The strain has evaporated from his muscles, leaving Dane sloped on the frame of his bondage like a badminton net after a stiff wind. I pull out gradually, flinching when Dane lets out a low moan. No amount of preparation would’ve prevented his soreness after abstaining for so long. Hopefully, it’s a pleasant sting for him, like the lingering tingle of the paddle on his flushed bottom. No broken skin, I note with a soft brush of my fingertips over his heated flesh.
“Be still, sweet boy, while I get you out of these bindings.”
My fingers do the job swiftly, releasing the buckles on the thigh straps and tossing the equipment off the bed. While I’m tidying up, I tie off the condom and roll it up in a tissue on the nightstand for now. Screw decorum; I’m not leaving Dane’s side until he’s completely resurfaced.
“This should feel nice,” I tell him while working firm circles into the braided cords of muscle stretching from Dane’s knees to lower back. Dane answers with a series of soft, involuntary grunts as I soothe away the knots and straighten his legs, easing him onto his stomach. And now, for the wrist cuffs . . .
“Let’s roll you over so I can clean you up.” Pliable as ever, he follows my gentle pull on his shoulders until he’s flat on his back. With a couple of quick clicks, Dane’s wrists are free and clear, and his arms flop to the bed on either side of his cum-streaked chest.
“Look at this beautiful release, Dane.” His gaze drifts to where I’m working the soft hand towel over his belly before his eyes droop closed once more. Utterly spent. “That’s it, my sweet boy, you relax and let your Master take care of you.”
Straddling his waist with my knees, I roll my thumbs over his wrists and work my way up. By the time I reach his shoulders, his breathing has slowed, and there isn’t an ounce of tension in his body. Add a pair of sunglasses, a raft, and a frozen drink, and Dane could be floating in a pool—which is all well and good, but I need to bring him back here with me.
I drop forward onto my hands and place a kiss over each eyelid. Dane blinks open slowly, squinting up at me.
“How are you feeling, Dane?”
Sweet, but still lost.
“Maybe a kiss from Prince Charming can wake you.” I press my lips to Dane’s, and they give way as always, but it’s not until my tongue meets his that I know I’ve really reached him. He comes to life underneath me like a blow-up doll inflating.
First, it’s just his tongue—remembering, gliding, swirling around mine as if chasing a friend through a field of summer wheat. It’s then I feel his hands sliding up my arms, lingering over the tightened mounds of biceps and triceps, traversing the topography of my shoulders as if cataloguing NASA-worthy data, and finally clasping together behind my neck.
Lowering my upper body onto my elbows, I meet his chest with mine. Dane breaks our kiss with a groan and gasps for a new breath before finding my mouth again.
I’m here, Dane.
He pulls back and smiles at me. “I know, Master.”
I look into those familiar chocolate brown pools of wonder and awe, and a lump forms in my throat. “Did I just say all that out loud?”
Dane’s delight is muted, but the twinkle is definitely back. “Kind of.”
My brain does a three-sixty. Am I totally losing it? I gather Dane in my arms and drop my face into the crook of his neck.
So perfectly attuned to Dane’s emotional frequency, so vigilant for the tiniest hint that he might be breaking, I completely failed to temper my own response. Emotions wash over me in relentless waves—relief that he did so well, joy in our perfect union, gratitude for the grace that dropped this boy into my life—but those aren’t the troubling feelings.
No, it’s the all-consuming, singular Truth with a capital “t” that fills me with excitement and dread: I love this boy.
No two ways about it. And the motherfucker of a kicker is, I can’t tell him. Not yet, not while he’s still fragile and might confuse his appreciation toward a caring Master for something that isn’t there. Nor can I have him guilted into it by a conscience so pure, he’d never have the slightest clue what was going on.
I tick off the days in my head. Fourteen more. Fuck, two weeks. Can I make it?
Man up, Marcus. Get out of your own head and into your sub’s.
I give his scruffy neck a nuzzle, collecting my frazzled, live wires of uninvited sentiment until I feel some semblance of control. My fingers find their home in Dane’s hair before I pull back against the tangle of his arms around me. I can’t resist one more soft kiss before I roll off to his side.
“Welcome back,” I say.
“Thank you for the lovely trip.”
My fingers scoop the hair out of his eyes so I can get an accurate reading. “I hope you’re not gonna be too sore tomorrow. I did my best to prepare you.”
“I’m fine,” he replies. “I’m good. I wanted to, that other time . . . and I’ve thought about it . . . a lot . . .” Dane shakes off his embarrassment, but I’m pretty sure I’m blushing too. Jesus. “Anyway, it felt amazing.”
