That might be true, but Ethan couldn’t help thinking he was in a position to give Randy what he longed for. He chased a spiral noodle across his plate. “We could move to a house with a better kitchen.”
Randy speared a piece of broccoli with his fork and shrugged. “We could, yes. But you’re always telling me this is a delicate time for finances. You’re not going to risk all that to give me more counter space and a convection oven.”
No, Ethan wasn’t going to do that. He suppressed a sigh and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
He helped Randy do the dishes as usual, but he felt restless and frustrated. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, for Ethan’s sake alone, Randy was saying no to something he normally did and quite possibly wanted to do, and this wasn’t going to take them down a good road. While Randy took his evening bath, Ethan ignored his usual night paperwork and paced the bedroom, trying to find the way to bring the topic of Christmas and the party up again.
However, when Randy came into the bedroom wearing only a towel and a sly smile, Ethan faltered, distracted momentarily by the sexy, near-naked, and damp sight of his husband.
He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his ground. “I want to discuss this Christmas party business further.”
“I don’t.” Randy crouched at the box containing their toys, flipped it open, and emerged with a ball gag and a pair of handcuffs. He dangled them from his finger and waggled his eyebrows as he sidled lazily toward Ethan, thumb of his opposite hand catching at the knot of the towel across his groin, dragging it lower. “I want to play.”
Ethan did his best to ignore the erotic display Randy made of himself, and the devilish promise the clink of those handcuffs whispered in the back of his mind. “This is important.”
“And playing with me isn’t?” Randy closed the distance between them and ran a finger down the center of Ethan’s chest. “Come on, baby. Make me hot and bothered. I can tell you’re frustrated by looking at you, and I want to feel it.” He ran the cool metal against Ethan’s hand, pressing the chain and the rubber of the ball gag into his palm with a wicked smile. “Don’t talk me to tears, Slick. Tease me.”
Ethan hesitated. He had the restraints in his grip, but he also had hold of Randy’s fingers, and he squeezed them as he gazed into his husband’s eyes. “So what, we’re not going to discuss this?”
With a groan, Randy leaned into Ethan and kissed him, lingering with a nip on his bottom lip. “We can talk later. Just fuck me up now, please?”
There probably was a man in the world who could resist that plea, but it wasn’t Ethan Ellison.
Chapter Two
ETHAN CAUGHT RANDY’S chin, digging in enough to make Randy whimper and grip Ethan’s shoulders as he drew himself in tighter. Ethan anchored his hand on Randy’s hip before teasing his husband’s mouth, cheek, jaw, and ear until Randy ground against Ethan and growled under his breath for him to hurry up and get on with it.
Ethan let go of Randy’s chin and pinched him through the towel—he would have spanked him, but he knew that’s what Randy had been hoping for. “You wanted me to drive, so you’ll be patient and accept the pace I establish.”
Randy snorted. “I’m sorry, who was it you thought you married again?”
Ethan tugged Randy’s hair with the hand clutching the cuffs and gag and sucked hard on Randy’s chin. “I could ask the same of you.”
Randy’s eyes fluttered closed on a wave of pleasure. He said nothing more, but Ethan didn’t think for one moment his husband was done acting out.
Ethan made love to Randy’s neck at his own pace, running his tongue against the grain of Randy’s end-of-day beard, down the cord of his throat, across his collarbone. By that time, Randy was beginning to fidget again, so Ethan decided it was time to break out the handcuffs. He wasn’t sure how to implement them, though. What was his main goal for the evening? Immobilize his husband to the bed? Bend him over a bench? Both? What did he want from this scene?
What did Randy want—without having to ask?
Ethan drew back and studied his lover’s face, stroking the curves and lines with his fingers. This seduction had begun in the middle of an argument. Unquestionably Randy meant it as a distraction. No doubt he’d thought, I’ll get him to fuck me, and then not only will we not argue about anything, I’ll get laid too. The best of it all around.
Ethan’s fingers dug into the underside of Randy’s chin. We’ll see about that, Ace.
