by Nora Phoenix
Cornell blinked a few times. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Only if you want to,” Rhys stressed again, a little worried he was making things worse. It was just that he didn’t know where to start if Cornell truly didn’t know this about himself.
“You’ll have to forgive me, but it’s still a little weird to be talking about this with you,” Cornell said after a long pause. “I’ve known you since you were a baby and now you want me to talk about sex and spanking and stuff with you.”
Rhys heard him, but he also heard the two things Cornell mentioned first. Sex and spanking. Interesting. “I understand. It’s gonna take some getting used to.”
“It’s not weird for you?” Cornell asked.
Rhys almost wanted to laugh, because how could it be weird when he’d stopped seeing Cornell as his godfather, as some kind of sexless avuncular type, ages ago? God, he’d had his first erotic dream about the man when he’d still been a teen. “No,” he said. “But I’ve had more time to get used to it.”
Cornell was stalling, he recognized, but he let him. Pushing would only have the opposite effect, as Cornell was not a man who liked to be pushed. Bribed with a reward, yes, but not forced or put under pressure. So he sat as Cornell watched him in that semi-stealthy way of his, where he peeked from under his eyelashes while pretending to look down. He was good at that, Rhys had noticed. Probably years of experience of secretly watching his Dom when he was told not to.
“I like being tied down,” Cornell said, his voice soft. “Shibari, too, but only with an experienced Dom who allows me to place myself in a position I can hold for a long time. Otherwise, it takes forever and gets too uncomfortable.”
When he stopped talking, Rhys realized it had been an opening move, to speak. The rest, he’d have to ask. “How about pain and impact play?” he asked. “Whipping, flogging, that kind of thing?”
Cornell shook his head. “I like spanking,” he offered, and Rhys had to blink back a lovely vision of Cornell offering himself for a spanking on his lap.
“Knife play?” he asked, his voice a tad hoarse.
That resulted in a firm head shake.
“Water sports?”
Another resolute no.
“Sensory play?”
Cornell thought about that one for a bit. “I don’t think I have much experience with that. It’s too tame for most Doms.”
“What else do you like, Cornell?” Rhys asked, and if he let a little Dom slip into his voice, well, that couldn’t be helped, now could it?
“Sex.”
The word was so soft that Rhys would’ve missed it had he not been watching Cornell so closely. “You like sex?” he asked.
Cornell’s cheeks were stained with a gorgeous flush now, and he studiously avoided Rhys’s eyes as he nodded.
“Penetrative sex or…?”
“All of it. Blow jobs, giving and receiving. Hand jobs. Edging. Coming. The cuddling afterward.”
Ah, there it was, Cornell showing himself. The urge to reward him with a good boy was strong, but he had no idea how Cornell would react to it. Still, he had to give him something.
“Thank you for sharing that,” he said, making his voice warm, and Cornell’s face lit up.
“It’s what made your father and me…” he started, then stopped talking. Rhys watched him as myriad emotions flashed over his face. “Touch,” he finally said, his voice choked up. “That’s the common element in all of it. I like to be touched.”
“Yes,” Rhys said simply.
“With Jonas, that’s why we shared a bed,” Cornell said, and Rhys’s heart skipped a beat. “For the cuddling. Not because we had sex, because we didn’t. Well, in a scene sometimes when we played together. Jonas was…” he stopped again, and Rhys could see the realization on his face of who he was talking to.
“It’s okay,” he assured him. “You can talk about my dad. It doesn’t weird me out. Also, I know he was vers, because he and I actually talked about that.”
When his dad had mentioned that, Rhys had filled in the blanks. His dad had fucked Cornell sometimes in scenes, that was the conclusion. Rhys understood. It was the almost inevitable consequence of them playing together with one Dom. Of course, watching two subs pleasure each other would be gratifying.
“You’re okay with all of this?” Cornell asked.
“Yeah. Talking about this shouldn’t be weird, you know?”
