Another way (17 page)

L
ATER
, after dinner that night, we curled up on the couch together. It was warm, and intimate, and home.

So of course I had to go and fuck that up.

“Why can’t I top you?” I blurted out.

I thought Will was amused, but he was snuggled into my side so I couldn’t see his face.

“Who said you couldn’t top me?” he said, turning his face to mine. Yeah, he was definitely laughing at me.

“You did!” I said indignantly.

“I don’t let my subs top me,” he said, shifting on the couch so we were facing each other. “Because it messes with your headspace. Don’t argue with me, I know this for a fact. With a boyfriend though, it would be different.”

“So you won’t let Jesse the sub top you, but you’d maybe let Jesse the
boyfriend
top you.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed.

“Do you
like
bottoming?” I was genuinely curious.

“I like making love,” he said, taking my hand and stroking it, not meeting my eyes. “I like how it feels to be held by someone, to be taken care of. It’s been a long, long time since I trusted someone enough to share that part of myself with them.”

“And you would with me?”

He nodded shyly, still not looking at me. I grabbed his chin and tilted it up, then practically pounced on him and covered his mouth with mine.

“Unf,” he grunted. Then a panicked, “Not now!”

“I know not now,” I said between kisses. “I just… thank you.”

“I didn’t know you wanted this so badly,” Will said, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me closer to him.

“Neither did I until just now,” I said. “I want to make you feel all of the amazing things you make me feel when you make love to me. I want to share that with you.”

“I want that too,” he mumbled against my lips.

“But I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you.”

“It’s been… um, close to two years since I bottomed for anyone,” Will said. “It’s going to hurt, baby, no matter what you do.”

I huffed in annoyance. “Stop being so pessimistic.”

“I’m being
realistic,
” he corrected. “I’m not scared of you hurting me, Jesse. Sometimes a little pain is a good thing, right?”

“In certain circumstances,” I muttered. “Let’s plan some kind of fun session, yeah?”

“Sure. Like what?”

“I don’t know,” I huffed. “You’re the one who usually does this, not me.”

Will laughed. “It’s harder than you think.”

“That’s what he said,” I told him, and he pushed my shoulder. “Okay, okay. How about you show me your favorite things to do to me?”

“That’s good. Like positions or toys or what?”

“You choose. Pick your top three maybe, and just do whatever to me.”

“I like this plan,” he said and pulled me closer. “Do you want to do it tonight?”

“Sure, why not,” I said, suddenly excited.

“Give me time to think. We can do it in a couple of hours.”

“Is it that difficult for you to think of your favorite things to do with me?” I asked, teasing him.

“Not at all. I just want to make you suffer.”

I rolled my eyes and went to start dinner.

I was itchy all evening. I knew, just fucking knew, that he was dragging it out to make it worse. And he was there, being all Will and smoldering and gorgeous, and I fucking wanted him, and he knew it.

What felt like forever later, he said, “Upstairs,” and I scrambled to my feet.

“Yes, please.”

Will was trying to stifle his laughter as he told me, “Five minutes.”

I waited for him in a position that was even more special to me now that our relationship had developed. I sort of knew that he wasn’t going to punish me for being slack in my service to him, but I still held my posture strong and my arms braced, and when he walked into the room, I was rewarded with his fingers in my hair. I turned my head and kissed his wrist, a smile creeping across my lips.

Will brushed his thumb over my cheekbone reassuringly and his eyes were filled with a warmth that I hadn’t seen before, not in the playroom at least.

“This is my first favorite thing, I suppose,” he said.

“Would you tell me why?”

He laughed. “That’s a loaded question. Find me a man who wouldn’t appreciate a beautiful person on their knees waiting to serve him.”

I smiled and he gently tilted my chin so I met his eyes. This certainly wasn’t a normal session.

“Your strength astounds me, Jesse,” he continued. “Your body, obviously, you’re beautiful. And you have more mental strength than any person I’ve ever met. You know exactly who you are. It’s very inspiring.”

I hid his words away somewhere I could mull them over later. For now, my focus was on serving him.

“For the next one we’re going to need more equipment,” he said, almost to himself, although his words carried and made my stomach flip over. “Stand,” he commanded and I did, clasping my arms behind my back at my elbows. The position made the cuts on my back tug painfully, and Will noticed, of course, taking my hands and lowering them to my sides.

I followed him to the spanking bench, which had been altered slightly. Instead of kneeling on supports, Will had raised the level part of the bench so I could be strapped over it with my legs firmly on the floor, and my chest parallel to the floor. Bending to his hand and his will as he artfully arranged me over the contraption and secured my wrists and ankles, I relaxed into the new development. In this position there was no strain on the muscles in my back, which were still sore. He was taking care of me, and I loved him more for it.

His footsteps echoed as he crossed the room and selected an instrument from the wall, then came back to stand behind me.

“This isn’t a literal second position,” he mused, “rather, more of a symbolic one. If the first was you offering yourself to me willingly, this represents me taking exactly what I want from you.”

The flat fold of leather on the end of a familiar crop tapped against the backs of my thighs, nowhere near hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind me who was in charge. Will gently turned my head to the side so I could rest my cheek, rather than my chin, on the cool leather of the bench. Then he surprised me completely by crouching down to eye level with me and kissing me softly on the forehead.

When he disappeared from sight, the light tapping on my legs resumed, with the occasional swat across my ass. He was playing with me, just toying with me really, and it was… fun. Sessions hadn’t been fun like this in a while.

