“Dinner’s ready.”
Robbie glared at him, and moved to the table.
“Thank you. Is there anything I can do to help?” Trace asked.
“No, just take a seat. Everything’s done. Robbie, care to help me bring out the food?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Robbie brushed his fingers against Trace’s shoulders as he passed him. Trace caught his hand and gave it a little squeeze.
“Let me know if I can be of assistance.”
When Robbie entered the kitchen, Tony snatched him and pulled him against the far wall.
“So? How is it?”
“How’s what?” Robbie pushed by him and went to retrieve a pair of cooking mitts. “And don’t think I’m not mad at you.”
“You were miserable, and you weren’t doing anything to fix it. I wouldn’t be your best friend if I hadn’t intervened.”
“Oh, shut up and give me a hand.”
They needed both of them to carry in the turkey.
“Wow, what is that?”
“It’s the turkey, of course.”
“Of course.”
The news came in, interrupting the music program.
“What did he say?”
Robbie turned up the volume, listening to the announcements.
“We’re snowed in?” He leaped to the window. “Wow, would you look at that!”
Trace and Tony joined him.
“Crap.”
The street was gone, hidden under a pile of white fluff.
“How are we supposed to get home?”
Robbie snorted at the outrage in Trace’s voice. “It’s not that bad. I’m sure they’ll clean the roads by the morning, and then you can get your car out.”
“No, I can’t. I came on foot.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I can’t drive in this…madness.”
“Madness? This is awesome. Do you know how long it’s been since we had a white Christmas?”
“Not long enough, if you ask me, but then again, I’m not used to it.” Trace quieted as he looked out. “But it does look nice.”
The wistfulness in his voice tugged at Robbie’s heart. Out of impulse, he reached out and took Trace’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
“Come on, let’s eat.”
***
The food was great. The turkey, despite being weirdly cut, was juicy, and the roasted potatoes were cooked to perfection. He shared glances with Robbie over the table, and struggled to make polite conversation. It was hard when all he wanted was to climb over and take Robbie in his arms.
As the evening progressed, they moved to the couch to watch movies. Christmas films weren’t exactly his choice, but Robbie’s enthusiasm was contagious. And the way he snuggled to Trace’s side when the movie started didn’t hurt either. Everything only got better when the first scene of Die Hard filled the screen.
“I thought you said Christmas movies.”
“What can be more Christmassy than Bruce Willis saying ‘Yee Pee Kai Ya, Motherfucker’? And tonight’s double feature includes the Lethal Weapon series.”
“Oh, yeah, that sounds good.”
The snow kept falling heavily, and the chances of the weather clearing any time soon became slimmer with each passing hour. Trace kept glancing outside, and each time, it gave him the shivers. He didn’t think he would be thrown out in the street when the films were over, but he felt uncomfortable about the sleeping arrangements. And about the way Robbie fidgeted every time he checked the clock on the wall. Whenever that happened, Trace gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“What do you think? Should we call it a night?” Tony asked.
To Trace’s surprise, it was well past midnight.
“I should probably go.” He felt obliged to say it. Though what he would do if they made him leave, he didn’t know.
“In this weather? I don’t think so.”
“You can share the room with Robbie, if you don’t mind,” Tony put in casually.
Trace felt the little jerk Robbie gave at Tony’s suggestion, but he couldn’t say if it was a good reaction or a bad one.“Sure, that’s fine with me.”
“Me too.” Trace agreed.
“Great. Let me get you some pillows and blankets, and then you’re all set for the night.”
“Thank you.”
Tony brought them the linens, and guided them to the spare bedroom. Once the door closed behind him and they were alone in the room, Trace turned to Robbie.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I can sleep on the couch, or on the floor, if you prefer.”
Robbie walked up to him and rose onto his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around Trace’s neck. “No. This sounds good.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I am.” After a little hesitation, Robbie met Trace’s gaze. “I want to pick up from where we left it last time.”
