Gayday! Gayday! - Gay 11 (6 page)

“Then you’re going to have to learn to be very good for your master, aren’t you?”

The submissive looked up at the older man, still as confused as hell. He’d screwed everything up when he rescued himself. He knew that, even as he failed to stop himself throwing the punch. He’d spoiled the game, and now it was all over and…

Slade stroked his fingers along his neck where a collar might lie. “Time we made our arrangement a little more formal and made sure there are no more misunderstandings, don’t you think?”

Rip continued to stare up at him for several silent seconds.

“And time we started meeting up even when you haven’t thrown yourself into some stupid mess to get my attention,” Slade went on. “It was a fun game, but I think it’s fulfilled every scrap of usefulness now.”

“You’ve never owned a male sub. I asked around, sir,” Rip blurted out. He never had. He’d played with a few guys when they were convenient, but he’d never actually arrived at a club with one. He’d never left a club with one either. Rip had reminded himself of those facts so often, it was impossible to just pretend they didn’t exist.

“Things change.”

Rip looked down between them. Slade’s hand still cupped his hardening cock through his jeans in a way that suggested the other man really didn’t mind the fact there was going to be more than one erection in any bed they shared. He never had any problem getting up close and personal with him, but still…

“Tomorrow, I’ll pick out a collar for you and—”

He stopped when Rip glanced up at him, but the submissive looked quickly down again, not about to argue with the idea of getting exactly what he wanted from the other man just because there was a better way to arrange the details.

“Don’t bother, Rip. We both know it won’t last.”

“Sir?”

“The silent, obedient act.” Slade smiled. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You’ve already given me a collar, sir.” And he knew for a fact it had been weeks since Slade left the house without it in his pocket when he was going on a rescue mission. There was no need to wait until tomorrow.

“I’m not talking about a play collar.”

Rip frowned slightly. “A collar’s a collar, sir.”

“Your real collar isn’t going to come off just because we’re finished for the night,” Slade told him. There wasn’t a lot of room for negotiation in his tone.

Rip shrugged. Whatever rocked his master’s boat was fine with him.

Slade chuckled slightly. “Several months from now, I’m going to remind you that you didn’t care about your collar. And you’re going to beg me to be allowed to keep whatever I decide to place around your neck tomorrow.”

Rip met the older man’s gaze, he seemed to be daring him to say that they wouldn’t last that long, that he didn’t really want to, that he didn’t believe the dominant could really want them to either.

“And until then, sir?” he asked instead.

“Leave your clothes by the front door. You won’t need them while you’re here.”

“Yes, sir.”

The older man let him walk away from him and move towards the door as if he trusted him not to leave, as if he knew he was such a good dominant, no one in their right mind could possibly want to leave him. Except, Rip could feel the other man’s eyes on him every step of the way. He didn’t doubt that if he made a dash for the door, he’d find it slammed shut before he could open it wide enough to slip through.

It was a tempting idea. He could just imagine the shudder pounding through his body as the door thudded back into its frame, imagine the other man’s hands pressing him into the dark wooden panelling as he held him there and told him that he didn’t want him to leave—ever.

“I’ve got more than enough experience with men to make sure you have absolutely no chance of coming when I screw you tonight.”

Rip didn’t look over his shoulder. He didn’t give in to the temptation to annoy the other man into a bit of rough play and reassurance either. Slade had sounded very serious about the whole not coming thing, and Rip’s cock wasn’t about to let his brain screw everything up for it.

The submissive stopped by the front door and calmly stripped down. When there was nothing left to take off, he arranged himself neatly with his hands behind his back and waited upon his master’s pleasure.

Slade let him stand there for a long time as they stared at each other down the length of the hallway. When the dominant finally broke the stillness, his movements were slow and determined. It was hard not to feel a little bit like prey when he saw the predatory look in the other man’s eyes as he stalked towards him.

