Scene VI
SCENE VI
OTHELLO
O thello entered his apartment and paused when a delicious scent hit him. He realized he hadn’t seen Tallen standing guard at the door as he'd instructed, making him wonder where his subordinate was hiding.
“Oy, Doc, I think it’s done.”
"Are you sure? Let me check. And I told you to call me Des; I'm not a doctor anymore."
"I'm not used to it yet. Give me some time."
Othello’s eyebrows furrowed, listening to the conversation. What the fuck is Tallen doing in here? It was against the rules for his subordinates to be in his apartment when he wasn’t home. Othello wasn’t in the mood to teach another person a lesson. He’d had a hard day and would rather fuck the tightest ass until they couldn’t walk straight. He’d spent most of the day hiring a new staff to run the Mirage. Not all the positions were filled, so he had to close the club for the rest of the week, which pissed him off royally because it was cutting into his profits.
"I don't think it's done yet. It needs more time," Des said.
"Are you sure?
"Yup."
"Doc...I mean Des, I didn't know you could cook."
"I had a good teacher. Let's hope your boss likes it."
The uncertainty in the doctor’s voice caught his attention, prompting him to go to the kitchen. He saw Tallen and Des facing away from him, fixated on whatever was on the stove. Othello was initially willing to overlook Tallen’s mistake of being in his home. Still, he became annoyed when he saw Des and Tallen standing very close, with Des’s arm around Tallen’s shoulders, as if they were closer than Othello thought.
“You two better not be burning down my damn apartment,” Othello said in an even voice. He watched Tallen’s back stiffen just as Des turned to look at him with a grin on his face.
“You’re home,” Des said, but his smile slipped when he noticed Othello’s serious expression.
Instead of saying anything to the doctor, Othello directed his gaze to Tallen, who still had his back facing Othello. “Leave,” he ordered.
“I...” Des started, but Othello stopped him.
“I’m not talking to you, Doc,” he said, his eyes still trained on Tallen.
“Why the hell are you being so damn scary right now?” Des snapped. “Can’t you be nice? And especially to Tallen.”
“Um, Doc, it’s okay. I knew the rules,” Tallen stammered, turning to look at Othello.
“Rules, what’s this shit about rules?” Des cursed. “You’re a grown-ass man.”
Othello quirked a brow at Tallen.
“I should get going,” he said, making a mad dash to the door.
“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you want to see how I put everything together?” Des said after him.
“Um, no, I forgot I had plans.”
Before Des could say any more, Tallen was out the door. “You really need to be nicer to him. He admires you.”
Othello ignored him and moved to the kitchen. “What did you cook?” He was starving and hoped the doctor had cooked something, better yet, something edible.
“No, you don’t,” Des said, pulling on his arm and turning him around. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll set the table.”
“But I’m hungry,” Othello grumbled.
“Is that why you’re in a bad mood?” Des said, cupping his face. "Aw, poor baby."
No, I’m fucking pent up, and the way you look right now, I’m fighting every bone in my body not to fuck you despite what I told you about being friends, Othello thought, but instead, he said, “I’m really starving since I forgot to eat lunch, and everything smells so good.” Othello's eyes lingered on the beads of sweat clinging to Des’s creamy skin despite the air-conditioning. His gaze appreciated the white T-shirt stretched across Des’s lithe chest and the black jeans riding low on his hips.
“Yeah, well, me too. But I want this to be a special dinner.”
“Why?” Othello asked.
He watched the little doc chew on his bottom lip, a sure sign that he was nervous about something. He looked anywhere on Othello but on his face. Reaching up, Othello pressed his thumb to Des’s lip, stopping him from ruining his kissable mouth.
“Tell me,” Othello whispered, removing his thumb and lazily grazing it against Des’s cheek.
“This is my way of repaying you for that one dinner.”
“How many times have we been out since then?”
“Quite a few times, but you always pay.”
Othello stared at Des—not for the first time in the past few weeks. He wanted to pull the man into his arms and kiss him until he was breathless, especially when he was this submissive. Othello had been holding back on his attraction to Des. There were a couple versions of him: the one that was shy and naive, and then there was the side that showed his confidence and demanding nature.
