by Talon P. S.
“Haven’t you ever loved anyone Paris?”
“No.”
“Ever wanted something so bad that if you had it you’d likely fall in love with it. Besides the next power man.”
“Yes.
“What is it?”
“Someone who can handle me, take all of me and rein me in. I’m like a sex addict I need to be controlled, but that someone has to be able to satisfy me. Someone like you or Patronus knows how to rein me in.”
“I may have reined you in, but I haven’t fucked you. Where’s the satisfaction? Besides if you love someone you shouldn’t have to be reined in.”
“I leave in a few days at least grant me some form of pleasure with you.”
“You have had plenty of pleasure Paris.”
“But not with either of my masters, it’s not the same. I have been commanded, reprimanded, forced to submit, teased, tormented, flogged and punished by you both, but not pleasured by either of you.”
“I told you Paris, I don’t Dom men, you were an exception.”
“Fine you made an exception. Now I’m asking to let me lay with you, make an exception there too. Finish it. Grant me the sexual pleasure of pleasing my Dominus.”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to—I need Katianna back.”
“And what of Diesel? He lets me touch him and dammit he teases the hell out of me, but has he ever slept with a man?”
“He has.”
“But he’s afraid to be labeled as gay? Is that it? Is that why he won’t touch me or let me touch him when others are around?”
“Deez doesn’t give a shit about labels. He’s just a very private person. He also takes his time about interacting with a lover.”
“A person could lose interest waiting on him.”
“That’s the whole point. He’s doesn’t waste his energy or his feelings on relationships spurred on in the heat of a moment. Why get involved with someone whose going to move on to the next person soon after?”
“Someone like me?”
“Yes. Someone like you.”
“But what if he could rein me in? Turn all my lustful focus on him and then I wouldn’t need or want to be with anyone else.” Paris dropped his head a moment. It didn’t make sense for him to argue this. He knew who and what he was. He never stayed.
“Keeping you on a leash is tiresome Paris. It could wear a person’s soul out. Not unless you wanted to be leashed could it be beneficial to both you and your partner.”
Paris remained silent for once. He’d always known his life style and sexual habits were the reason for his never having a deeper relation with anyone, but then he’d never met anyone who could handle him either. Never had a lover who could satisfy his lustful hunger. Never met anyone he wanted to stay with, so he always associated the two together. And by the way Trenton spoke of Diesel perhaps he had made the same cursed fate for himself as well. If he did find that someone that sated his need, would he fall? Tumble head over heels in love with the man? Would his heart explode the second he crossed the finish line of saturated bliss? Hell, he was thirty-four years old and had several dozen lovers in his life—he didn’t think such a thing could ever happen for him. He just wished he could walk away from this with the taste of the masters on his lips, like the kiss of lipstick some women left on a man’s shirt.
“Pour me another shot.” Trenton mumbled. His head back on the sofa and his eyes closed.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
“No. I’ll have had enough when I’m too drunk to ask for another. And don’t forget you are still my slave you should be on your knees at my feet.”
Paris did as commanded sliding off the sofa to his knees. He poured another shot of the tequila, and passed it up forgoing the ceremony of hot sauce and limes. Trenton was plenty drunk to forget those. Trenton was also plenty drunk to take advantage of and Paris could not help himself from harboring the temptation.
Trenton bottomed his glass and handed it back not even waiting to see Paris take it as he dropped his head back on the sofa and dropped the glass just as carelessly. He was miserable. Waiting and wanting had been hard enough, but just a moment after Katianna had agreed to surrender, she turned on her heels and ran. She ripped his soul and his heart with her. A blood trail stretched out from his chest all the way to Florida. Damn it why had he taken so long to draw her in? He should have seduced her from the start and then none of this would have happened.
His hand went to his crotch and stroked at his half hard erection. He had savored that first moment they would have together to also be his final claim on her—he should never have let her go. Not when he knew she wanted him, wanted what he offered. She was just too damned scared to commit. But why?