Rip’s shoulders hit the door. His hands sprung from behind his back in time to try to brace himself against the woodwork, but all he managed to do was scrabble at the panelling as he stumbled back against it. Slade stepped in closer. His hands settled on Rip’s skin, his knee pushed between Rip’s legs and met the door as he pinned Rip in place with his entire body.

“Here are the rules—pay attention. You don’t play with anyone else. You don’t screw anyone else. You don’t get yourself into any trouble you don’t know—know,” he stressed, “that you can get yourself out of. If you want to play the brat about something—pick something else to piss me off over, because if you break those rules you’re going to find out what real punishment, real discipline, is. You won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Yes, sir.” The edges of the door panels stuck into Rip’s back. His bare feet had stumbled onto the welcome mat. It was rough against his soles. He rocked a little against the other man, glorying in a world full of wonderful sensations.

“I’d have a lot more faith in your answer if you weren’t trying to hump my leg while you said it.”

Rip couldn’t even scrape up an response. Slade stepped back. Dragging him away from the door, he pushed him towards the stairs, setting him on his way with a sharp tap on his backside.

“First door on the right.”

Rip didn’t waste any time. Slade was on his heels every step of the way, but he somehow just managed to stay ahead of him. The door handle was fiddly, he cursed as he fumbled with it. The larger man reached around him and pushed the door open. Rip fell into the dominant’s bedroom. Slade kept him on his feet for a few steps, before directing his stumbling towards the bed.

Rip gasped for breath as he collapsed onto the mattress. He scrambled further back into the centre of it, turning over so he could take in every single detail. Whenever he wasn’t inclined to rigid rules and formality, Slade was glorious. No patience, no pretence, the dominant snatched leather straps out of a toy box resting on a chest of drawers by the door.

The submissive couldn’t help but realise it was somewhere he usually picked things up from when he was on his way out of the room, rather than on his way into it. He was far more used to playing at clubs than at home. Rip didn’t have time to think about that further before Slade was on the bed with him. The larger man wasted no time straddling him, catching up his wrists and pinning them to the bed either side of his head.

The hold was strong and perfect. His weight pressed down on Rip, crushing him down into the mattress.

Slade was just as hard as he was. As Slade leant forward to tighten his grip on his submissive’s wrists, his straining fly pressed against Rip’s bare cock. The younger man rocked his hips in response, pushing up against his master in search of friction.

Slade gave a rough chuckle. “Not quite what I had in mind, brat.”

A second later, Rip’s hips thrust up into empty air. He barely had time to realise Slade had moved before he found himself rolled over onto his stomach, straddled once more. The older man’s crotch pressed firmly against Rip’s arse as his hands caught Rip’s forearms and pinned them to the bed over his head.

“That will suit us much better, won’t it?”

Rip nodded.

“You’re not gagged.”

“Yes, sir,” he rasped against the sheet.

Slade’s hands left his arms for a second. One end of the leather strap was wrapped around Rip’s wrist. Craning his neck, the submissive lifted his head from the mattress and watched Slade loop it through the rails on the headboard and tie it off around his other wrist.

He automatically pulled at the restraints, testing them, glorying in the hold they had on him. As the older man moved, he hooked his feet over the inside of Rip’s knees and pushed his toes against him, demanding that he squirm underneath him in an effort to spread his legs in invitation.

The larger man made no effort to make it easy for him to do as his master wanted. The dominant’s hands slid over his shoulders and his arms, squeezing and testing the muscles demanding Rip’s compliance as they explored him.

Apparently Slade wasn’t so unused to having guests he didn’t have supplies on hand. The submissive spotted lube and condoms laying on the bedside table. Slade quickly snatched them up as his attention moved down Rip’s body.

The moment Rip was freed from Slade’s weight, he arched his back, pushing his arse out in invitation. He couldn’t see over his shoulder. There was no warning before Slade’s slicked fingers pressed against his hole.

No fuss, no pretence, from the first moment, the digits’ sole and obvious intent was to enter him as quickly as possible. Rip pushed back against them in complete agreement.