“But it’s your dad we’re talking about. With me.”
Rhys smiled. “Yes, and I thought I’d made clear I’ve known about you two for a long time. I was okay with it when I found out, and that hasn’t changed.”
Cornell studied him for a bit more, then let out a sigh. “So, touch… Would you believe me if I said I never realized it?”
Rhys’s smile widened. “I gathered as much, yes.”
“How the hell did you find out that quickly?” Cornell asked, and it was almost an accusation.
“By paying attention?” Rhys said. “I noticed how well you responded when I touched you.”
“Huh,” Cornell said, and that one word was stuffed with meaning. “To the massage, you mean?”
“Not just that, but in general. You calm down if I put my hand on your shoulder. You relax when I massage you.” He hesitated, then decided to go all in to build Cornell’s trust. “Hell, you lean into my touch whenever you have the opportunity. You crave it, Cornell. There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s how you’re wired.”
Cornell’s mouth had dropped open a little before he closed it, then opened it again to speak. “And after all that, you’re asking me to submit myself to another massage. Isn’t that asking for trouble for me?”
9
He knew better, and yet Cornell found himself on the massage table again, face down, his body tense in anticipation.
"Try to relax, Cornell," Rhys said. "It's not a test. You have nothing to prove, neither to me nor to yourself."
Cornell let those words sink in. Rhys was surprisingly wise for his age. And he certainly was perceptive. Cornell still couldn't believe how quickly Rhys had picked up on that whole sensitive to touch thing. Now that he thought about it, it made total sense, but he'd been a submissive since he was twenty-one, and he'd never quite put it together. It had taken Rhys only a week. Cornell wasn't sure if that spoke more about how oblivious he had been to his own body or how tuned in Rhys had been. Probably a little of both.
Rhys massaged his shoulder again, and Cornell had to bite his lip from groaning in pain. This stage certainly wasn't arousing, thank you very much.
"I'm sorry," Rhys said. "I know this hurts. Massaging connective tissue is one of the most painful things, especially in a spot like this, but I can already sense the difference from two days ago. We’re not there by a long shot, but your body is responding well."
And that, right there, was one of the reasons why Cornell had agreed to the massage after all. Even knowing that he might react again, become aroused, it hadn't deterred him from submitting himself to Rhys's hands again. As much as he could try to fool himself that the slight improvement he'd experienced in his shoulder was a fluke, what Rhys had said confirmed it. The massage did help, and Cornell would do anything to get his body into the best state possible. He had to do whatever he could to reduce the constant pain if he ever wanted a shot at having his life back.
Rhys kneaded his muscles, and Cornell and endured it, trying to focus on his breathing and staying relaxed.
"You're doing great," Rhys said, his voice dropping a little to that wonderful, rich tone that reached deep inside Cornell and made him feel things. Things that he had no business feeling with Rhys, and yet here they were.
He didn't respond, but he felt himself relax even more into Rhys's hands, as if his body wanted to prove even more that the guy had been right. Even when Rhys was hurting him—and not the good kind of hurt—Cornell was responding and obeying. Submitting, basically, even if it was a different kind of pa
in.
It was a little shocking to realize how much he wanted to obey him. That part, more than anything else, was a struggle for him. Even with how ingrained his need and desire to submit was, he shouldn't be persuaded that easily to obey just anyone. The fact that Rhys was so much younger, that they had never played together, that there was the whole entanglement of having known him since he was a baby, all those reasons should make him be cautious.
And yet he wasn't. Well, maybe his mind was, but his body, his soul, yearned to submit to him. Hell, he'd obeyed him even before he'd been aware Rhys had been commanding him.
He allowed himself to sink deep into his thoughts as Rhys worked his shoulders and back. The pain grew less and less, and Cornell felt the tension seeping from his muscles, responding to Rhys's touch. Still, that part could be explained as reacting to physical therapy. That didn't mean he'd been right about the rest, though if he were honest with himself, Cornell knew Rhys's analysis had been spot on.
