No Limits

by Nicki Bennett

  Devon knew there was no chance Kit would need to use his safeword, but just the thought of how he might “punish” him sent the blood surging back to stiffen Devon’s cock. “Right,” he said shortly, his voice hardening into his Dom intonation. “Strip, then, and present yourself for your punishment.”

  Devon hadn’t given Jonathan any instructions, but he moved up to the head of the bed, out of the way but able to see everything that was about to happen. He didn’t think Kit had done anything that deserved punishment—he’d certainly had provocation for his initial reaction—but it was obvious the idea had Kit excited, if the healthy erection he was sporting was any indicator. Given what he’d asked Devon for himself, Jonathan was hardly in a position to protest anything Kit wanted. Leaning against the headboard, he shifted onto a hip to ease the pressure on his still-sensitive rear and settled in to see what Devon had in mind.

  Breathing a sigh of mingled relief and desire, Kit dropped his trousers and boxers to the floor, toed off his shoes, and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Taking a deep breath to settle himself, he turned back to Devon, doing his best to present a meek face. “How do you want me, Sir?”

  The little brat knew exactly what kind of images that question set loose in his head, Devon was sure. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he spread his legs and patted his knees. “Right here, facedown. Maybe a good spanking will teach you not to be so mouthy.”

  Cock jumping in anticipation, Kit tried to figure out how to position himself as Devon had indicated without looking like a complete fool in the process. Eventually, he gave up and knelt on the floor next to Devon’s feet, leaning forward across his knees, arse sticking up in the air rather awkwardly. He might have felt self-conscious were it not for the appreciative hand that ran down his back and across his bare butt. His entire body tingled eagerly, his twitching cock not the least.

  “Not straining your back, is it?” Devon’s palm lingered over the scar that paralleled Kit’s spine. Kit had assured them that the surgery to correct his spine’s curvature didn’t affect his mobility, but Devon wanted the only sensation Kit felt to be Devon’s hand on his backside.

  “It’s fine,” Kit assured Devon, the concern only adding to his shame for having said such awful things about Devon earlier. He knew the spanking would sting, but he’d asked for it, just like Jonathan had asked to be fisted. Devon would give them that intentional pain, but the entire time, he was checking to make sure there wasn’t any unintentional pain. “Thank you for asking, Sir.”

  “Such a pretty little arse,” Devon commented, his voice deepening back into its dominant cadence as he allowed himself a last caress of the smooth flesh. Then, resting his left hand between Kit’s shoulder blades to stabilize him, he brought his right down in a firm smack that left a rosy imprint on one cheek. “And all mine.”

  The thwack made Jonathan’s cock jump and his ass clench instinctively as he imagined the blow on his own tender skin. Devon had given them both a whack or two on occasion, but they’d never really played at spanking before. Judging by the expression on Kit’s upside-down face, though, he seemed to be enjoying it.

  Kit couldn’t decide which gave him more pleasure: Devon’s hand on his arse or the possessive tone of the deep voice. He’d felt the blow, but it hadn’t been enough to really hurt, just to warm his skin nicely. He wriggled a little, asking for more.

  That wriggle was the tacit acceptance Devon had been waiting for. Splaying his hand wider over Kit’s back, he laid a series of blows over his buttocks in quick succession, until the skin ripened to a uniform pink glow. Devon could feel the warmth emanating from Kit’s backside when he paused to see how Kit was doing.

  None of the strikes had been hard enough to hurt, but the combination left Kit’s skin tingling and a warm glow suffusing his lower body. Devon hadn’t told him to be quiet, so he moaned a little, letting his lover know how good it felt. Feeling the tingle start to fade, he pushed his arse up as best he could in his awkward position, asking for more. He wasn’t sure Devon would go along with it, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to ask, albeit silently. The motion rubbed Kit’s aching cock against Devon’s thigh, only adding to his arousal.

  Surprisingly, Jonathan found his own erection reviving as he watched Devon’s palm redden Kit’s cheeks. Realizing he was anticipating the feel of that contact on his own ass, he was almost relieved when he heard Kit’s moan. He was sure that would make Devon stop, and maybe he could convince him he deserved the same punishment. When Devon drew his arm back again and landed another blow, Jonathan was surprised into protest. “Devon, isn’t that enough?”