***
Robbie shivered, breaking out in goose bumps as Trace nuzzled his throat. His hips thrust forward, and he rubbed against Trace’s hard cock. His hands shot up to tangle in Trace’s hair.
“Oh no you don’t,” Trace growled in his ear.
“Oh God.”
Trace caught his hands and brought them above his head, pushing them into the mattress while holding them in a tight lock with his palm. Robbie moaned and gave a little struggle. Trace’s fingers tightened their hold.
Arousal shot through him, enhanced by the growl Trace let out in response to Robbie’s reaction. Trace gave a sharper bite, which only served to make Robbie hornier. He ground against Trace, hard, the fabric of his briefs rubbing against the sensitive head of his cock, the contact pleasantly abrasive.
Trace growled again, and used his free hand to slap the side of Robbie’s ass in admonishment. “Behave yourself.”
A knot formed in Robbie’s throat and he had to dry swallow to push it down, just as his dick throbbed and he felt himself dripping.
Trace gave him another slap, with just the right amount of force behind it to make his point without being forceful—a precarious balance Robbie found arousing. He let Trace know by moaning and pushing against him, beginning for more.
“Oh, someone is being naughty.”
Trace pressed against Robbie’s chest and kissed him hard, his hold on Robbie’s wrists never faltering. The kiss was hungrier than everything Robbie had experienced with him, Trace using all the weapons—lips, teeth, tongue—to his advantage. Robbie surrendered gladly, giving back as hard as he got, blinded by the desire burning in his loins.
With his free hand, Trace reached between them and fumbled with Robbie’s fly. Robbie squirmed as Trace’s fingers bumped against his cock. Trace gave his lower lip a sharp nibble and popped open the button.
Robbie arched, searching for friction. Trace released his wrists, only to take both of his hands and place them against the headboard, wrapping the fingers around the horizontal bars.
“Hold them there.”
Breath hitching, Robbie obeyed. As Trace focused on removing Robbie’s pants, Robbie squeezed the bars. When his jeans were undone, Trace pushed the fabric away. Gliding down Robbie’s body, he stopped to tease each nipple. They pebbled, making Robbie shiver, and he gave a little cry as Trace bit on them. Energy zapped through him, as if the nipples were connected directly to his cock.
“Do it again.”
Trace slapped the side of his ass again, but complied, biting him once more, harder this time.
Robbie wiggled, his fingers tingling to reach out to Trace, but he kept his hands where they were. Trace slid lower, raining kisses over his stomach. When he reached the waistband of Robbie’s briefs, he paused. Through the fabric, Trace fondled Robbie’s cock. He rubbed it, roughly. The cotton brushed against the head, and Robbie whimpered with the need to have Trace’s hand on him.
Shifting on the bed, Trace tugged at Robbie’s jeans, and Robbie lifted his hips to help him in his task. In return, Trace ran his lips over the column of Robbie’s
dick. His hot breath seared through Robbie’s shorts, almost too hot to bear. Panting, Robbie looked down at Trace, meeting his eyes. Energy sizzled between them as Trace held his gaze. Slowly, his tongue peeked out, and, with his eyes still locked on Robbie’s, he ran that tongue over Robbie’s shaft.
“Oh God.”
Unable to maintain eye contact, Robbie let his head roll back until it rested against the pillow.
The jeans flew through the air as Trace finally removed them, followed by Robbie’s briefs. Robbie’s cock gave a sharp jerk, finally freed from the confinement of his underwear. He shivered, the cold air providing a powerful contrast against heated flesh.
“Such a lovely cock you have.”
“Oh hell.”
Trace wrapped his hand around Robbie’s dick, giving it a little tug. His palm glided over the head, spreading the precome around. His other hand slid lower to fondle Robbie’s balls. He rolled them in his palm, rubbing his thumb over them, exerting the perfect amount of pressure, bordering between pain and arousal. Robbie panted again, and more precome oozed out. Robbie thrashed, back arched, his hands nearly coming off the headboard.
“That’s it.”