"I'm slowly going to move into a relaxing massage, to help your muscles recover from the beating they took. Is that okay with you?"
Cornell knew why he asked. He wanted to make sure Cornell was okay with the possible consequences. Well, there was the second reason he had agreed to the massage, after all. Sure, his primary reason had been to alleviate his pain and discomfort and improve his range of mobility, but the second, that was about to happen right now. Would he react again? Even knowing that it had happened before, even with him aware of Rhys's theory, would his body respond anyway?
"Yes," he said, once again biting back the honorific he wanted so desperately to tag on.
That part, more than anything else, was concerning to Cornell. Obeying Rhys, responding to his tone and commands, that was one thing. Reacting to his touch, still all explainable. After all, it had been a long time since he'd been touched, and even longer since he'd had a good scene. But him constantly wanting to call Rhys Sir, that was plain fucked up. That spoke to a connection on a level that made Cornell very uncomfortable.
Rhys's touch changed, from the strong, almost bruising strokes to lighter ones. He ventured lower, too, close to the waistband of the simple cotton boxers Cornell was wearing. Cornell's skin tingled, recognizing the difference.
"That's good," Rhys said. "I can feel you relaxing. The hurting part is over. Now we’re getting to the good part."
Cornell couldn't help but tense up at those words. What did Rhys mean, the good part? Was he deliberately trying to get Cornell aroused?
Rhys chuckled. "That got your attention. Relax. Nothing's going to happen that you don't want, okay?"
Nothing’s going to happen that you don't want. Did that mean something could happen if he wanted it? Did he want something to happen? Cornell's head was spinning, even as his body relaxed again. Seconds later, he felt himself move against Rhys's touch, seeking more. Ah, that was what Rhys had been talking about, about him leaning into the touch. Dammit, why did the kid have to be right about everything?
"Stop thinking so hard," Rhys said. "Allow yourself to feel."
Allow yourself to feel. It was easier said than done. Then again, he'd managed the last time, hadn't he? All he had done was feel to the point where he'd drifted off, completely relaxed and immersed in Rhys's touch. He had to have been, because if his mind had been at work, there was no way he would've allowed himself to come.
So he could try that, maybe. How did it feel? He concentrated on Rhys's hands, which were now stroking his back with slow, soft strokes. He would venture out to Cornell’s upper arms every now and then, turning his muscles liquid. It felt good, relaxing, a welcome change from the previous massage.
Rhys was right, Cornell really did like being touched. Even after mediocre scenes, he'd loved the aftercare. Being held by someone else, the cuddling part, that could make up for not getting much out of the scene itself. There had been this one Dom, years ago, who’d had hands much like Rhys’s. Firm hands that could alternate between the best spanking he'd ever had and hugging and cuddling him as if there was no tomorrow. Cornell had almost mourned when the guy had found the love of his life in a sweet boy and had collared him. He'd been happy for them, but he'd felt the loss of not being able to play with him for months.
God, Rhys's hands really were perfect. He had power in them for sure. Cornell wondered how they would feel hitting his flesh. Spanking seemed like such a basic concept, but he could count on one hand the number of Doms who were good at it. Many of them considered it below their skill level or merely regarded it as a warm-up, something they had to get through to get to the good parts. But when done right, spanking could be everything Cornell needed to fly.
And as Rhys's touches slowed down even more and became gentle caresses, like velvet on his skin, he had no trouble imagining what they would feel like on his ass. Oh, Rhys would hit him good, slapping his cheeks until they were all red and swollen, just the way he liked it. And then when Cornell was all hot and bothered, Rhys would deny him his orgasm, of course, because things were never that easy. Then he would play with him, teasing his hole, making him fight back what his body so desperately wanted. He would be begging by then, moving against Rhys's hands, seeking that friction that would send him over the edge, at the same time knowing that he couldn't displease his Dom.
