Firm Hand

by Nora Phoenix

  He lost all track of time as the spanking lessened in intensity, then transitioned into tender caressing of his flaming ass. He sought friction with his cock, only to discover he was rubbing against something wet, so he must've come already. But a strong hand wrapped around his cock, and he rose high again, chasing another orgasm until he exploded among the stars, tears streaming down his face.

  He was held, cuddled, felt a warm, wet cloth cleaning him. Someone carried him, then put him on his stomach on a bed. Cool lotion was gently applied to his ass. It smelled like cucumber, like summer, and he smiled. He felt drunk, high, detached from the world yet deeply connected to it.

  Sir talked to him, praised him for being such a good boy, and he soaked it all up. When he found himself alone in bed, he cried out, and Sir shushed him immediately, assuring him he was still there. He crawled in bed next to Cornell and held him, whispering the most beautiful words that made Cornell drift gently through the clouds.

  He had no idea how much time had passed when he returned to earth, finding himself in bed, still in Rhys's arms. He blinked a few times, assessing the state of his body. His ass would hurt something fierce tomorrow, but other than that, he felt good. Groggy, still tired, but oh, so fucking good.

  Rhys moved every so many seconds, tiny moves that indicated he was doing something. The room was dark, but there was a glow. Rhys was reading on his Kindle, Cornell realized. Rather than leaving him alone for however long he had slept—and judging by the fact it was now dark outside, it had been at least a few hours—he'd chosen to stay in bed with him and read. It almost made his eyes tear up again.

  He shifted, wanting Rhys to know he was awake. The man moved instantly, and the glow lessened as he put his Kindle down. "Hey, sweetheart, are you awake?" he said softly, and Cornell wanted to stay there and never leave again.

  "Yeah," he said, his voice a croak.

  "Can you sit up so you can drink a little water?"

  He carefully rolled off Rhys, and with his help, managed to get into a sitting position. His ass didn't like that, but strangely enough, the pain was comforting. He often felt that way after a good scene, the pain reminding him how high he'd flown, and god, he had reached the stars this time.

  Rhys held out a water bottle, and Cornell drank greedily, his throat already feeling better after the first few gulps of cold water. He drank half the bottle before he gave it back to Rhys. "Thank you."

  "How do you feel?" Rhys asked. He switched on the soft lights on both nightstands, and Cornell blinked a few times to let his eyes adjust.

  "Good. Tired and sore, but really good."

  Rhys stretched out next to him on the bed, his head resting on his hand as he studied Cornell. "I'm really glad to hear that."

  "I hit subspace," Cornell said, even though there was no way Rhys would've missed that.

  "I know. I'm so happy for you, and so damn proud of you," Rhys said, and there was a wonderfully rich intensity in his voice. Cornell could feel he meant it, that it wasn't some polite statement.

  "Thank you for staying with me as I came down from my high," Cornell said. "I hate waking up alone after an experience like that."

  Something flashed over Rhys's face, before he sent Cornell a warm smile. "You're welcome, though it's not something I deserve thanks for. As far as I'm concerned, that's both my job and my privilege as a Dom. I would never let you wake up alone."

  A wave of emotion rolled through Cornell at that statement, and to prevent himself from making an utter fool of himself by blurting out something mushy, Cornell rolled on his side and cuddled close again with Rhys. “I need more cuddles,” he whispered.

  Rhys’s arms came around him instantly. “As many as you want and need.”

  He slept in Rhys’s bed that night, and he never wanted to leave. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a small voice telling him this was something to worry about, but he felt way too good to care.

  * * *

  The next day, Cornell was still drifting a little, Rhys noticed. He was mellow, more relaxed than he'd been since he'd moved in with Rhys, and snuggly too. Rhys rubbed lotion on his ass twice more, the skin fiery red and warm, but already starting to heal. He didn't get any work done, as Cornell was like a puppy that didn't want to leave his side.

  And when night fell, he didn’t need to say anything, didn’t even need to ask. Cornell followed him wordlessly into his bedroom and installed himself in Rhys’s bed. Rhys knew it wouldn’t last—it couldn’t, not this fast and this easy—but how he cherished sleeping with Cornell nestled against him. God, he loved it, this needy Cornell who soaked up everything Rhys gave him and still wanted more.

