Song of Oestend (23 page)

“I will!”

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Marie Sexton

152

“No matter what?”

“I swear!”

“If I tell you to suck my cock?”

“I will!”

“If I come in your mouth and tell you to swallow?”

“I will!”

Aren’s heart skipped a beat at the thought, but he went on. “If I tie you down and

spread your legs—”

“Yes!”

“If I decide to fuck you?”

Only a split second of hesitation. “Yes!” Deacon hissed. “Saints, it scares me, but I swear, Aren, I’ll be your slave, if that’s what you want. Just please let me come!”

“All right,” Aren relented. He reached down and began to unlace Deacon’s pants.

Deacon lifted his hips to give him room, but based on his breathing, Aren half-expected him to climax before he even touched him. He wrapped his hand around Deacon’s big, erect cock.

He gripped him hard, pushing his fist down over his tip, feeling a hint of moisture under his foreskin as he stroked. “Now,” he said.

That was all it took. Deacon cried out, pressing hard against him, grinding into his fist, his whole body shaking as he came. When he was spent, he collapsed on top of Aren, his breathing hard and heavy in Aren’s ear. “Holy Saints, thank you,” he whispered.

“You were that wound up, but you didn’t jack off?” Aren asked.

“You told me not to.”

The confession thrilled him. He’d never dreamt of having so much power over another

man. Yet he was equally aware that with such power came a certain responsibility. Aren remembered with painful clarity what it felt like to be used by men who cared a great deal about their own pleasure, but not a bit for his. He vowed he would not be so cruel to Deacon.

Deacon didn’t move off him, but one of his large hands groped towards Aren’s own

erection. Aren pushed it away. It wasn’t that he wasn’t aroused—he most definitely was—

but he found he enjoyed delaying his gratification. “You better not stand me up tonight,”

Aren said.

“I’ll be there,” Deacon said. “I swear.”

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Deacon wasn’t at supper, and Aren was sure the big ranch hand was going to break his

vow. Aren went home and waited, his palms growing sweaty and his cock hard. The sun fell.

Aren went out to the back and started the generator. The world went dark. And still Deacon wasn’t there.

Aren swore at Deacon. He swore at himself. He should have known. Like all the men

Aren had known in his life, Deacon had forgotten about him once he’d found his own

pleasure. Aren damped the fire. He extinguished the lamps. He went up to his bedroom and began to undress. He was debating the best way to alleviate his own sexual frustration when he was startled by a loud pounding noise.

At first he thought it was the ghost, but only for a second. The knocking was too loud, and it came from the wrong part of the house. There was actually somebody knocking at his front door, and there was only one person it could be.

He went quickly down his stairs and glanced out of the window next to the door. It was too dark to make out the face, but even in the dim light of the half-full moon, Aren recognised the lines of Deacon’s muscular body.

“What are you thinking?” he asked as he opened the door to let Deacon in. “It’s full

dark outside!”

“We got back from the fields late,” Deacon said, closing and latching the door behind him. He was wearing his long duster over his ranch clothes. “I had to take care of the horses before I came, but I swore I’d be here.”

“But it’s dark,” Aren said, feeling the words were entirely inadequate. How could

Deacon have risked his life like that?

“I didn’t want to break my promise.”

The weight of his words hit Aren hard. Only ten minutes earlier, he’d been calling

Deacon every bad word he could think of. Now, he realised what a fool he had been. How many times did Deacon have to prove he wasn’t like the boys from school before Aren stopped expecting him to act like them?

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“Thank you,” he said.

Deacon’s cheeks turned red, but he smiled. “I have to leave early tomorrow. I didn’t

want to leave without seeing you.”

The Austin farm. How could Aren have forgotten? Deacon and Garrett would be

setting out to determine whether or not anything was amiss at the farm. Tomorrow night, they’d be staying in a shack that may or not still be standing. Time at the farm once they got there. Another night at the shack on the way home, if they lasted that long. Maybe everybody was fine. Maybe everybody was dead. Anything could happen. The idea that Deacon might not come back at all made Aren’s heart race. “Do you have to go?” he asked, stepping closer to Deacon. “Couldn’t one of Jeremiah’s sons—?”

