Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (36 page)

With Eagle gone Matt held tightly onto Hooch and thrust harder, rougher, deeper, as if boring down his throat before feeling like he had exploded down Hooch’s throat. Barely managing to keep their balance, they only narrowly avoided collapsing on the floor. Both sprawling down once Matt had withdrawn, and Matt moved to Hooch’s side for a deep kiss, like they usually ended such things. Tasting, licking himself from Hooch’s lips, while Hooch whimpered against his own. Matt eventually broke the kiss and looked down at Hooch’s cock—weeping, red and desperate—and touched the protruding rings from the wand, giving it a few gentle tugs.

Hooch hoarsely cried out against the side of Matt’s neck, trying to thrust into his hand, but Matt hushed him softly. “Not yet.” He let go and petted Hooch’s sweaty face, before kissing him deeply once more, ignoring the desperation.

Matt tucked himself away and sat back down. The leash had been wound around his wrist all that time, and he tugged at it, as he opened his knees for Hooch to move between. “Kneel.” He quietly commanded it, and Hooch, despite the pain he was in and the raging lust and need, did immediately as he was told. Kneeling between Matt’s legs, facing the crowd that was slowly dispersing. His cock a deep purple, straining against the metal rings that bound it and the wand that was inside it, but he forced himself to sit still as ordered.

Matt requested a double whisky and soda from one of the staff, then dug his thumbs and knuckles into Hooch’s overly stretched and twisted shoulders, massaging the strain, making Hooch moan softly.

Fingers firm against Hooch’s burning muscles, Matt stopped when the drink arrived. With a hand on Hooch’s chin, he gently pushed Hooch’s head back, and tipped the glass against his lips. Hooch obeyed the unspoken order and took a sip, but the glass remained and kept nudging against his lips, until Hooch had finished all of the whisky. Matt held up the glass and ordered another, before going back to firmly massaging Hooch’s shoulders.

After the second whisky, which Matt made Hooch drink in one go once more, he felt Hooch lean heavier against him, like a large, dangerous cat that had been tamed to be petted. The alcohol was clearly doing its work.

Matt brushed his gloved hand against Hooch’s skin, long strokes down head and neck, bound arms and back, over the ropes. Light, affectionate, and Hooch came closer, as always more tactile under the influence. Moving his hand under Hooch’s chin once more, he pulled his head back even further than before, and brought his mouth close for a deep kiss, thoroughly tasting Hooch and whisky and his own cum. One hand holding Hooch’s chin still, so that Hooch was unable to move away from the assault, the other gently smoothing his head and neck, before moving across to the front, to stroke his chest and play with his pierced nipples.

Hooch’s breathing increased, quietly moaning into Matt’s mouth. At first trying to strain and gain more, but he had no leverage whatsoever, and he soon fell into utter passivity, as he let his mouth be plundered. It only served to increase his discomfort and need, but he didn’t care. Not now, that in his mind and his world there were only Matt and himself, and Matt was giving him more than he had ever known he needed: the absolute control that allowed him to give up his own.

When Matt broke the kiss and took his hand off Hooch’s hard and reddened nipples, Hooch whispered hoarsely, “please…”

Matt paused. Hooch, begging, when he never did under the lash or the most brutal beating. He would scream, thrash, and moan but never beg. “Hmmmm…” a rumble, as he nuzzled Hooch’s neck. “Please what? Please let you go?” He touched the ropes so beautifully binding Hooch’s arms, but Hooch shook his head. “Please let you come?” a light touch on Hooch’s straining cock, the touch of leather on the sensitized flesh bringing a shudder, and yet Hooch shook his head. “Or is that a please for more?” His hand went back to the nipples, twisting one of the gleaming rings.

Hooch let out a hissing breath and nodded. He arched further back, ignoring the impossible strain on his shoulders, arms and back, until he was bent across Matt’s thighs, presenting his taut chest while looking at Matt, dark eyes blown wide.

