by Roni Loren
He moved behind Keats again and drew his hands up behind his neck. When they were in the right position, he locked the cuffs around them. “Walk over to the closet door. Put your back to it.”
Colby stepped to the side and watched as Keats opened his eyes. Keats blinked a few times, looking a bit dazed, before locating the door. The sight of Keats already zoning out had Colby’s stomach coiling with need. Nothing was hotter than someone slipping into that submissive mental space, and knowing it was Keats’s first time gave Colby more possessive satisfaction than it should.
“Work your jeans off and kick them to the side. I’ll take care of the boxers.”
Keats’s gaze met his briefly, but he automatically lowered it and moved to get the jeans down and off. He really was a sight standing there bound and aroused as fuck. Colby unfastened his own jeans, room getting scarce in his as well. Keats’s eyes zeroed in on Colby’s hands.
He tipped his head toward Keats. “Tell me your thoughts right now. Unedited.”
Keats’s tongue swept over his bottom lip. “I was wondering if you keep your clothes on for everything. I’ve heard that’s a thing.”
“Sometimes,” he said, but started releasing the buttons on his shirt. “But I’ll let you look a little since you’re being such a good sub tonight.”
Colby let his shirt hang open but didn’t shrug it off his shoulders and walked toward Keats. Without giving him warning, he squatted down and yanked Keats’s boxers down and off. Keats let out a breath and closed his eyes again. His cock stood out proud, the head leaking fluid. Colby leaned forward and swiped his tongue over the tip, capturing the salty drops. The back of Keats’s head hit the closet door with a thump and a curse.
“Spread your feet hip width apart,” Colby commanded, staying in a squat and grabbing the spreader bar he’d gotten out of the drawer.
Keats complied and Colby locked Keats’s ankles into the device. He set the last item he needed to the right of Keats’s foot, then rolled onto the balls of his feet and stood. Keats’s biceps were trembling, but Colby knew that the position was putting no real strain on his arms. It was the quiver of a man on the edge, desperate for release.
Colby crossed his arms over his bared chest, his stance wide. “Now, Adam, you can get exactly what I know you want right now. It’s only going to take two simple steps.”
His throat worked before he spoke. “And what’s that?”
“Open your eyes and beg me.”
TWENTY-FOUR
The feel of the singular swipe Colby’s tongue had given his cock was still reverberating through Keats and everything inside him ached. Colby’s hands had touched him everywhere but not enough. Even his ass was clenching for something it had never wanted before. The slow, torturous massage Colby had used to tease his opening had nearly driven Keats to his knees.
But he knew what Colby was offering right now, and any pride Keats might have had before this moment had disintegrated in the first touch of Colby’s tongue. He opened his eyes and his gaze collided with Colby’s. The man looked like a savage in that moment. Shirt opened on that impossibly broad chest, curly dark hair peppering the way down to cut abs and a trail leading into the band of his open jeans. There was no underwear beneath, just tanned skin and his cock forming an intimidating outline against the dark denim.
Keats loved women, adored their softness, the sweet scent of them, their taste. He’d spent his adult life happily worshipping the fairer sex. But in this moment, he couldn’t think of anything more enticing than the raw masculinity of Colby. Keats craved those edges, the roughness he knew Colby could provide. So when he opened his mouth, he had no problem obeying Colby’s command and begging.
“Please, Colby. I need . . .” he said, his voice gritty with the desire coursing through him. “Whatever you want to do to me, I’m ready.”
“You want me to suck your cock, Adam?” he asked, his voice holding challenge.
A hard shudder went through Keats’s muscles, and he tightened his laced fingers behind his head. “God, yes.”
“Ask me, then. Nicely.”
“Please, Colby. Please suck me.”
Colby turned his ball cap backward, the switch transforming his look into some frat-boy version of himself, and stepped closer. He captured Keats’s chin in his hand. “Eyes on me, Adam. I don’t suck dick for just anyone. But when I do, I don’t take shortcuts. So watch and learn. There may be a pop quiz one day soon.”
