Bound by Lies (13 page)

There’s a wet sound as Jenner slicks more lube onto his latex-sheathed cock. He moves closer to Brayden, lining up.

“W-wait,” Brayden stutters, petrified.

“Shh, it’s okay. Slow and easy….”

The head of Jenner’s cock gently touches Brayden’s throbbing opening. It’s obscene. Brayden grunts hard through the fear. With gentle, restrained pressure, Jenner begins to enter him. The small ring of muscle gradually spreads around Jenner’s girth. Jenner pulls Brayden back onto him. Growling and shuddering, though he seems to hear Brayden cry out sharply and with evident pain, Jenner doesn’t stop.

Then the widest part of him is in. The head catches inside Brayden as Jenner pulls back slightly, fitting just past the snug outer ring of muscle. Their bodies are joined. Jenner takes a breath and Brayden makes a low, sobbing moan against the bed which deepens and stretches out as Jenner thrusts in deeper, wanting to get farther and possess that much more of him.

With slow, shallow pushes, he works his way inside. Throughout this process, Brayden’s fingers twist and splay in their bonds, clawing at the air. He tilts his hips to help ease the intense, burning ache of Jenner moving inside his ass.

An eternity later, Jenner is fully seated and Brayden is very quiet. A tear slides down his cheek and his lungs are on fire with the fight not to break and cry like the weakling he knows himself to be. This was a mistake, Brayden understands too late. Jenner was right. They should have stopped. It is wrong—whatever this is, by any definition. The misery catches like wildfire and spreads, making him question his whole identity. This is what he thought he wanted and it doesn’t feel right. It feels
wrong
, so what does that leave him with? Who the hell is he if he’s not this?

“Brayden,” Jenner moans blissfully. “My
god
. Oh my
god
.”

Turning his face into the bedding to hide it, Brayden wills Jenner to move, feeling impaled, stuffed too-full and slowly dying from it. The cock up his ass feels foreign, too big, a violation and nothing more, nothing pleasurable like he expected it to be.

Just finish
, he pleads mentally, bleakly.
Just finish so that I can leave
.

But then, just as ripe sorrow begins to claw at Brayden’s soul, Jenner begins to move again, withdrawing until the ridge of his cockhead catches on Brayden’s rim. He thrusts back in with a long, deep dig. And he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, rocking in and out, caressing Brayden’s hips and thighs, kneading his ass and when Brayden moans, it’s with more pleasure than pain. He’s shocked to hear it.

Encouraged by the promising nature of the cry, Jenner angles his next thrust and drags over Brayden’s prostate.

Brayden jolts with the added stimulation, crying out with the bombardment of sensation.

Jenner chuckles and holds him still, using both hands as he rocks against the spot, making Brayden yell. He tries to seal his lips shut to hold in the cries, but it doesn’t help. Shuddering in Jenner’s hands, thick fluid weeps from his cock as Jenner pounds his hole, slowly making him crazy.

Reaching around Brayden’s hip, Jenner finds his cock, curved up in a tight line against his belly, dripping wet. He squeezes up it from root to tip. Pushing into the touch, growling and sobbing with need, Brayden’s senses are washed out in white fire. He climaxes spectacularly, shooting thick jets of come, fluttering in contractions around Jenner’s cock still fucking his ass.

“Oh shit,” Jenner hisses. His hips twitch against Brayden’s bottom as he unloads, sheathed completely in him. “
Brayden
.”

Gasping, grunting and weakening, Brayden pulses in Jenner’s hand even after he’s spent, having just experienced the best orgasm of his life by far.

Quickly, Jenner unties the leather strap, freeing Brayden’s hands which have gone numb and are turning purple he’s been pulling on them so hard, cutting off the circulation. “Fuck. Your hands….”

Limp, numb and bloodless, Brayden’s arms fall to his sides. Jenner hurriedly gathers him up, guiding him upright without yet pulling out. He brushes the sweat-streaked tendrils of hair from where they’re stuck to Brayden’s face and presses a soft kiss to his temple. “You okay?”

“Mm.”

“Brayden,” Jenner breathes, filling the name with affection. Brayden flinches subtly against the sweetness he hears in Jenner’s voice, instinctively mistrusting it.

Pins and needles prick Brayden’s skin from his elbows down to his fingertips. Jenner dutifully rubs the life back into them.