  Jonathan had been so quiet that Devon had nearly forgotten he was there, but the objection made him twist his head to stare at him for the transgression. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion,” he snapped, his hand descending again without breaking eye contact with Jonathan. “Or giving you permission to speak.” When Jonathan’s head dropped in silent apology, Devon turned back to Kit, pausing for a moment to check that he wasn’t in any distress. “That first bit was for spying on us,” he informed Kit, hitching him a bit higher over his lap so he could angle the next blows over the unmarked bottom of his cheeks. “And these are for talking back to your Dom and insulting Jonathan.” He laid another half dozen smacks over this new stretch of skin, winning a series of low moans each time his palm connected.

  Kit bit his lip to keep from begging for more. He didn’t want to give Devon a reason to stop, since he imagined that would be the retribution of choice if he spoke out of turn. He arched his back, pressing his buttocks into Devon’s hand, hoping to convey his approval of the proceedings. His cock slid wetly along Devon’s thighs each time he moved, the additional friction leaving him close to coming.

  “Like that, do you?” Devon rumbled. He’d been careful not to strike too roughly, not wanting to risk damaging their fragile rapprochement, but Kit had borne the spanking like a trouper—he deserved some reward. “Jon,” he called, running a gentle palm over the reddened flesh and smiling when Kit shivered beneath him, “find the lube and bring it here.”

  It took Jonathan a moment to find the bottle Devon had discarded at the moment of his penetration—it had fallen to the floor and he had to climb off the bed to retrieve it. He moved to Devon’s side and settled onto his knees, holding out the seriously depleted container. “Here, Sir.”

  “Isn’t he beautiful this way, Jon?” Devon observed, dragging a finger from the dip at the base of Kit’s spine and just skimming the crease between his cheeks. Kit trembled again, and Devon reached for the lube, catching Jonathan’s eyes before he could lower them. “Stay there and watch—and think about what punishment you deserve for speaking out of turn and questioning your Dom.”

  Swallowing down his response, Jonathan watched Devon squeeze the remaining lube down the cleft of Kit’s ass, watched Kit flinch as the cool liquid hit his skin and relax when Devon smoothed it into the shadowed declivity with tender fingers. Jonathan’s cock ached to skim that same slick channel, to find forgiveness in Kit’s body, but he knew he’d have to wait to win that right again.

  Whatever Kit might have said in response to Devon’s question or about Jonathan’s eventual disciplining, the words flew out of his head when Devon’s fingers began to probe his clenching hole. He pushed up against the invading finger, wishing he had better purchase so he could move more, but he wasn’t about to suggest a change of position now. He didn’t want anything to interrupt what Devon was doing.

  “You did fine, lad,” Devon admitted, circling the puckered opening with slickened fingers before letting just one tip breach the tight muscle. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to keep quiet, but you did it.” Easing the finger in deeper, he found the bump of nerves in the velvet channel and caressed it, pleasure to offset the pain. Kit arched up into the touch, driving the finger into firmer contact, and then he stiffened and clenched around Devon, crying out as he climaxed.

  Under any other circumstances, Ki
t would have been embarrassed to come like a green kid at the first touch to his prostate, but after everything that had happened since he got home—watching Jonathan and Devon together, the fight, and the spanking—he was so on edge that it didn’t take any more than that to push him over the edge. He peaked hard, his cock spewing cream over Devon’s thighs as he collapsed bonelessly across his lap, his breath sawing in and out, only Devon’s grip on him keeping him from sliding to the floor.

  Jonathan had to close his eyes to keep from moving closer, to stop himself from reaching out and joining Devon’s hand in soothing over Kit’s back. This must have been what Kit felt like, watching him and Devon together, he realized—this hollow emptiness at being excluded from their touch. He was so focused on bringing his own longing under control that Devon’s voice startled him when he spoke.

  “Well, Jon, have you decided what punishment you’ve earned?”

