10. Wilder
Wilder
He didn’t ask Merrick to come over the night after their relationship talk, even though he desperately wanted to.
Wilder needed to exhibit some form of control and restraint, or he was going to lose himself to Merrick entirely.
They did text throughout the day, Wilder between meetings and Merrick between appointments and on breaks.
The conversation was casual, Merrick rattling on via a voice note about a song on at the shop he really liked.
He apologized for sending such a long message, but he’d wanted Wilder to hear it.
The absolute earnestness of Merrick’s voice made it so even if the song was something he hated, Wilder would have enjoyed it anyway.
He would have enjoyed plenty of things on account of Merrick enjoying them.
It wasn’t long before Saturday rolled around.
Wilder spent the day grocery shopping and cleaning.
Merrick worked until eight, but they had plans for him to come over after and spend the night.
Maybe spend Sunday night too, even though Wilder had to work on Monday and Merrick didn’t.
Wilder was ready for uninterrupted time with Merrick, but he was also nervous about it.
What if he was too much for Merrick?
Not in the way Merrick always worried about overwhelming the people around him, but in the way where Wilder’s grasp on dominance was too firm for Merrick’s liking.
That wasn’t something he’d ever been concerned about before, but he’d also never felt attraction the way he did to Merrick.
There was something so innocent about him, but not in a naive way.
Almost like Merrick was perfectly ripe and ready for the plucking, and Wilder was desperate to be the one to bring Merrick home.
Justin had texted him daily since their lunch, and Wilder had kept his friend updated on everything that had transpired. Justin was practically giddy for Wilder and Merrick’s upcoming weekend, but Wilder assumed most of that excitement stemmed from Micah, who had never met a person he didn’t like.
Well, there was one.
But Micah was sweet and he was obedient, and he was always looking for new people to bring into their friend group.
Would Merrick get along with them?
All that was for another day, after Merrick and Wilder had time to get to know each other more, when they could really decide if a relationship was something they wanted to pursue.
Because as much as Wilder was worried about how Merrick would take to submission, he was equally worried about how the free use aspect of Merrick’s sexual tastes would play out.
Wilder had a high sex drive, and he would definitely sate that hunger for Merrick whenever he could, but Wilder himself was no match for a revolving door at a BDSM club where one man after another could come in and use Merrick in whatever way suited them best. It would be a learning curve for the both of them.
At seven-thirty, Wilder hopped into the shower to deal with all of the cleaning and prep he’d been putting off in the days he and Merrick had been apart.
At eight, he dried himself off, dragged a towel through his hair, and dug out a pair of clean lounge pants and a shirt.
He poured himself a glass of wine and made himself comfortable on the couch, scrolling through social media on his phone.
Wilder’s mind was quick to wander, role playing through scenarios he desperately wanted to make real.
One where he had a key to Merrick’s apartment and he’d show up in the middle of the night unannounced.
He’d wake Merrick up with urgent kisses, stroke Merrick’s cock until he was hard, and then use Merrick to get himself off.
Once finished, he would tuck Merrick back into bed and drive back home.
Wilder wouldn’t sleep the rest of the night, but that wouldn’t matter.
He thought of another, with Merrick tied to his bed, cock stimulated to the point of pain.
He’d be so hard and leaking, bound there with nothing to do except wait for Wilder to come in and fuck when he needed to feel good.
Sometimes Wilder would let Merrick come but not every time.
He also entertained using Merrick’s mouth, making Merrick warm his cock before bed or after a good spanking.
Wilder thought about a thousand different things he’d never really allowed himself to pretend about, all of them somehow now within reach.
At eight-thirty, Merrick knocked on his door and Wilder let him inside. Merrick moved to toe off a sneaker and stopped, blinking up at Wilder with worried eyes.
“Can I take off my shoes?” he asked.
“Why wouldn’t you? Are you not planning on staying?”
A deep crease appeared between Merrick’s eyebrows, and he kicked out of his shoes, using Wilder’s arm for balance.
“I want to stay,” Merrick said, “I just…didn’t know. You didn’t say I could take off my shoes.”
Oh.
Wilder understood what was happening, and his chest tightened at the sweet sincerity of Merrick’s concern.
“Unless we have plans to leave as soon as you get here, you always take your shoes off when you come in. First thing.”
“Yes, Sir,” Merrick whispered, righting himself and wiping his hands on the front of his shirt.
He was dressed almost identical to the way he’d been the last time Wilder saw him.
Tight jeans and a T-shirt, this one with a faded band logo on the front that Wilder couldn’t read.
The threadbare material pulled tight across Merrick’s muscular chest, and Wilder’s fingers itched to get him out of it.
“I didn’t mean for you to call me Sir all of the time,” he said next, hating the words as they left his mouth because he did really love the way it sounded on Merrick’s tongue.
“Should I not? I don’t know all the rules.”
Wilder thought about his answer before he gave it because he needed to be sure of what mattered to him in this relationship with Merrick.
He’d never really wanted a 24/7 thing, but as he ran through a mental checklist of an easy way to explain to Merrick when Sir would be appropriate, he found there wasn’t a single instance where he would have told Merrick not to use it.
The realization tilted his understanding of a 24/7 relationship on its axis, and Wilder bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from frowning about it.