Backing away, Ethan released Randy and flicked open the handcuffs, snapping one around Randy’s left wrist before leading his husband by the hand across the room to the wall by the closet.
“Raise your hands over your head.” Ethan was out of patience, and his voice let that show.
Randy smiled and did as instructed. He made a quiet “Ooh” when Ethan attached the handcuff chain over the hook they’d fastened to the wall and clamped the other cuff on Randy’s right wrist. “Kinky. I love it.”
Ethan smiled back, but it was the smile he generally used for distributors at the casino he was about to shred into quiet, tiny pieces for their incompetence. “I hope that state of affairs continues.” He leaned over to the dresser and fished out a red handkerchief, then pressed it into Randy’s hand. “Since you won’t be able to give me your safe word.”
He pushed a ball gag into Randy’s mouth next, but as he did so, Randy waggled his eyebrows, making it clear he didn’t intend to need any safe words.
Ethan couldn’t stop a half smile as he returned to the toy box once more.
Ethan selected a few implements and set them aside before he rose and tugged his shirt over his head, leaving himself clad only in a pair of jeans. He glanced back at Randy, who eyed him appreciatively.
Taking the crop in hand, Ethan paced a slow semicircle before his husband. “I’m going to make you squirm.” He teased Randy’s hip with the tip of the crop. “I’m going to make you beg me through that gag. I’m going to make you shake so much you consider dropping that handkerchief. Except if you do that, you know I won’t get you off. So hold tight if you want me to be the one who takes you over the edge.”
He’d meant the words to be a threat, to imply if Randy didn’t behave, he’d have to get himself off. Except somehow as the sentence hung in the air, all Ethan could think of was how the man who had taught Randy to love this kind of play so much, the one who had years of experience both in the realm of kink and head games, was Crabtree.
There was no way, Ethan realized, Crabtree would let Randy sit out the Christmas celebrations. There was no way Ethan could outmaneuver him. Yes, he’d won a casino from the man, but that had largely been luck.
Randy made a noise through the gag, dragging Ethan’s attention back to him. Ethan smiled wanly and ran the crop along his cheek. Randy shrugged, then shivered as Ethan ghosted the leather tip along his collarbone and followed the path with the barest flicks of his tongue. Ethan enjoyed tormenting Randy like this, giving him featherlight touches and kisses across his body, ramping him up until he writhed and moaned. Randy preferred to go hard, to bite and nip and suck until his partner shuddered from the overwhelming force of his attack. More than once Ethan hadn’t been able to find a collar high enough and had to go to a meeting with a bruise beneath his ear, a sign of Randy’s exuberant affection.
For his part, Ethan enjoyed aggression in its place, but he preferred a slow-burn tactic, especially when assaulting his husband, licks and whispers against skin. Lately they’d added fantasy to their repertoire. He indulged in a little now.
“What if we’d gone to the same school, Randy?” He sucked gently at Randy’s neck as he teased his nipple and ran the hand with the crop down his side, resting the tip against his leg. “What if we’d been able to meet each other and make out like this in hallways, in each other’s houses after classes ended?”
Randy’s eyes opened wide. Ethan could tell he had things to say but couldn’t say them. What a wickedly fun game.
“It would have to be
present day, of course, in some liberal bastion where we could have been crowned homecoming kings if we’d wanted.” He nuzzled his way down Randy’s sternum, fingers toying with the knot to his towel. “What if we got in trouble for the way I kept handcuffing you to things? What if someone walked in on you strapped to the supply wall in the locker room, my mouth around your—”
“Nnngh.” Randy thrust his hips forward, grinding the towel between them.
Laughing, Ethan flicked his tongue over Randy’s nipple. “We would have been fabulous, wouldn’t we? The bad boy who wasn’t actually bad, the good boy who wasn’t as good as people thought. Only the two of us would have known the truth in the dark places we’d have found together. You’d have loved that part, hiding that secret from everyone. Letting them think what they wanted about us. Knowing they had it all wrong.”
