Chapter One #2
His cock stirred for the first time in ages, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Before the guilt could creep in, he ran the strands of the flogger through his hand, the supple feel of the leather familiar. Grounding.
“Hope you’re ready for a good flogging,” James said, rolling his shoulders and approaching Nolan, who stood in front of the St. Andrew’s Cross.
“We’ll see if you can deliver,” Nolan teased with an impish smile.
James’s heart thudded a little harder, the anticipation of being in this space again, of seizing control so strong he almost couldn’t believe it. “Let’s get you situated on the cross.”
Nolan stepped up, familiar with it, raising his arms where the leather cuffs were in place.
James slipped behind him and fastened the cuffs around his wrists with a soft jangle.
He ensured they weren’t as tight as normal but still snug enough to hold him.
James slipped two fingers between the leather cuff, the brush of skin to skin sending a jolt through him.
He’d scened a few times in the past year, but he hadn’t gone further.
Touch had been so infrequent, so different from what he was used to.
“This okay?” he checked in, and Nolan bobbed his head. His body tensed, possibly from playing with someone new. James rested a hand on his shoulder, and he relaxed immediately. “Spread your legs for me. We’ll keep them unbound.”
Nolan followed the direction, and relief filtered through James.
He ran his palm across Nolan’s back, enjoying the slope, the soft heat of his skin, the gentle puffs of his breath.
Then he dipped down past the band of his jock to squeeze an ass cheek.
The lust bursting through him was almost painful, and Nolan moaned low.
James’s blood pumped hotter than it had in a long, long while.
Before his mind took the wheel, he stepped back and ran the flogger strands through his fingers again. God, it had been ages since he lost himself in the swing of the flogger. In those pretty cries of pain. In the blush blooming on the skin.
“Stoplight system for tonight?” he asked.
“I’m all green,” Nolan said, casting a glance back to the flogger. “Thank you for sterilizing.”
James trailed his fingertips down Nolan’s back, unable to help himself. “I want you comfortable before I bring you to your knees.”
Nolan’s breath hitched, and the subtle zip of excitement ran through James’s veins, distant, but at last within grasp.
He stepped back and settled into his stance.
James eyed his canvas—thick, muscular thighs, supple ass cheeks, plenty of room to work with.
Nolan was nuclear-grade hot, his smooth skin marred only by a large, twisted scar near his calf.
James gave the flogger a few test swings, adjusting to its heft.
The motion was like stepping into a pool to swim again—some instincts never left him.
James swung the flogger, and it cracked down on Nolan’s ass cheek. The sound, the swing, filtered through James’s veins like liquid heroin.
Nolan let out a surprised noise, but there was no pain, just the sudden jump of his limbs in surprise.
“Baseline test,” James said. “But you can take harder, can’t you?”
“Fuck yes,” Nolan purred, his voice pure seduction. “Lay into me. I can take whatever you want to dish, handsome.”
“Dangerous words,” James teased. Relief filtered through his pores, growing so strong he wanted to weep.
Being in this space, able to unleash and be in control, meant more than he could express after the past few years.
He swung the flogger again, and another blow landed on Nolan’s cheek, this one louder.
Still, he barely did more than flinch. He wasn’t kidding about being able to take it.
This was his tempo for the average play partner who enjoyed a good flogging.
With Nolan, he might be able to lose himself tonight.
James aimed a few more thwacks against his other cheek, loving the crack as the strands hit his supple ass, which jiggled from the movement. He alternated between cheeks, the swing, the whizz of strands through air, and the echo of the noise afterwards elevating him higher. Here, he was in control.
Here, he wasn’t burdened by the past or the future. Here, he existed in the moment, in the exchange of pain and pleasure.
His chest warmed from the movement and the exhilaration.
He stepped close and palmed Nolan’s ass, which was warmer to the touch after those introductory strokes.
“Such a gorgeous canvas,” he murmured as he squeezed the supple flesh.
Ngh. A shiver ran through Nolan, his eyes dreamy.
People came to pain for all different reasons, but Nolan seemed to be a true pain slut—James’s favorite type.
He stepped back, brought his arm back, and descended with the flick of his wrist. The flogger landed with a meaty thwack on his thighs, sending another shudder through him. James had stopped with the kid gloves, since he hadn’t needed them. “Color?”
“So green,” he said, his voice mellow and relaxed, as if he floated on a cloud. “You can whale on me like that any time you like.”
“So you wouldn’t be opposed to harder?” James said, his voice huskier than intended.
Nolan glanced back, those dark eyes hooded, a few strands of his green hair swept over his forehead. He was sultry and stunning, and fuck, James enjoyed this too much. “I’m always a fan of harder.”
His blood pumped at the challenge.
Fuck, James hadn’t thrown his whole body into flogging anyone in over a decade.
Anticipation hummed through him as he steadied his stance.
Nolan’s ass was ripe and glowing a nice rosy red from the strikes he’d landed, but he could take more.
James had hoped to find a play partner tonight to get back into the swing of flogging, but Nolan’s responsiveness was far beyond his wildest expectations.
James launched in, flowing with the movements as he landed blow after blow.
The crack, crack, crack echoed, a sweet melody he missed, and the exertion, the sweat that broke out on his brow, caused adrenaline to pump hotter.
Nolan began to cry out with each strike, jumping slightly every time the flogger landed, and James paused, breathing hard, and closed in again to grab a handful of his ass, the flesh warm.
Nolan moaned, stirring something dormant inside him.
“Color?” James asked, continuing to knead his ass. Fuck, his cheek was luscious, and James couldn’t stop touching it.
“Green,” he purred, those dark eyes dreamy, his voice soft and incandescent.
He sagged on the cross, a sheen of sweat on his brow, his breaths quickening.
James glanced down—his cock jutted forward from his see-through jock, testing the flimsy fabric.
It was long and slender, just like him, and the stain on his jock showed how turned on he was.
James’s own cock woke to life, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He let go of his ass and stepped away.
“Can you take more?” James asked, his heart thudding hard. Whether it was from anticipation, hope, or adrenaline, he wasn’t sure.
“I can take you all night long,” Nolan teased, words slurred, clearly deep in the throes of subspace. God, he was a dream. The whole scene was a dream, and he didn’t want to wake up.
James ran the flogger strands through his hands, steadied his stance, and threw his body into the strike.
Nolan’s back arched, his cry beautiful as color bloomed across his ass cheek.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, while his shoulders heaved and his breaths came faster.
James launched another strike on the other side, just as hard.
Nolan cried again, the sound lighting his synapses.
The ability to unleash like this was a gift, and James would take whatever Nolan was willing to give him tonight.
For these few moments, he wasn’t wading through guilt, helplessness, or pain.
For these few moments, he was free.