“You can call me Sir whenever it feels right for you,” Wilder finally said. “If there is a specific time when I want you to use it, I’ll be sure to tell you.”
Merrick nodded.
“So.” He guided Merrick to the couch and they both sat down, Wilder returning to his wine. “How was work? What did you tattoo today?”
As expected, Merrick launched into descriptive and full detail, offering information about every appointment he worked on.
He pulled out his phone and showed Wilder pictures of the finished pieces, zooming in to talk about specific details and techniques he’d used to achieve the desired outcomes.
Merrick’s passion for art was awe-inspiring, and Wilder listened, nodding along until Merrick reached that natural point in his monologue when he realized he’d been talking too long.
“That’s enough about my day,” Merrick mumbled. “How was yours?”
“It’s enough about your day when I say it’s enough about your day.”
They locked eyes, and Merrick’s jaw dropped. Wilder had the distinct impression no one had ever told Merrick to keep talking before. He waited while Merrick struggled to remember his place, to find his footing. His next line of speaking dove into his relationship with his coworker, Holden.
Holden, Wilder learned, was dating Merrick’s little brother Bryce who had just moved to town a few months prior.
Merrick thought Holden was good for his brother and had no real complaints about the man, other than the fact he clung to the tenets of old-school tattooing in a way Merrick himself didn’t.
“There’s room for everyone’s preferences, right?” Wilder asked.
“Riggs certainly thinks so. He’s let Holden tattoo him but not me.”
“Do you want to tattoo him?”
“It’s my job,” Merrick said.
“But do you want to tattoo your boss?” he pressed.
“I want my boss to want me to tattoo him,” Merrick answered.
Wilder nodded an agreement. That was fair and that was the way of many things in life.
Everyone was constantly chasing after that approval from the people around them.
Much in the way Merrick wanted Wilder’s approval by the correct use of the honorific Sir.
And much in the way Wilder wanted Merrick’s approval about the direction he hoped to take their intimacy.
Eventually, Merrick talked himself into silence again, shoulders sinking an inch like he really had reached the end of everything he wanted to say.
At that point, Merrick again asked about Wilder’s day and, that time, Wilder answered.
He answered every question Merrick asked until again Merrick reached the end of what he wanted to say.
The energy around Merrick was different than it had been, more unrestrained in a way Wilder couldn’t quite put his finger on.
It was almost as if giving someone the space to be themself put them at ease and helped them to relax.
How on edge Merrick must always be, constantly worrying about how much he had to say.
“Are you hungry?” Wilder asked.
He’d long ago finished his wine.
“I’m not.”
“When did you eat?”
“I had a sandwich on my way over,” Merrick told him. “While I drove.”
Wilder didn’t know if Merrick had remembered how their last conversation about his eating habits had gone, and so he’d made a conscious decision to eat before coming over or if he’d just been hungry and did it on his own, but either way, Wilder liked it.
He smiled at Merrick, nodding his approval before asking, “Have you been spanked before?”
Merrick swallowed hard and shook his head.
“Would you like to be?” Wilder asked next.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Absolutely not,” he said, setting his hand on Merrick’s thigh and sliding it upward. “You did everything right. You were perfect, and I want to reward you for it.”
“A reward.”
“A reward,” he confirmed. “And if you tell me to stop, I stop. I won’t go hard on you.”
“I don’t want you to hold back,” Merrick said quickly, frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“I won’t,” he promised. “That doesn’t mean I want to go hard. I want to give you exactly what we both need.”
“Yes, please,” Merrick whispered.
“Strip,” he commanded, holding out his hand after Merrick took off his shirt.
He spread it out on the couch beside his leg, hoping it would be enough to keep Merrick from making a mess of the couch.
Wilder wasn’t sure, though, if he wanted Merrick over his lap or beside it.
One position would allow Merrick to suck him off, the other would position Merrick’s cock snug between Wilder’s thighs.
Both, he decided.
Merrick stood before him completely naked, his cock bobbing and leaking already.
“Put yourself over my lap,” Wilder instructed, spreading his legs a little wider. “Notch yourself…yeah. Just like that. See? You’re a natural.”
Merrick was massive, his muscular body bent over Wilder’s with the slightest hitch in his hips that shoved his ass into the air.
And what a gorgeous ass it was. Wilder smoothed his hands over the backs of Merrick’s thighs and the delicate place they met his ass.
Merrick shivered and buried his face against the arm of the couch.
“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” he muttered.
“Nothing,” Wilder said, reaching down and spreading his fingers around Merrick’s wrists. He pinned the other man down to the couch, making a mental note about the way Merrick’s hips thrust downward at the restriction, chasing friction.
He rubbed Merrick’s ass a little rougher, warming up his skin and ignoring the way Merrick moaned, because if Wilder paid attention to it, all they would do was fuck and fuck and fuck.
Wilder teased Merrick with forceful grabs and pulls of his skin until it was almost too much for Wilder himself to bear, and then he lifted his hand and brought it back down.
The sound of skin against skin cracked loudly through Wilder’s living room and the silence that followed was just as heavy.
Wilder left his hand in place, waited, watched Merrick’s body for any tells.
Between his thighs, Merrick’s cock pulsed.
Wilder spanked the other cheek, then went back to the first for three quick strikes.
“Merrick?”
“I like it,” he said quickly, voice ragged.
“Okay. Then I’ll start.”