Ethan smiled as Randy went limp in his bonds. Ethan was about to settle in for another round of sweet torture, except he noticed his husband’s strains were exceptionally acute, the noises more than simply whimpers of torment. When he glanced up, it was just in time to see the red handkerchief come floating down, leaving the security of Randy’s hand.
Randy had used his safe word.
For a fraction of a second Ethan stared at his husband in stupefaction, and then he scrambled to unfasten the cuffs, fetching the key from the dresser top with shaking hands. Randy had never, not once, used his safe word. Oh, he’d said it plenty, but never with any serious meaning. He said it to get people to stop talking about something uncomfortable, to attempt to redirect conversations—in short, he abused it, because he was so cocky he was sure no one would ever make him use it.
Ethan just had.
“I’m sorry.” Ethan fitted the key into the lock and set first one cuff free and then the other. “I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorr—”
While Ethan freed the second wrist, Randy pulled the ball gag out of his mouth, turning it into an awkward choker. As soon as both his hands were unbound, Randy grabbed Ethan by the waist and kissed him roughly. The kiss shook Ethan, and when it ended as abruptly as it had begun, Ethan was trembling too.
Randy rested their foreheads together. “That’s not at all how that story would go.”
Ethan, still climbing out of Randy’s assault, blinked. “What?”
“Your story. About what it would be like if we’d gone to the same high school. That’s not how it would have gone down.” Randy ran his hands up and down Ethan’s back, nuzzling his nose. “You had it all wrong.”
Realization began to dawn—and made Ethan angry. “If you just used your safe word on me so you could argue—”
Randy caught Ethan’s mouth in another rough kiss, pushing him backward toward the bed, but Ethan didn’t fight him—one, because the kiss was liquid sin, and two, there was an edge of desperation in Randy. It lingered as Ethan’s husband pulled away to arrange them so they lay facing each other side by side on the bed, Randy clinging to Ethan. Ethan clutched him right back, his hands tightening on Randy’s shoulders.
“Randy?” Ethan whispered.
“You have it wrong.” Randy pressed his face into Ethan’s neck, his grip becoming an unconscious massage. “I would’ve been the bad boy, yes, but I wouldn’t have given a damn what anyone else thought. You could’ve kissed me in the janitor’s closet or in the middle of the football field. I’d have been so glad it was you who wanted me. I’d have given anything in the world to know your fantasy as my reality.”
He was serious. Randy’s voice was quiet and earnest, and he was curled up against Ethan. He truly had used his safe word for the first time, ever—to clarify this.
Oh, my darling Ace.
Ethan kissed him slowly, achingly sweet—it was no longer a tease but a promise. Every toy Ethan had taken from the toy box was forgotten now. He didn’t need an implement to wrap this man around his heart. He’d use them all later, to be sure, but tonight…they didn’t need anything but each other tonight.
“When you have your next high school reunion, I think you should go,” Ethan said. “We’ll pull up in a limo and expensive suits and make them eat crow all night long.”
“I didn’t graduate, remember?”
Ethan drew back and regarded Randy with wide eyes. “You didn’t?”
Randy raised an eyebrow at him. “I told you, I got kicked out of my parents’ house, and I took off.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know that was when you were still in high school.” Ethan’s stomach knotted and hollowed out. “You’re telling me you were a minor, and they…”
Randy tried to tease Ethan out of his horror with a smile. “Come on, Slick. It’s not even an original story. Happens all the damn time. Then and now.”
Not to the man I love. Not to you. Ethan took Randy’s face in his hands. “New fantasy. You’re in high school, and I’m the student teacher, still in college. A handful of years older than you.”
Randy grinned. “Oh, good one. Who flirts with who first?”
“You with me, of course. Bawdy remarks in class, making sure to touch me too much, flustering me since you can tell I’m affected by you too, but I don’t want to act on it because I’m trying to be professional.” He stroked Randy’s arm, teased kisses down his neck. “You talk me into a few indiscretions in the darkened classroom, and once you come to my house, but I’m still reluctant, scared.”