Trace licked him clean, his tongue circling the head in a long, slow movement. Robbie gave a deep shiver, legs parting. Shifting, Trace settled between them, and in a slow, controlled move, he took the whole of Robbie’s dick in his mouth, running his tongue down the underside. Robbie chocked, hips bucking. Trace pushed him down, using his arm to keep Robbie on the bed, as he bobbed up and down on the shaft.
“Oh God, yes. That’s it.”
Tension built, Robbie’s entire back tightening to the point of pain. Trace held him down as he took his cock to the root. He stayed there, massaging the shaft with his tongue until Robbie couldn’t think straight, before climbing back up to tease the head.
Soft cries, mixed with moans and sounds that made no sense, poured out of Robbie. He struggled to stay still as more precome dribbled. If only Trace would pick up the rhythm, just a little bit, it would be enough to push him over. But Trace kept the sucking painfully slow, teasing.
“You are not allowed to come.”
It took a while for the meaning to register. When it did, Robbie’s breath stopped in his throat, his eyes snapping open in mixture of panic and excitement. A sharp squeeze of his balls nearly had him shoot off the bed. It hurt—so much so that it nearly pushed back the orgasm.
“Did you hear me?”
“Y-y-yes.” Robbie nearly sobbed.
The pressure against his testicles eased. Needles stabbed him as blood flooded the area. His cock gave an involuntary jerk, taking Trace by surprise. His teeth brushed against the soft skin, sharp enough to have Robbie grinding his teeth.
The pressure of the scraping disappeared, but the memory of it lingered, enhancing Robbie’s arousal. As if sensing that, Trace slapped his ass again.
“Remember. No coming without permission.”
Fuck! “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
And with that, Trace went back at tormenting Robbie.
Now that he knew he couldn’t come, the tension increased, bringing Robbie ever closer to the edge. Trace tugged at his cock, jerking him off in a quick rhythm, similar to what Robbie liked. He choked off a cry, fingers tightening against the bars to the point of pain.
Trace nuzzled Robbie’s balls, stabbing them gently with his tongue, before giving them long licks. He flicked them, rolling them under his tongue, while he kept jerking Robbie off. He slowly picked up the rhythm, making it increasingly difficult for Robbie to stave off his orgasm. Every once in a while, Trace teased the head with his fingernails, sharp enough to make Robbie hold his breath and clench his teeth, as endorphins flooded his system, bringing him closer to release.
Each time that happened, Trace would squeeze the base of his cock, growling, “No coming.”
Then he started over, driving Robbie wild.
“Oh God, please. Please.”
“Not yet.”
Then, when Robbie thought he couldn’t take anymore, Trace stopped. Completely. He fucking stopped. Robbie lifted his head off the pillow and stared at Trace, eyes unfocused, his brain fighting the lack of blood as he tried to understand what was going on.
“What the hell?”
In his shock, he let go of the bars and pushed himself in a half-sitting position, resting on his elbows. Trace’s brow shot up in challenge as he looked Robbie up and down.
Robbie frowned, unsure what he was missing in the interaction.
“I don’t recall saying you could move your hands.”
Eyes widening, Robbie dropped back into his former position, reaching for the bars. His dick swayed, and more precome dribbled at the command he sensed in Trace’s tone.
“What’s the rush? We have all the time in the world.”
Robbie gaped, mouth opening and close, no words coming out. Trace pushed himself up and stood. Robbie stared at him, dick throbbing furiously, the tension in his body so intense tears prickled at his eyes.
Trace grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. Robbie followed the play of muscles across his stomach. Dry swallowing, Robbie bit his lower lip, eyes glued to Trace. Pants followed the T-shirt, and as the jeans gave way to skin, Robbie’s heart picked up a crazy rhythm, his mouth now watering. The zipper being lowered was loud over the thumping in his ears. Beneath them, blue cotton underwear peeked out, but before Robbie could figure out what type they were, Trace hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband and pulled them down along with his jeans.
