20. Wilder
Wilder
Wilder went home and spent the next hour staring at the gorgeous ocean sunset Merrick had given him.
The skin on his wrist was swollen and tender, but he traced his way across the lines and committed them all to memory anyway.
He only took a break when his normal alarm went off, reminding him it was time to leave work, something he’d already done, and reminded him he wasn’t ready for Merrick.
He had hours still before Merrick got off work, though, so he made himself a salad and then decided it was time to prepare for the evening.
He didn’t know what it was about the afternoon that had made him so desperately horny for Merrick, but he didn’t hate it.
Maybe it was watching Merrick tattoo for the first time, which shouldn’t have been anything astounding.
They’d already spent hours together when Wilder had watched Merrick paint and draw, but there was something inherently different about the permanence of the tattoo that sat differently with him.
Maybe it was the fact Merrick was tattooing him that had done it.
Either way, he liked it, and he would commit himself to a life of ink if it delivered him more of that feeling.
Right before seven, Wilder stepped into the shower and started the tedious work of prepping himself for Merrick.
It was a work night and he couldn’t be up too late, but he still had big plans that involved thoroughly wrecking the both of them before the night was through.
Merrick cleaned himself out and went into the bedroom, not bothering with clothes, though he did situate himself back into the leather harness he’d had on the night they met.
He texted Merrick to let him know the door was unlocked, then set his phone to do not disturb.
Wilder debated pulling out the ball gag, but decided it would be better to play that one by ear after Merrick’s arrival.
Instead, he laid down on his back with his legs bent and knees spread, and then Wilder took his time with himself.
It had been months—at least—since he had played with himself for pleasure, not for purpose.
He fingered his asshole open with slick fingers, his only interest stretching himself for Merrick’s cock.
He wasn’t trying to edge himself; he didn’t want to come.
With three fingers in his asshole, Wilder’s thighs began to quake and he switched out his hand for a plug.
The sensation of being constantly filled was so different from the act of sex.
Wilder leaned his head against the wall and breathed through the gentle, rolling tide of arousal that hit him whenever he moved and the plug weighed against his prostate.
He made a tight tunnel around his dick with both hands and fucked into it, closing his eyes and fantasizing about what it would feel like to top Merrick.
And that was how Merrick found him, head thrown back and jaw slack, his dick in his hands and his heels digging into the sheets.
“Please tell me you’re ready,” Merrick said from the doorway.
Wilder looked up in time to see Merrick tossing his clothes onto the floor and stalking toward the bed. He was hard as a rock, stroking himself as he situated himself between Wilder’s legs and buried his face into the crook of Wilder’s neck.
“Please tell me I can put my cock inside of you,” Merrick whispered, exhaling before adding a quiet and unsteady, “Sir.”
“Make me come,” he ordered, and then the plug was out of him.
He was flipped onto his stomach and Merrick pushed into him with one smooth snap of his hips.
The first thrust fucked the air right out of his lungs, and Merrick showed no signs of slowing.
He used Wilder’s harness for leverage, pressing Wilder into the bed and fucking him like both of their lives depended on it.
Wilder couldn’t catch his breath. He rubbed his face against the sheets, giving himself over entirely to the rough and immediate way Merrick wanted to fuck him.
Merrick grabbed his hips, lifted his stomach off the bed and thrust back in.
It was a wonder Wilder hadn’t come yet, but the sensation of Merrick’s body inside of him was almost too good, too overwhelming.
“Tell me I can come inside of you,” Merrick begged, the words almost lost against the sound of their sweaty skin slapping together.
“Not yet.”
Merrick groaned, fingers digging into Wilder’s waist.
Wilder shoved his hand between his body and the bed, fucking his fist and thinking again about what it would be like to top Merrick.
With Merrick’s breathy grunts filling the room, it was an easier sell, and Wilder came hard and fast, painting the sheets with hot jets of cum.
His dick pulsed in his hand, still hard and still slick from his earlier foreplay.
“Now?”
“Not yet,” he gritted out, forcing his shoulder back and into Merrick’s chest.
Merrick fell onto his back and Wilder shoved himself between Merrick’s legs, hoisting his knees toward his ears and burying his face between Merrick’s ass cheeks.
He tongued and licked Merrick’s hole, adding one finger and then two.
Merrick’s body gripped and squeezed him until Wilder worried his knuckles were going to crack.
“I want you so much,” Merrick murmured. “Sir, I…”
“What?”
“Not like this. Not now.”
Wilder eased his fingers out and covered Merrick’s body with his own, slanting their mouths together and kissing them both back to sanity.
“What do you need?” he whispered.
“I want to come inside of you,” Merrick said. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I don’t know how I made it through the rest of the afternoon without it.”
“I can still taste myself in your mouth.”
Merrick groaned. “I’ve tasted you all day. All I’ve thought of is—”
Wilder straddled Merrick and sank back down onto his dick, shivering as his body again adjusted to the stretch. “Touch me.”
Merrick made a loose fist around Wilder’s cock, giving him the barest tease of friction while Wilder rode him toward an orgasm.
It came quicker than he expected, and Merrick shuddered beneath him, going still save for the squeeze of his fingers and the pulsing throb of Wilder’s cock.
Wilder sank down and took as much of Merrick into him as he could manage, clenching as Merrick came inside of him for the first time.