Woozy and lightheaded, Brayden chuckles, “Hell of a first kiss.”

Jenner freezes. Even without being able to see Jenner, Brayden can feel the impact of shock and cold dread upon him.

“First with
me
. You mean first with me, right?”

Brayden is silent, and it says everything.

“No.” Waiting patiently for the revelations to sink in, just as Jenner waited for him not so long ago—why Brayden was reacting as he was, why he was so tight, and the cause of his nervousness—Brayden sighs with resignation and humiliation. Staring across the room at one of the apartment’s blank walls, Brayden gives Jenner time to catch up and tries to close off some of his own raw emotions out of self-preservation.

“Oh god. What have I done? You were a-a
virgin
? Oh my
god
. When you said you were new to being a slave, I didn’t think… Y-you should have stopped me. Told me—”

Listening for anger, Brayden hears none, just remorse and shame.

“Hey,” he interrupts, bristling at the concern. “I didn’t want you to treat me like a virgin, okay? And come on, I’m twenty-two. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit.”

Jenner nuzzles against Brayden’s hair with a sigh, wrapping him from behind in the most intimate embrace of his life thus far, holding on to Brayden, his skin slippery with sweat, and his body still full of Jenner’s thick cock. Unable to truly process his reality, and how completely Jenner has him, Brayden grows slowly more accustomed to being so possessed.

“I’ll never forgive myself,” Jenner hisses.

Brayden overlays Jenner’s arms with his own where they cross his stomach and chest. “I wanted this,” he counters. “I didn’t say no.”

“But you’ve… you’ve been with girls, right?”

Again, Brayden quiets, unsure how to explain when he’s never figured it out either. “It never felt right with women. It never worked. So no. I never… I mean, I assumed I wasn’t into sex with girls because I was into men, but….”

“Jesus. What are you saying? How far have you gone fooling around with guys?”

“Well, my roommate in Florida gave me a blowjob once.”

“Once?! Brayden!”

He realizes he’s still waiting for Jenner to laugh at him, that part of the defensiveness is an emotional shield against the unavoidable repercussions from what he’s just been a part of.

“I’m fucked up. I get it, okay?” He spits it out with mortification. “I was scared. I’ve been scared for so long, and I just wanted it to happen. I wanted to know without a doubt if this is who I am or not, but I couldn’t ask for it. I don’t know.”

“Th-the ties. The restraints. Submitting. That’s what those are about, isn’t it? It’s easier for you when you’re just doing what you’re told, when you feel so helpless. You can tell yourself you were
forced
.”

No sooner have the words been spoken than Jenner appears to become aware of their positions and how very close they are in that moment. Like he’s pushing Brayden away, or trying to rid himself of something unclean, Jenner tries to escape. Brayden grabs him before he can pull out, holds on to him, and forbids retreat.

“Don’t? Please?”

He looks back over his shoulder at Jenner. Jenner glances down at the tear-tracks Brayden can feel drying on his cheeks, and knows his eyes must be bloodshot from trying not to cry. None of this helps him keep Jenner there.
I’m more trouble than I’m worth
, Brayden thinks miserably.
Now he thinks I’m gonna cry rape.

But strangely, Jenner looks nothing but heartbroken. Squeezing his eyes shut, he doesn’t protest. He lets Brayden keep him there, saying, “This is all my fault. I didn’t want to hurt you. I would
never
want to hurt you.”

“Why? Why do you even
care
if you hurt me or not? I don’t understand.”

Frowning, Jenner places a light kiss to the corner of Brayden’s mouth and withdraws from him with a groan. The used condom is tossed away.

“Let me get you into the shower. I only have one clean towel but it’s yours if you want it.”

Thinking of the prospect of facing his reflection and cleaning the lube out of his ass, Brayden replies, “Nah, you can go first. I kind of just want to lie down for a minute and stretch out.”

The hurt in the expression that briefly crosses Jenner’s face tells Brayden that Jenner thinks it’s an excuse to sneak out without an awkward goodbye. Nodding with sullen resignation, Jenner says, “Okay. Do you need anything before I go?”

Brayden shakes his head.

“Okay.” It sounds like a dismissal, like goodbye.