Two fingers worked their way deftly inside him, opening him up. They were demanding and instant and just what Rip needed right then. He moaned his encouragement as he writhed on the bed, trying to do more than either his bondage or his position would allow.

When he tried to lift himself off the mattress and get his knees underneath him in an effort to offer himself to his master properly, a sharp slap to the backside informed him his new master wasn’t impressed with the show of initiative.

“Sorry, sir.” The apology was broken in half by a moan as Slade found his prostate, but even if it wasn’t entirely intelligible, it served its purpose. It stopped Slade from deciding his actions meant he didn’t deserve to have what he wanted so badly. Strong fingers scissored inside him before a third joined them, stretching him further.

Then Slade stopped. Rip looked frantically over his shoulder. The tearing of a condom wrapper filled the air. Rip’s panic eased. He closed his eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself from rocking his hips, pushing his cock into the mattress beneath him.

The dominant’s hands caught his hips and pulled him up. Rip managed to get his knees underneath him, just the way he wished to earlier, but it didn’t seem like a privilege was being granted right then. All he knew was that his cock could no longer reach the friction of the blanket beneath him.

Slade obviously didn’t want him doing that. He tried to scrape together the words for another apology, but before a single word had left his mouth, Slade’s hands were back on his hips and he felt the tip of a latex covered erection against his slicked hole.

The dominant pushed into him, slow and steady, without a single hesitation. It was bloody difficult to keep thinking of his friend as a straight man who was messing around with a gay sub when Slade was buried balls deep inside his arse and thriving on it.

A groan of pure pleasure filled the air as the other man stilled inside him. It was pretty damn well impossible to believe the dominant wished he was with a woman right then either.

Rip held his breath, savouring the burning stretch as it faded into in a glorious ache, which somehow morphed into pleasure on route to his cock. Slade quickly reached underneath him, jacking him off fast and determined.

The submissive did what he could for the other man, clenching around him, pushing back and whimpering as he did his best to beg the orgasm out of his master without making bratty requests.

The older man’s hand tightened around his cock, demanding that he come. No order left Slade’s lips, but Rip felt it pounding through his body regardless. Slade wanted him to come while he screwed him. Rip could only hold back from doing exactly what his master wanted for a few extra seconds before pleasure tore through him and he spilled on the sheet beneath him.

The dominant followed him over the edge almost immediately, pushing his cock deeper into his arse as he came. He dropped his hold on Rip’s shaft and framed his arse with his hands as he held him still to receive his master again and again.

He offered him a few final shallow thrusts as he started to soften. Rip felt his reluctance as he finally pulled away. As his friend’s touch left him, the younger man collapsed forward onto the mattress, his limbs unable to support him for another second.

Sleepy satisfaction kept the submissive motionless far more effectively than any bondage ever could. As far he was concerned, he could lay in Slade’s bed for the rest of his life, and that would be fine. He smiled at the idea as he realised it was just possible that it wasn’t merely a silly little sub’s fantasy.

A few minutes later, Rip blinked open his eyes as he felt the dominant undo the leather from around one of his wrists. Rather than release him entirely, Slade tied the end of the strap that was still bound around his other wrist to the bed frame. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Rip used what slack his master was willing to grant him, to roll over onto his back. He smiled up at the other man, lethargic and thoroughly content while afterglow swirled inside him. The larger man stretched out on the bed next to him, idly tracing his fingers over him as he settled himself comfortably. Rip lifted his freed hand and followed his master’s lead. His fingers traced back and forth over his own neck, following an invisible line around his throat.

“Tomorrow,” Slade reminded him.

“The collar that isn’t a play collar?”

“Bit of a mouthful.” Slade’s fingers pushed Rip’s out of the way to take their place on his neck. He sounded sleepy and content as well. He seemed to like the fact they didn’t have to walk away from each other the moment the rescue signal had been answered.

“What would you call it, sir?” Rip asked, as innocently as he could.

“A training collar,” Slade suggested. “You do need a lot of training.”

Rip nodded, encouraging him to keep going.