Trenton was so buried in his lust and misery he hardly noticed his hands were not the only ones touching him. He knew they were not hers, but they felt good arousing his hunger and his need drawing it to a focus. He didn’t have the will to stop it. He deserved punishment for letting her go, from frightening her. Why had she called red? If only she would have talked to him about it he could have helped her get past it.
A knock on the glass stirred him, but not nearly enough to break his thoughts or the growing sensation in the hands that ground against the front of his slacks.
Someone attempted to push at the door, but it was locked. Another rap, harder this time.
“Paris, go unlock the door.”
Paris pushed up and opened the door to find Dane.
“He in there?”
“Yes, Head Master.” Paris stepped back letting him in, keeping his head down to hide any revealing signs of what he was about to do.
Dane’s eyes right away fell to the tequila bottle on the table then shot up to Paris for his answer. “How much of this has he consumed already?”
“Fresh bottle when he started.”
“Fuck.” He walked over to Trenton, “Hand over the fucking keys.”
“I’m not finished yet.” Trenton glanced up at Dane.
“Yes you are. Did you think you would find Katianna at the bottom of your bottle?”
“You sound like Deez?”
“Maybe because sometimes we’re right. Now hand them over.”
Trenton dug into his front pocket pulled out his keys and surrendered them over.
Dane turned to Paris, “And how much have you had to drink?”
“Dominus never lets me drink.”
“Good.” He tossed the keys to Paris. “Take his ass home. Now.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Paris grew nervous as they walked up the drive, his mind in places he knew it ought not to be, but he couldn’t help himself. His lust, the greed to feed his sexual appetite burned so fervid in him now, he was willing to do the unthinkable, willing to tempt the risk.
He wanted Diesel above anyone he had ever wanted, but the Patronus had denied him too many times and he turned his focus on a hot body he had a better chance of catching in his snare. The drunken Dominus.
The front foyer of the house lead them out on the balcony overlooking the living room below where Diesel was sitting in the dark watching television, Trenton stepped for the stairs.
“I—uh—I’m kinda tired.” Paris let his head lower some, resisting the urge to fidget. “I’d rather be put to my room if the Dominus would permit it.” Paris hesitated on the balcony pointing his intentions down the hall that led to his room. He made a side step away from the balcony, his conscience all too aware of the other man. The man of his true desires sitting below, as if his retreat would make the guilty pang he felt less audible. But there was no reason for it. Diesel had turned him down with every pass Paris made at the Patronus. So why couldn’t he turn his desires back to the Dominus?
“Fine.” Trenton stumbled down the hall with Paris following close behind.
No sooner he was in the room Trenton found himself being pummeled against the wall, Paris' rock hard body slamming into him and pinning him. His mouth desperately
attempting to steal a kiss from him. Trenton pushed all his force against Paris with little effect and in a flash he felt his pants ripped under the sheer force of the man's hands. His own dropping to catch him, but Paris' hands shifted like lightning, clamping around Trenton’s wrists, twisted his arms in his grip and had them pinned behind his back and was dropping. It all happened too fast.
"Fuck, don’t you do it!" But he no sooner said it, his cock was sinking deep inside Paris' mouth swallowed by the hot caress of fervent greed.
Paris was on his knees, his massive arms holding Trenton tighter then he’d ever felt from a man’s pure brute strength and he sucked him violently. Like a wild beast that had finally caught what he wanted and he wasn’t about to let go. His tongue lashing at him like a wild animal.
Paris sucked like Katianna kissed, powerful and savage. A torrid storm of elation sent to destroy him. Destroy the man he was. His knees buckling under him, but he managed to keep to his feet, but everything else was under the control of the demanding mouth of the slave he’d driven to such craving by denying him the one thing he came for. The one thing Paris suffered all he and Diesel could dish out and never rewarded to him.