  But he also worried. It worked out now, since he still had one more day off, but after that, he would have to get back to work. And leaving Cornell on his own, Rhys didn’t like the idea of that one bit. The man wasn't ready yet, and if he were honest, neither was Rhys. Still, he’d tackle that problem when the time was there. His first priority was something else.

  After a high that intense, Cornell would have to come down, and that wouldn't be pretty. So when he woke Cornell the next day—Rhys had gotten up early to get a workout in—he was ready for it. Breakfast was still okay, but after Cornell’s shower, reality hit hard. One minute, Cornell had been lounging on the couch on his stomach, reading a book, and the next, he started crying.

  "What's wrong, sweetheart?" Rhys asked. He'd been using that word more and more, and since Cornell hadn't objected even once, he kept doing it. Cornell might not realize it yet, but Rhys had zero intention of letting him go anytime soon, so the man had better get used to his affection.

  "I don't know," Cornell said, tears streaming down his face. "I just feel…sad."

  Rhys plopped down on the couch next to him and pulled him close, positioning him so Cornell's head rested on his lap. "Talk to me," he said softly. "What's going through your mind?"

  He had a pretty good guess what the issue was, but first of all, he couldn't be a hundred percent sure, and second, even if something else was troubling him, in both cases, talking would help.

  Cornell let out a sigh that sounded so sad, Rhys wanted to hug him and take his pain away. "You don't want to know," he said. "It's all equally bleak and depressing."

  Rhys's left hand started gently rubbing Cornell's head and his right slipped under the man's sweater to caress his back. "If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't ask. Just tell me. I promise I won't judge or get upset with you."

  Cornell was quiet for a long time, maybe a minute or two, but Rhys waited patiently. "I'm scared of being alone most of the day when you go back to work. I know that's selfish, considering you already took off two weeks, but—"

  "It's not selfish," Rhys interrupted him. "The same thing went through my head. I’m not looking forward to going back to work either."

  He kept rubbing him, touching him, and the first bit of tension was already seeping out of the man's body.

  "What if I'll never fly that high again?" Cornell whispered.

  "You will, sweetheart. I promise," Rhys said. "That was only the beginning. You and I, we’re gonna make beautiful music together."

  Cornell turned his head to meet his eyes. "I'm experiencing sub drop, aren't I?"

  Rhys smiled at him, proud of him for recognizing it. "That would be my guess, yes. It's okay. I was kind of expecting it, considering how deep into subspace you went."

  Cornell rolled his head back, snuggling against Rhys's thigh. "I haven't flown that high in years," he confessed, and damn if that didn’t make Rhys's heart sing with pride.

  "You were beautiful," Rhys praised him. "Absolutely stunning."

  In response, Cornell made a sound like that of a purring kitten, and Rhys's heart got all soft and fluffy. "How's your butt feeling?" he asked.

  "It's still warm, and when I looked in the mirror this morning, it was still red as well. But I don't mind. The pain centers me."

  Rhys could understand that. People outside of the scene often
thought that pain was pain, but they couldn't be more wrong. Pain like that, the good kind of pain, it could distract you from all the other pain, physical and emotional. Unfortunately, you always had to come down to earth at some point.

  "I feel better when you hold me," Cornell said a while later, after they'd snuggled in silence for a few minutes.

  Rhys smiled at him, even though his head was turned the other way. "I know you do. I like holding you."

  "You're a good Dom," Cornell said, and he couldn't have paid Rhys a bigger complement.

  "Thank you. You tend to bring out the best in me."

  Another purr–like sound. "Will you lie down with me?" Cornell whispered. "I love it when I can wrap myself around you."

  How could Rhys say no to a request like that? Especially when it was exactly what he longed to do himself. He stretched out on the couch—grateful his dad had bought such a deep one—and Cornell immediately pressed himself against him, his face buried in Rhys's neck.

  Rhys's hands touched Cornell wherever he could find bare skin, and after a short hesitation, Cornell did the same with him. His hands found their way under Rhys's long-sleeve shirt, and he broke out in goosebumps at the first touch.

