The Deeper He Hurts

by Lynda Aicher

  Get away. Get closer. He couldn’t decipher what he wanted. Everything was scrambled with anguish and the strange addition of lust. Of a different need he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  The roar built inside him, coalescing around the swirling mass of pain and need and want that somehow also held wishes he’d long given up on. Dreams that couldn’t be and would never flourish. It all pooled together until the tears leaked out despite how hard he tried to squeeze them back.

  “Let me have it,” Asher encouraged.

  He shook his head, refusing to fail. Refusing to end this.

  His legs threatened to crumple when he straightened. Whatever was attached to his scrotum dug deeper as he moved until he swore a spear was slicing through his balls. But he did it, a fierce determination holding his back straight, his hands lowering to his sides. He would stand on his own.

  He stared straight into Asher’s eyes, letting him see exactly how far he could go. How much he wanted the pain. Asher was right there too. Not more than a foot away, still working Sawyer’s dick in a punishingly slow stroke.

  “I want it.”

  Asher’s clear tone penetrated the thundering of his heart and rush of blood in his ears. Simple. Honest. Truth. He shook his head, jaw clenched so tightly the tendons on his neck restricted the movement.

  “Yes,” Asher demanded.

  Another tear slid down his cheek, the path a distinct line of betrayal he resented. Hated.

  Asher tracked its descent before he cupped the side of Sawyer’s neck and swiped it away with his thumb.

  No, damn it. No. That single gentle swipe seared into his heart when everything else had raged around it. He gasped, too shocked to hold his reaction back.

  Asher upped his pace, grip tightening on Sawyer’s dick. He leaned in, passion burning in his eyes, breath gusting over Sawyer’s lips when he paused.

  The moment stretched, tension building, then he dove in and claimed Sawyer’s mouth in a kiss as brutal as his touch. This was all force, all take, and Sawyer lost it.

  His orgasm blasted outward from his groin to resonate clear to his toes. He screamed, every sound he’d held in caught by Asher. Swallowed and accepted while demanding more.

  And he gave him all of it.

  Every ounce of the hurt and pleasure that blinded his sight and trembled from his core. The well of emptiness that could only be filled by the pain. The years of isolation and loneliness he’d blocked into survival.

  The crazy, mounting yearning to be held. To live instead of survive.

  It flew from him until there was nothing left.

  Nothing but the pain.

  Chapter 9

  Ash soared, desire crashing with lust until he barely hung on to his sanity. Sawyer’s tormented screams scraped down his throat to further ignite the sadistic high he got at seeing this kind of pain. Of feeling exactly how deeply he’d gone.

  And with something so simple.

  He tightened his hold on the back of Sawyer’s head and demanded even more from him. Hunting for the last drop of resistance, of denial and withholding, until there was nothing Sawyer could do but relent.

  Come splattered over his fist and shirt, tension holding every muscle tight within Sawyer. He reveled in it, fed on the power while marveling at Sawyer’s strength.

  At how much he’d given.

  At how raw the pain was. Not surface level, but yanked from somewhere deep and dark and given to Ash. The trust was beyond humbling and almost overwhelming.

  Adrenaline raced through him, oversensitizing every sense until there was nothing but Sawyer. His heat and that bittersweet scent that managed to penetrate the stronger menthol stench. The will and determination to take everything on his terms and the give that’d slipped through. That single tear that’d come so damn close to breaking through Ash’s own barrier.

  Maybe even had.

  He eased up on the kiss, his lips aching from the punishing assault. He licked deeper now, slower, with intent to calm and reassure. This was everything he’d been missing, the connection he’d never wanted to experience with another man. He kept kissing him long after Sawyer had quieted, exploring and discovering everything he could about him.

  The trembling started in Sawyer’s legs before it worked its way up his back. Ash absorbed every sensation, each little shudder sinking into him in a mellow welcoming. His lungs burned for air and Sawyer’s probably did, too, but he didn’t let go or shove away.

  Ash shifted just enough to allow them both to breathe, the warmth of Sawyer’s gusts caressing his throbbing lips. He held his forehead to Sawyer’s and floated in the descent. His head swam, every delicious moment already replaying in his mind, yet he needed to move before Sawyer crumbled to the floor.