Keats’s mouth was too dry to form words, so he nodded in Colby’s grip.
Then like some strange, erotic dream, Colby Wilkes, the teacher he’d fantasized about alone in his room in high school, the one who’d seemed larger than life, an impossibility, went down on his fucking knees and took Keats’s dick into his mouth.
Keats moaned as the hot, wet suction closed around his flesh. His eyes tried to roll back, but he refused to look away from that ball-cap-covered head. Keats knew Colby had told him to keep his eyes open so that he didn’t drift off and insert some woman in his mind’s eye to make himself feel better. But there was no shot of that. What was making the fire burn inside Keats was the very fact that this was Colby. The scandal of it all was almost enough to put him over the edge before Colby really even got started.
Colby worked him over slowly with his mouth and tongue, knowing exactly how much pressure to give and when. When he pulled back all the way to the tip, his tongue traced the slit, sending knee-weakening sensation up Keats’s nerve endings.
“Jesus,” Keats murmured.
Colby hummed his response, and the decadent vibration made Keats’s heels lift off the floor, the bar locked between his ankles preventing much more than that. Colby was taking his time, and Keats got the impression that Colby wasn’t doing this so much to give Keats pleasure as to gain his own enjoyment from the act. For some reason, that made Keats sink even more into the moment. He didn’t want to be Colby’s charity case. He didn’t want to be someone Colby was helping to find himself. Keats wanted Colby doing this because Colby wanted him for purely selfish reasons.
A clicking sound snapped Keats’s attention downward, and he saw Colby take a small black bottle from the floor and tip it over his other hand. Clear fluid dribbled onto Colby’s palm and fingers. Keats’s stomach clenched, but Colby’s mouth was still busy and it was hard to hold on to any worries for any amount of time.
Colby’s lips slipped off with a soft popping sound and he looked up, those hazel eyes fiercer than Keats had ever seen them. “You don’t have permission to come until I tap your thigh twice. Understand?”
Keats had trouble finding his voice. “Yes, sir.”
“Close your eyes now. Feel everything. Get lost in it.”
Keats leaned his head back against his bound hands and let his eyes fall shut. Colby’s mouth closed over him again, the burning heat enveloping him, and then his warm, lubricated hand cupped Keats’s balls and massaged. The muscles in Keats’s thighs tried to go liquid, and he had to lean some of his weight against the closet door. It was going to take every ounce of effort he possessed to hold off coming.
Especially when it became clear that Colby had more plans. The hand on Keats’s scrotum moved farther back, slick fingertips stroking the sensitive area behind it. His breath turned into sharp catches in his chest, but he didn’t dare move. Colby took Keats’s cock to the back of his throat, his lips pressing against his sac. Keats moaned, and the sensation was distraction enough that Keats didn’t have time to panic when Colby’s thick, callused fingers tracked over his back opening, coating it with the lube.
Colby pulled his mouth away for a second, but his fingers continued to circle Keats’s rim with slow, coaxing pressure. “Try to relax and let me in. Remember, every part of you is mine right now. Give over to me. I won’t hurt you.”
Keats bit his lip at the foreign sensation, but a low, aching need was building fast—bo
th in his cock and deep inside the forbidden place Colby was teasing. He managed a nod, and Colby must’ve seen it because he didn’t demand a verbal response. A fingertip probed at the ring of muscle and Keats couldn’t help it, he tensed. His thighs probably would’ve snapped together if there hadn’t been a bar keeping his legs spread.
Colby gave him a sharp pinch on the thigh with his other hand. “Easy, Adam. Don’t pretend you aren’t curious about this. You knew what being with me would mean. I bet you’ve imagined me here—wondering what it’d feel like to be stretched and penetrated.” He inserted the very tip of his finger. “To have me deep inside you.”
Keats whimpered like a fucking wounded dog and then cringed at the pitiful sound.
“Tell me, Adam,” Colby said, his voice a soothing, cajoling soundtrack to the cacophony going off in Keats’s head. “Tell me you’ve thought about me fucking you.”