He pressed a kiss to the center of Randy’s chest. “But the day you’re kicked out, you aren’t alone. You come to me, and I protect you.”
Randy wrapped his arms around Ethan, kissing the top of his head. “I love this fantasy. Except I’m always afraid to wish changes on the past too much. If I’d had too much help then, if I hadn’t left Detroit and hit the streets, I wouldn’t have met Mitch. I might not have ended up in Vegas. And then I might not have been here waiting to meet you.”
Ethan skimmed his hands down Randy’s sides, the curves of his body so familiar, so comforting. “I like to think we would have found each other one way or another.”
Randy laughed. “Fatalist.” He tugged at Ethan’s jeans. “Baby, you have too many clothes on.”
Ethan shied out of his jeans and underwear, but when he was done, Randy flipped him on his back and hovered over Ethan with a look in his eye that Ethan knew all too well. A look he knew and loved.
Ethan shivered, reaching for Randy as he took Ethan’s cock in hand and began to work him. “I thought I was driving the bus tonight.”
“You stopped driving the second you started thinking about poor young Randy.”
“Sorry—” Ethan gasped and tipped his head back. Randy had upped the ante by slipping a lubed finger inside Ethan, finding just the right spot with practiced ease, making his husband quake and arch his back.
Randy leaned in and kept stroking and finger-fucking his husband, nuzzling his neck. “Don’t you dare be sorry. Not for one second, not for one word of anything you just gave me.”
He pressed deeper, drawing a keening cry from Ethan, and they didn’t say anything more, not with words. Randy moved his hands over Ethan, inside of him, undoing him.
I was going to give that to you, Ethan thought wistfully, then let go and sailed away to the places only Randy Jansen could take him.
THE STAFF HOLIDAY party planning continued, but after a quiet word from Sarah, the committee no longer assumed Randy would be part of their festivities and arranged for other entertainment, the same as the year before. Caryle, the casino event manager, joined them to make plans for decorations and themed areas of the casino for their guests, and with all these things taken care of, Christmas parties were the last thing on Ethan’s mind.
Then one day Crabtree let himself into Ethan’s office, ignoring the fact that Ethan was neck-deep in work as he made himself at home on the leather sofa. “Help me think of how we can entice Randy into being the center of the Christmas festivities at Herod’s once again.”
Ethan put his pen down and gave Crabtree a long, hard look.
Crabtree brushed lint from his suit. “Sarah tells me he isn’t participating in the staff party, so initially I assumed you had him in mind for something with the casino itself. Now I find he isn’t even working prop any longer. This can’t stand. It’s not Christmas until Randy’s involved.”
Ethan did his best to keep his expression blank, not letting on how much he wanted to stick his letter opener into the man’s neck. Not that he’d have a shot at actually driving the implement home. Normally Crabtree was a cross between Santa Claus and the actor who played “the most interesting man,” but he morphed into a nightmare as soon as he perceived you to be a threat. Ethan had seen it once, when a drunk on the casino floor had pulled a knife and leapt at a female dealer. Crabtree had been sitting fifteen feet away, talking to someone else and smiling, but before anyone else could shout an alarm, Crabtree leapt into action, tackling the drunk, disarming him, dislocating his arm, and ramming his knee into the man’s throat. The cold murder in his eye had promised this was the toned-down version of what he could have done to the man. Had this been the Chicago Outfit days of Herod’s, the drunk would have enjoyed some time in the back room before the police were called.
Even as it was, Crabtree disappeared before the authorities arrived, and when Ethan was asked who had tackled the offender, he had to say it was a random guest whose name he hadn’t caught. The house rule was Crabtree didn’t exist, and he was never in the casino.
He was decidedly in front of Ethan now, however, and it was clear he intended to stay that way. This wasn’t a knee to the throat, not yet, but he was going to be a pain in Ethan’s side at the very least. As usual, the argument was going to be over Randy.
The Twelve Days of Randy Page 2