Matt trailed a single finger down from Hooch’s jaw, gliding over the collar until he reached the left nipple, circling it, pinching it, rolling it, meeting Hooch’s eyes, who gasped and moaned. Usually silent, this time he didn’t hold back, not when the pleasure outweighed the pain, and his brain was intoxicated. Matt put his lips on the left nipple, while his hand moved to his right, nibbling, moving the heavy ring around with his teeth, lathing the hard buds with laps and kisses, nips and tugs of the ring, alternating between the nipples with mouth and fingers.

Hooch moaned loudly, bending even further backwards to breaking point, and his whole body shuddered as suddenly, unexpectedly, every muscle in his body tensed and he let out a deep, hoarse cry, shaking violently as orgasm hit him. Despite the restraining cock ring, he ejaculated into the hollow of the wand deep inside his cock, his cum held back by the screwed-on top. The orgasm was so sudden and intense, Hooch slumped against Matt’s legs and slid down, out cold.

Matt was beside Hooch in barely a fraction of a second, removing the collar first to ensure that Hooch could breath comfortably, then turning him on his side to carefully remove the wand and cockring while two staff members appeared as soon as they realized he had lost consciousness, and swiftly cut the ropes from Hooch, freeing his arms.

Matt didn’t notice the small crowd that had gathered curiously, polite enough to disperse once they realized what had happened. Another staff member brought a tall glass of cold water and a cool damp cloth, but by then Hooch had jerked awake, blinking stupidly around himself. “Matt?” His voice was softer and more disoriented than Matt had ever heard it.

Matt had taken his gloves off and was gently stroking Hooch’s face, skin to skin. “You came without permission,” he said softly. “Normally, I wouldn’t like that but it was hot.” Lips on Hooch’s again, coaxing and then devouring.

When Matt broke the kiss, Hooch had recovered enough to have his wits about, albeit still mellow from the whisky.

Matt chuckled, used the cloth to wipe the sweat off Hooch’s face, then cleaned his cock that still had cum dripping out after the wand removal. At last he tipped the water to Hooch’s lips, encouraging him to take small sips. Hooch’s arms were useless right after being freed, and so he sat on his hip, leaning into Matt’s solid presence as he drank.

After a while Matt took the glass away, waved a member of staff closer and gave her some directions before she left quickly.

“Let’s get this back in.” Matt took Hooch’s cock piercing jewelry when it was offered to him and bent down to carefully thread it through the piercing hole. Hooch winced slightly, his urethra sore from the PA wand, but Matt knew Hooch would cherish the discomfort.

Satisfied that Hooch had recovered somewhat, Matt stood and moved back to the chaise where he had been sitting, stretching out. Hooch followed more slowly, settling to once more kneel between Matt’s legs. Matt kept the weights in Hooch’s nipple rings, but deliberately left the collar and leash off.

The show on the stage had moved to acrobatic contortions, though they were the still the sanitized, artistic moves that were miles away from what Hooch craved. Hooch watched too, for once the observer and not the observed, relaxed and half-dozing, accepting food from Matt’s hand in the form of the tiny canapés that were circulating around the room, miniature treats that were barely more than half a nibble, works of art in and of themselves. Contrasting tastes and textures, chosen by Matt, from the saltiness of smoked salmon and caviar, the spiciness of tostaditas topped with chili and pork, to the sweetness of the macaroons.

No games, no playing, nothing else for the rest of the evening, until it was time to go to the hotel. Sitting and watching the others, while Matt exchanged pleasantries with the doms, masters and mistresses, while caressing Hooch’s face, kneading his shoulder muscles, or carding his fingers through the dark hair, now peppered with grey at the temples.

Power, control and ownership had nothing to do with collars or chains, floggings or fucking, ink or metal, but everything to do with Hooch and Matt.

Christmas 2006, Flint, Michigan

The 23rd of December was hell for any traveler, by road, rails or air, but Matt had booked first class tickets, and their checking in was less painful than for most. They were settled in their seats as the plane took off, when Hooch craned his neck to look at Matt. “I don’t have presents for your family.”

Matt met his eyes as he accepted a glass from the hovering stewardess, ignoring the batted eyelashes. “All taken care of,” he told Hooch, “and already delivered. You can buy more than just kinky shit off the internet, you know.”

