Part Thirteen Post Haste #3
He brought his mouth down against Scott’s lips in a kiss that had nothing to do with gentleness and didn’t give a damn about nice polite little social forms.
A primal urge to stake his claim rushed to the fore. He pressed down harder against Scott, crushing his body against the floor.
Scott whimpered. Joe tensed. He almost pulled back, just a fraction; just far enough to growl a question at him, to make sure he was okay and was able to keep up.
But without any warning, any need to check in with Scott disappeared.
Scott grabbed hold of Joe’s biceps and tugged at them, trying to pull him down even harder against him, as if there was some way they could get closer together without obliterating all the laws of physics, and quite a few laws of biology too.
Lube rested in Joe’s bedside cabinet. There were condoms in good supply throughout his flat. However, things like that required control and coordination. They needed a dom to be able to focus and take time and care while preparing his sub.
Joe didn’t want to be careful. He didn’t have it in him to waste another second. He caught hold of one of Scott’s wrists with one hand and pinned it to the floor alongside the base of his bed. At the same time, Joe slid his other hand between their bodies and fumbled with Scott’s fly.
Years passed before he finally managed to free Scott’s erection from both his jeans and his boxers. The fact he was still turned on was reassuring, but Joe only registered that for a fleeting second.
Finally, he was able to get what he wanted. He let out a moan, filled with both triumph and pleasure, as he wrapped his fingers around both their erections and held them tightly together.
* * * * *
Pure electrical heat shot through Scott as Joe thrust his cock against the underside of his erection. Pre-cum slicked their movements, but it did little to counteract the strength of Joe’s grip. There was nothing soft and gentle about him now.
Scott tried to arch up off the floor, but there was barely room for him to breathe, let alone move.
Joe had him pinned down more effectively than any wrestler playing about on a mat ever could have—possibly because the hold he had on his cock would have been illegal in even the most liberal of gyms.
Whimpering with need, Scott gave up trying to keep pace with Joe’s kiss. He simply let Joe do whatever he pleased with every part of his body, acknowledging that Joe owned him completely. An extra jolt of endorphins shook Scott’s world. This, this was what he needed; it was what made him whole.
Scott closed his eyes very tightly as the knowledge of how quickly he was going to lose it all almost made him miss out on enjoying what little time he had left.
He clawed at Joe’s shoulder with his free hand.
In some far off place, fabric ripped, but it was hard to care about that while Joe was stroking their cocks even faster.
Coming too soon would ruin everything. Scott pressed his head painfully back against the floor in an effort to take his mind off his helpless need to come.
It was no good. Scott squirmed, unsure if Joe would be more angry with him for pulling away, or for giving in to the pure perfection that tempted him to orgasm without permission.
Joe gasped into the kiss. He thrust down against Scott. Semen landed against Scott’s skin, a droplet hit the head of his cock. Restraint became impossible. Scott came, just a moment after Joe.
Adrenaline rushed through him like a tidal wave.
He clung on to Joe’s shoulder even tighter, as if Joe might somehow be able to keep him afloat through the tsunami.
Scott moaned, gasping for breath, as his lungs cried out for air, but pleasure continued to cascade through him and there was no escape.
Finally, he collapsed back against the floor, completely spent, unable to move a single muscle, as the tide receded.
Just one part of him remained tensed—his right hand still gripped Joe’s shoulder as if his life depended upon it.
Scott was as incapable of unfurling his fingers as he was of doing anything else.
Joe was so much stronger than him; he was so much better a man than Scott could ever hope to be. Scott already knew that, but Joe proved it again when he recovered the ability to control his limbs long before Scott could even open his eyes.
Joe didn’t release his grip on Scott’s wrist, but he rolled off him and made it easier for Scott to breathe. Joe took his hand away from their cocks. Scott closed his eyes tighter, sure Joe’s next movement would involve standing up and leaving him collapsed on the floor forever.
Something moved against Scott’s stomach. He frowned, unable to immediately recognise what it was or what it might mean for his remaining time with Joe.
Fingers. A hand pressing against him. Circles. Cum?
“S-sir?” Scott managed to whisper.
“What?” Joe sounded completely composed and in control of his voice.
It was all Scott could do to make his words vaguely audible. “Are you r-rubbing your c-cum into me?” he rasped out.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Scott finally asked, when it became obvious that no further information would be forthcoming unless he anted up and requested it.