“I’ve wanted it too, Dane, but I was happy to wait for you. I’m in no rush.” We’ve got plenty of time . . . two more weeks.
As close as we are, I crave more of a connection. My leg finds itself across his hips, and I tuck his body underneath me. That’s a little better.
“Did you have any problem with the bonds?”
Dane’s gaze floats up, over my shoulder. “No, I was comfortable enough.”
My hand drifts down his back, under his lifted arm, across the expanse of his chest. “You were gorgeous, Dane. Perfect posture, perfect obedience, perfect body.” His long, luxurious eyelashes lower and lift; my compliments will never be easy for him to take, but he’ll have to get used to it.
The pad of my thumb finds a nipple, which puckers up as I ask my next question. “Could you handle a bigger stretch, maybe a tighter grip?”
His blush answers before his voice. “Yes, Master, I could. Whatever you think.”
Awesome answer, and the best part? I believe him. Dane doesn’t get turned on when he’s afraid.
“What I think is that you have a real affection for being paddled.”
Dane’s arms fall away from my neck, and he covers his face with both hands. “Oh god,” he mutters. This is almost as much fun as paddling him.
“Dane, were you holding out on me when you filled out your checklist?” I’m only teasing. Dane couldn’t lie if his life depended on it.
His hands slide down his cheeks, even as his head is shaking. “No,” he answers, and if I have any question of his sincerity, all it takes is one glance into those deep pools of brown truth. “I never knew . . . I mean, maybe a long time ago, I fantasized about it . . . but the reality just never . . . quite . . .”
This poor boy, with his bigger-than-life need to please and his unfortunate fetish turned so cruelly against him—my chest hurts for him. But tonight is a night to celebrate great things, not dwell on his craptastic past.
I grin and give his nipple a light tweak. “And what would you say now?”
His focus wavers. He knows what he wants to say, but he seems to be looking for the courage. Rich with the wealth of hours before he has to leave me again, I wait patiently—relatively patiently. It helps that while I’m waiting, his cock twitches back to life beneath my thigh. I rock my leg along his groin—just to help him think.
Apparently, my tactics are effective. “I guess I’d have to say I liked it.”
“You liked it so much, you kept your Master waiting so you could have more!”
His eyes roll back in his head while I continue to tease him. He’s so easy, so ready, so eager. “I’m sorry, Master. I wanted to wait until I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wasn’t trying to deny you, too.”
I lift my leg away, leaving him hard and wanting. “Denial can be a real bitch, huh, Dane?”
He’s stock still, not even moving his eyeballs. “Mmhmm?”
My finger starts a slow trail down the ridges of his abdomen, and Dane sucks in a breath. “But you’ve already told me you like that.” I enter a holding pattern, tracing circles in the patch of hair behind his erection. God bless the young and virile.
“Yes, Master,” he guts out.
“Well, Dane, you know your Master will always do whatever is needed.”
Bless his heart, the boy produces a bead of fluid that drips onto the back of my hand. “Yes, Master,” he replies, his voice starting to take on that faraway quality.
I can’t afford to send him there again tonight; I didn’t even mean to arouse it in him, honestly. He’s just so damn irresistible once he gets going. This needs to end quickly.
I palm the underside of his cock, drawing a deep groan from Dane. My own cock trembles in response, but I’ve had enough tonight. Spreading the dewy bead around his tip, I take him into my fist and pump. “You want to see how long you can hold out now? Be my guest, boy.”
He braces his hand against my shoulder, his eyes pinched tightly closed as I tug and twist and palm him like we’re entered in a damn race.
“Nnnggh!” He fights me, fights against the tightening in his thighs, the thick curl of desire building in his belly.
“Go ahead, Dane. Hold back. Don’t feel that tickle in your balls.” The lube is just out of reach, and I’m not letting go longer than it takes me to spit into my palm and surprise him with the wet heat.
“Feel good, boy? No, don’t answer that! Don’t even think about the slicked-up squish of my slippery hand sliding along your stiff shaft . . .”
His hips are into the game now, thrusting madly into my hand. I can feel the pads of his fingertips digging into my shoulder. His mouth drops open and a series of low grunts escape him. He’s right there on that edge he loves so much.
“Would you like me to let go now, Dane? Should I just leave you like this?” I tug faster. “Go ahead. Ask me to stop.”
Everything tightens; Dane sucks in a sharp breath, drops his head to my shoulder, and lets go with a keening wail that pierces me. Ribbons of cum shoot between my fingers as the boy gasps for air. He opens his eyes cautiously, as if he might meet with disapproval. I’ve got nothing but smiles for him.
“Better luck next time, Dane.”
Hmm, that was supposed to be aftercare. Turned into duringcare, I guess. Objections? I didn't think so. :)