Bound by Lies (20 page)

It did set him on edge, though, bracing for more, for worse, unable to relax for the rest of the night.

Taking another deep breath, blowing out the stress, he sees some of the defensive harshness begin to leave Jenner’s expression now that he, too, can just be himself again. Brayden doesn’t know exactly what he wants; just that he has to get out of the bar and he can’t go home to Nana. Not yet.

“Grab your bag. We’re going upstairs,” Jenner says in a voice suddenly lust-roughened and impatient.

“Sure,” Brayden acquiesces. Glad, tired and nervous at the same time, his stomach flips.

For Brayden, being in Jenner’s presence has become like being in the presence of a loaded gun with the safety off. It sets him on edge in different ways than their patrons do and it’s exhausting to endure for long periods of time. Longing to let his guard down, to crawl into bed and sleep, he has just enough leftover curiosity and sexual energy from his afternoon fantasy to get him to go upstairs with Jenner when beckoned.

Their new arrangement of being Master and slave doesn’t feel real yet, and he doesn’t quite know what to expect or what will be expected of him, if anything. Beginnings are difficult with most things in life, though, as Brayden knows well. He has always been able to adapt with every shift, every change or loss. This is just one more thing to get used to, but with Jenner, the possible rewards are greater than anything Brayden has been offered before.

Moving like he is in a trance, Brayden leaves the bar. They make the slow climb upstairs to the apartment above. He sets his duffel bag down and waits as Jenner rifles through his own black bag that was waiting on the kitchen counter when they walked in. From it, Jenner pulls a bottle of scotch and two shot glasses. After filling them both, he brings the glasses over to Brayden and hands him one.

“You came prepared,” Brayden jokes to ease his own jangling nerves.

“You have no idea,” Jenner smiles, and in such a way that it affects his companion on a gut-deep level. Lifting his glass in a toast, Jenner clinks the edge with Brayden’s, saying, “Cheers.”

“What are we drinking to?”

“You. Tonight.”

“Mm, cryptic.”

“Not necessarily. I think you know exactly what I mean. Unless you’re too tired and would prefer to rest?”

Brayden responds by throwing back his shot, wincing only a little at the burn as it slides down his throat. With a sly, amused gleam in his dark eyes, Jenner drinks his shot as well, then takes the glasses away to the sink.

Jenner returns to Brayden’s side, standing before him and running his hands over Brayden’s arms; down, then up to his shoulders. For a moment, Jenner’s hand wraps the side of Brayden’s neck then shifts farther to cup the back of his head, tangling in his hair before sliding down again. The touches rub new life into Brayden’s weary body. The unvarnished truth is that they’re there for one reason, and they both know it.

Easily reading the building resistance in Brayden’s posture, in the bunching of muscle under his hands, Jenner says to him, “You have a decision to make. Three options: we can finish off that bottle and talk; you can kiss me, right now; or, you can get down on your knees, eyes lowered, and ready to obey.”

Brayden lets out an uneasy chuckle that dies off quickly. He closes his eyes to block out the overwhelming sight of Jenner’s hunger.

There is no internal debate. There’s only one answer, really.

Grateful for the scotch, Brayden gives in to his tiredness—from fighting what he wants, from hiding who he is, from working so hard with little reward.

He falls to his knees. His fingers interlock behind his back, for his own comfort and no other reason.

“Who am I?” Jenner asks.

“Master,” Brayden answers, his head bowed.

Immediately, Jenner caresses the side of Brayden’s face, praising him with a reverent, “Good. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take such good care of you….”

Brayden has no clear awareness of crawling to the bed, led by Jenner, or of climbing up onto it. There are explicit commands, which he follows without much consideration. Jenner reminds him of what is expected—respect, absolute obedience, total submission. The span of long minutes is a wash of white, blazing anxiety that bleaches all thought and sensory input of meaning or sense. What keeps him going—the only thing—is the soft jangle of metal and scuff of leather from the cuffs in Jenner’s hand and the promise of Brayden’s imagined reward. He wants the cuffs desperately enough to follow all of the rules, whatever they may be.

Gradually, as Brayden lies down on the mattress, he starts to pay attention to the details. The hug of the leather can be felt around his left ankle, then his right as they are each bound and chained to the bed’s frame by Jenner. Once his movement is restricted, Brayden’s heartbeat resumes a more normal pace, allowing the pulsing of blood under his skin to calm and dull its roar.