Paris took all of him, his mouth pumping over him in a tight caress of his lips and cheeks. Burning, powerful destruction, pumping his senses to their extreme limits and beyond his boundaries. Paris’ tongue lathed every inch of the rock hard flesh and he sank all the way into the man’s throat. Paris’ tongue licking out past his lips to taste the softer skin of his scrotum before pulling back and even as Trenton felt Paris’ lips withdrawal somehow he was still inside the man’s lustful grip like invisible cords that tied his reception to Paris’ mouth and sucked him back in all the way. Stroking him in one full stroke till he kissed his hilt again.
Trenton’s breath was shredding and he grunted like a feral animal. The rapture that threatened like a storm, the kind of storm fishermen told stories about—the white squall. A wave that reached up and pushed your sails in the water.
That’s where Trenton was, his sails where pushed all the way over—pushed into the water by the hot mouth of a man who had manage to overpower him and steel his satisfaction from him. He was going to cum and Paris knew he had him close. Sucking harder, working for that tantalizing prize from his body.
Trenton felt the explosion coming, felt his hips bunch up. Hell no, if he was going to cum in this man’s mouth, he was going to do so under his own will, not his.
“Fuck you! I’m going to shoot down your throat!” And with his command Paris released his wrists. Trenton’s hands shot around grabbing Paris by the hair, fisting into it. Even his wrists clamped around the man’s head and he leaned in pumping violently into Paris’ mouth with nothing less than a brutal return of what the other man started. Trenton’s grunts filled the air around them with each driving thrust down his throat one—two—oh fuck its coming—three.
Trenton’s hips jammed forward locking in a savage bow against Paris’s face, his shoulders recoiling back as his semen shot out in a pulsating ribbon of release and he fell back against the wall. He cried out like some animalistic caveman, growling and breathy. As the last of his orgasm shot out in a painful blast. He felt his body go, felt the sensation of falling. He tried to catch himself, but his legs—they weren't there. And he went helplessly crashing to the floor in a loud thud.
The cruel popping loss of Paris' mouth around him replaced by cool vacant space.
Long moments of thoughtlessness as he laid there, only the combination of his heavy breath and those of the slave at his feet. No comprehensive thoughts or emotions.
More long moments and still no thoughts. Was time even moving, did someone keep count?
The echo of two boys playing in a pool testing each other to see who could hold their breath the longest.
… Whadda ya wanna do now?— I know, we could wrestle like the Roman gladiators— Okay— What do we fight for?— Loser has to do the victor’s homework for a week— Nah, raise the stakes. Loser has to suck the victor’s johnny— Trenton recalled the long ago memory of two boys wrestling, butt naked in the back yard and the battle went on forever locked in each other’s grip. A stalemate tangle in each other’s arm. And they kissed finding each other’s tongue. The taste of it so good and frightening at the same time and they pulled apart fearfully— Deez— Yeah Trent— I don’t think we should tell anyone about this, okay? — Yeah okay—
Trenton brought a hand up raking though his hair, his other absently wrapping around his cock and lightly stroked it back to the half mass thickness he liked to keep it at, restoring his demeanor. His boot kicking out catching Paris in the chest, “On your belly! Face down on the floor Slave!”
Dammit he needed Katianna back or he was going to barrel down a self destructive path, slow demoralizing damage, a fate worse than a drug addiction.
Paris watched the Dominus pull himself back together like the lose thread in a seam, pulling the pieces of fabric back together like you would string a corset tight. Even when completely taken over, swept off his feet and scattered to the wind, the man’s strength held like a web and quickly and effortlessly restored itself.
It was magnificent.
What he’d give to submit to all the other pleasures that this man could deliver at this moment. Paris licked at his lips savory the last drops of Trenton’s flavor dark and fully male. “She was right you know.”
“She? Right about what?” Trenton’s voice cracked.
“She described you as tasting like a summer storm after midnight. I wanted to know what that tasted like. I couldn’t let you send me away till I had tasted that.” Paris lowered face down as ordered.
She.