  "You're so perfect," Cornell said, and even though Rhys knew part of that was endorphins, it still got to him.

  He leaned his head back so he could look at Cornell, meeting the man's blue eyes. Cornell looked at him as if he was starving and Rhys was a delicious dinner. He retrieved his hands from Cornell's back, then brushed his lower lip with his thumb. "I would really like to kiss you. Would that be okay?"

  Cornell's reaction was instant. "God, yes, please," he said, nodding at the same time, as if to leave no room for misunderstanding.

  "You understand this changes things?" Rhys asked him. "This is not a scene. This is not a Dom asking for your obedience. This is me, wanting to kiss you."

  "Rhys," Cornell breathed, his scent dancing on Rhys's lips. "Please."

  He closed the distance between them, capturing that soft mouth with his. The first touch was tentative, yet electrifying, tiny sparks shooting between them. Cornell moaned a little, and Rhys traced the outline of his lips with his tongue, then gently pressed against the seam. Cornell opened for him, letting him in. He was shy at first, allowing Rhys to swipe his mouth before letting him catch his tongue.

  Their tongues met, danced, as their bodies pressed closer together. Rhys's hand grabbed Cornell's head, pulling him even closer. He explored his mouth, his taste, his tongue. They found a rhythm, giving and taking, chasing and catching, the heat rising quickly. The hand on Cornell's head became a fist as the kiss intensified, grew bolder and rougher.

  Rhys took and Cornell gave, allowing Rhys free roam of his mouth, of his body. One hand was fisted in Cornell's hair, but the other one found a spot on his ass, which he pressed. He knew it hurt, but he didn't care, and neither did Cornell, who moaned into his mouth. It spurred Rhys on, the sounds, the sighs, the way Cornell started moving against him.

  His heart rate sped up, tripled, and sweat started breaking out all over his body as it anticipated more. He kissed Cornell until the man's lips were swollen, and then he nicked them with his teeth until he had him squirming beneath him with pleasure. Cornell was on his back now, Rhys stretched out on top of him, completely in control.

  Cornell had spread his legs as far as he could, which allowed Rhys to position himself between them, bringing their groins in full alignment. Cornell was as hard as he was, the only thing separating them the thin layers of clothing. God, he wanted inside him something fierce, the need thundering through his veins.

  He broke off the kiss, watching with satisfaction as it left Cornell panting, a glassy look in his eyes. His cheeks were red, his lips swollen from their kiss, and his body was trembling underneath Rhys's. He wanted to say something, needed to express this kiss had been everything, but for once in his life, he couldn't find the words. The emotions inside him were so overwhelming that he didn't know where to start.

  "Rhys," Cornell said, his tone bordering on whining. "Please, please."

  Rhys took his mouth again, simply because he had to. He couldn't resist tasting him again, and he boldly swept his tongue in that sweet mouth all over again, licking and tasting and nibbling until he ran out of breath.

  "Fuck me," Cornell whispered. "I want you inside me."

  Rhys clenched his fists, because this was sheer torture. He wanted to take Cornell up on his invitation more than anything, but he couldn't. Not today. Not like this.

  He let his forehead rest against Cornell's for a bit, then kissed his nose, his mouth. A sweet kiss, this time. "I want to, so badly, but I can't. Not when you're experiencing sub drop. You're too vulnerable, and it would make me uncomfortable. When we do that, I want you to fully experience it if that makes sense."

  Cornell groaned in protest. "I want this. I wanted this before, and it's not because of how I'm feeling right now."

  Rhys wiped a wet strand of hair from Cornell's forehead. "I believe you, but I can't. Not today, not like this. When you feel the same way tomorrow, the day after, I will be so deep inside you, you'll be writhing on my cock. But not today, baby."

  A flash of anger crossed Cornell's face before Rhys saw acceptance. He never acknowledged Rhys was right, but he saw it in his eyes. At the same time, he understood it was hard for him to say the words when he wanted this so badly.

  "If you want to, I can still make us come," he said softly. “We can take our time and do the steps before we get to penetrative sex.”

  Cornell nodded, his eyes radiating gratitude.