“No,” Deacon said, cutting off Aren’s words. It was obvious he didn’t share Aren’s

dread. Deacon was smiling, his cheeks flushed, his eyes begging a question. “I brought you something.” He reached into the deep pocket of his duster and pulled out a small bundle. He pushed it into Aren’s hands.

Aren looked down at the strange gift in surprise. It was rope, twisted into a small loop and tied around itself, thicker than bailing twine, but thinner than most of what they used on the ranch. Aren’s heart started to race as he contemplated the implications of the gift. He felt his cock growing hard. He looked up into Deacon’s nervous eyes. When he spoke, Deacon’s voice was heavy with arousal. “I really liked what you did in the barn.”

Aren felt again the shot of excitement he’d felt at the table and in the barn—the

excitement born of finally being allowed to be in control. The excitement of having a man—

and not just
any
man either, but
Deacon
, the strongest, most masculine man he’d ever met—

submitting to him completely.

“Is this really what you want?” Aren asked, hoping against hope Deacon wouldn’t say

no.

Deacon’s cheeks were even redder than before. “I promised I’d be your slave.”

“But is that what you
want?
” Aren asked. He didn’t want it to come from some misplaced sense of obligation.

Deacon smiled at him. “It is.”

“You want me to tell you what to do?”

“Yes,” Deacon said, breathless.

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“And you’ll do whatever I say?”

Deacon didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. Aren could see the man’s arousal in his

eyes. He noted the way Deacon’s breathing was speeding up, just talking about it. He noticed the growing bulge in Deacon’s pants.

It made Aren’s head spin. His own voice was as husky as Deacon’s when he spoke

again. “Take off your coat.”

He saw the excitement in Deacon’s eyes that his gift was being accepted in exactly the way he’d hoped. Deacon hung the duster on one of the hooks by the door. Then he stood in front of Aren, his cheeks flushed with desire, awaiting his next order.

“Get down on your knees.” Aren could barely stop himself from moaning with pleasure

as Deacon did as he’d been told. Aren stepped closer to him. “Undo my pants,” he said.

Deacon’s hands shook, but he didn’t hesitate. He unlaced the front of Aren’s pants,

releasing his aching erection.

“Touch me,” Aren whispered.

Deacon’s rough fingers grazed his tip, and Aren gasped at the pleasure of it. Deacon

trailed his fingers down Aren’s foreskin to his very root. His fingers stroked Aren’s balls.

“Stop,” Aren said and Deacon did, putting his hands back in his own lap.

“Undo your hair,” Aren said.

He saw Deacon’s surprise at that, but Deacon didn’t hesitate. He pulled his long queue forwards over his shoulder and pulled the leather ties free, dropping them onto the floor as he went. When he was done, he sat docilely with his hands resting in his lap in front of the obvious erection in his pants.

Aren ran his fingers through Deacon’s black hair, pushing it all back so it trailed down the cowboy’s broad back. His left hand still held the rope, but with his right, he grabbed a handful of hair. “You said earlier you would suck my cock if I told you to.”

“Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” Aren told him, “and prove it.”

None of his previous lovers had ever performed this act on him, and Aren knew

Deacon had never done it for anybody either. It seemed strangely appropriate that it was a first for them both. Deacon gripped him, his thumb and first finger wrapped around the base SONG OF OESTEND

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of Aren’s cock while he palmed Aren’s sac. He opened his mouth and slowly sucked Aren’s tip inside.

Aren gasped at the sensation. He’d known it would feel good, and yet he was still

amazed at just how good. He thrust his hips out without meaning to, pushing himself deeper into Deacon’s warm, wet mouth, and felt Deacon’s instinctive jerk backwards. He knew from experience how unpleasant it could be to have a cock shoved down your throat too hard or too fast, triggering the gag reflex, and he regretted having lost control. “I’m sorry,” he said.

He forced himself to still his hips. He resisted the almost overwhelming urge to thrust again into Deacon’s waiting mouth.

Deacon looked up at him, unsure, and yet with naked lust still showing in his dark

eyes. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I just wasn’t ready.”

“I’ll be more careful.” Aren hooked his hand behind Deacon’s neck and pulled him

towards his cock.