  Chapter 14: Bottoms Up

  JONATHAN DIDN’T expect that Devon would consider letting him clean up the cream Kit had sprayed over his lap as a punishment. He also didn’t think, thanks to his challenging Devon’s actions, that he’d get to feel his lover’s cock filling him the way he’d hoped. Swallowing regretfully, he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I think I deserve to be spanked as much as Kit did,” he answered softly.

  Rubbing Kit’s back soothingly, Devon let the silence stretch for a moment as he searched Jonathan’s lowered face, giving Jonathan the distinct feeling that he’d read both his earlier thoughts.

  “Fair enough,” Devon said finally. “You were arguing too. But after seeing to Percival here”—he gently nudged Kit to his feet, judging from the younger man’s recovered breathing that his legs would hold him again—“m’hand’s too sore to give you the thrashing you deserve.” He dipped his head toward the toy box he’d left open on the floor when he’d retrieved the paintbrush earlier in the evening. “Bring me a paddle.”

  Kit managed to pull himself upright, but only long enough to figure out where he would fit on the bed without being in the way. Devon’s voice still had its Dom cadence, so he stayed quiet, the afterglow from the spanking and the orgasm leaving him mellow enough to watch with equanimity as Jonathan went to the toy box and pulled out a wooden paddle that, except for the holes in its surface, looked like it belonged on a Ping-Pong table. Kit’s arse still tingled warmly when he sat on the bed, so he stretched out on his side instead, angling his body so his belly pressed against Devon’s back where he sat on the edge of the bed.

  It hadn’t escaped Devon’s notice that Jonathan’s cock was thick and swollen as he knelt before him again to present the paddle, nor had he missed the hungry look in Jonathan’s eyes when he’d had Kit stretched over his lap. He’d put Jonathan through a lot already tonight, though the man had taken it all beautifully, and he obviously wanted this. The paddle sounded worse than it felt, Devon knew, the holes in its surface whistling as it swung, but the flat surface would make it easy for him to limit the impact to Jonathan’s muscled cheeks and away from his undoubtedly tender hole. He curled his fingers around the oak handle, knuckles brushing Jonathan’s palm before he lifted it away. “Over my lap and present yourself,” he commanded, his voice steady.

  Jonathan bowed his head silently and arranged himself across Devon’s knees, his slightly greater height letting him use his hands and feet to steady himself against the bare wood floor. He could feel the warm slipperiness of Kit’s release still coating Devon’s thighs, giving him a sense of connection with both his lovers that comforted his heart. Letting his head fall forward, he pressed a kiss to the golden hair dusting Devon’s calf before taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the punishment to come.

  After a few experimental moves to refresh his memory of its feel in his grip, Devon brought the paddle down sharply on Jonathan’s bum, leaving a bright mark on the pale flesh. Jonathan’s breath caught at the impact, and he bit back a moan at the heat spreading over his backside, a different burn than the ache he still felt at being stretched to take Devon inside him.

  Kit flinched reflexively at the sound the paddle made as it whistled through the air, but the dull thud reminded him too much of the feeling of Devon’s hand on his backside for him to question it. He curled around Devon a little more so he could see the blows fall, could see Jonathan’s reactions. Not because he doubted that Jonathan could take it, but more because he wanted to be a part of this in a way he hadn’t been part of everything that had come before. He couldn’t help feeling a little grateful, though, that he’d been spanked first, before Devon’s hand got tired. A second blow shattered a rivulet of the wax that decorated Jonathan’s cheeks, leaving a pattern of the paddle’s holes in its place.

  Devon landed several more thwacks with the paddle, aiming carefully until the entire expanse of Jonathan’s backside colored a dusky pink. Jonathan stiffened against him at each contact, his cock a bar of hot steel burning Devon’s thigh. “How many times did I spank you, lad?” he asked Kit, who was watching them both with a heated fascination.

  “I didn’t count,” Kit admitted softly. “I didn’t know I was supposed to, Sir,” he apologized. “I’ll do better next time.”

  Reaching back with his free hand, Devon stroked Kit’s hip lightly in reassurance. “It’s all right, lad. I didn’t tell you to count them.”