His eyes flew open, his body tensing up as he stilled the movements he'd been making. He had been humping the table. Again. The combination of Rhys's touch and the thoughts they had triggered had been enough to make him rock hard. Oh god, now what?
"Stop," he said.
Rhys's hands immediately let go of him, and he could've cried at how empty that lack of touch made him feel.
"It's okay," Rhys said. "I'll stop if that's what you want, but whatever you're feeling, it's okay."
"It's not okay," Cornell said, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I shouldn't react this way to you."
"So, with anyone else, it would have been okay?" Rhys asked, and Cornell realized the truth of that question.
Did he have a problem with getting aroused in the first place or because it was with Rhys? After being a sub for so long, he knew that how his body reacted was never something to be ashamed of. Most of it was instinctual anyway and had little to do with choice. He could fight it, and of course, sometimes he had to if that was what the Dom wanted, but at the end of the day, the body decided its own way. He could only control how he handled it, not the reaction itself.
"I don't know," he said. "I know I shouldn't judge myself for how I respond physically, but it's kinda hard not to."
"What if I give you permission?" Rhys asked.
Cornell was eternally grateful that he didn't have to look him in the eyes, his face hidden from Rhys's scrutiny on the table as it grew hot and undoubtedly red. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"You're struggling with your own thoughts that you're not supposed to react to me, right? My guess is that with any other Dom, you would've been fine with it. Just not with me. Am I right?"
"Yes," Cornell said after a short pause. "Though I’m pretty sure I would've felt the same with any other physical therapist."
"But the way I'm touching you now, that's not a physical therapist’s touch. You didn't react this way during the initial massage. I deliberately moved into something else, and we both know this."
"You transitioned from being a therapist into a Dom," Cornell said, understanding where Rhys was going with this.
"Exactly. So, you can skip the thought that it's not okay to react to a massage like this, because what I did was almost guaranteed to evoke a reaction in you. Now it's about you giving yourself permission to react to my touch, and I'm telling you, I am granting you that permission."
Cornell's breath quickened. It shouldn't make a difference, Rhys giving him permission, but it did.
"Tell me as a Dom."
* * *
Tell me as a Dom, Cornell had said, and Rhys realized immediately what he meant. "Yellow to slow down, red to stop," he said.
"Yes, Sir," Cornell said, and hearing those two simple words fall from his lips sent a rush through Rhys like he’d never experienced before.
"I'm going to touch you now," Rhys said, his hands shaking a little. This was it, what he had been hoping and dreaming for for such a long time—permission to touch Cornell in a different way.
"Yes, Sir. Green, Sir," Cornell said, his voice dropping to a different tone, one that pushed all those buttons inside Rhys.
"You have my permission to come," Rhys said, struggling to keep his voice as level and steady as he wanted it to be.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Was there anything sweeter than Cornell's submission to him? He was almost drunk with the feeling of it. Luckily, his hands knew what to do, and they resumed their exploration of Cornell's body. Instead of focusing on his back, he started with his head. This wasn't something he usually did, but he knew from experience how wonderfully relaxing a good scalp massage could be. Hell, he still drove forty-five minutes to his favorite hairdresser because of the way the guy massaged his head after washing his hair. Best. Thing. Ever.
So, he did the same to Cornell, smiling when the man let out little groans and sighs of appreciation. Even there, tension was seeping away, and Rhys smiled, the joy of making Cornell feel good rolling through him.
He moved from Cornell's head down to his neck, getting rid of the last bit of tension there, before moving further down. Cornell let out another muffled moan when Rhys trailed his spine, teasing him by stopping just short of his boxers.
"Don't hold back," he told him. "I want to hear you."
"I can get embarrassingly loud," Cornell commented softly, which made Rhys chuckle.
"First of all, there's no one here to hear it but me. But more importantly. If I tell you I want to hear you, that's all you need to know. There's no such thing as embarrassing when it comes to sounds and noises. You know how you respond to touch? That's what sounds are to me. The more I hear you, the more you please me."