She—meaning his Katianna. His little mouse with a talent for writing exquisite fantasies. Many of which she had never experienced herself, but how her readers adored the worlds she lured them into like the Pied Piper luring the little boys—and he had never read a single one of her books. He didn’t want her make believe stories. He wanted her.
God he was going to die without her.
Trenton got to his feet taking an assessment of the ruined front of his pants, the clasp gone, the zipper and fabric alike rendered from its threads. He stepped over to the man lying obediently face down on the floor. He tucked a boot into his arm pit and flipped him over to his back. “Well don’t you take mutinous behavior to a new level.”
Paris licked his lips with a slow wicked sweep of his tongue, belying his lack of guilt at the moment. It had been too good, too rich to regret.
“Hope you enjoyed it well it enough to considered it worth what I’m going to do to you.”
“Fucking me will only be a reward.” His breath deepening in anticipation as if he might get his just ached for.
Trenton’s gaze tightened as he stared down at the large man. “On the bed now and take your shirt off.” Trenton was firm, his voice calm and quiet, ridged like his cock. He even went as far as to stroke himself while Paris did as told and moved to the bed. His eyes never leaving Trenton’s hand or the hard steel he palmed, as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders tossing it to the floor. He toed his shoes off, then undid the button fly of his jeans.”
“I’ll do the rest, lie down and spread out.” And again Paris did as commanded stretching his arms and legs out to the four corners of the bed. His body tingling with renewed anticipation. That he had finally seduced the Dominus and was about to be taken by him.
“God, yes.” Paris let the heated expression escape his lips. His head falling back on the pillow. The thrill taking over his body with a warm tingle that rippled like a wake. His eyes following Trenton as he stepped around the bed fastening the leather shackles to his extremities, one at a time till both arms were strapped down tight keeping him splayed out. Trenton undid the last few buttons on Paris’ jeans gripping the waist in his fists and yanked them down with a hard jerk that sent heated shivers through Paris’ body. Freed from his ass and his hips, Trento
n’s fingers glided against the flesh of his thighs slowly as he guided the denim down the remainder of Paris’ legs, freed his feet from denim and socks and let the garments fall to the floor with little regard to them and placed the last two shackles on Paris’ ankles.
Trenton stepped from the foot of the bed around to the head board his finger tips gliding up Paris’ body in a teasing glance. “Bad boys don’t get rewarded—” he knelt down beside the bed leaning over with his arms folded crossways on the mattress propped so close to Paris now, “But good girls—” Trenton grinned and it tightened when Paris’ head popped up with a shocked expression, “They get wishes granted.”
“No!” Paris thrashed against his restraints, “Don’t do this to me.”
“Steeling is not tolerated in my house.” Trenton stood back to his feet.
“But I don’t want a woman on my body—please. I‘ll do what I have to make up for it. Just don’t make me suffer at the hands of a woman.” He jerked throwing his weight first one way then the next, but the chains clipped to his shackles were not going to break for him no matter how hard he struggled.
Trenton stepped a knee up on the side of the bed towering over him, watching the painful storm of expressions of a man coming apart. “I’m not—” he lowered over Paris until he was only a breath away from Paris’ mouth, Trenton’s arms caging him in, pressing down in the bed to either side of his head.
Paris stilled under the radiation of control that emanated from the alpha male, but the exquisitely sweet panic was still there writhing just under the surface of his skin.
“I’m going to make you suffer under the hands of a Slave.”
Paris’ head came up, his mouth trying to reach for Trenton’s kiss, “No. Dominus.” A pleading breath and more desperate struggles when Trenton eased back up, keeping out of his reach and beamed over him with victorious arrogance.
“Oh god, Dominus.” Paris’ hips bucked up with the arousal already stirring in him, his cock hardening, betraying him, but it wasn’t the news of a slave girl that stirred him, but that Trenton had come out of this still his Dominus, still the victor of wills. His loins responding to the control of the dominate male standing over him.