  Rhys lowered his head, claiming that warm, wet mouth again. The kiss was sweeter now, slower, but at the same time deeper and more intense. He found a rhythm with his tongue as well as his hips, fucking Cornell's mouth with deep strokes in the same pace as he rutted against him.

  Cornell moaned, canting his hips so the friction between their groins was optimal. Rhys would've loved to be able to reach his nipples and play with those a little, but in his current position, that was hard. So instead, he focused on his mouth, kissing him until they were completely in sync, almost one person.

  The tempo increased, his mouth and his hips, as the tension in his balls built up. A little tremor went through Cornell's body, indicating he, too, was close to his release. On the next downward move, Rhys put his weight into it, and Cornell grunted as he tensed up, the shiver wrecking his body. He cried out, and Rhys felt him jerk against him with the uncontrolled effects of his orgasm.

  He was so close himself, only needing a little more. On impulse, he pushed himself off Cornell into a sitting position, and within seconds, yanked open his pants to whip his cock out. It was leaking in his hand, and he fisted it with a tight grip, moaning with anticipation.

  Three hard strokes and he exploded, shooting his cum all over Cornell. He painted his face, Cornell instinctively opening his mouth to catch some of it, the rest landing on his chest. Seeing that only intensified Rhys's orgasm, and he had to steady himself with his left hand against the couch to avoid dropping on top of Cornell, who now looked thoroughly debauched.

  "Ungh," he cried out, followed by another low moan as his cock spurted out the last bits of his release.

  It was a mess, considering they were both still wearing clothes, but this was one mess that would totally be worth the effort of doing laundry. And that was before Cornell licked off his lips, looked at Rhys with eyes that were still dark with desire, and said, "That was seriously hot."

  16

  It had definitely been sub drop, Cornell recognized the day after. It was funny how even after so many years, it was still hard for him to recognize it when he was in the midst of it. It always felt like an oncoming depression. You’d think that by now, he would’ve learned to recognize the signs, but it was so overwhelming, so sudden, that it always seemed to swallow him whole.

  Good thing Rhys had recognized that. The way he’d taken care of him. Cornell closed
his eyes, thinking about the tender way Rhys had held him, the way they’d cuddled on the couch, the way he had brought Cornell to that roaring climax. It had been everything he needed, and then some.

  Rhys was the perfect Dom for him, and if someone had told him that a few years ago, he would've never believed them. How the hell was it possible that the last man he should've ever played with turned out to be the one who could read him like a fucking book? It wasn't fair. Then again, if Jonas's death had taught him anything, it was that life wasn't fair.

  It wasn’t fair that yesterday evening, he’d wanted nothing more than to return to Rhys’s bed, but he hadn’t been able to come up with the words to make it happen. The day before, when he’d still been high from that scene, he hadn’t even needed words. Hell, he’d not even considered his own room. But yesterday, even after that spectacular orgasm, he hadn’t found a way to casually mention how much he wanted to be in Rhys’s bed. In Rhys’s arms. It wasn’t fair that he was starting to feel so much more than he should for a man who could never want him in the long term.

  His feelings about Rhys returning to work weren't fair either, considering how much time the man had already taken off to take care of him. Two whole weeks. Two whole weeks Rhys had spent at home to make sure Cornell was taken care of, and Cornell had soaked it all in, reveling in the extraordinary feeling like he was at the center of Rhys’s universe. And yet, now that he had to go back to work, Cornell resented it somehow. None of that was fair, and yet the feelings were strong.

  "I'm leaving," Rhys said, and Cornell looked up from the breakfast he was eating in his room. That would be the last time, too, that Rhys would have time to make him breakfast. He'd warned Cornell that he was starting a little later today, but after this, he would have to get out the door earlier to be at work on time. Another thing that wasn't fair to resent, and yet there they were.

  It was ridiculous, being so upset about being on his own, when he'd been alone for such a long time. Hell, his relationship with Arnold—Asshole Arnold, as Jonas had consistently referred to him—had ended six years ago, so it wasn't like he was used to having someone around him. And yet, over the last two weeks, he had grown used to it. God, he craved it now, feeling like he mattered, like someone saw him. He’d attached way more meaning to what Rhys had done for him than he should have. He’d have done the same for any of his subs, probably.