Flawed Justice

by Tibby Armstrong

  “God!” Matt shouted abruptly, his whole body trembling as he came hard. “Fuckfuckfuck. Please. Please don’t…”

  Biting down on Matt’s shoulder, Lawson slammed in, a rough sound tearing from his throat as Matt’s clenching body drew his own release from him. He held Matt close as the rush of sensations rolled over him, from the base of his spine, a violent heat that came in merciless waves of pleasure, stealing the last of his strength.

  Lifting Matt, while still deep inside him, Lawson lowered to the canvas. Sat with Matt on his lap, arms wrapped around the other man as he kissed the back of his neck. “I’ll have to keep in mind that you can come without your dick being touched at the mention of being watched.”

  Matt leaned his head back on Lawson’s shoulder. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Liar.” Lawson grinned as Matt tightened around him. He took Matt’s lips in a slow kiss. “You’re going to be a handful, but at least I know how to keep you quiet and well behaved.”

  With a huff, Matt nipped his bottom lip. “By threatening to have other men fuck my mouth? Exhibitionism? Spanking?”

  “I hadn’t considered multiple men, but do keep talking.”

  Lips snapping shut, Matt relaxed against him.

  “Good boy.” Lawson leaned back on the ropes and sighed. This had ended much better than expected, but he wouldn’t risk taking Matt’s submission for granted again. The man had pushed for him to exercise his control. No need to let that kind of power go to waste. “You forced me to come after you without any coffee. Go get me some now.”

  Wincing as Lawson helped him rise up off of him, Matt nodded. “Sure, I can…”

  Lawson’s brow lifted.

  Matt’s cheeks reddened. “Curtis and Reed are still in there.”

  “More than likely. It’s Saturday morning. Where else would they be?”

  “But—”

  “No cream for the first cup.” Lawson hooked his arm over the closest rope and got comfortable. “And ask Curtis who’s the top billing for tonight’s matches. I’d like to know if I need to make an appearance or if the officiating can be handled by Reed.”

  “I…” Matt inhaled slowly. “Please tell me I can put my clothes back on first?”

  With a lazy smile on his lips, Lawson considered for a moment. “I suppose putting your boxers back on won’t take too long. But I’ll need a fresh pot.”

  That had Matt stopping halfway out of the ring. His jaw went hard. His lips parted.

  Then he forced a smile, his tone dripping with fake sweetness. “Of course, Master. Is there anything else? Maybe some pastries?”

  “Keep it up and you can go to the bakery five blocks away dressed just like that. I don’t appreciate that tone.” He fought not to smirk at Matt’s sharp intake of breath or the way his eyes heated. He was a submissive who’d need to test his boundaries often and have them reinforced so he wouldn’t feel neglected.

  Now that Lawson had a better idea of what his man had been begging for, without quite knowing how to ask, they could avoid this problem in the future.

  Not that Matt would always like how his needs were met.

  Just as he slipped out of the ring, Lawson called his name one last time.

  “Tell Curtis about our agreement.” He held Matt’s gaze for a moment. “I’d do so very politely if I were you. He may be the nice one, but you’ve pushed him too far as it is.”

  “So, he just gets to do whatever he wants to me?”

  “Do you plan to misbehave often?”

  “No, but—”

  “You’ve answered your own question.” Lawson frowned when Matt cursed under his breath. “What was that?”

  Shaking his head, Matt gave him a weak smile, then cut across the gymnasium in long strides, likely to avoid saying anything else he’d regret. He didn’t realize Lawson had left enough slack on his leash to either get exactly the amount of freedom he needed, or to get himself completely tangled in it. Either way, he wouldn’t be taking foolish chances. Not when he understood the consequences, of which there would be many.

  This should be entertaining.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Coffee. He would focus on the coffee. That wouldn’t be too—

  Matt closed his eyes, biting his lip where it stung from Lawson’s rough kisses, the musk-sweet taste of Lawson’s dick still on his tongue.

  —hard.

  His own dick shouldn’t like the idea of Lawson controlling him so much, but there it was. Sitting up, waving happily in his sky-blue shorts, where everyone on the other side of that door would see. He should have asked for permission to put on his goddamn jeans.

  “Now, Matt.”

