Sunday, August 10, 2014

On The Edge

On The Edge

*Story contains M/M relations involving D/s, and explicit sexual scenes.*

Brussel sprouts, wet socks, and the look that was currently being sported by Grayson: the three things in life that could make Jake sick without even trying. But nothing was quite as bad as the silence… that deep, brooding stillness that not even cricket would dare to impede on. It was the kind of hush that defied speech, a don’t-you-even-dare thing. And it was enough to drive Jake bat-shit with both rage and agony.

Jake was a fixer, a problem solver. He’d go out of his way to help where he could, do anything to ensure consistency in his universe. He could work away at an issue for hours; study every obstacle. Problem was though; it was damn hard to fix something if he didn’t know where to start.

It was that not-knowing that transformed concern into problem every time. Grayson, conversely, was the strong, silent type—the Atlas carrying the weight of the heavens—the unfettered captain at the head of the ship. And when that ship drifted off course, when the sails ripped or the hull sprung a leak, Grayson bore the entire burden himself.

Jake had seen the storm clouds gathering in Grayson’s expression the night before. He’d heard the winds of dissonance gather as Grayson had tossed and turned between the sheets. When the lightning began to flash in Grayson’s blue eyes and the thundering grumbles replaced vocabulary, Jake had not been surprised.

Now that a full-blown gale raged within Grayson’s mind, albeit silent and singular, it tore up Jake’s sanity like nothing else could. If there was something... anything... just to help, Jake would feel so much better.

“Can I get you another coffee?” Jake reached for the abandoned cup, wincing as Grayson flinched and tightened his jaw – as though by proximity alone Jake was adding to Grayson’s burden.

“That coffee sucks,” Grayson deadpanned, turning eyes that wore the mask of annoyance, yet brimmed with bleeding misery.

Wounded, Jake pulled his hand back and stifled a sigh. In an earlier time, Jake would have tried to ask what was wrong, would have offered assistance. Those lessons had long since been learned, however. Grayson’s personal wars were fought by Grayson and Grayson alone. As much as the proverbial bear needed the thorn removed from its proverbial paw, said bear’s teeth grew vicious when it bled. It was best not to get in the way.

“Something else?” Jake offered, even though he knew better. “Tea maybe?”

Annoyance morphed to aggravation and a lip curled over a canine. “Silence would be preferable.”

Jake fought away the sting the words brought. Grayson didn’t mean to hurt him, he knew that – knew, without a doubt in fact, that before the words had even left Grayson’s tongue, Grayson was silently berating the need to bite the hand that tried to appease. That knowledge didn’t make the strike any less painful though.

“I could...” Jake started to say before he was cut off.

“Do us both a favour,” Grayson voice was clipped, harsh. “Find somewhere else to be right now.”

The words could not have cut deeper had they been delivered by the edge of a blade. Jake slid from the couch, tucked foot squeaking on leather, and stood. “As you wish.”

He bit his tongue to stop it from slashing back, choking down the ‘Your Highness’ retort before it had a chance to pop out and make everything worse. His footsteps from the room were heavy, but it was nothing compared to the load he carried in his chest.

Yard? Office? Basement? Weight Room?

Kitchen? Deck? Garage?

Where best to weather the storm and tentatively lick his wounds? Where best to sit and contemplate the frailty of human unity? Where best to lie and bleed self-doubt and pity?

The bedroom called Jake first and he followed its promise of comfort and familiarity. He climbed, fully clothed, into sheets resplendent in the combined fragrance of both of them. He laid his head on the pillow that still bore the shape of Grayson’s skull. Then Jake wrapped his arms around the bundle of blankets that could fool his mind into feeling a body instead of mere fabric.

If only it would work – the imagined embrace. If only that could be the thing that erased the frown from Grayson’s brow, that would remind Grayson he was not alone. If only Grayson was willing to accept the words that he himself proffered. After all, how many times had Grayson held Jake? Speaking in that low, quiet tone, saying that everything was going to be all right? Telling Jake that he was doing a wonderful job, to just let go... Grayson had no problem giving comfort when it was due. It was acceptance of the favour in return that Grayson refused. Like the weakness of need was unfathomable.

It was hard for Jake to make sense of. Jake craved it – couldn’t understand what would make a person run from comfort. After all, it was what Jake loved most about Grayson: his reassurances, his respect and appreciation. Eighty-five percent of the time.

The other times though, the last fifteen, when Grayson was too far lost in himself to show courtesy or consideration, was almost too much to bear. It was like... the good was so good, that the bad was too overwhelming of a difference.

Jake flipped on to his back and closed his eyes. These were the times he wished he could do it all back to Grayson. Find a way to make Grayson see how beneficial it all was—to give in to losing control—to let emotional hurt be washed away by physical.

Abuse though, was not for Grayson. No, that kind of submission would only make Grayson furious with himself for so many reasons. Pain would feed the angst, fuel the burn, enrage as opposed to enlighten. Grayson, unlike Jake, would not fall blissfully into the healing power of sub-space. Not with pain.

So then, with what? Because though the storm always blew over, the next was never far away. Worse yet, even though they both managed to weather the gales, Jake always felt like he lost just a little bit more of himself every time. Those bites hurt. Cruelty from a lover stung in entirely wrong ways – in damaging, permanent ways. And as tormented as Grayson was while dealing with issues in solitary confinement, it was nothing in comparison to the self-hatred Grayson would dish afterwards for being callous.

There had to be a way to satisfy his own need to soothe, without destroying the foundation that kept Grayson strong.

