4. Wilder
Wilder
Merrick looked like sin, with his latex-covered cock nestled in Wilder’s steady grip, his chest and throat flushed, looking like fresh red shading on his tattoos. If there was one thing Wilder was good at, it was choosing, and if that’s what Merrick wanted, Wilder would oblige him.
At least tonight.
At least one more time.
“Okay,” he agreed, taking a step back and tugging Merrick after him like his dick was a leash—just as he’d promised.
“But I need you to gag me first,” Merrick blurted, almost an afterthought, but enough to bring Wilder to a stop in the hallway.
“Pardon?”
“A gag,” Merrick said. “Please.”
“This is the only time I’ll agree to it until you explain why,” he warned. “I can tell this isn’t a kink, but something you think is a necessity.”
Merrick nodded, gratitude washing the flush from his face as Wilder tried to ignore the way his words made it sound like they were going to do this more than once.
He walked them both to the bedroom and left Merrick at the foot of the bed to rifle around in his closet until he found a suitable gag.
He’d never been a fan of ball gags, much preferring to have easy access to his submissives’ mouths, but Merrick wasn’t his and Wilder wasn’t entirely sure he was submissive either.
Maybe.
He had it in him; that was for sure.
“Snaps to stop?” Wilder asked, repeating the safe signal from Merrick’s sign at Rapture.
Merrick managed a nod, and Wilder held up the gag.
There was something painfully intimate about fitting the ball into Merrick’s mouth, tucking it gently behind his teeth.
Wilder traced his thumb across the top arch of Merrick’s upper lip before dragging the straps around to the back of his head and tightening the clasp.
He pressed the edge of his thumb against the place the black leather strap dug into Merrick’s cheek, fighting a very specific kind of arousal that had no place between them.
Yet.
“Can I kiss you here?” he asked softly, nail tracing a line across Merrick’s cheek.
Another nod, and Wilder leaned in. He pressed his mouth against the place leather met skin, and he closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth of Merrick’s face and the cool strip of leather…
the way they tasted mixed together against Wilder’s lips.
He could have stayed there all night, drunk on this man, but that wasn’t what Merrick wanted. That wasn’t why he’d reached out.
“Okay,” Wilder said, backing away and drawing in a much-needed breath. “You wanted to fuck.”
In answer, Merrick’s hip thrust forward, his cock fully erect.
Wilder had taken the plug out when he got home from Rapture so he wasn’t completely ready to go, but he was close enough.
“Do you want it to be over quickly or do you want it to last?” he asked.
Merrick’s nostrils flared and he held up two fingers.
“You want it to last.” Wilder confirmed, and Merrick nodded. “Are you going to stay the night?”
Merrick shrugged, and Wilder tried to not outwardly bristle. He hated indifference in anyone, especially play partners, especially submissives—which Merrick was not.
“Stay the night,” he murmured.
Merrick’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded his agreement.
It didn’t necessarily matter if Merrick stayed, though Wilder found it was his preference. It was a relief to know they could fuck as long as their bodies allowed and pass out without worrying about driving home or searching out clothes in the dark.
“Get on the bed, then,” Wilder said next, gesturing to the bed with his chin. “Move the pillows and sit with your back against the wall.”
He watched as Merrick did everything with careful attention to detail.
Instead of tossing the pillows onto the floor, he stacked them neatly in front of the nightstand.
Instead of shoving the comforter out of the way, he folded it in on itself until it rested at the foot of the bed.
Merrick was methodical, and Wilder liked that.
Wilder climbed onto Merrick’s lap, swinging one leg over his body and sinking down into a straddle on top of Merrick’s lap. Merrick moved to settle his hands on top of Wilder’s thighs, but hesitated…like he knew what was coming next.
“Hold onto the headboard,” Wilder murmured. “I want to ride it.”
Merrick’s chin quivered and he stretched his arms to either side, wrapping his fingers around the top of the headboard.
He looked more muscular this way, his pecs and biceps flexed from the position.
Wilder leaned over to grab lube from the nightstand and reached behind himself to tease his own hole.
He was still sensitive from the way Merrick had fucked him at Rapture.
His rim was a little swollen, tender, and he fought past his own discomfort to ease two fingers into himself.
They went easily enough, and he rode his hand on Merrick’s lap, enjoying the way Merrick’s dick jumped and danced in interest.
When he felt ready, Wilder replaced his fingers with Merrick’s hard cock, sinking down slowly until he was fully seated with his knees digging into Merrick’s hips.
Wilder caught his breath, rocking a little to get used to the feel of a cock inside of him again.
It had been quite a while—months—since he’d had sex twice in the same night and while his body remembered the mechanics of it, he still wanted to be gentle with himself.
Wilder liked rough sex, and he liked it more than most people, but he didn’t want to get hurt.
Nor did he want to go there without a much more detailed conversation about interests and preferences.
Movies made kink look so fun, and it was, but there was so much work on the back end that had to happen in order for it to be fun.