  Kit relaxed under the gentle touch, letting the reassurance soothe him. He’d already caused enough problems tonight without making matters worse.

  “A dozen, Sir,” Jonathan volunteered, having felt every blow as it landed on Kit’s rear. He hoped he wouldn’t anger Devon by answering out of turn, but he also hoped to receive at least as many himself.

  Devon’s tone, when he replied, was amused rather than angry. He might have known nothing got past their eagle-eyed king. “And how many have I given you so far?”

  “Six, Sir.” Without his conscious awareness, Jonathan’s aching muscles clenched in anticipation of another half dozen whacks.

  The hunger in Jonathan’s quiet answer was so palpable it spurred Devon on despite his inclination to stop. Varying his placement to spread the blows over as wide an area as he could, Devon counted out the last six strokes, dropping the paddle to the floor and squeezing Jonathan’s shoulders in reassurance when he’d finished. “That’s it, Jon.”

  Sliding to his knees, Jonathan looked up at Devon, the double burn only adding to the need already firing his blood to feel Devon claiming him completely. “Thank you, Sir,” he murmured.

  Devon stretched a hand to help Jonathan to his feet. “Lie down on the bed,” he suggested, his voice gentling to underscore that the scene was over. “I’m going to get some lotion for the two of you. Just relax; I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Easing himself onto the wide mattress, Jonathan rolled to his side, the air cool on his heated backside. Kit lay beside him, his brown eyes meeting Jonathan’s with just enough uncertainty to send guilt spiking through him, sharper than any other pain he’d endured that night. “Can I hold you?” Jonathan asked, not wanting to take anything for granted anymore. At Kit’s nod, he inched forward, his arms closing around Kit’s shoulder and waist, leaning forward until his forehead rested against Kit’s. “Are we all right?” he asked softly, wanting desperately to kiss Kit but needing the assurance that he hadn’t damaged them beyond repair first.

  “Yeah,” Kit replied softly, tilting his head to kiss Jonathan quickly. “I shouldn’t have said those things. I was… scared, I guess, that I’d lose you both, that you’d realize you were better off without me.” He shifted closer, aligning their bodies completely, needing the contact to reassure him that he hadn’t bolloxed everything up with his insensitivity. “I don’t want to lose you.”

  His eyelids falling closed over a sudden spring of tears, Jonathan buried a hand in Kit’s hair, pulling him into a deeper kiss of apology and forgiveness. “You won’t lose me,” he promised, his voice deep with emotion. “Not unless you push me away. I love you, love you b
oth, so much….”

  Devon watched a moment longer from the doorway as Kit and Jonathan nestled together, until the need to rejoin his lovers overcame the need to give them time to repair their own bonds. “Enough canoodling without me,” he grumbled teasingly, leaning down to drop a kiss on each of their foreheads before rolling them gently apart. “On your tummies now, and let me see to your backsides.” A smile warmed his face as Kit and Jonathan’s hands found their way together, maintaining contact as they moved onto their stomachs.

  The kiss and the clasp of Jonathan’s hand reassured Kit in a way no words could ever do, enough so that he moved easily at Devon’s suggestion, rolling onto his stomach and presenting his still stinging buttocks for his lover’s attention.

  Moving first to Kit’s side, Devon poured a generous dollop of lotion into his palm, letting it absorb the warmth from his hand before leaning over to smooth it tenderly onto the reddened skin. A heartfelt sigh escaped at the soothing touch, making Devon smile, his other hand rumpling Kit’s already-tousled hair. He worked the cream in gently, lingering until the heated flesh cooled and drank in the lotion completely. Dropping onto his forearm to bring his head level with Kit’s, he kissed him softly, searching his eyes. “Better now, lad?” he asked, hoping Kit knew he meant more than mere physical comfort.

  Kit shifted beneath the soothing caress. Knowing it was intended to ease the stinging did nothing to stop Devon’s attention from having another, more salubrious effect. He pushed his hips up, asking for more attention and relieving the pressure on his rapidly renewing erection. “Yeah,” he mumbled into the pillow, “but you don’t have to stop.”