  He released his hold on Sawyer’s dick and removed the binder clip from the underside of his scrotum. Sawyer’s low muffled groan provided one last thrill. He grabbed the towel from the desk and shuffled back to his chair, bringing Sawyer with him, moving together without words. They’d barely needed them through the scene and words felt intrusive now, even though there was a ton that needed to be said.

  He slowly lowered them down, Sawyer sinking to his knees with a grace Ash couldn’t have mustered. His soft grunt rippled into the silence before he rested his head on Ash’s thigh.

  Ash’s heart skipped a beat, longing snapping out to kick him in the nuts. He stared at Sawyer, hair damp with sweat, eyes closed, and face relaxed. His back lifted with each slow pull of air that spoke of the calm he’d sought and found with Ash.

  It wasn’t the subservient pose that got to him, but the open vulnerability. This was yet another level of trust. One that scared the shit out of Ash, when he wasn’t sure if he could give it back.

  Yet his clean hand found its way into the soft strands of Sawyer’s hair to gently stroke them away from his face. Any intense scene brought a level of intimacy that transcended normal levels, but the sense of closeness and connection with Sawyer ran deeper than he was used to.

  It contracted around his heart and defied every piece of logic he tried to throw at it. They hardly knew each other, and outside of this they probably had little in common. Plus Sawyer was only here for the summer. He was temporary, which should be good, but didn’t settle that way within him.

  He roused himself from his wandering thoughts to wipe his hand off as best he could. The cream tingled on his palm, and he didn’t relish the thought of accidentally getting it in his or Sawyer’s eyes or on his own dick.

  The bright red state of Sawyer’s genitals reconfirmed that notion. The effects of the cream would last for two to three hours, possibly longer. And with the amount he’d used and worked in, they’d be sensitive for the next few days.

  Sawyer heaved a sigh that ended in a low grunt. “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” The rough grate of his words was a testament to how raw or dry his throat was. The tone was light though, appreciation removing the cruelty.

  “Yes.”

  His chuckle was barely more than an airy snort. “The burn is fading already.”

  Ash tried to decipher if it was sorrow or exhaustion that had slipped into the statement. Or if it was simply a fact. “There’s a bottle of hot sauce in the kitchen.”

  Sawyer’s purr of appreciation had Ash wishing he’d grabbed it. But he was still learning Sawyer’s thresholds, and they were at the office. Not that any of the guys would blink, let alone complain, if their activities were discovered.

  It was still unprofessional, to a point that teetered on irresponsible. He didn’t play with employees, especially on company property. And he’d done it twice now.

  “Here.” He held the towel down to Sawyer, who’d shown no sign of moving. It had to be the endorphins, even though he’d never dropped into them the way some guys did. He couldn’t see Sawyer remaining this close or emotionally exposed otherwise.

  Sawyer lifted his eyelids and swiveled his head. “I’m good.”

  Ash had suspected he’d say t
hat, but he’d offered anyway. He dropped the towel on the ground near Sawyer in case he changed his mind. The silence fell around them again and Ash let himself relax into it. He didn’t do it that often, and he wasn’t really the cuddling kind of top when it came to aftercare. The two guys he regularly played with preferred to recuperate on their own. He remained in the room, talked to them if they wanted, saw to their wounds if he’d drawn blood, but didn’t comfort them.

  This was nice. He rested his hand on Sawyer’s shoulder, smoothing light circles over his skin. Sawyer’s exhales heated the fabric of his khakis. It wasn’t intentionally sexual, yet the warmth spread up Ash’s inner thigh to roll over his nuts and up his dick. His erection had abated some, but it still made a prominent ridge beneath his pants.

  One that was getting harder by the second.

  His erections during a scene were rarely sexual. They were mostly a result of excitement and his strange-as-fuck kink that made him revel in someone else’s pain. The urgency to get off usually wasn’t there, though. He’d always thought of his erections as by-products of the visual stimulation, emotional rush, and adrenaline.

  Sawyer tipped his head, nose lifting until he nuzzled beneath Ash’s balls. His inhalation was large and audible, his exhale slow as he mouthed Ash’s dick.

