Bound and Determined (10 page)

know what it was. I don't know you well enough to work it out for myself yet, so

you're going to have to talk to me.” He reached out and took Sterling's hand,

clasping it in his with a brief, reassuring squeeze and leaving Sterling clutching

his clothes to him awkwardly, one-handed, not sure what to do with them.

Owen solved that problem for him by releasing his hand and pointing at the

floor. “Drop them there if you really don't want to get dressed, and tell me if

you change your mind about that.”

“I don't know,” Sterling whispered. Did he want to get dressed? Not really,

but maybe he'd feel less bare if he did. That was how he felt, laid open and

showing all his secrets to the world. Only he wasn't, because Owen couldn't

read his mind. But he could choose to give Owen that, to give Owen everything,

all of himself.

He didn't have to, but he could.

He dropped his clothes and let his arms hang limply at his sides.

“I can't bottom,” he said quietly, knowing it didn't have to be loud because

Owen was listening. “I've tried, but I can't. It's too—I just can't.” He couldn't

look at Owen, either.

“There's a reason I said we were going to do this without sex, at least

initially,” Owen said calmly. “And it wasn't just out of a desire to see you suffer,

though I admit I'd probably enjoy that more than a little.” He tapped his finger

under Sterling's chin. “Look at me, please. Yes, that's better.” Sterling could

feel his face heat, a blush rising as he stared at the wavering outline of Owen's

face. “I think we'll continue this conversation sitting—or at least I will be.”

Owen turned and walked the few feet back to his chair and sat down,

leaving Sterling stranded in what felt like a lot of space. “Kneel down beside

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me,” Owen said, throwing him a lifeline. “Knees together, hands behind your

back, facing the fire.”

It was strange how obeying Owen's order made him feel better, and as he

knelt, Sterling thought that somehow, deep down, he'd known that this was

what he needed. He faced the fire like Owen had told him to, made sure his

knees were together, then put his hands behind his back. He wasn't sure if he

was supposed to clasp them together or what; then he remembered the way

Carol had crossed her wrists, and he did that.

And waited.

“You look happier now,” Owen said and touched Sterling's hair, a light,

fleeting contact. “Good.” He settled back in his chair, his elbow on the arm of it,

and propped his chin on his hand, staring thoughtfully at Sterling. “I'm pleased

that you trusted me enough to tell me that, and I definitely needed to know,

but I'm still wondering what I did to make it so…pressing a matter. Or didn't

you believe me when I said I wasn't going to have sex with you?”

Sterling let himself take his time before he answered, because there was

more than one question in there and he didn't want to screw up. “I believed

you. For now. But in the long run, well… When you moved behind me, it

suddenly hit me that you'd want that. Eventually. And I can't. I would, if I

could. For you. But I don't think I can.” The words burned coming out, burned

like the flames in the fireplace, but he was left feeling better once he'd said

them.

“It's something I enjoy doing,” Owen said. He smiled. “Topping, that is. It's

far from the only thing though…God, no.” He leaned forward and caressed

Sterling's mouth again, tracing its shape with his fingertip and giving Sterling a

good idea of what one of those things was. “Yes. Exactly,” Owen said, his eyes

alight with amusement as Sterling's lips parted a little. “I like giving blowjobs

too…under certain circumstances, anyway.” Sterling really wanted to ask what

they were, but Owen didn't give him the chance. “So tell me something that you

like doing or having done to you.”

He'd been with enough guys to know what most of them liked, and most

guys liked dirty talk, so he'd figured out how to get himself into the right head

space to be able to do it without blushing or even feeling embarrassed. Still,

this was different, so Sterling spoke carefully.

“I like blowjobs. Giving and getting. I like—uhm. Fucking. Topping.” He

did blush then, but forced himself to look at Owen anyway. “Rimming. I like

rimming. Someone else, I mean, not—having it done.” God, it felt like his face

was bright red.

“And we're back to your ass being a no-go area,” Owen said, which did

nothing to help Sterling's face to cool down though Owen didn't sound

sarcastic, just curious. “Getting fucked can hurt, especially if whoever you were

with didn't take care of you, but rimming doesn't… What if you're the one doing

the penetrating? When you jerk off, do you use toys or your fingers in your ass

to get off?” Owen sighed as Sterling struggled to answer him with anything

Bound and Determined

39

more than a strangled whimper. “And stop looking like you're about to melt

into a puddle from embarrassment; I'm going to be asking you a lot of

questions like this, so get used to it, please.”

“I can't help it,” Sterling muttered. He wished he could rest his forehead

on Owen's knee, or that Owen would touch his hair, or…something. Anything,

really. This might literally be the most difficult conversation he'd ever had in

his life, including the one where he'd come out to his mother. But Owen was

waiting for an answer.

“I just…don't. Touch myself there. It's not that—I mean, I don't think it's

gross or anything. I like touching other people's, um. I even like putting my

tongue there. And…inside.” He swallowed, trying to get some moisture to his

dry throat, and hunched his shoulders as much as he could without changing

position, drawing in on himself. “The first guy I was with tried to. Fuck me, I

mean. He couldn't.”