Long before Robbie was prepared for the sight, Trace’s hard cock jutted free, swaying between his strong legs.
Robbie gasped.
“Do you like what you see?”
“Yes.”
Trace wriggled out of his pants and underwear, toed off his socks, then climbed back in the bed. Robbie met him open-mouthed, making sure his hands remained firmly attached to the headrest. Trace straddle his hips, hard cock brushing against Robbie’s. They both gasped, before Trace took them in his hands, pressing them together.
Robbie whimpered as heat seeped into him. Trace gave them both a swift jerk, his palm gliding up their shafts. The incredible contrast between the heated flesh and the calluses on Trace’s palm had Robbie’s eyes rolling back.
The heat and the pressure were suddenly gone, and a sharp slap against his shaft made Robbie’s eyes snap open.
“You are not to come.”
Robbie whimpered, his dick throbbing furiously. If Trace kept this up, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, no matter what.
Trace took them both back in hand, and, leaning in, spit on their cocks. He resumed tugging at them, his palm gliding up and down the shafts, tightening around the heads and spreading the spit and precome around. Robbie cried out, his head thrashing on the pillow, fingers clenched on the board. He arched his back, thrusting his hips upward, providing extra traction.
The pressure, which had eased a little during the break, built up again, harder and faster. He heard Trace gasp, his rhythm faltering before picking up. The grasp become painful. Endorphins flooded his system. Lifting his head, Robbie stared at Trace. He took in Trace’s expression: the way his mouth contorted, and the frown of concentration on his face. The widening of his pupils, and the strained cords in his neck.
His own spine tingled, the tension piling at the base. Robbie ground his teeth together, hips shooting higher as Trace jerked them off faster and faster.
A string of curses poured out of Trace. Head thrown back, he picked up the rhythm yet again. Robbie held his breath, his own need forgotten as he watched Trace in fascination. A final hard, fast pull, and the tightening of his thigh muscles, marked the beginning of his orgasm.
To his surprise, just as Trace’s dick spasmed against his, Trace lifted his head and stared him in the eyes. Heat rose to Robbie’s cheeks, but he held Trace’s gaze.
“That’s it. Give it to me.” Robbie
couldn’t help the words from leaving his mouth. Once they were out, he held his breath, waiting to be berated for them. Instead, Trace’s gaze grew darker, hotter.
Heat spilled over them both, Trace’s cock jerking against Robbie’s. The smell of his release filled the room, reminding Robbie of his own need. Trace jerked them off, the rhythm slower, the strokes longer, until Robbie felt he was exploding. But Trace’s warning held him back. He clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt, eyes glued to Trace’s face.
Trace rode out the orgasm, his body spasming on top of Robbie. He went limp as his orgasm ended, and he had to hold onto Robbie’s thigh to keep his balance. His cock slipped from his hold.
“That was…intense.”
Trace kept stroking Robbie, using his own come as lubricant.
“Oh God. I can’t.” Unable to tear his gaze from Trace, Robbie whimpered. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” Trace kept stroking, fondling Robbie’s balls with his free hand.
Robbie swallowed, struggling. No, he couldn’t. He was sure of it. He felt himself grow bigger, harder.
“I can’t. Oh God, please.”
“Just a little longer.” Trace slowed his stroking, but not enough to actually put off Robbie’s release.
“I can’t,” Robbie cried out. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. Ten more seconds.”
Robbie swallowed and rolled his head. His fingers opened and closed around the bars, and this time he found solace in the action.
“Nine.”
He wouldn’t last. He knew he wouldn’t.
“Eight.”
Robbie exhaled through his teeth.
“Seven.”
God, was Trace counting slower?
“Six.”
Robbie pulled against the headboard, praying to last just a little more.
“Five.”
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Four.”
Trace’s palm gave a long twist over the head, just as he rolled Robbie’s balls with his other hand.
“Three.”
“Oh God, please.”
“Two.”
So close.
“One.”
Trusting Trace: Christmas at the Dungeon Page 5