When Jenner emerges from the bathroom not fifteen minutes later, Brayden is fast asleep, curled up on Jenner’s bed. As Brayden lies there, unaware, for a long while Jenner simply stands where he is, watching.

Climbing out of strange dreams, Brayden awakens to find himself in a strange place. The knowledge of where he is is slow to come as he had been focused on the more physical, sensory details of what was happening after Jenner took him to the apartment above the bar to “talk”, than trying to register the mundane aspects of the place. Beige carpeting, walls painted a soft sage color, and an overall lack of furniture or decoration other than the bed he lies on don’t strike him as familiar at all as he opens his eyes. No memory or recognition sparks at first. With temporary amnesia, he realizes that his wrists sting with hurt and both of his arms, up to his shoulders, ache with deep muscle pain. The inside of his ass throbs and he feels wrung out, emotionally and physically. Sleep tries to lull him again, tempting him with the promise of a temporary reprieve from reality, but he denies it.

With effort, he turns from his back to his left side and sees Jenner Parrish, his boss, only inches away, seated on the ground. He’s leaning back against the side of the bed, legs bent at the knees and feet planted squarely on the carpet. Though it’s hard to believe, his eyes tell Brayden it’s true. Jenner looks like he’s been guarding Brayden while he slept. Brayden remembers suddenly, with gut-churning clarity, where he is and what happened right before he passed out.

I need to get out of here.

Initially, he’s at a loss as to how to get himself out of his predicament. Brayden wishes he could disappear through the walls like a ghost rather than be forced to try to sneak out without waking Jenner, who appears to be sleeping soundly. Covert movement seems beyond Brayden’s ability with his body struggling to overcome the new sorts of torments inflicted upon it. At the very least, it would require him to be able to get up off the bed and even that much is daunting given the pulsing, low ache in his rectum.

With effort, he sits upright. Rolling his head on his shoulders to un-kink his neck, flexing his arms, he starts to try to revive himself. The beginnings of stark bruises are rising on his wrists and he groans inwardly at the prospect of having to explain them to anyone who might see them—his Nana, his customers, his co-workers. Quickly, he pushes away the worrisome thought as it sparks new questions, specifically about whether he even wants to go back to work at the bar at all after fucking his boss. As soon as he had the consent form from Manse in front of him, the pen to sign in his hand, poised above the paper, Brayden knew he was making a choice. The dread had started then, as soon as his name adorned the waiver. It was yet another step along a dark, dangerous path that he’d started down as soon as he had Andre pinning him to the floor of his old apartment in Miami. Now things have gone farther that he ever thought they would, and where it all leads next he can’t even imagine.

Looking around for his shirt, Brayden spots it crumpled on the floor by the corner of the bed. Carefully, he shifts his weight and swings a leg over the side of the bed. There’s a blanket draped over him, and Brayden has no idea where it came from, has no memory of seeing it on the bed when he had lain down. Jenner must have covered him with it, he realizes, after he’d fallen asleep. Slightly uncomfortable with the mental image of Jenner doing that, the tenderness of the gesture, it adds incentive to get out and fast.

Move
, Brayden tells himself.
Get up. Get out of there.

Perched on the edge of the bed, he stares, sleep-dazed and weary, at his discarded shirt, while he’s bombarded with flashes of memories from having sex with Jenner. The warm scent of his skin, the way he’d moaned Brayden’s name, the steely thickness of Jenner’s cock moving inside him, the needy caress of his fingers raking over Brayden’s naked body.

Brayden is crusted in dried come and sweat and feels disgusting. His arms are sore from being restrained so tightly, the pain there only increasing the longer he’s awake. Everything seems changed in him, inside and out. Nothing is the way it was. There was some small hope in him going into this that he would feel empowered by finally having sex with another man, and submitting completely. Maybe it would give him clarity of mind, he’d thought. But now that it’s done, he’s left lost again, adrift in a sea of emotion, regret, and vulnerability that he has no idea how to navigate.

He misses his parents.

He misses Andre.

He feels profoundly alone. Bitter regret threatens, rising up from somewhere deep down as he stares at the soft, waved texture of the close-cropped, nearly black hair on Jenner’s head.

This person has something of mine now
, he thinks.
No matter what happens from here on out, Jenner Parrish will always own part of me, and I’ll see that in his face every time I look at him. Hell, any time I look at someone or someplace connected with him. It’ll surround me.