Wilder found a pace that didn’t hurt his knees, and he took his nipples into his hands, giving each of them a tug away from his chest as he rode Merrick’s cock.
It was too slow—they both knew it—but Wilder loved watching the way Merrick fought himself.
The way he adjusted his grip on the headboard to stop himself from reaching for Wilder, the way he tried to suck spit back into his mouth before it ran down his chin, the way he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling instead of Wilder’s face.
Wilder was torturing them both, his own heartbeat strong and steady in his cock.
Precum pooled on the slit of his dick and he smeared it across the front of Merrick’s ball gag, changing the angle of his thrusts so Merrick’s cock tagged his prostate.
“What are you afraid of, Merrick?” he asked, more to himself than his sex partner. He drew his finger along the spit-soaked swell of Merrick’s lower lip and down to his chin, the underside of his throat, his Adam’s apple. “What are you worried you’re going to say?”
Merrick’s eyes flashed with something unidentifiable, and Wilder knew he’d hit a nerve.
He hoped he would get another chance to see Merrick, not just for fucking but maybe for something more serious.
Friendship, if it was on the table, play even…
he wanted to understand what drove this good-looking man who was desperate to fuck.
That was all for another time, though, another night.
Merrick said he wanted it to last, and Wilder would drive himself mad making sure it did.
Even though he could have picked up the pace and gotten himself off in under a minute, he wanted to let Merrick get his fill.
He sensed Merrick needed to be fucked into unconsciousness, and Wilder was committed to making that happen.
Groaning, he lifted off Merrick’s lap entirely and stood at the side of the bed, the stack of pillows cool against the outside of his leg. He’d been wrong. he didn’t need to change anything to get off. His orgasm was right there, shimmering around the edges of his vision.
Wilder tossed one of the pillows into the middle of the bed and arranged himself on top of it, the pillow beneath his hips angling his ass up into the air.
“Make me come,” he told Merrick. “But you better not.”
He’d spent twenty minutes effectively teasing Merrick with a slow fuck, and once he gave the other man the green light, it was like all bets were off.
Merrick let go of the headboard, scrambled onto his knees and grabbed Wilder’s waist with sweaty fingers.
He sucked spit into his mouth with a gasping breath but stopped short of pressing his cock against Wilder’s hole.
Wilder looked over his shoulder to see what caused the delay and found Merrick’s brow knit together, cheeks pink.
“No?” Wilder asked, wondering if he’d misstepped.
“Rough?” Merrick managed to ask around his gag. He was a sight, with his mouth spread wide and spit smeared across his chin.
He had the prettiest teeth.
“You can fuck me rough,” Wilder agreed, swallowing past his own arousal. “Probably rougher than you think you can, so don’t worry about going too far. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much.”
Merrick studied him for a second, and Wilder could see the curiosity flash across his face.
Merrick wanted to talk, but he’d put himself in a situation where conversation was not on the table.
Wilder was desperate to know why he was so afraid of having free rein over his ability to use words.
Before Wilder could decide if he wanted to order the gag out of Merrick’s mouth, Merrick pushed his hand on the center of Wilder’s back, shoved him down onto the bed, and filled him completely with one quick pump of his hips.
Wilder’s eyes rolled back and Merrick thrust into him with long, rough strokes.
He fucked like it was his job, pulling out almost all the way to the tip before slamming back home.
Just like at Rapture, Merrick fucked Wilder until he was almost off the edge of the bed, but this time there was no harness for him to grab hold of.
Instead, Merrick’s fingers tangled into Wilder’s hair and he pulled—hard—drawing them both back into the middle of the bed.
The unexpected bite of pain was all it took to get Wilder where he needed to be.
He came with a strangled shout, shooting his load onto the pillow beneath his hips.
Merrick dropped his head and grabbed Wilder’s hips, continuing the same beastly pace that had sent Wilder careening over the cliff.
Wilder exhaled into the sheets, fighting the precipice where the pleasure turned into pain, knowing it would be back to pleasure if he could only wait it out a little longer.
Someone once told Wilder he was broken, that he couldn’t be a dominant and a masochist, that he couldn’t be a dominant who didn’t like to top.
There were some nights he believed both of those things to be true, but then there were nights like this where he knew they weren’t.
He could be all of those things and more.
He wasn’t a switch, as many men had tried to tell him in the past, just like he wasn’t vers.
Wilder was dominant, and even in this situation with Merrick, he was in complete control.
A rough fuck didn’t make him anything other than what he was, didn’t make Merrick anything other than himself either.
After the quaking muscles of his orgasm settled, Wilder pushed himself onto all fours.
Merrick continued to pump hard and angry against him from behind, and Wilder imagined he might end up with bruises around his hips when all was said and done.
He let his head hang low, noticing with piqued interest when Merrick’s pace faltered. He began to thrust shallower, slower.
He was close, and Wilder hadn’t told him he could come.
“Are you ready to be done?” Wilder asked. He shifted his weight and glanced over his shoulder.
Merrick sank into him fully, shoulders trembling, and he shook his head.