He warmed me up with a few more intense blows on my ass, which I automatically bit back from crying out. Not once did the crop venture anywhere near my back or shoulders; he kept the crop confined to areas where I was completely unharmed. Will’s warm lips skimmed the reddened skin on my ass, and then his breath tickled the hairs on the backs of my legs.

“You’re not collared, Jesse. Make as much noise as you want.”

Then his lips enveloped my balls from his position behind me, his tongue swept out across them, and I ripped through the silence of the playroom with an enthusiastic “Holy shit!”

He moved back and laughed, the air tickling my balls and adding another layer of sensation.

“Fuck me, please,” I whimpered.

He kissed my lower back with a slack mouth and wet tongue, then moved away to get the supplies. When he returned, the blunt end of his cock pressed up against my ass and the cool slick of lubricant teased my skin.

His hands firmly gripped my hips, offering no preparation—although, to be fair, I rarely needed it. My arousal level was already through the roof due to his skill with a riding crop, and I was ready for a hand on my cock just as much as I wanted his cock in my ass. Since the first was unlikely, the second was yearned for.

Will entered me with the skill of a man who was used to the feel of his cock in another man’s ass. He was efficient and smooth, knowing when to tease me with little thrusts and when to make me groan with deep strokes that soothed me from the inside.

But…. I couldn’t help but feel that there was something missing. There
was
something missing. This was my Master, fucking his—supposedly straight—sub. It was what had satisfied both of us for a long time. We knew our place, or responsibilities to one another, and we both got off on it. Now, there was something else in the mix. There was that little ball of heat in my chest that was rapidly taking over the rational part of my brain. Our relationship was growing, and what was bothering me was that he wasn’t making love to me. There were no lingering touches, no fingers in my hair, no kisses.

If I wanted that, I could call a safeword and make him take me to our bed and give me that, but where would that leave the core of our relationship? We had come together as Master and sub; to try and deny that part of what we were would surely be disastrous.

It didn’t stop that sickness though, the feeling that somehow, after knowing what Will was capable of giving me, after knowing how he could love me, maybe this wasn’t enough anymore. I had to make a choice—either to stop what was happening and talk it through, or save it for another time. Truth of the matter was, he was still an excellent fuck, and what he was doing was driving my body fucking insane. I wanted to come, I knew he was close, and stopping things now was just stupid. Another time it was, then.

“Please, please can I come?” I begged him.

“Nearly there,” he grunted. “With me….”

I held on, held back as his thrusts increased in depth and speed, and then I couldn’t stop it any longer and came with a long cry, and Will followed only moments later. He collapsed forward onto my sweaty back; finally kissing me as two hearts hammered an echoing beat. After taking a moment to compose himself, he freed me from my bonds and helped me move to sit on the edge of the bench as he put the few things away.

I was still coming down from my high as he threaded his fingers with mine.

“Come with me,” he said, with his voice lower than normal. I squeezed his fingers, not ready to speak just yet.

He led us back down to his room, and I was secure enough to not question why he had taken us out of the playroom. Carefully, Will prompted me to lie back on the bed with my head on the pillows, the perfect spot to watch him strip off the rest of his clothes.

I maybe expected him to make love to me, slowly, intently, passionately, until we both reached another dizzying climax in each other’s arms. My cock stirred at the thought. Maybe we’d make out like teenagers. Naked teenagers.

What I didn’t expect was for him to lie down next to me, put his head on my chest, tucked under my chin, and wrap his body tightly around mine. My arm cradled him to my chest in an automatic gesture, much like my lips brushing lightly over his hair. Our legs twined together in a way that I hadn’t realized was familiar, and his breath whooshed over my skin, making it pebble up at the almost contact.

I felt like telling him this wasn’t a session thing, but the feel of his weight in my arms and the soporific effect of a recent orgasm made me not want to argue. Not really.

“I’ve never felt so safe with someone before,” he started without any prompting from me. “I never knew I needed it, this feeling of safety and security and being held by someone. No one has ever held me like this before, Jesse. No one. And I didn’t know I needed it until I met you. And now I crave it.”

I held him tighter and reached across to tug a comforter over us.

“This is my number three because it’s something that I associate only with you. I couldn’t let anyone else hold me like this. Only you.”

“Only you,” I whispered back, finding my voice again.

Chapter Thirteen

D
OMESTICITY
settled into our routine at home, a welcome, easy sensation. Being in “my” room was nice. I had set up a long couch and a TV that I hardly ever turned on, my books were stacked up in the corner of the room, and I was messing around with a blog that I was thinking of creating on my laptop. We had finished clearing up after dinner together. Will had a war documentary he wanted to watch that I was completely not interested in, so he let me sneak out to my dark, moody little hole to spend some quality time with myself. He gave me that so easily. And probably didn’t know how much it was appreciated.

My phone chirped with a message, and I had to lean up to grab it from the top of the couch.

Will: Can I come visit?

I laughed as I sent a quick message back saying “sure,” then waited to hear his footsteps on the stairs. I didn’t know when my room had become sacred ground, but I always kept the door shut, and he would always knock before coming in. The gesture was appreciated, even if it was unnecessary.

“Hey,” I said as the door opened.

“How’s it going?” he asked. I lifted my legs up and he sat down, grabbing my knees before I could twist around to sit up, and pulling them back down over his lap.

“I’m okay,” I said. I set my laptop down on the floor, snapping the lid closed, and let Will tug me up into a position where I sat on his lap with his lips attached to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. Humming in contentment, I turned my face to his and encouraged his lips to mine.