  Fuck me. Lust speared his groin so quickly he barely contained the reflex to thrust into the warmth. His hand tightened on Sawyer’s shoulder, eyes glued to the sight of Sawyer’s mouth working its way toward his belt buckle.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he managed to say despite how much he wanted it. Him.

  Sawyer glanced up, his eyes lazy but clear. He slowly rose, hands pressing up Ash’s thighs until they met at his belt. He stared at Ash as he opened the buckle, snap, and zipper, never once looking down to check what he was doing.

  His eyes darkened, eyelids lowering when he gripped Ash’s dick. Ash grunted, the contact igniting an ache he hadn’t felt in years.

  The dimple popped on Sawyer’s cheek when he cocked a satisfied smirk. “You should know I never do anything unless I want to.”

  He dropped then, his mouth encompassing Ash’s dick in a long plunge that seemed to sink to his toes.

  “Fuck.” His hips jerked, hands gripping the arms of the chair, pulse escalating to neck-breaking in the space of a breath. The wet suction was intense, quick, and all-encompassing.

  Sawyer yanked at Ash’s pants until they were around his ankles, never stopping his assault on Ash’s erection. He circled the head with his tongue, sucked, dipped, and kept going until Ash’s dick nudged the back of his throat.

  Ash’s eyes fell closed as the heady sensations overtook everything. He forced his eyes open in the next second, unwilling to miss the erotic visual. He wasn’t a Dom who got off on making subs suck his dick, but this had nothing to do with power or orders.

  This was desire plain and simple. Sex and nothing more.

  And damn was it hot.

  Sawyer worked him with one hand, the other rolling and squeezing his balls, his mouth dipping and sucking until Ash was on the cusp of coming.

  Sawyer glanced up, froze, lips swollen and glazed with spit around the head of Ash’s dick. His brow quirked, a teasing light coming into his eyes, his tongue needling the slit on the top until Ash wanted to scream. Every flick zinged down his dick to sink into his groin before blazing outward.

  His groan tore out of his chest, exiting as more of a snarl. He didn’t want to come yet, but his battle to withstand the urgency building in his balls was coming to an end, too quickly.

  Sawyer chuckled, the vibrations rippling through Ash’s dick to edge him closer. He gritted his teeth, breath gusting through his nose, and stared him down. He didn’t give in easily either. He was just as stubborn.

  Just as strong.

  The smirk dropped from Sawyer’s expression, that seriousness returning. He closed his eyes and dipped to take Ash down his throat.

  There was no stopping the snap of his hips, the urge to thrust too powerful. Sawyer swallowed, and the ripple of it stroked over his dick. Still he resisted, fought the inevitable.

  The finger at his hole was a shock, the press in amazing. He groaned, legs spreading as far as they could, hips dipping between the two sensations. The digit was dry, which made it more noticeable, and slightly painful.

  Good.

  He gave up the struggle and let his orgasm flood him. His stomach clenched, tension building, pleasure cresting until it burst from him in a long groan and rush of release. He jolted forward, fell back, holding Sawyer to him through his choked gasps until he could breathe again.

  He sucked in air, hand trembling on Sawyer’s nape. His chuckle was completely inappropriate, but it bubbled out anyway. Despite being a guy who planned everything, he hadn’t seen this coming. Literally.

  Sawyer wiped his hand over his mouth and sat back. Damn, that was a picture Ash wanted to keep. Hair tangled and messy, lips red and swollen, eyes dark and satisfied.

  Ash lurched forward and stole another kiss, this one soft. More of a touch of lips that he held and savored for a long moment before he sat back. “Thank you.”

  Sawyer puffed out a laugh, dimple peeking through. He rubbed the back of his head, a frown dipping his brows for a moment. “It was only fair.”

  His answer sucked away the last of Ash’s euphoria. “Fair?”

  “Plus”—he started to stand, winced, and froze—“I was thirsty.”

  Ash didn’t know if he should laugh or feel guilty for not having water on hand. “Ass,” he finally said, chuckling. He held out a hand to help Sawyer up. “We have a fridgeful of water and sports drinks.”