  Lawson’s directive got him moving, giving him the will he needed to push into the bar…where Reed and Curtis sat side-by-side, sharing sections of the morning paper. Reed’s cheeks pinked at Matt’s entrance, his whole body stilling as if he willed himself not to breathe or look up.

  Turning a page, Curtis glanced casually Matt’s way. “Didn’t figure Lawson’d last long without his coffee. Explains why you’re still in one piece though.”

  Matt bit his tongue against the urge to tell Curtis to go fuck himself. He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that, with Lawson’s instructions still ringing in his ears. Chin up, he strode behind the bar.

  Curtis’s frown followed him as Matt pulled out the grounds tray, dumped the contents in the trash, and peeled a new filter from the stack by the machine. Glancing in the mirror, he caught Curtis’s gaze still on him and jerked down his chin.

  “What’s up with you, Matt?” Closing his paper, Curtis folded it in half. “Bite your tongue off screaming out that orgasm, or has Lawson finally wised up and put you on speech restriction?”

  Mortification painted Matt’s face scarlet, and he ducked from his position in front of the mirror to grab the cream from the under-bar fridge.

  “No.” The word came out a little too sullen. Fuck. “I mean…” He came up, holding the cream, pouring a little when Curtis held out his cup. “He asked me to find out who is in the ring tonight. He wants to plan whether to be there.”

  “Christ, I don’t remember. Last night was too fucked up.” Stretching, one arm over his head, Curtis yawned, gave Reed’s shoulder a squeeze. “Grab the book, boy-o. Let’s find out.”

  Matt watched, admiring, as Reed slipped off the stool without comment and went to fetch the book from behind the bar. Matt shook his head, awed. He’d never really noticed it before today, but submission looked good on the man. There was no fight, just an easy acceptance that Matt envied.

  For his own part, Matt found it easiest to obey Lawson when the man gave him zero slack, got up in his face, and made his bonds feel straight-jacket tight. And thankfully, after their epic throw-down in the gym, Lawson knew that too.

  Matt frowned at the coffee canister. Considering his present circumstances, he wasn’t sure his pushing the point had been smart. His ass cheek still stung where Lawson had smacked him. He’d always thought spankings were for kids, but the man hadn’t held back and his palm packed a mean wallop.

  He glanced down and tugged at his shorts. At least his dick didn’t seem to mind.

  Poring over the book, one forearm stretched out alongside, Reed glanced up, eyes widening. “Dallas is fighting Doc.”

  Matt’s hand spasmed, sending coffee grounds scattering from the spoon. “Is he fucking insane?”

  Curtis whistled low. “Dallas isn’t being subtle.”

  “About?” Matt threw the switch on the machine to start the brew cycle.

  “He’s been wanting to play with Doc for awhile but the man usually goes for twinks.” Curtis swept Matt with his gaze and winked. “Like you.”

  The idea of Doc strapping him down to the table in the dungeon’s medical play area made his stomach do a different kind of roll, and his dick flagged. Matt shook his head. “Seriously, that shit is fucked up.”

  “Hey.” Curtis’s sharp tone accompanied his finger sna
p. “Respect. Nobody here is going to judge your needs, so don’t go judging theirs.”

  “Sorry.” Matt lowered his eyes.

  Curtis leaned back, hands behind his head, and narrowed his gaze. “You’re up to something.”

  Fuck fuck fuck.

  “No, I’m not. I just wondered though, I thought Dallas was a Dom?”

  “Dallas is a switch.” Reed tossed out the observation like it meant something.

  Picturing the only kind of switch he’d ever heard of, Matt stepped back so his ass was out of reach and firmly against the backbar.

  “I keep forgetting how fucking green you are.” Curtis threw him a shit-eating grin. “Lawson would be having more fun breaking your ass in if your mouth wasn’t prone to serving up more than you can handle.”

  Matt’s chin came up and he fisted his hands, but goddamn he was not going to tell Curtis where he could shove his observations.

  Curtis hooted, clapped hands together, and Matt tried to disappear into the woodwork. “I knew it! If you’re not taking that bait, either Lawson sprained your tongue on his dick, or…”

  Reed flipped the book back open. “And it looks like Fredrico challenged Erik again.”

  Ignoring Reed, Curtis stood. “You are hiding something, and you’re gonna tell me what it is.”