Hooch grinned with relief. “Thanks, buddy.” The latter added for the benefit of the far too nosy stewardess. “What did you get?”

Matt scratched the side of his nose. “iPods for everyone over the age of 12, whatever the site suggested for everyone under. DVDs and stuffed toys, mainly.”

“And your mom and dad? I should have got something special for Anne.” Hooch frowned.

Matt looked around, but the cabin crew were busy preparing for handing out meals, and the other passengers occupied with their own concerns. “Taken care of. From both of us. Mom thinks it’s special enough that we’re coming at all.”

“Okay, but what did you get for her?” Hooch insisted.

“A new camera, and I got dad a laptop.” Matt studied Hooch with curiosity. “Why the sudden interest?”

Hooch shrugged, but his nonchalance wasn’t entirely genuine. “Because we’re there for the first time for Christmas?”

The look Matt returned was skeptical. “Nothing at all to do with how she sees right through you?”

Hooch sighed deeply. “You bastard,” but the corners of his lips quirked, “I like her, okay? And I’m a fucking idiot for not getting her something personal, but damned if I even knew where to look and what to get.”

Such thoughts, let alone words, were remarkable enough from Hooch that Matt thought for a few seconds before replying. “Just having you—us—there is going to be weird enough for her this year, I think,” trying to calm Hooch down. “Next year,” he paused, letting Hooch get used to the possibility, “bring her something from home, a book or something on the history of the place. She likes that sort of thing.”

“Really?” Hooch managed to raise only one brow. “Sounds damned boring to me.” He fell silent once more, but he moved his arm beside Matt’s on the arm rest between their seats, and ever so slightly pressed their arms together. He closed his eyes, indicating to Matt that as usual, he’d be the silent travelling companion.

Matt gave an amused snort, but put his headphones on, ready for the boring flight north into the snow.

* * *

They were met by Anne at arrival, as it had proved all but impossible to rent a car, and she greeted them both with a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it. Everyone’s arrived and looking forward to seeing you, and thanking you for all your presents. You really shouldn’t have.”

Hooch hugged her tightly, the only other grown-up person in the world he did that for. “You have to thank Matt, if it had been up to me you wouldn’t have anything because I forgot.”

She just laughed, reaching up to pat his shoulder. Hoisting the luggage into her car they were soon on the road.

Anne updated them on the past month as they made their familiar way back to the house. Hooch listened intently to the normality of their lives, while Matt stared out at the snow-covered landscape, his childhood hidden under thick blankets of white. Arriving at the house, greeting Matt’s father and brother who were clearing the driveway, before going upstairs to put their bags down. In Matt’s childhood room again, with the double bed that had been bought so many years ago for the first visit at Thanksgiving. Almost the only bed, apart from their own, that they could share.

With Hooch and Matt’s help the driveway was cleared quickly, and when they returned into the house, warming drinks were waiting for them.

They promised to help clear the driveway, and Hooch went upstairs to gear up. He had planned ahead and had packed his military winter gear, the urban version. He didn’t have clue, when he came back down, what he looked like: all in black, and so very much the dangerous motherfucker he really was.

Anne struggled not to let on how taken aback she was, but Matt understood. The moment he saw Hooch geared up, he knew the impression he gave to everyone: the veneer of civility was off and he showed how deadly he really was. A glance at Hooch confirmed what he already knew, that Hooch was oblivious to the effect he had on most people. Not even when Hooch’s eldest nephew, a grumpy teenager, came into the kitchen for a drink, took one look Hooch, and slowly backed out again.

“Is something the matter?” Hooch asked, taking a sip of the hot cider as the teenager fled the room, watching Matt’s silent parents and brother. “I look like a complete idiot in winter gear inside the house,” he grinned, “is that it?”

Whether it was the smile, or that Hooch had come up with an acceptable alternative explanation, there was a visible lightening of the mood in the room. Anne laughed. “I’ve just never seen you in it before, even though it’s sometimes a bit chilly at Thanksgiving. Black suits you.” In a sort of dangerous, I-shall-kill-you-if-you-do-not-do-as-I-say way, she didn’t add.