  “Sure.” He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in a seductive move that should’ve looked odd on him but didn’t. Not in this moment. “But I was looking for a protein drink.”

  Ash groaned. “Are you always this corny?”

  He shrugged. “No.” His gaze went to the ground. “Any chance you can hand me my clothes?”

  Sawyer’s dick and nuts were still a gorgeous shade of red that appeared far from comfortable. Ash relished the sight and his role in their state: dick soft now, the hair around its base slicked with cream, scrotum bright red beneath.

  But it was the story below his dick that drew Ash’s focus. Sawyer’s upper thighs were a tale of pain and years of anguish. The scars formed a complex pattern of faint lines, grooves, and stained skin. Touching them had been intoxicating. Seeing them—all of them—was stunning.

  He slid forward on his chair, reached to trace a particularly angry, puckered scar on Sawyer’s inner thigh, near his balls. Sawyer flinched at his touch, muscles tensing beneath his fingertips. He didn’t pull away, though.

  Ash looked up, the rough skin teasing his sadist. “How?” The two-inch burn could’ve come from a number of things.

  Sawyer swallowed, gaze stony and hard, like his jaw. The stare-down became a silent test of trust. This went beneath an act into history. Again, the need to understand Sawyer’s past was stronger than Ash wanted to analyze. It was just there, tripping around his brain and digging into his hunger for more.

  “Heated knife blade.” The terse words held an element of challenge. Did he think Ash would judge him? Comment?

  He didn’t. There wasn’t anything to say. He trailed his fingers to a series of faint white lines. “Cuts.” There was no question in that, and he didn’t wait for a response before moving to four burns in a row, each a small circle. “Cigarette.” Down now to a jagged gash that wrapped around half of Sawyer’s leg, edges dark from age. He relished that one, studied the torn appearance. “Barbed wire?” Or something equally punishing?

  He waited this time, holding still until Sawyer nudged his chin down in a silent yes. He continued his study, fascinated and awed at once. Whatever had caused every one of these marks would’ve hurt like a son of a bitch. Some deep, others more superficial, each magnificent to Ash. Where others might see ugly and deformed, he saw strength. Courag
e. Agony challenged and defeated.

  It eased through him, all the suffering—both physical and emotional—to quiet his soul as nothing else could. His strange, fucked-up center, which saw through it all to the heart of the man, sang in glory. Pain was the great equalizer and the purest exposure of what hid within a man.

  This was what called to him. What he dug to uncover with every flick of his whip and dive into depravity. He ran both palms over and around the sides of Sawyer’s muscular thighs, every silent testament of this deeply stoic man luring him in even more.

  There was so much depth to Sawyer, things no one could see and most wouldn’t look for, but he did. He saw it all right here on his otherwise flawless skin, hidden from all but those who’d understand, and even most of those wouldn’t truly get it. They wouldn’t hunt beneath the surface to understand and know what drove—or chased—him.

  He reeled in his greed, tamped down his curiosity, and came back to the moment. He ran a single finger down Sawyer’s flaccid shaft, lifted it to check the underside. It appeared a bit raw, definitely sensitive, but there was no sign of chemical burns.

  “Does it still hurt?” Everyone’s pain tolerances were different. He’d played with some guys who’d barely flinched at this form of chemical play while breaking into tears under a good paddling.

  Sawyer stared at Ash, silent questions whizzing by before he lowered his gaze to study the area in discussion. There was no embarrassment displayed, yet another sign of his experience. Most guys lost any discomfort with nudity if they played in this lifestyle for long.

  “Some.” He took a step back, shifting and moving his hips. “I’ll know I have a dick and asshole for a while.” He shot a half smile at Ash, the closeness of the previous moment shoved aside. “And that’s not a complaint.”

  “It better not be.” He let the change happen, flowing with the easy banter that kept them both from showing too much. This was meant to be nothing more than an enjoyable event, or as Sawyer had said, a mutual exchange of kinks that worked together.

  Ash hitched his clothes into place, standing to zip and buckle. A come stain darkened the front of his shirt and splotches of white cream marred the front of his pants. He wiped those off, but marks remained.