Chapter Seventeen
Ryder
I’ve never heard a sweeter sound than Kane telling me to open my mouth. That is until I hear the groan that leaves his throat when his dick hits the back of my throat.
“Oh, fuck,” he curses, his hand in my hair tightening. “Ryder, your mouth feels amazing.”
His praise is like a drug, and I revel in the feel of his cock, thick and hard in my mouth. I want to touch him, but I can’t. All I can do is move my mouth, hollow my cheeks and let him fuck my mouth the way he wants.
He starts slow, but it doesn’t take long until he’s slamming himself into the back of my throat relentlessly. My cock bounces and I want to come, but I can’t touch myself. And with his cock making it hard to breathe, I can’t speak or ask.
But somehow, he understands because I feel his hand on me a moment later.
“Not yet, my sweet boy. We’re just getting started.”
He pulls out of my mouth, and I gasp for air, my cock throbbing as the arousal spreads.
“Now give that pretty little ass of yours.”
I shift on my bed as much as I can, but it’s not easy to get into position.
“Need some help?” Kane asks, his voice low and sweet. The Kane I know better than any other.
I nod. “A little.”
He doesn’t say anything as he adjusts me, getting me onto my knees, my wrists and hands bracing on the bed.
“I’m going to loosen your ropes a bit,” he says softly.
“Okay.”
I feel like a balloon. Floating up into the atmosphere. I’m not entirely sure I’m not dreaming.
Maybe I am.
Because this… this feels different than all the other times I’ve been tied up.
Kane takes his time.
Because he wants me to be satisfied.
The thought makes my cock throb. Satisfaction, indeed.
“There, you should be able to move them apart more comfortably, but you’re still bound.” He rubs my back. My eyes fall shut and I hate when his touch leaves me.
I whine.
“Patience, my sweet boy. You’ll get your reward soon enough.”
I whine again. “I don’t want to wait.”
I hear his chuckle.
“You’ll do as I say.”
I swear if words alone could make me come, that would do it.
But Kane grasps my cock and squeezes, whispering in my ear.
“Lube?”
“Left drawer,” I breathe, my voice almost breathless.
I find it easily, taking my time to pour the liquid into my hands. I watch as his dick bounces as his chest rises and falls.
He wants this badly. And I want it, too.
I get onto the bed behind him and guide him to my front.
With one finger I spread the liquid along his seam, my fingers rubbing and massaging his hole with every pass.
Ryder leans back against me, trying to take my fingers, but I hold them back.
His head falls against my shoulder and he whines and moans, caught between pain and pleasure.
“Not yet.”
I find his cock with my freehand and slowly stroke him. He feels so good in my hands; hard, warm. Wet.
“How close are you?” I ask as I start to build a rhythm, to distract him.
I carefully slide a finger inside of him and he tenses, clenching me.
“Relax,” I whisper. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’m trying,” he mewls. His hands shake against my chest and I feel a fresh bloom of precum burst into my palm.
“Do you want to come now?” I ask, in case he’s changed his mind.
He shakes his head.
“No, not yet.”
I release his cock, continuing my attention to his hole. I massage and stroke him until I am able to fit two fingers inside of him and he moans, low and deep.
“Kane…”
“Not yet,” I tell him.
“Please…” he cries. “I can’t—”
I remove my fingers from him, grabbing the lube once more.
“Condoms?”
Ryder shakes his head. “No.”
I tense, because his no makes my heart race. Not with anxiety, but with joy.
But there is also a sense of guilt.
His big blue eyes find mine, and he sweetly says, “I trust you.”
Those words turn all the lights on, and it’s like the darkness disappears.
Because there is no denying the truth.
Ryder does trust me.
He shouldn’t.
But he does.
Though the words I hear sound different to my psyche.
“Can you repeat that?” I say, my head starting to ache.
“I trust you,” he says. “Let me be your best boy.”
The words are like a curse, befalling centuries, touching parts of me that have not seen light in far too long.
Perhaps I am a fool to trust him, to let my guard down like this.
But I know what reward is waiting for me on the other side.
“Okay,” I say.
A silent understanding passes between us as I make a show of standing before him, of spreading the lube along his shaft and stroking him as I go. His gaze holds mine and I lean down and kiss him while working his cock up to a good slick, and when I break away I watch his eyes roll back.
“I’m close,” he whispers. “So close.”
“Not yet,” I whisper as I take the moment to lubricate myself. When he opens his eyes, I see the stars of the universe in them.
My heart rises into my throat, because as badly as I want this, I am also a little nervous.
But I know there is no turning back now.
“Lay on your side,” I tell him, my voice careful. He shifts onto his side, and I take my time, getting into position.
“Stretch me,” I command.
Ryder manages to get not one, but two fingers into me before he says, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I am sure,” I tell him, looking over my shoulder.
Ryder looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.
“Now be a good boy and fill me up.”
The words come easy.
“Okay.”
There’s a heavy silence as those words echo between us.
All that can be heard is the sound of our breathing and the faint slap of wet skin. His bound hands bristle against my back as he positions himself, sucking in a breath. I feel him press in, just an inch or two, and I relax almost instantly, a deep groan escaping me.
“Fuck….” he curses. “I’m not going to make it,” he says, his voice high pitched.
“Yes you will,” I tell him, pushing back against him, because the need is overwhelming.
I need this.
I need him to consume me, to possess me.
“Go slow,” I tell him.
Ryder goes painfully slow. It’s maddening, but I know he’s taking his time on purpose, so I don’t rush him.
Patience truly is a virtue.
When he finally bottoms out inside of me, the room spins and we both moan, low and deep.
For a moment, we stay here, both of us bound in one way or another.
Entangled together like the plaits of rope themselves.
Distinct, but indistinct.
“If I move I’m going to come,” he says, his voice high and tense. Afraid.
“I want you to,” I say.
Rydar whimpers. “Kane…”
I slowly push back against him and the words that escape me are a prayer and a curse.
“Come for me, Ryder.”
Ryder comes just as beautifully as I imagined. Three fast, heavy thrusts ring out before his moan of pleasure, before the warmth spreads in me like ink in water.
He’s everywhere. All around me, inside me, in the damn air.
I come without warning.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” I growl, but there is no panic, no anxiety. Only this feeling of perfect euphoria.
Like everything’s okay. Like I’m going to be okay.
Because Ryder is mine.
And I am his.
The sound of our breathing softens as our spent cocks do, but neither of us move for I don’t know how long.
When I finally move, I feel weightless, but I know I need to take care of Ryder. I need to make sure he is okay…
I untie him, his body limp, but his eyes hazy.
“Are you alright?” I ask, freeing his hands, then his ankles.
“Are you—”
Ryder’s lips crash against mine, and I fall into him like a star.
“I think I love you,” he says, and my heart skips a beat.
I want to tell him the same, but I can’t.
The words are stuck in my throat.
So I kiss him instead, hoping he understands.
I lie there in his arms, breathing in the scent of sweat and sex, relishing in the softness of his skin, the warmth of his body against mine. I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted, and pull the warmth closer, hoping that I never wake up.
Because I am terrified I won’t remember this perfect moment.
And the last thought I have as I drift into the nothingness is that I wish I could preserve us like this forever, in a coffin made of glass.