“Fine,” Othello sighed, lightly pinching his cheek, smiling when the man still didn’t look up at him.
Fuck, he really makes me want to eat him up. It’s too bad that I said he was off-limits.
Shaking his head, Othello went into his bedroom, unbuttoned his shirt, and shrugged it off before throwing it in the hamper. Unbuckling his belt, he grabbed the buckle, turning just as he was about to pull it from the loop. He paused when he saw Des still in the same spot, watching him. The little doctor’s ears were bright red, the flush moving down his neck.
I know I've thought it, but could he really be submissive?
Othello needed to test the waters. Not taking his eyes off Des, he dragged the leather out of the loop, watching and listening to the little doc’s breathing change and his cheeks blush. The little doctor gasped and clutched his chest when Othello slashed the belt through the air, making it snap like a whip.
Des raised his gaze, and their eyes locked on each other, and Othello couldn’t deny the tension that rose between them. The lustful look on Des's face, his kissable lips parted as if wanting or needing to be filled with something dark, long, and thick. Othello’s cock twitched just at the image. He traced his fingers along the smooth black leather, imagining the sweet pleasure of reddening the doc’s creamy ass and back, pulling sweet sounds from him before he fucked him raw, leaving his cum inside, marking him.
Fuck, I need to get laid.
Reaching for the curtain rope, Othello pulled it, letting the curtain fall close and blocking them from each other. He stood there for a few seconds, not ashamed of what he’d done, but now he questioned whether he did the right thing by drawing a line between them so early. He had been looking for someone to play with, and the doctor checked off all his boxes. He was cute, funny, super intelligent, and a natural-born submissive he could mold to be his.
Othello wasn’t looking for a relationship, especially not after the last one practically broke him, and it had taken him years to get over. Phillip was a trained submissive, and Othello was ready to give the world to him. He thought that Phillip understood him, the world he was from, and that their future was set. Plus, he was just as kinky as Othello. Hell, he’d been about to propose marriage to him but tore him apart instead when he caught Phillip cheating on him with another man. Trust was very important to Othello and what Phillip did meant he could never trust him again.
He hadn’t closed his heart to the prospect of falling for anyone, simply placed love in the category of out of sight, out of mind. He tried playing with others after Phillip, but it didn’t feel the same. There wasn’t a connection. So, Othello simply focused on his work. He had never hidden his proclivities from his family. It was why they were encouraging him to date. They knew how badly Phillip had hurt him. They became worried when all he did was work. It had been a while since he’d felt anything toward anyone.
Finally, moving from where he stood, he undressed and headed to the bathroom. The image of Des standing there looking at him with want and desire in his eyes woke a forgotten desire in Othello, and now he had to choose whether to go with the feeling or ignore it and keep the line drawn between them. Maybe he’d see how the night went before he made another decision.
Des panted, leaning on the counter and holding his chest. What the fuck just happened?
A reel of Othello snapping the leather belt in the air played continuously in his mind. Othello's powerful appearance, shirtless and showcasing his well-defined chest and abs, was something he couldn’t get out of his thoughts. He licked his lips, thinking about licking the sexy man’s mermaid line. Des wasn’t sure what was happening. He had always thought Othello had a dominating aura, even the night the man was laid out on his operating table.
It was what drew his attention. It made Des want to kneel at Othello’s feet and be his everything. But from the moment Othello walked into the apartment, there was an air around him that he couldn’t explain or put a word to. He looked back toward the bedroom and wondered if Othello was trying to tell him something. Des wasn’t opposed to something happening between them. In fact, he’d been hoping for it.
But isn't he the one who keeps building a wall between us? Is he now erasing it?
Des was so confused about what to do. The more he got to know Othello, the more he wanted to be with him. They talked about their lives over time, and there were times Des wanted to ask him about the night he got shot, but in the back of his mind, he knew he was digging into territory he shouldn’t. But even with that nagging thought, Des didn’t care.
It might be dangerous or foolish of him because he was so inexperienced regarding matters of the heart, but for the first time in his life, he knew who and what he wanted. He just didn't know how to go about getting it. Othello seemed like the kind of man who would stay strong in his word. However, after what had just happened, he was feeling hopeful. He took a deep breath and collected himself, and the scent of dinner reminded him that he needed to get it on the table.