He’s manhandled slightly as his shirt is removed, leaving him bare-chested. With that done, Brayden actually sighs in relief as his left arm is guided up towards the headboard. Anticipating the strong grip of leather like he enjoys from the ankle cuffs, he is surprised into opening his eyes as he instead feels soft fabric being wound around his wrist. When Jenner takes Brayden’s right arm as well and begins to affix the supple tie to that also, the pleading question in Brayden’s eyes becomes too stark for Jenner to ignore.

“It’ll be more comfortable,” Jenner explains.

“Fuck comfortable!”

“Trust me,” he urges, adding in a snarkier tone, “I’m able to tie a knot, you know.”

“But I can slip these.”

“Mm,” Jenner grunts, continuing his work without further comment.

“Jenner,” Brayden says in annoyed complaint.

“No. Until I say the scene is finished, you are under high protocol. You will address me as Sir or Master, only. Are we clear?”

“Fuck.”

“That’s not an answer, slave,” Jenner warns.

With a harsh exhale, apprehension clawing at him, making him writhe, Brayden murmurs tightly, “Sorry… Sir.”

“Breathe. Stop means stop. I’ve got you.”

With a tug and a snap, the length of black, butter-smooth cloth is snugly knotted, wrapping both of Brayden’s wrists, pulled now above his head. The tie is looped around a rung of the headboard.

“Okay, try to get out. Go on.”

Brayden yanks at his arms, the muscles bunching.

“It’s stronger than it feels,” Jenner tells him with a smirk when Brayden is unable to get loose. “And easier to untie if you don’t behave.”

“You wouldn’t,” Brayden frowns, quieting his struggles.

“Sure I would. Try me. Call me Jenner one more time and see what happens.”

For the first time, Brayden realizes that Jenner has slipped the jeans off of him at some point before the ankle cuffs were attached, leaving him bound in only his boxer shorts. Quickly he becomes self-conscious.

Graceful and fluid as a cat, Jenner mounts Brayden, straddling him where he’s bound to the bed. Jenner’s knees are braced beside his captive’s hips, his hands planted by Brayden’s armpits.

“Shit,” Brayden hisses, closing his eyes as his nerves get the best of him once more.

“Are you gonna behave for me, slave?”

Jenner dips his hips, thrusting deliberately in a slow drag against Brayden’s crotch.

Brayden grunts, his mouth working in a struggle to form a sensible answer. He snaps his mouth shut to muffle the sound as it twists and deepens before managing a moment later, “W-what are you doing?”

“That’s not an answer.” Jenner
tsk
s, applying a soft kiss to the line of Brayden’s jaw. Finding his captive’s left nipple, Jenner pinches it and tugs. “Maybe I should untie you if you can’t follow simple direction.”

“No!”

“No what?” Jenner sucks another kiss by the edge of Brayden’s lips and continues to rut in a slow rhythm directly against Brayden’s barely covered, swelling cock. The unhurried pace is just enough to tease, not enough to give relief, but gets Brayden fully hard fast. Plus, the intensely hot sight of Jenner undulating and dry-humping his crotch, on top of the soft kisses and nipple play takes Brayden right apart. He tries to keep his mouth shut to hold in his moans, but knows his torment shows plainly on his face in the quirk of his lips, the tilt of his eyebrows and furrows in his brow.

“No, uh, Sir.”

“Are you going to behave for me, slave?” Jenner asks again.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” Jenner smiles, pleased. With his left hand, Jenner reaches up to cover Brayden’s eyes and slinks lower to take the nipple he’s been playing with between his teeth instead of his fingertips.

Brayden’s lips soften around an unvoiced moan as Jenner’s hand masks his vision. The moan wrenches free when warm, silken lips, then the points of teeth bear down on the sensitive nub. Jenner kisses the stiffened, dark circle of Brayden’s nipple, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Then he bites down on it and Brayden instantly thrusts up against him.

After a moment, Jenner pulls his lips away from Brayden’s nipple in order to ask, “Shall I bind you further?”

“Yes. Yes, please. Sir,” he adds as an afterthought.

It doesn’t take long before Brayden has a cord strung across the breadth of his chest, above his nipples but under his raised arms. When a blindfold is added, too, Brayden relaxes more than ever. Every muscle in his body unclenches, all care wipes from his mind. He just breathes, savoring the bite of the cord and fabric and leather into his flesh, keeping him in place.

“Good?”

“Really good,” Brayden agrees.

Though he doesn’t tell Jenner, the position is part of Brayden’s profound pleasure. Lying on his back as he is, it would make it difficult for Jenner to penetrate him. With that off the table, at least for now, Brayden knows that whatever happens, it’ll be something he can handle.