This time, Deacon used his fingers to slide Aren’s foreskin out of the way before

sucking his tip into his mouth. The sensation was even more intense that way, and Aren cried out. Deacon’s tongue moved in circles around his end, over and over again, and although Aren didn’t thrust, he pulled Deacon closer. This time, Deacon was ready for him.

Aren’s cock slid easily through Deacon’s moist lips, deep into his warm mouth. Aren cried out again, and at his feet Deacon moaned. His movements became more frantic as he slid up and down Aren’s shaft, swallowing his length again and again.

Aren could easily have come. It would have been so easy to let go then and spend

himself into Deacon’s sweet mouth. But then he remembered the rope, still gripped tightly in his left hand.

“Stop!” he gasped out, and he used his hand in Deacon’s hair to pull him away from his cock.

Deacon looked up at him, his lips red and wet, his breathing hard. “I did it wrong?” he asked.

Nobody had ever cared before whether or not Aren enjoyed what was done to him. It

touched some part of him he hadn’t quite known existed. “You did everything right,” Aren said, smiling at him. “I thought we should go upstairs.”

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Deacon smiled at him. He stood up and Aren followed him up the stairs, admiring the

taut, muscular ass in front of him.

“Take off your clothes,” Aren said, when they reached the bedroom. Once he was

naked, Deacon turned to him expectantly.

“I want you on your hands and knees,” Aren told him. He saw the heartbeat of

hesitation, the hint of fear in Deacon’s eyes, but then Deacon obeyed.

Aren quickly finished undressing, watching Deacon as he did. Deacon was trembling,

whether from fear or desire or both, Aren didn’t know.

He was struck once again by how amazing Deacon’s body was—heavily muscled,

strong and firm. His ass was as muscular as the rest of him. A thin patch of hair grew back from his groin, between his cheeks. It didn’t cover the firm globes of his ass. It tapered away at the point where Deacon’s cheeks started to curve. It drew Aren’s eyes. His fingers longed to stroke those sparse hairs, to follow them to what lay at their centre.

Aren grabbed his jar of salve and knelt behind Deacon. He touched Deacon’s back, and

Deacon jumped at the contact. “Shh,” Aren soothed, putting his other hand on Deacon’s scarred back. “Relax.” Aren ran his hands down Deacon’s sides, past his hips. He gripped his firm buttocks in his hands, spreading his cheeks, eyeing Deacon’s entrance. Just looking at that intimate part of him, he could tell how tense he was. He wouldn’t have been able to push past his rim.

He brushed the ball of his thumb over Deacon’s entrance, and Deacon jumped again.

“Relax,” Aren said.

“Will it hurt?” Deacon asked, and his voice shook.

“If I did it right now, yes. It would hurt you. But I won’t do that. I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

He actually saw some of the tension leave Deacon’s body when he said that. He saw the way he seemed to sag with relief.

“I’m going to touch you, though,” Aren said. “I’m going to try to help you relax.” He opened the salve and spread some on his thumb. He spread Deacon’s cheeks again and

began to massage his lubricated thumb in soft circles around his rim. “This can feel so good,”

he said. “Do you believe me?”

“I think so,” Deacon said, although he didn’t sound very sure.

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“I won’t push into you tonight,” Aren assured him, as he continued to thumb him. “I

won’t push in until you’re ready. I’ll only touch you on the outside. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Deacon said, and he sounded more confident now.

“Good.” His thumb continued its slow circles. “I want you to try to relax.”

Deacon nodded, and Aren noted his breathing had changed again. Aren felt sure that

arousal was starting to win out over fear. Aren kept his thumb moving, and with his other hand he reached under Deacon’s body to grip his cock, which wasn’t quite fully erect, and he began to stroke. His own erection was aching for some attention, and yet he had no desire to rush forwards. He kept his hands moving, one on Deacon’s cock and one on his rim, and was thrilled when Deacon started to move with him, moaning as he pushed his cock harder through Aren’s fist.

“Don’t you feel how they’re connected?” Aren asked. “Don’t you feel like when I touch you here,” he pushed harder on Deacon’s rim, “you can feel it here?” He squeezed the tip of Deacon’s cock, making the big man gasp. “Maybe it’s just me,” he said as he continued to stroke, “but I feel like they feed each other. Like one always makes the other want it more.