With Tallen’s help, he had made a simple dinner. It felt good to cook since he hadn’t done it in a while. Thanks to the nanny his parents had hired to care for him, she’d taught him how to cook Italian, Spanish, Greek, Jamaican, Portuguese, Italian, and even Arabic and African meals. But tonight, he mixed it up a bit with an easy Caprese salad, lemon herb chicken with roasted vegetables, and chocolate strawberries for dessert.
Just as he placed the wine on the table, Othello entered the dining room dressed in a red silk shirt with a few buttons open, giving him a clear view of his chest. Des’s gaze moved past his black slacks and ended on the taller man’s bare feet. He had never thought he’d have a foot fetish with how cute they looked, not to mention the thoughts that ran through his head of licking and sucking on his toes. Or maybe he just had an Othello fetish.
“So, what did you make for dinner?” Othello’s deep voice reached his ear, and Des gasped when he realized the man had gotten close without him noticing. That dominating aura surrounded him. Des took in a deep breath, hoping to center himself, but it was a big mistake because whatever cologne Othello was wearing made his cock twitch.
Fuck, he smells so damn good.
“Better yet, what’s for dessert.”
Me, Des wanted to say, but said, “Chocolate-dipped strawberries.”
Othello tilted his head to the side. “Are you trying to seduce me, Doc?”
“Is it working?” Des smiled.
“We’ll see how the night goes.”
“Uh-oh, the last time you said that to me, things didn’t turn out how I hoped.”
“Well, things might turn out different this time.”
Des shook his head, wondering if he could believe what Othello said. He knew how much the other man liked to joke around, and even though they were friends, they flirted constantly. But he couldn’t help but wish and pray that things would change between them.
“Okay, enough joking around. Sit so we can eat.”
They sat down and started eating. Since they were both hungry, there wasn’t much conversation. He had just taken the last bite of his chicken when Othello broke the silence between them.
“I admit, it shocked me that you can cook, but I have to say, this was good.” He leaned his elbow on the table. “What else do you know how to cook, Doc?”
“You’ll have to date me to find out.”
Othello responded with a smirk that Des couldn’t figure out. They stared at each other, and he could feel the air crackling between them. Des wanted to straddle Othello’s legs and kiss him hard while rutting against his cock.
Fuck, I need to do something before I embarrass myself.
Des stood and grabbed the dishes, but Othello placed a gentle hand on his. His breath caught in his chest, and he raised his gaze to meet honey-colored eyes. “Let me do it,” he said. “You cooked. Go sit on the couch. I’ll be there after I put these in the dishwasher.”
Des nodded and did what he was told. He tried to get comfortable but couldn’t. He kept looking back at Othello, who seemed completely unfazed, as if he hadn’t noticed anything happening between them. Hoping to get his mind off his wandering thoughts, Des grabbed the remote sitting on the coffee table and switched on the television. The news was on, and the second the reporter mentioned his father, Des turned it off, throwing the remote to the couch.
Even after switching his profession, he hadn’t heard from his parents. He guessed they were too busy trying to take over the world to notice. At the moment, his father was down in the polls and, by all appearance, wouldn’t win. But who knew what his parents had up their sleeves?
Des also noticed that since quitting his job, he hadn’t been wallowing in self-pity about Mr. Alverez. He wondered if that made him a terrible person, but he had been too caught up in living his new life, trying to put the past behind him. Funny enough, since leaving his job, he had been getting calls from private medical firms and corporations offering him a job. Even his grandpa, Douglas, offered him a position in his company as the head of the research department. Des wouldn’t deny that it was weird that his grandfather would call him when they didn’t have a relationship whatsoever. Des couldn’t help but think it was his parents’ doing. He couldn’t chance working for his family again, so he turned all the jobs down.
Although he had money thanks to his grandfather, and with all his plans for the future, Des didn't want to run out of money. Although he wasn't looking for stardom, it didn't mean he didn't want to sell his paintings, but he was nowhere ready for all of that. In all honesty, he shouldn’t even be thinking about wanting a relationship with anyone, much less Othello, with how flaky he'd been lately, but he would be a fool if he didn’t try and get the man to notice how good they could be together.