He stayed upright until Merrick went soft, sliding out of him with a wet pop.
Wilder rolled onto his side and curled Merrick into his arms, kissing Merrick’s forehead and temple while both of them came down from the high of their coupling.
“Everything is so easy with you,” Merrick murmured. “When you hurt me. When you make me feel good. It all makes sense.”
Wilder hummed his agreement, eyes heavy with the need for sleep. He struggled out of his harness, not quite willing to let Merrick go to make it easy. They fell asleep like that, tangled together and covered in the proof of how perfect they were for each other.
Wilder woke up the next morning to the sound of his alarm and a cold pillow where Merrick’s head should be.
He yawned and stretched, expecting to find the smell of coffee or breakfast, but none of the familiar scents of the morning reached his nose.
With a groan, Wilder climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of pajamas from the dresser, stumbling into them on his way out of the bedroom.
He found Merrick in the kitchen, naked with his hands braced against the edge of the counter and his chin tucked toward his chest. There were two mugs out of the cabinet and beside the coffee pot, but no coffee scooped or brewed.
Merrick was lost in thought, startling when Wilder cleared his throat.
He turned quickly, eyes wide like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“What’s wrong?” Wilder asked.
Merrick shook his head and spun back, busying himself with making coffee he’d clearly forgotten about. Wilder needed his morning coffee as much as the next person, so he didn’t argue, waiting instead until the coffee started to percolate.
“What’s wrong?” he asked again.
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Merrick clenched his jaw. “Why do you think that?”
“Because making coffee in the morning gives you an erection and here you are, but instead your cock looks like it never wants to see the inside of my asshole ever again.”
Wilder exhaled, lips pursed as he waited for Merrick to be honest with him. He didn’t have all the time in the world on a workday, but he had enough time to wait Merrick out, that was for sure.
“Nothing is wrong,” Merrick lied again, and that was enough.
Wilder went to the dining room table and pulled out a chair.
He dragged it into the kitchen and forcefully shoved Merrick down into it.
He spread Merrick’s legs, aligning each ankle with a chair leg.
He didn’t have rope or cuffs in the kitchen so he grabbed two dishtowels.
The knots around Merrick’s ankles were sloppy and loose, but they would do.
He grabbed a third towel for good measure, tapping Merrick’s lower lip with his finger until Merrick opened.
He offered no grace or ease when it came to gagging Merrick into silence, stepping back and giving the other man a cursory look before returning to the drawer for one of the bamboo spatulas.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, then you cannot talk at all,” he warned. “Arms down, grab the back legs of the chair.”
The coffee pot beeped, indicating it was full and ready.
“Snap to stop,” he said. Merrick grunted and nodded, and then Wilder brought the spatula down hard on the top of Merrick’s thigh.
Even through the makeshift gag, Merrick was loud.
His eyes went wide, nostrils flared in shock, and Wilder hit him again, a little bit higher than before.
Merrick, for his part, looked like he dedicated himself to taking the punishment as Wilder intended to dish it out.
Determination colored his expression, chair creaking as he shifted his weight against Wilder’s strikes.
Wilder punished Merrick until his arm was tired, flinging the spatula into the sink with a tired breath. Merrick had tears in his eyes that hadn’t quite made it past the shelf of his lower lashes, but his resolve threatened to break when Wilder pulled the dish towel out of his mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Wilder asked again.
“Last night was so good,” Merrick said.
“I thought so.”
“Until you ate my ass.”
Wilder couldn’t stop the sound that built in the back of his throat, almost a scoff even though he didn’t want to embarrass Merrick in any way by laughing at his confession. “Explain.”
“It wasn’t the ass eating that was the problem.
That felt really good.” A single tear slipped from the corner of Merrick’s eye, but he didn’t wipe it away.
He adjusted his grip on the back legs of the chair, not letting go because Wilder hadn’t told him to let go.
“I liked it a lot and I didn’t hate when you fingered me either.
I thought I really wanted to see what it would be like to bottom, but it freaked me out and I got scared. ”
“And you told me you didn’t want to do it and we didn’t do it.” Wilder tilted his head to the side. “Did I still go too far?”
“No, you stopped.”
“What then?”
“What if I never want to bottom?” Another tear escaped, and Wilder bent down and used his tongue to lick it off Merrick’s cheek.
“Then you never bottom.”
“Won’t it get boring?”
“Has it yet?” He pressed his finger into the shadow of a bruise on Merrick’s thigh.
“No.”
“Okay.” Wilder kissed the underside of Merrick’s jaw. “Were you making up problems in your head that aren’t real?”
“Maybe,” Merrick muttered.
“Don’t do that anymore.”
Merrick was crying fully at that point, tears cascading like tiny waterfalls from the corners of his eyes.
“Is that an order?”
“Very much,” he said. “The most important one you’ll ever get from me.”
“Okay, then. Yes, Sir.”
Wilder straightened up, pressed the heel of his palm into the base of his thickening cock.
“This punishment was for not telling me what was wrong on your own,” he said. “You have another one coming for not having coffee ready for me when I woke up.”
That brought Merrick’s dick to life, a valiant twitch against his thigh at Wilder’s words.
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do yet, but you will soon.” He glanced at the clock on the stove. He was going to be late for work, but like everything had been so far with Merrick, it would be worth it.