton’s feet. He trailed the silk over his skin gently, stroking and teasing and finally winding the fabric loosely around his ankles, tightening it bit by bit. “You’re going to be so beautiful like this.”
Sloan’s cock jutted hard from his body, pulling his waistband away from his flat stomach. Finally getting something he’d craved... Mm.
All he wanted was to stay the course, to keep Upton calm enough to go through with it.
Upton stretched his arms, flexed his hands a few times and took a deep breath as he looked down at his secured ankles. He turned his gaze on Sloan, fixed on his erection. Whatever he was thinking, his chest blossomed with a bright blush, and his cock hardened, stretching up his abdomen. It looked lovely like this, dark and thick with firm, waxed balls.
Then Upton put his arms back behind his back and rolled over onto his belly. He twisted his head to look back at Sloan. “How should I have my wrists? Does it matter?”
“Here, like this.” Sloan positioned Upton for comfort and safety, making certain his shoulders and elbows weren’t pulled at wrong angles. Then he wound the tie around him slowly, teasing, watching, giving Upton a chance to get used to it before he began tightening the tie. He didn’t want to do it too fast and risk a silk burn.
“Perfect. You’re perfect, Upton. Take some deep breaths for me. Enjoy this beautiful music, the candlelight, the feel of the silk on your skin. Enjoy my voice, my touch. Anticipate the pleasure.”
Sloan stroked Upton’s body after he finished his knot, checking for tension. “You’ll tell me right away if you lose sensation in your hands or feet. You shouldn’t—the bonds aren’t that tight—but silk doesn’t give, and I want you to be attentive to your entire body. If anything starts to hurt or ache or burn, you tell me. Don’t be tough, and don’t breathe through it. It won’t ruin anything. I’ll just double check the ties and fix what’s wrong. Got that?”
Upton nodded, his cheeks and eyes bright. His breath was unsteady, his lips curled, clearly excited. Oh, that made it so much more delicious. “All right. I’ll let you know if anything feels off.”
He flexed, testing the bonds, and stretched his shoulders. His hips arched, already rubbing his cock against the bedspread, always a good sign. “What else do you need me to do?”
“Are you ready for your blindfold?” Sloan trailed his fingertips up Upton’s spine and then played with his hair. “Just stay chill, breathe deeply, and enjoy being the center of attention.”
“All right.” Upton wriggled against his bindings again, then settled. He took a long look around and then closed his eyes, softly resting his cheek on the bed. “I’m ready.”
Upton closed his eyes and flexed his fingers. For whatever reason, he seemed most nervous about this, the part he’d suggested. But he said he was ready. Sloan had to trust him.
Sloan slipped a tie over Upton’s eyes and secured it gently behind his head, confirming that Upton was comfortable. He kept his hand on Upton’s back, giving him a moment to settle into his bondage, waiting until his breathing calmed and he relaxed against the bed.
“Good boy. You’re so beautiful, Upton.”
Seeing him this way was a revelation. Sloan finally understood what others saw in him—or rather, he saw something beyond that, something just for him. The sharp, blandly handsome media persona didn’t do it for Sloan, but this Upton—the one bound, blushing, submitting to him, wanting to please him, to take care of him…
Sloan’s stomach flipped. Who wouldn’t fall for a man like this? It was impossible to stay detached, or to see it as anything but a precious gift, one that left Sloan confused and aching, wanting something deeper.
Husband was a huge title, but it felt impersonal under the circumstances.
Had Sloan ever wanted someone so badly?
Maybe. Maybe in high school, in his first horrifying, shamed rush of lust for a friend, a nice guy who would never have imagined the things Sloan dreamed of doing with him. That sick curl of unbalanced pleasure in his presence, the low grind of need making his bones hurt and his body thrill like it was brand new.
This was the first time since that awful awakening that he’d felt anything close to this kind of desire.
Sloan took a deep breath, steadying his nerves, trying to sink down into the unshakable core that had survived so much already. He could survive this too.
Then, with a serenity he didn’t quite feel, he moved around the bed to retrieve the lube, watching Upton to make certain he couldn’t see. The makeshift blindfold was doing its job. Then he moved behind Upton again, as silently as possible, and ran his hand up Upton’s calf, up his thigh, and then teased between his cheeks. He hummed approval and then slicked his fingers. The sound of the cap opening and bottle wheezing was all but lost in the deep tremor of the cellos.
A moment later he parted Upton’s cheeks and then rubbed slippery wet fingertips across that perfect pucker. Upton’s ass flexed, his cheeks tensed and his hole squeezed in anticipation. So gorgeous, practically begging for Sloan.
How could he resist that?
But he had to take care of Upton. Go slowly. Serve justly the trust given.