Stretching, testing his limits, Brayden surrenders, safe in the dark, shackled and tied, kept and tamed. Jenner stops touching Brayden, but he’s still right there. As time stretches out, Brayden realizes that Jenner must be observing him. His gnawing self-consciousness grows, but it only adds to the enjoyment. Testing the ankle cuffs, Brayden tries to close his legs, but can’t. He’s hard and embarrassed by it. As he wonders if Jenner is looking, and
where
Jenner is looking, Brayden’s dick jumps, straining against his boxers.

Then, feeling warmth, his senses sharpen. Detecting a nearby presence, he anticipates, then feels Jenner’s touch. It drags up the inside of his right thigh. It skitters over the bottom hem of the boxers and drags feather-light over his testicles. It traces more deliberately the line of his shaft, the shape of the crown. Inhaling through his nose, Brayden holds the breath, waiting.

He doesn’t have to wait long. What Brayden assumes must be the velvety softness of Jenner’s lips dragging open-mouthed kisses up the center of his abdomen to his chest, makes him suck in his stomach reflexively. Mouthing over Brayden’s pecs, Jenner finds his nipple again, teasing it alternately with his tongue and teeth—pleasure and pain. Brayden responds to both, arching into the pain, shuddering with the pleasure. Jenner rewards him by plucking a small clip from his pocket, pinching the clip’s end to open its jaws wide, and closing them around the stiffened nub of flesh.

A small, almost unnoticeable smile turns up the ends of Brayden’s lips. He twists slightly as Jenner moves to the other nipple, his hand simultaneously skating down Brayden’s pelvis to close over his cock through the boxers.

“Dirty boy,” Jenner grins. Brayden bites at his bottom lip, his back arching when the second clip snaps shut. He tries to thrust against Jenner’s hand. “Look at how much you love this now that you don’t have to pretend you don’t.”

A damp spot forms on the front of the boxers as Jenner milks precome from Brayden, teasing his erection without giving relief. Seeing that he’s ready for more—distracted by the miniscule pain from the clips tweaking his nipples—Jenner eases Brayden’s underwear down a few inches to free his genitals.

“I could do whatever I wanted to you right now….” Settling lower on the bed between Brayden’s spread legs; Jenner kneels in the limited available space. Brayden can feel him there; the rough fabric of Jenner’s jeans rubs the insides of his bare legs. But now that he’s exposed, Brayden’s fear ratchets up again, squelching newfound joy and abandon.

“You’re all right, Bray,” Jenner says softly, as the smile is instantly gone from his slave’s lips, replaced with a hardened expression and a furrowed brow. A deep blush heats Brayden’s skin as bonds become a hindrance rather than a luxury. “It’s just me. You’re safe. I would never hurt you. All I want is to make you feel good. And stop still means stop. Okay?”

For a moment longer, the stubbornness holds. Jaw set, body tensed, Brayden debates his answer, then nods stiffly, “Yeah, okay.”

“Take a deep breath,” Jenner coaxes, stroking Brayden lightly with a hand. “In. Hold it. Good. Hold it. And let it out. Do it again. In.…” He reaches up and twists one of the clips. Brayden lets some of his air escape in a nervous laugh. “Hold it.” Leaning down, Jenner sucks a dirty kiss to the tip of Brayden’s cock, steadying it at the base.

Brayden hisses a muttered curse and twitches. His head falls back, his neck elongated, arm muscles tight and bunched.

“Hold it…” Jenner, moaning, licks a long wet stripe up the underside of Brayden’s cock. “And let it out.”

Whining softly, low in his throat, Brayden remains tensed, but quiet, his frown remains but a good amount of his fear has dissipated.

“I’m gonna suck you,” Jenner promises. A condom is rolled onto Brayden, changing his expression, bringing new expectancy. “You want that?”

“Yeah. Yes. Yessir,” he murmurs, each word a struggle.

“Relax.”

“Trying.”

“Try harder.” Jenner braces a hand on the bed by Brayden’s hip. Right before taking Brayden into his mouth, Jenner adds, “Well, maybe this will help.”

Even through the condom, Brayden can feel the moment when Jenner puts his mouth on him, feeding him back along the wet, restless muscle of his tongue. Jenner closes his lips around the shaft and sucks. The sensation and—maybe even more than that—knowing that it’s Jenner pleasuring him, banishes most of the lingering, remembered whispers and laughter, telling Brayden that it’s
bad
to want it, that there’s something
wrong with him
. He tunes into nothing but the way Jenner sucks on the tip of his dick, then takes a deeper, longer pull.