  Matt would have swallowed his tongue if he’d thought it would help, but no matter what he did, Curtis would find out what Lawson had wanted him to tell the man. It’d definitely go easier for him if he told Curtis himself.

  Licking his lips, he flashed Reed a help me look, but Curtis pointed a finger at Matt. “Don’t you dare. Out with it, or do I have to get Lawson to tell me before you deliver his coffee?”

  Matt’s butt cheeks clenched at Curtis’s threat. “No.”

  Curtis raised his brows.

  Covering his face with his hands, Matt groaned, and mumbled, “You’re allowed. With my mouth.” He lifted his palms, gaze searching for his escape route. “If I’m…”

  “Getting into trouble.” Lawson loomed at the end of the bar, that dark scowl back.

  Matt looked between the two Doms. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear!”

  Curtis, tapping a finger against his lips, exchanged a wry glance with Lawson. “Almost true.”

  “What?” The question gusted from Matt. “I didn’t say a goddamn fucking thing. You have to be fucking kidding me!”

  Curtis’s evil grin took over his entire face. “Attaboy.”

  Matt sputtered. “Fuck.”

  “I’d invest in a case of soap if I were you.” Tossing the advice to Lawson, Curtis rounded the bar.

  Fists balled, Matt backed up into the el that separated him from Lawson and willed himself not to come out swinging. He didn’t dare open his mouth, because if anyone stuck a fucking bar of soap in his piehole he was going to break one of the nearby liquor bottles over their head.

  “For what it’s worth?” Curtis stepped closer, brushing his knuckles along Matt’s lower lip. “I would have punished you for lying anyway.”

  Behind Matt, Lawson reached over the bar. Threaded his fingers in Matt’s hair, and tugged, exposing Matt’s neck to Curtis. Panting, Matt gripped Lawson’s wrist with both of his hands and hung on, a twisted need to touch the man who’d commanded the terms of his punishment overruling common sense.

  Curtis lowered his tongue to Matt’s throat and licked along his jugular from his clavicle to his ear, his breath a hot wash. “On your knees, boy.”

  Lawson released Matt’s hair. The sting lingered, a reminder. Matt licked his lips, the bar enclosing him on three sides, Curtis in front of him, and knelt.

  Curtis’s rough fingers combed through Matt’s hair, pushing his head back. “Apologize.”

  “I’m—”

  Curtis’s head shake cut him off. Words weren’t called for here.

  Matt swallowed hard. Saw Lawson’s bare feet as Lawson moved up behind Curtis and looped his hands around the man’s waist to unfasten his jeans in slow, sure tugs. Curtis hissed, fingers tightening in Matt’s hair when Lawson fisted him, freeing him from his briefs. Kissed the side of Curtis’s neck with a murmured, “You’re welcome.”

  The rubber bar-mat dug into Matt’s knees, and he shifted, placing his hands behind his back like he had with Lawson. Lawson’s approving growl sent Matt’s blood racing south, so he no longer needed to think, or worry. He just needed to be.

  Lawson retreated and Matt breathed deep. Working the saliva in his mouth, he inhaled Curtis’s musk and heat. Gripping himself, Curtis rubbed the head of his cock along Matt’s lips.

  He dimly registered the sound of coffee filling a ceramic mug. Then Lawson’s “All right?” to Reed, and realized they went about their mornings as if his current predicament at Curtis’s feet was nothing more than part of the scenery.

  The thought got him so hard his dick wept.

  He tasted Curtis’s pre-come on his lips. Felt the man’s gaze bore into his. Hand cupping his chin, Curtis avoided Matt’s stitches, squeezing so his jaw unhinged. Matt groaned, taking Curtis’s cock in slow inches that slid across his tongue. He rocked his hips, trying to work up a rhythm against the fabric of his briefs.

  Gaze darkening, Curtis pulled out and slapped Matt lightly with his dick.

  Matt flinched, nostrils flaring, and stilled.

  “Good boy.” Curtis’s whispered approval settled him again, before the man slid back into his mouth, deeper this time.