He was so lost in thought that he gasped in surprise when he felt something cold graze his bottom lip. Slowly, he turned his head and connected again, this time with eyes that reminded him of the sweetest honey.
“Bite,” Othello softly ordered.
Not taking his eyes off him, Des parted his lips and gently bit into the tip of the strawberry, sucking the juices into his mouth. He moaned as the sweet and slightly tart liquid filled his mouth.
“Does it taste good?”
Des was certain he nodded, but when Othello chuckled and then spoke, he realized he hadn’t said anything.
“So?” he said. “How does it taste?”
“Sweet,” Des whispered, finally finding his voice.
“Really?” He quirked a brow. “Maybe I should taste it for myself.”
Before he could ask what he meant, Othello licked the corner of his lips and groaned deeply, as if liking what he tasted. Des’s breath hitched, and his eyes widened, but the fruit was removed before he could comprehend what was happening. Othello's tongue swept into his open mouth, sucking and savoring the strawberry flavor off Des's tongue, pulling a deep moan from him. Des panted, feeling breathless as Othello went from sucking on his tongue to nibbling on his bottom lip before pecking at him gently on the mouth, making him tingle, then pressing their mouths together.
Their eyes remained open. He could feel the air crackling around them. Othello’s gaze was so intense it felt like he was peering deep into his soul, burning with desire for him. Des wanted to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He felt trapped in a web of need and lust. Just one touch from Othello and Des was hooked on the man. Just when Des thought Othello was about to take their kiss further, he pulled back, releasing his mouth, to his disappointment. Before he could complain, Othello cupped his cheek, grazing his face with his thumb.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“What?” Des asked, thoroughly confused.
“When I was in the hospital, I thought I had died and gone to heaven, only to be greeted by an angel with bright green eyes, but now I know it was you.”
“Yes,” Des answered, not playing coy. “It happens to patients sometimes…” Othello placed a finger to cut off his rambling.
“I don’t care about that,” he said, removing his finger.
“Oh,” Des said, turning his head away. “When did you figure it out?”
Othello turned his face back with a finger. “Does it matter?”
Des chewed on his bottom lip, staring into Othello’s eyes. “I guess not.”
“Des—”
“Othello—”
They chuckled, realizing they’d spoken simultaneously.
“Go ahead,” Othello said.
“Why did you kiss me?”
“You know the answer to that,” Othello told him.
“But—” he started, and once more, he was stopped with a kiss that made him see stars as Othello devoured his mouth, pulling chords of moans and groans from him that sounded like pleasurable music to his ears. Othello’s tongue mapped out every corner of his mouth. Just as Des draped a leg over Othello, the man pulled back from their kiss, surprising Des, who gasped for breath, looking into his amber eyes.
“I want you, Des, not just for one night, but I’ll warn you now, I’m not a good person. I’m jealous, possessive, and overbearing, but I know when to back off. I don’t do one-night stands. Or trying to fuck each other out of our systems. Once I claim you as mine, you’ll never want to be anyone else's. If you stay, be prepared to stay no matter what you learn about me. If you cheat or lie to me, we’re done.”
He kept staring into Des’s eyes.
“This is your time to walk away, Doc. Because if you stay, we can’t return to the way things were. Think carefully before we go any further.”
Des's mind raced. I don't want to go back. He licked his tingling lips, tasting the remnants of their kiss. His earlier reasoning returned to him. And although he wasn’t expecting it, he’d been hoping for it, so why would he walk away now?
Othello went to pull away, but Des grabbed his hand.
“Just promise not to hurt or use me,” Des whispered. He had been used by his parents far too much. He’d lived by their hand, and on moments when they wanted to impress their friends, he would be placed on a pedestal; it was the only time they would show him any kind of affection, only to ignore him and forget he was there the next.
“I told you before, I’ve never been in a relationship, but I know there are certain things I want from my lover. Someone who is dominant in the bedroom but who sees me as his equal.” He could feel his face growing warmer, hoping Othello wouldn’t tease him like normal. Then, a thought came to him since they were laying things on the table. I should tell him I’m a carrier. He went to speak, but Othello beat him to it.