Keats’s eyes stayed squeezed shut, and sweat trickled down the side of his face. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. I always knew if I did this, you’d be the one on top.”
“I’ve thought about it, too,” he said, easing his finger a little deeper. “When you were half naked, wearing that robe in my kitchen, I could barely concentrate. I imagined tying you down across the counter and spreading you out, taking you hard.”
“Fuck,” he whispered, the images and the feel of Colby’s finger too much to process.
Colby’s finger sank all the way in and his hot mouth closed over Keats’s dick again.
Keats cried out from the shocking pleasure—the two sensations intertwining and racing up his spine. Oh. God. Release built like a damn tsunami in his groin. His teeth ground together as he fought to hold it off.
But Colby had picked up the pace and now he was moving a second finger into Keats’s opening, stretching him and causing a burning that somehow only made everything feel better. Colby pumped his fingers slowly in and out as he gave Keats the blow job of his life. Colors swirled behind Keats’s eyes, and he wondered if he was going to pass out. Had he remembered to breathe in the last few minutes?
But just when he thought he would die from it all, Colby gave his thigh a swift double tap and then the fingers inside him shifted and rubbed across a place that sent stars bursting in Keats’s brain. Holy fuck.
Orgasm rumbled through Keats, the avalanche of sensations sending him into the abyss and burying him whole. He couldn’t have stopped it if he’d tried. He cried out with a gasping shout. All systems go. Colby pulled off at the last second, though he kept his adept fingers moving, and Keats’s release jetted out in what seemed like the longest orgasm of his life.
He moaned through it, his mind spinning, his body lit up. All the while, Colby’s low, dirty words of encouragement played soundtrack and chased away any embarrassment Keats might have felt otherwise. This was good. This was so good. He would not be ashamed of this.
When Keats finally had no more to give and his stomach was heaving with ragged breaths, Colby slipped his fingers out. With all the effort he could muster, Keats rolled his head forward to look down at Colby. And fuck was he a sight.
Semen striped Colby’s chest, and his cock was hard against the fly of his jeans. But the look on his face was damn satisfied—smug, even. Keats wanted to fall to his knees in gratitude.
Colby tugged off his shirt and wiped his lubed fingers on it. “You okay?”
Keats licked his dry lips. “I’m—yeah, I’m okay. Very, very okay.”
“Good.” Colby stood and unhooked the cuffs binding Keats’s wrists. He handed Keats his shirt. “Then clean me up, sub. You made a mess.”
Keats gripped the shirt in his hand, but he was still riding high from the orgasm and feeling braver for it. He tossed the shirt to the floor, gripped Colby’s waist, and then bent over to lick a trail of come off Colby’s chest.
Colby made a soft, grunting sound, but it wasn’t one of disapproval, so Keats kept going. Maybe when he looked back tomorrow, he’d find some shame in this, something to feel humiliated over. He was licking up his spunk off another dude. But in this moment, it felt right. In this moment, the fear was gone.
Keats stopped at a spot right above Colby’s open fly, his heart thumping like a rabbit’s foot, and lifted his hand.
Colby caught his wrist in a firm grip. “I told you to clean me. I didn’t give you permission to touch me.”
Keats licked his lips, tasting the remnants of sex and salty skin. “Can I touch you? I want to make you feel good, too.”
Colby kept hold of Keats’s wrist and his mouth flattened into a tense line. “You’re tempting me more than you know with that hungry look you’re giving me. But tonight, I’ll handle things myself.”
Keats’s stomach dropped and he straightened. “You don’t want anything from me?”
Colby smirked and laid Keats’s hand over his rock-hard erection. “I want it all from you. Give me a list of sordid acts, and I’ve thought of every one in the last ten minutes. But things often look different in the light of day. This is your out. If you wake up tomorrow and regret any of this, you can write it off. Lots of straight guys would take a blow job from a willing mouth, regardless of who was giving it. It wouldn’t make them any less straight.”