  Though he’d never mistake the shape and taste of Curtis for Lawson, Matt recalled Lawson training his gag reflex and used the lesson now. Curtis deepened his thrust. Matt breathed deep, swallowing hard and fast, the momentary lack of oxygen narrowing his senses. Fist tightening in Matt’s hair, Curtis stilled until Matt’s gaze splintered, then pulled away.

  Matt inhaled violently. “Shit.”

  Curtis stilled, shifting his grip, and plunged deep again. He controlled Matt’s motion, bobbing his head until saliva made a mess of Matt’s mouth, wet his bandage and eased Curtis’s strokes. Guttural sounds, dirty and sloppy, permeated Matt’s awareness, and he realized they were his own.

  He spoke with his eyes, telling Curtis all the things he’d do if the man would just let him catch his breath, just let him come. Curtis only fucked his mouth faster.

  “Fuck, you’re so damn perfect.” Curtis’s rhythm faltered, and he readjusted his stance. “I can’t— Shit.”

  Eyes squeezing shut, Curtis jerked. Came in heated spurts Matt had no choice but to swallow down.

  Panting, sweat running down his face and darkening his hair, Curtis withdrew from Matt’s mouth. Tucking himself away, he zipped up and tapped two fingers under Matt’s chin. “Close.”

  Matt closed his lips, licking them, and worked the ache out of his jaw. He was so fucking hard he could feel the head of his cock against his stomach where it peeked above his shorts.

  Bending low, Curtis helped him to his feet, put his arm around Matt and stroked his hair back. Searched his gaze and nodded. “Forgiven.”

  “Thank you.” Matt cleared his throat, not knowing what had made him say it.

  Curtis’s mouth tipped up. “Anytime.”

  Matt looked over Curtis’s shoulder to where Reed sat at the bar, fingers to his parted lips, eyes wide. Lawson sipped coffee, his hip against the edge of the bar, observing Matt with an approving tilt to his mouth. It was all so normal, but not. The mindfuck made his head spin.

  Lawson held out his hand, motioned with his head for Matt to join him. Bare feet sticking to the plastic bar-mat, he complied.

  Reed gave him a sympathetic smile, squeezing Matt’s shoulder on his way by, and leaned in to speak for his ears only. “Just sink into it. Let go.”

  Matt nodded, not really understanding, but figuring eventually he would. Lawson took his hand, tugging him gently along until they reached the stairway. Matt stopped, looking toward the gym.

  Reed stood, meeting Lawson’s gaze. “I’ll bring up his clothes later.”


  Lawson dipped his chin, acknowledging the offer and compelled Matt up the stairs, exuding a self-assured calm Matt found comforting and disturbing in equal measure. They passed the dungeon, Lawson still holding his hand, and Matt’s brain clicked back into gear. The games were over…

  This was going to be his real punishment.

  Eyes closing on a hot wash of shame, he tugged lightly against Lawson’s hold, but the man didn’t break his stride. They climbed the next flight, stair treads creaking under both their weights, and Matt swallowed against the image of himself as a condemned man approaching the gallows, Lawson in the role of executioner.

  Sweat dotted his brow. “Would it help if I said I was sorry?”

  Lawson sighed, and Matt felt the man’s disappointment roll over him. “After we’ve finished, I will listen to anything you respectfully wish to say.”

  Panic threaded Matt’s middle, and he tugged a little harder as they reached the door to Lawson’s loft. “But, I didn’t mean—”

  Lawson cast him a quelling look and Matt dropped his eyes. Yes, he had meant to manipulate Lawson into talking to him. No matter the outcome of the discussion, he’d gotten what he’d wanted, and he knew exactly why he was being punished now.

  His nostrils stung. “Fuck.”

  Inside the loft, Lawson sat on the couch, positioning Matt between his knees. “No more foul language tonight. Understood?”

  Matt nodded, gulping air. He’d faced beatings with less fear. What the fuck was wrong with him?

  “Shh. You’re fine. It’s all going to be fine.” Tenderness lighting his gaze, Lawson tugged Matt forward, tipping him over his lap. “Good boy.”

  Matt buried his face in his hands and pressed his fingertips into his eyes in a vain attempt to force back his tears. Lawson smoothed his hand down Matt’s spine, rubbing his lower back in slow circles until Matt’s breathing evened out.

  Lawson’s hand moved lower, massaging Matt’s ass cheeks. “Comfortable?”