“Why not?”
It was a childish question, but it was also one that Scott found difficult to answer. Because I’m not going to belong to you once this scene ends. There was no way he’d ever be able to say those words out loud.
Scott swallowed. Conscious that he was probably wasting a very beautiful sight, he forced his eyes open. For several seconds, his vision remained hazy. When Scott finally focused, his eyes fell upon Joe’s forearm.
Scott dragged his gaze up. He reached the edge of Joe’s T-shirt sleeve. The fabric was black, just like almost every item Joe seemed to own. It was also torn.
Scott jerked and tried to sit up, only to stop short when Joe completely failed to release his wrist. Unable to become double-jointed at a whim, Scott halted just short of dislocating his shoulder and collapsed back against the floor.
Joe tightened his grip on Scott’s wrist. “What the hell do you think you—?”
“S-sir, your arm!” Scott cut in.
Joe frowned, but Scott couldn’t focus on Joe’s expression for long. His attention was drawn inexorably back to Joe’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Scott saw Joe turn his head to inspect the area for himself.
Four long scratches broke the skin, travelling from his shoulder to the top of his arm. Joe was bleeding.
Scott had done that to him. He looked down at the nails on his right hand. There was blood beneath them. He’d done that to his master.
Scott’s head spun. All the air seemed to race out of the room.
“Whoa there!”
Joe’s grip on Scott’s wrist disappeared. He’d let him go. Scott couldn’t blame him. What kind of submissive would—?
“Scott!”
Joe’s hands moved against Scott’s body as he twisted him around and pulled him into another position. Scott didn’t struggle against it. All the fight had gone out of him.
The next thing Scott knew, he was partially reclined with his back against Joe’s chest while Joe leaned against the side of his bed, his legs extended on either side of Scott’s body.
“If you have that much trouble with the sight of even a tiny drop of blood, it’s a good idea to warn a guy,” Joe said.
Scott tried to turn to face him but Joe held him in place, refusing to allow him to move more than an inch in any direction. One of his arms looped around Scott’s waist. Joe put his other hand on Scott’s forehead, pulling his head back until it was trapped against his good shoulder.
“Still feeling dizzy?” Joe asked
Scott squinted up at the ceiling in confusion. “I’m f-fine.”
“Then you might want to tell that to the skin on your face because you went as white as a sheet the moment you saw blood.”
Scott tried to shake his head but Joe wouldn’t allow it. “It w-wasn’t that. I’m j-just…I know you d-d-don’t like to hear me apologise, but it isn’t for nothing this time, sir. I’m really s-s-sorry. I don’t know w-what I was thinking. I mean, I couldn’t have been th-thinking at all. I—”
“Scott, it’s just a couple of scratches.”
Scott fell silent.
“It’s no big deal. Hell, you’re making it sound like you broke my cock off or something,” Joe said. “Now, if you did that, I probably would be angry.”
Scott couldn’t help but smile.
“Good boy,” Joe said, his voice softer now, almost tender. “That’s better.”
It was a lovely way to sit, now that Scott knew he hadn’t really screwed up. He relaxed back against Joe’s chest. It all seemed so peaceful, so glorious.
Then, Joe sighed. The sound cut through Scott’s heart as if it had been purposely crafted to do that job. Nothing so wonderful could last forever, but that didn’t stop Scott grieving because it came to an end.
* * * * *
“S-sir?”
The sudden uncertainty in Scott’s voice only confirmed Joe’s suspicions.
He held back the urge to sigh again. It was bloody typical that him finding a man he actually wanted to be nice to on occasion, had to coincide with stumbling upon the only sub he’d ever met who didn’t want a dom that ever treated him with any sort of tenderness.
Damn, but all those internet stories that hailed complete jerks as the best doms ever, had a lot to answer for! Or the guys in the club who boasted about their conquests—maybe they were to blame. Both gave subs the most stupid ideas.
Joe gritted his teeth and reminded himself that it had to be something like that. Some sort of outside influence had to have corrupted part of Scott’s psyche long before they met, because Joe knew he hadn’t given Scott any reason to feel as he did.
“Give me a minute or two, and I’ll screw you or spank you or something,” Joe bit out. “Until then, you’re just going to have to sit here and deal with the fact I’m not interested in being a full-on sadist all the time.” And that’s no reason for you to say your safe word!
“W-what?”