Anger rose quick in Keats, and he yanked his hand out of Colby’s grasp. “What the fuck, Colby? You just had your goddamned fingers in my ass, and I licked my come off you. Even my ability for denial isn’t that spectacular. I get that what we’re doing means I’m not exactly who I thought I was. Daylight isn’t going to change that.”
“I hope it doesn’t. But I’m leaving that option available.” He bent down and unhooked Keats’s ankles.
Keats stepped out of the cuffs and stalked across the room to grab his jeans and yank them on, annoyance rolling through him. He kept his back to Colby. “Whatever. If you’d rather use your fucking hand, then I’m going to take a shower.”
He didn’t know why this was pissing him off so much. It wasn’t like he even knew how to give a blow job. But he would’ve damn well tried.
“I’m going to give you one pass for talking to me that way,” Colby said, warning in his voice. “I haven’t released you yet.”
“So sorry, sir,” he said, bitterness edging his tone.
As swift as a breath, Colby’s hand was locking around the back of Keats’s neck again. He squeezed hard. “Get on the fucking floor. Nose to my boot, knees underneath you.”
“What the f—” But Keats didn’t get a chance to finish it because Colby dug his fingers into Keats’s neck even harder and guided him down by force. Keats went to his knees, and Colby pushed his head down toward his shoes. The curved tip of Colby’s cowboy boots filled his view.
“Wrap your hands around my right foot and press your forehead to the leather.”
Keats could barely process what was happening, it was all going down so fast. But that take-no-prisoners tone of Colby’s had his stomach flipping. Not knowing what else to do, he shut down the argument and followed the instruction.
“Now stay there until I tell you to kneel up.”
Keats could hear the sound of denim moving, the squirt of the lube again, and then the distinct sound of slippery skin. Fuck. Colby was jerking off above him, and Keats wasn’t even allowed to look up.
“You will learn how to show me respect. And you will accept my orders and trust that I’m doing shit for your own good. Push me and you’re not going to like the consequences.”
The hot-as-hell sound of fist over dick had Keats’s own cock perking up again, but he didn’t dare move. Not even when he could feel his still-unfastened jeans sagging down and exposing his ass again.
“Nice view, sub,” Colby said, his voice changing with what Keats recognized as Colby’s bedroom voice. “Kneel up now and give me something to aim at.”
Keats quickly released Colby’s boot and pushed himself up
to a kneel, finding himself staring at the big, slick cock he’d seen only from a distance when he’d spied on Colby. Fuck, the dude was hung. Of course, lucky Keats, he’d have to get interested in an overachiever in that department. He tried not to think about how tight those two fingers had felt inside him.
But the worries over that were soon eclipsed by the erotic sight of Colby’s big fist moving over his cock. The guy wasn’t gentle with himself, and Keats found himself transfixed.
“So you think you’ll still want this in the morning, huh?” Colby taunted, fucking his hand with more speed now. “Guess we’ll find out.”
With that Colby’s release jetted out and splashed against Keats in hot streams, landing on his shoulder, his chest, his jeans. He didn’t look down, though, because he couldn’t pull his attention away from Colby’s lost-to-the-moment expression and the deep groan that escaped him. The guy looked fucking sinful when he came.
Colby stroked a few more times, milking the last of his orgasm, then let out a long breath. With economy of movement, he tucked himself back in his jeans and zipped up. His gaze tracked over Keats and the dripping mess he’d become. He nodded in his direction. “Rub it into your skin, Adam. Every drop of it.”
Keats blinked at the unexpected command. “What?”
“It wasn’t a request.”
Acting as if on autopilot, Keats moved his hand over his chest and stomach, rubbing the fluid into his skin.
“You can wash your hands but you’re not allowed to shower until the morning. You don’t think you’ll regret tonight, and I hope that’s true. But I guess we’ll see when you wake up tomorrow sticky from my come and covered in my scent.”
The thought sent a trail of goose bumps up Keats’s back.
Colby put out a hand and tugged Keats to his feet. He grabbed the waistband of Keats’s jeans, pulling him close, and gave him a quick, openmouthed kiss. “Thanks for the song, kid.”