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“All right?” Sloan asked, his voice sounding calm and slow, assured. He had so much practice modulating it. “Everything green, honey?”
“Yes. Very green. Evergreen.” Upton shivered, his skin prickled with lust, as if every hair was reaching up in response to Sloan, following him where he moved. Even if Upton couldn’t see Sloan, his body appeared attuned to his presence.
Upton wasn’t even trying to look; his face was pressed gently against the bed in absolute trust. His body was slightly tensed, more anticipation than fear.
Sloan’s mind drifted into client-pleasing mode, but then he remembered anew that this wasn’t entirely for Upton’s benefit. While Sloan wasn’t going to do anything unpleasant to Upton, he lay there, open to Sloan’s whims and desires. This was his, all for him. No one else would touch Upton like this.
And while Sloan wasn’t shallow enough to buy into patriarchal constructs of virginity, he couldn’t help but feel a savage delight that he was the first one to win Upton’s trust enough to bind him, that he was the only one who’d ever had him this way. To Upton, this was all new.
Sloan slowly penetrated Upton with two slick fingers, stroking inside him steadily, teasing that little spot that made Upton writhe and gasp. He was always so responsive, eager for pleasure. Even at twenty-nine, he was thrillingly innocent of guile or feigned nonchalance.
“Love the way you open for me. Such a sweet little hole, sucking on my fingers, pulling me in.” Sloan’s voice went throaty with lust. “Swear you were meant to be mine. All these years, you needed this, needed me to give it to you.”
And it was true, Sloan could see it, but more than dirty talk, it shielded Sloan from his own need. This past week, he hadn’t felt lonely. He’d been part of something, of someone, swept away in laughter and affection.
Sloan added a third finger, fascinated as he watched Upton stretch to take it. Was there anything hotter? His cock throbbed, so hard Sloan could hardly think, could hardly resist the urge to just take Upton now.
But he held off, stretching him, wishing he had toys to fuck him with just to watch him take it. Instead, he worked his fourth finger into him, spreading him wide. “Mm, honey, look at you. I’m gonna tear you up. Use that sweet ass the way it’s begging to be used.”
Sloan leaned in and bit Upton’s cheek, sinking in his teeth and groaning. Upton moaned and got his knees under him to shift his hips up, claiming as much of Sloan as he could. He groaned as he squeezed around him.
“I did. I’ve been waiting so long for you.” Yearning filled Upton’s soft voice with a tinge of whining desperation. As if Upton believed it.
Gratifying, but scary. This creamy body, rosy with lust, belonged to Sloan. Upton wore Sloan’s ring. His pale, fine skin bore Sloan’s teeth marks and finger bruises. This was his toy, the first person to well and truly belong to him. Who was desperate to be his.
Four fingers slid easily into Upton as he groaned and shifted. The tiniest flick of Sloan’s finger made Upton bury his face against the bed and moan.
Sloan grinned and freed his fingers, leaving Upton’s reddened opening grasping. He left the bed, stripping quietly out of his shorts as Upton lifted his head, straining to sense him. Sloan’s cock sprang free, so hard and ready it dripped precum from the tip.
Breathing heavily, Sloan stood beside Upton’s head and knelt on the bed. Grasping his cock by its base, he teased Upton’s lips with the sticky head, gasping at the feel of those soft lips.
“You want me, Upton? Then get me ready for you, honey.”
Upton squirmed and shifted to suck Sloan down. It took a little doing, getting Upton angled, listing slightly to one side for balance since he couldn’t stabilize himself with his arms. He writhed against the bindings as his wet, sucking mouth wrapped around Sloan’s cock.
God, he took it so well. Upton stretched out and swallowed it down, relaxing his gag reflex so Sloan could fuck his throat. Sloan fisted his hand in Upton’s short, blond hair, holding it tight as he pistoned his hips, taking what he wanted.
Upton sucked cock like a pro. His lips covered his teeth, his tongue flattened, a perfect entry to slide deep inside of him. This throat—stuffed now with Sloan’s cock and making tiny gagging sounds—spoke of Congressional business on the House floor. This was Sloan’s for the taking, all his with such perfect surrender.
Sloan groaned, letting Upton hear what he’d earned, encouraging him, spurring him on. No one else would ever guess this version of Upton Bennett existed.
That hungry, gnawing need in Sloan seized on that, feeding itself with the knowledge this was Sloan’s alone. That part of him was ugly, frightening, not the picture-perfect face he presented to the world or to Upton, not the cool persona he sold to everyone who knew him.
No, this part of him was despondent, cobbled together from a miserable childhood, a difficult life, rejection and religious guilt and so much loneliness.
