Chapter 9 #2
Peter’s heart is pounding unpleasantly. He sort of feels a little sick. None of this sounds like a good birthday. “I’d rather stay home and be put in a cock cage.”
Sebastian comes up behind him, putting his arms around Peter’s waist. “Maybe next year.”
Which lands like a knife in his heart. Sebastian doesn’t want to cage him.
A cock cage would be very serious. They’ve talked about it a few times.
What a responsibility it is. How serious they’d have to be with each other, how well he’d need to know Peter and trust his ability to speak up for himself for something like that to happen.
Maybe next year means he doesn’t love Peter enough to keep him and care for him.
Love. Peter loves Sebastian with his whole fucking heart. He’s desperate to say it but won’t do it if Sebastian won’t say it back. And now he knows Sebastian wouldn’t say it in return.
This is rapidly becoming one of the worst days of his life. Which might be an outsized reaction to the events actually occurring.
I love him too much, Peter thinks.
“Are you listening to me?”
“What? No, I wasn’t.”
Sebastian sighs. He wraps his arms around Peter, holding him tight.
“My love,” he starts. Peter flinches. There’s a pause—his reaction has been noticed.
Sebastian squeezes him harder. “I swear to you it will be alright. You know how much I love to rile you up. Maybe I’ve gone too far.
I don’t want you upset. Please have a little faith that I know what I’m doing. ”
“You mean because of all of your experience and wise old age?” Peter snaps.
Firm hands squeeze his shoulders. “I get to give you the birthday I want you to have, and you just say thank you. Trust me. Please?”
Oh god, he said please. That’s Peter’s kryptonite.
Sebastian is very good at picking up on Peter’s reluctance. Peter’s become spoiled, knows Sebastian will draw the truth out and make speaking up easy, but that isn’t what’s happening now.
Instead, Sebastian is already groping him, squeezing his chest (because he’s obsessed with Peter’s nipples), and the other hand is roughly groping Peter’s balls through his clothing.
As if the conversation is over.
Peter grunts in discomfort at a particularly rough squeeze and tries very hard not to get distracted.
“I don’t know how to dance, and I never wanted to learn,” Peter forces himself to say.
Sebastian hums against the back of his neck. “Yeah, but I love to dance and you haven’t danced with me.” Sebastian bites him and Peter whimpers.
Which makes it hard to focus. “I suppose that’s true. But then everybody is going to be there and they’re gonna watch us? Who will be there?”
“Friends, sweetheart.”
It sounds terrible. If Peter could have anything in the world for his birthday, it wouldn’t be spending time with other people. It would be having Sebastian all to himself. It would be a lost weekend, total and complete control of his body and mind handed over to Sebastian.
All he wants for his birthday is to give himself away to the man he loves. Be reduced down and overwhelmed. It’s too late to say it. And he doesn’t want to say what he wants; he just wants Sebastian to know. What he really wants is for Sebastian to want to possess him as his first impulse.
Which probably isn’t fair. Sebastian isn’t actually a mind reader.
“It’s gonna be great, sweetheart. I promise you.”
Peter nods.
“Have you ever done a murder mystery?”
Sebastian reaches into his pocket. Peter catches a flash of silver out of the corner of his eye, the tinkling sound of a chain, and then Sebastian has Peter turned around, shirt shoved up, and is putting nipple clamps on him.
Peter gasps in shock, hands going to Sebastian‘s shoulders.
He tries to watch Sebastian putting them on but can’t look away from Sebastian’s beautiful face, the glee and arousal as he puts them on. The metal teeth bite into Peter’s sensitive nipples and he moans.
Sebastian grins at him, turns him back around, and roughly grabs his balls. One hand squeezing, the other playing with Peter’s clamped nipples. He’s playing with Peter’s chest as if the clamps aren’t even there.
“I asked you a question,” Sebastian says and smacks him on the balls.
“Jesus!” Peter gasps and then groans, trying to grind his now hard cock against Sebastian‘s hand. “What was the question?”
Sebastian laughs. “You are such a fucking slut. None of this is nice and look at you, humping my hand.”
“I don’t know why you’re trying to do something romantic for me then. If this is the sort of thing I like, shouldn’t you be doing something cruel and demanding for my birthday?”
“Why? You get this all the time. The whole point is it’s supposed to be something special. I want you to know I can be nice too. Once a year,” he says and then he bites at Peter’s neck.
He can feel Sebastian‘s cock, hard and ready, pressing against his ass. “What’s the worst thing you could do to me?” Peter asks and can hear the pleading in his voice.
Sebastian huffs quietly against his ear. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m just wondering. What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever done? The cruelest thing you’ve ever done to a submissive?” And why won’t you do it to me?
“It doesn’t matter because they’re not you. I’ve never treated anyone like I treat you. I think you were made for me.”
Which is the most romantic thing he’s ever heard. “That makes me hap—ow!”
Sebastian spanks him again, yanks hard on the clamps, sparks of hot pleasure radiating down his chest and arms, into his cock, and Peter is fumbling at his own pants, desperately trying to get them down, needing Sebastian to come inside of him.
His pants and underwear drop down and Sebastian laughs. “You are ridiculous,” Sebastian says, and that makes Peter harder, this idea that Peter is the one who is depraved. It increases the shame and his embarrassment.
“I know you’re wet inside.”
“Yeah. Please?”
Sebastian gets his cock out, the head of it between Peter’s cheeks and pressing inside without a finger to warm him up. Which is his favorite. They’ve done this enough that he’s used to it.
Peter presses back, taking him as fast as he can. Then he’s shoved down to the counter, the clamps a stabbing pain against the hard tile, and he cries out and tries to lift up, gets pressed back down and then yanked back onto Sebastian’s cock. A strangled sob escapes him.
“Fuck. I need to cry.”
“You’re in luck. I’m gonna haul you up and down on this counter as I fuck you and it’s gonna hurt.”
“Thank you!” he manages.
And then the pleasure and pain carry him away.