“I can’t promise that I won’t break your heart, but I can try not to. And I would never use you,” Othello told him softly. “Hurting you is another matter, but it would only be in pleasure.” He smirked. “All naughty boys deserve a spanking, even if it's to be reminded who's in charge.”
Des knew his face turned as red as a tomato, but his embarrassment was overshadowed by the image of him draped over Othello’s lap and being punished with a brush, his hand, or even a belt.
“All in good time, baby, then I’ll have that pretty ass nice and red,” Othello whispered in his deep voice, and his warm breath ghosted along the shell of his ear.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Des mumbled.
“Sure you don’t.” Othello leaned back, peering into his face. “We’ll go slow.”
Des nodded. “So, does this mean my cooking impressed you?
Othello smiled. “It was more than your cooking.”
“Really?”
“What did you think was going to happen after weeks of us flirting with each other?” Othello said, leaning close to him. Their faces were so close he could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips. “You look hot riding your motorcycle, by the way.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Des said. “But enough talking, kiss me more.”
Othello chuckled. “I thought I was in charge in the bedroom.”
Des went to speak, but Othello captured his lips, pulling a throaty moan from him as his hot wet tongue entered his mouth, stealing his breath away. Their kiss deepened, and sparks ignited inside him, winding their way around his body. His cock twitched in his pants, causing him to pivot his hips, seeking friction. As if knowing his thoughts, a large hand palmed his crotch, giving rise to his desire.
Des loved the taste and feel of Othello pressing against him. The firm softness of his lips as they moved expertly on his, taking full control of his mind and body. Their mouths gently ground against each other in a slow and seductive dance as he felt his body touch the soft cushions of the couch and Othello’s muscled body lying on top of him. Des opened his legs but didn’t know what to do with his hands, and it seemed the other man knew his thoughts. He grabbed his wrists and brought them above his head, keeping them locked with one hand while the other pushed up Des’s T-shirt, revealing his chest. Othello trailed kisses down Des’s chin, his neck, sucking and biting on every inch of visible flesh before pulling one of his nipples into his mouth. He couldn’t hold back his reaction, arching his back and pushing his chest into Othello’s mouth, wanting more.
He jerked his hips, rubbing his clothed erection against Othello’s crotch, wishing they had no barriers between them. However, he couldn’t deny that the fabric grazing against his sensitive cock made him even more aroused, and he couldn’t slow his hips down; he wanted to cum. Othello went from one nipple to the other, biting and sucking on them until they hurt, but it felt so good.
“Oh, fuck, don’t stop,” he whimpered.
Othello moved down his body, pressing his face on Des’s erection, groaning and lightly grazing his teeth along his shaft, making him shiver. His wrists were still held down, and he wished he could hold Othello, but he also liked being pinned down and letting the man do as he wished with his body. Des didn’t regret that he had waited so long to have sex, but he didn’t want to just kiss all night. He wanted more.
“Othello,” he whimpered. “Fuck me.”
Othello raised his head, and their eyes met heatedly. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he said, sitting up and cupping Othello’s cheeks. “I’ve waited twenty-six years and won’t wait a day longer.”
Des thought he would be rejected when Othello stood, but was pleased when he held out a hand for him. “Come. The couch is big enough for us to do anything on, but your first time should be in bed.”
Des took his hand and was pulled from the sofa, then lifted off his feet. Instantly, his arms circled Othello’s neck and his legs around Othello’s waist, and then he captured his mouth, needing to taste him. For the first time, he didn’t mind being shorter than Othello, with the way the taller man was holding him as they slowly made their way to the bedroom.
Des sighed against Othello’s mouth when his back touched the smooth, cool, silk sheets. His legs tightened around Othello’s waist, pulling the other man down on top of him. He groaned in delight when their clothed erections came in contact. He tightened his arms around Othello’s neck, loving the weight on him. He could feel Othello’s big, thick, hard cock pressing against him, and he couldn’t wait to have it pounding inside of him. He was certain the man would ruin him, and he wouldn’t regret it.