Sloan pulled free of Upton’s beautiful, swollen mouth and tried to catch his breath, his heart pounding. This was taking him so much deeper inside himself than he’d expected. Doing this for himself bore no resemblance to doing it for his bottom; it was tearing open a hole through the middle of him, and all the parts he kept pressed down threatened to spill out everywhere.
He kissed Upton’s wet, reddened lips gently and murmured reassurances before he repositioned behind him, not to fuck him but to hold him. He leaned over Upton’s awkwardly prone body, pressing their skin together and wrapping his arms around him. He hid his face in Upton’s back, between his shoulder blades, and breathed in the soothing, salty scent of his husband.
He had a family again, had a husband, a future.
It was enormous, and it swallowed Sloan. He battled through, clinging as his hard cock slid between Upton’s thighs. Somehow, with Upton blindfolded, Sloan felt even less able to hide.
Then he rose up on his knees on either side of Upton’s legs, and reached for the lube and a condom. The foil packet made a telltale noise as he opened it, and the slick sound of him smoothing lube over latex forewarned Upton of the next stage as well. Then Sloan leaned in, pressed his head against Upton’s entrance, and said, “Tell me you want this.”
Upton cleared his throat. His raspy voice filled Sloan with thrill and shame. “I want this. I do. You know… You don’t have to… I mean, we’re married. We’ve tested negative. If you don’t want to wear a condom.” His voice shook, words weighty.
It was a lot to offer. Meaningful. He was truly giving himself to Sloan, full trust.
Upton shifted, stretching his arms. The candlelight flickered, casting long, strange shadows on Upton’s skin. Sloan’s willing captive.
Quietly he confessed, “I want you to come inside of me.”
“I’ve never...” Sloan trailed off, humbled by Upton’s trust. As hard as Sloan fought against the stigma and shame heaped on him for what he’d done, so much of it had wormed into him where he was most susceptible. Now, being treated like this, with faith and vulnerability...
Tears stung behind Sloan’s eyelids, and he blinked away the emotion, breathing deeply to settle himself. Then he shivered and stripped off the condom. He tossed it aside and then slicked himself again, his hand a little shaky.
“I want that too,” he managed after too long a silence. Then he repositioned himself and rubbed his bare head against Upton’s opening. He started to speak, but nothing he could say would convey the enormity of the tangled feelings inside him.
Instead, he kissed Upton’s shoulder and pushed inside in a slow, smooth thrust that buried him deep in the blessed heat of Upton’s tight body. Sloan groaned, loving the way Upton’s bindings forced him to accept everything Sloan gave. He rolled his hips in rhythmic waves, rocking deeper and deeper, taking what he needed. He murmured, “So good, Upton. That’s... Oh god, that’s so good. So fucking... You’re so good.”
Upton flexed his fingers between them. His shoulders were soft, relaxed; he didn’t appear to be straining against anyth
ing but accepting Sloan, which he did with a ripple of muscle. The bound ankles pulled Upton so tight. Sliding into him was like carving out space, claiming it, and now Sloan could feel every inch of him.
Grunting with every thrust, Upton flexed to meet him, his ass squeezing. He whimpered, the sound muffled by the duvet as Upton bit down on the fabric, cheeks bright red.
Upton twisted, rubbing his cock against the bed. The silk ties creaked from the strain of holding Upton in place. Even bound, he was so alive, so responsive and vital.
Awe flooded Sloan as he worked inside Upton, a sense of something bigger than himself unfolding. Hearing Upton like that, feeling him move that way, all because he wanted Sloan, because he loved this... Sloan felt cut open, all his need plain to see. Nothing and no one had ever affected him so deeply, and now he was balls deep, exultant, and utterly lost.
There was no backing away, no rethinking, no pausing to take a breath. He was in over his head, falling, and there was no way back.
Choked with emotion, Sloan fucked Upton with a vengeance, taking him greedily, desperately. Nothing else could answer his emptiness or soothe the ache, and he thrust into Upton faster, harder, with brutal passion, compelled by demons he couldn’t control.
“Color,” he said, voice raw as his heart. “Tell me you’re good, sugar.”
“Green.” Upton turned his face in Sloan’s direction. The duvet was darkened by saliva where his mouth had been. Sloan could picture the same under Upton’s cock as Sloan shifted and aimed for that spot inside him, loving how it made him groan and gasp.
Upton twisted his head to the other side, then curled his chin down toward his shoulder. “Feels so good. God, so good, Sloan. Kiss me?”
Sloan surged forward to capture Upton’s lips, kissing deeply as he moved on top, inside him. He shuddered with boundless pleasure at that simple connection, at the slide of their tongues, the intimacy of kissing that way while buried in Upton, cock bare, their bodies joined completely. The bliss washed through him, ebbing and growing, building with every thrust until Sloan was gasping and struggling to hold himself up so he wouldn’t crush Upton into the bed.