“And when he kept trying, as I'm sure he did, it hurt, which only added to

your difficulties?” Owen shrugged. “I'm not a therapist, Sterling, and I don't

have all the answers—but you do. You know, if you think about it, why this is

an issue to you. Maybe it's something someone said to you once as a child that

planted the idea that touching yourself there was wrong, and you accepted

that. Maybe every time you do it to someone else, it's part of a general

rebellion, but you can't go so far as to do it to yourself and don't really think

you'd enjoy it. I honestly don't know, but this is more than just not wanting to

bend over for me, which is something we could work around. I need to be able

to touch you anywhere without you flinching, and I need you to trust me not to

do anything to you that you haven't agreed to.”

Owen held up his hand, turning it slowly. “See this? If I take you on, it's

going to touch you, spank you, position you. It's going to brush your hair,

clean you up, hold the leather that falls across your body and makes you cry

for me. It's going to be what you kiss when I've finished whipping you; it's going

to be on you when you fall asleep beside me and still touching you when you

wake up. You're going to want my fingers inside you, Sterling, a long time

before I'm ready to give you that. And now, we're going to leave this and move

on. I'm thirsty, and I would like you to go and get me a glass of water, please.

The water's in a jug in the fridge, there's a glass already out by the sink

because I'm a slob from time to time, and the kitchen is at the end of the

hallway.”

It wasn't as much of a relief to walk into the kitchen and get away from

Owen's intense scrutiny as Sterling might have expected. His mind was racing

as he found the jug, poured water into the glass that was right where Owen

had said it would be, and put the jug back into the refrigerator. He wished he

could take a few minutes just to think, to see if it was possible to make some

sense of what Owen had said. Instead, he returned to Owen and handed him

the glass, hesitated, then knelt down again in the same position he'd been in

before.

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Jane Davitt & Alexa Snow

That
felt like relief.

“Can I—say something?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes.”

Sterling's chest was tight. “I-I don't know if you—if anyone, but if it was

going to be anyone, it would be you—can touch me there without me flinching.

Because I think it would take a long time, for me to—be able to do that. So if

that's what makes or breaks this deal, then I don't know what to do. I can't

promise that I'll never flinch. I'm—I'm willing to try to do anything you ask me

to, but I can't promise that.” He searched Owen's face for some hint of what he

was thinking.

“Don't make it into such an obstacle,” Owen said lightly. “A man capable

of badgering me into taking him on is perfectly capable of persuading a few

tense muscles to relax.” He set his glass down untasted on a small, round table

beside his chair, empty of everything but a book whose title Sterling couldn't

see and a coaster Owen ignored. “You probably don't look at it much, but you

have a really nice ass, as it happens. It's kind of a shame; if it was covered in

blemishes or flabby, I wouldn't be so interested in the idea of turning it the

same color your face was a few minutes ago.”

“You'd like it better if it was unattractive?” Sterling managed to take his

tone from Owen's and found that doing so made him feel more relaxed. “Why

do I find that hard to believe?”

“Because you're not stupid?” Owen laughed and shook his head. “No, I

like it just way it is, and I'm glad to see that you're in good shape overall. Being

a sub isn't all about feeding me grapes as I lounge around looking stern, you

know; it can be physically demanding, and if you're in a permanent

relationship with a conscientious Dom, you'll find that your diet and exercise

will be monitored if you're not taking care of yourself.”

Owen glanced at the glass beside him and then back at Sterling. “Even if

you are being sensible, you might have a day in cuffs when every bite you eat is

hand-fed to you, every sip of water taken from a glass held to your lips. It can

go from being funny and messy to incredibly intense by the end of the session.”

“I—” Sterling bit his lip, then continued on. “Is it okay for me to admit that

I like the sound of that?” Owen nodded. “I do. And I am. In good shape, I mean.

I run pretty much every day—the other morning wasn't just about seeing you.

Well, okay, it mostly was. I used to play baseball, seriously. Not just for fun, I

mean.”

He'd been hopeful about getting a scholarship to college for a few years

there, until he'd hurt his shoulder badly enough to shatter that dream.

“'Used to'?” Owen asked. “What made you stop?”

It wasn't easy to talk about it, because when he did it brought back

memories of the months in which he'd been deeply depressed by the realization

that his plans for the future had been rendered impossible. It had been years

since he'd had to discuss it at all.

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41

“I tore my rotator cuff,” he said, hoping that Owen would know what that

meant so he wouldn't have to get into the details. “Pitching. And I couldn't deal

with the thought of surgery, so that was the end of my great baseball career.” It

came out sounding more bitter than he'd intended it to.

Owen didn't gush all over him with sympathy and platitudes, but Sterling

hadn't expected him to. Instead, he placed his hands on Sterling's right

shoulder and explored the hollow of bone and muscle with careful fingers.

“That's something you'll need to mention to people in the future,” he said

absently, his attention focused on what he was doing. “I can think of several

common bondage positions that would put too much stress on it. Let me know

if anything I ask you to do hurts. The only pain I want you to feel is the good

kind.”

Owen's touch, even somewhat clinical as it was, made Sterling's body

react immediately; his cock twitched and started to harden. “It hasn't hurt for a

long time,” he said, trying not to let himself get
too
distracted. “I learned pretty

quick what kind of things I have to avoid, so I just avoid them. As long as you

don't ask me to pitch a baseball, spike a volleyball, or swim competitively, I'm

good.”

“I'll remember that.” Owen sat back as if Sterling's arousal—and Owen

had definitely noticed it; hell, Sterling was starting to think that Owen noticed