Perhaps, Jake mused, Grayson didn’t need a tugboat to yank the ship to safe passage. Maybe Jake’s efforts in the past were feeble attempts to reiterate the ways he himself found solace. Perhaps Grayson needed something to lift him over the squall, not drag him through it.

Jake’s eyes flew open as his mind began to race.


Grayson was still seated, same location, same pose, and with the same scowl. Late afternoon sun shone through plate glass windows and gave the room a semblance of cheer that was not actually felt in the silent space. The light appeared to set the tips of Grayson’s hair on fire, short blond curls brightened to flame, tan skin almost glowing. Grayson could have been playing the part of enraged demon, had he been granted the gift of switching tail. Jake had to stop and take a moment to breathe before he walked back into the living room.

Grayson did not look over at Jake's approach but the expression that darkened Grayson’s face gave clear indication of his renewed displeasure. Shaken, but undaunted, Jake stepped closer.

Coffee remained abandoned on the side table. An open novel lay spread-eagle and face down on the leather cushion beside Grayson, also discarded. Neither spider not dust-mote dared to wander through the room.

Jake stepped behind the couch, laid an assortment of silk over the cushions beside Grayson’s shoulder, and placed a vial on the coffee table. He didn’t give Grayson the chance to speak, as he watched the man’s jaw tighten. Rather, he plucked one of the scarves from the pile and held it.

“Your distress frustrates me,” Jake said, and tried to keep his voice calm even though his heart pounded so hard he was sure that Grayson could hear it from where he sat. He spread the silk lengthwise. “You’re too strong to let people hurt you like this.”

With fingers that trembled, and his mind yelling at him to ‘Just Do It’, Jake reached around Grayson and gingerly laid the fabric over Grayson’s eyes. “You feel like you need to control everything,” he continued, pulling the scarf back on each side and joining it behind Grayson’s head. “I don’t want to take that control away from you. I know it’s a part of you and that you need it. But I do want to remove the anchor that you let it become when you’re troubled. Because an anchor will only pull you deeper, faster.”

Jake fully expected his hands to be slapped away. Jake had been more than prepared for furious indignation or a hissed refusal. But though Grayson’s words were cold, the tone even more so, when he asked, almost flippantly, “Is this amusing you?” Jake wasn’t stopped.

“No,” Jake answered, securing the ends firmly, but gently. “As a matter of fact it’s breaking my heart.” He rested his hands on each of Grayson’s shoulders and squeezed.

Jake’s grip lingered there while he envisioned the transfer of consolation into Grayson through touch alone. He was startled when he felt Grayson’s fingers find his own. Jake lifted his hands and let Grayson's slide underneath. With Grayson’s fingers caught between his, Jake began to knead tight muscles.

Such a strong man, so much tension coiled in the beautiful body that it made Jake’s heart ache but firmed his resolve. With nerves jumping like popping corn, Jake transferred right hand to left and held both together. With another scarf he began to bind Grayson’s wrists. He moved quickly, watching tension mount in Grayson’s frame and jumped when the hand holding both of Grayson’s in place was grabbed. “I don’t like this game,” Grayson warned.

Jake laid his free hand over top of Grayson’s grip. “Please,” he begged quietly. “I trust you. Trust me back. Let me at least try to help.” He smiled at Grayson's tight jaw. “The worst that happens is you have a little fun. Then you can go back to being angry.”

When Jake released Grayson’s hands Grayson immediately began to test the bind, twisting both wrists, knitting his brow in direct proportion to the strength of the flexing cloth. Grayson snarled, but when he opened his mouth to speak Jake stilled his tongue with another length of scarf. “Sssh,” Jake hushed, leaning in to brush lips over Grayson’s newly-silk-dressed mouth. “Relax.”

Grayson’s body twisted to follow the sound of motion. Entirely thrilling, Jake thought, the way Grayson looked—bound, silenced, sightless—not helpless, but still somewhat vulnerable. It made Jake’s body react in ways that he would not have imagined. A submissive role was a comfortable one for Jake, but he had to admit... this was... thrilling. So when he rounded the couch, when he stood in front of Grayson, he did nothing but stare for a long moment. He noted the way Grayson still, subconsciously and continuously, worked the truss at wrists, the frown, parted lips wetting silk, the nervous stance of half-lying, half-sitting – like a cat in an awkward crouch.

With one hand Jake nudged Grayson back, with the other he began to slide the zipper of Grayson’s sweater down. Bare skin teased sight as the two sides parted and Jake slid fingers over abs and chest. Warm... Grayson’s skin always felt so much warmer than his own. And hard. Even though the man was smaller than Jake was, Grayson’s body put Jake’s to shame when it came to masculinity. Jake traced every muscle, dragged thumbs over air-hardened nipples, and only after he had mapped every inch of torso, did he turn his attentions to the fastenings of Grayson’s pants.

As he worked to remove the barrier of clothing from lower body, Jake spoke. “I was thinking of you, Grayson. Lying in the bedroom alone, I thought of you, sitting in this room alone, and I couldn’t help but ask myself why you push me away at the times when you need me the most. I think...” He grunted with effort as he wrenched uncooperative pants from un-assisting legs.

With a muffled growl Grayson opened his mouth and bit down on the makeshift gag, forcing it into a thin line between his lips. “Carefuwwll!” Grayson demanded around the obstruction.

“...I think,” Jake said, starting again, lifting his voice over top of Grayson’s and ignoring the command. “That you are so afraid of seeming anything less than perfect that you would rather force me away than risk letting me see you stumble.” Once again Jake’s hands began to wander, this time seeking to stroke the golden curls that rested on sinewy thighs. He lowered his head and placed a kiss on the inside of first right, then left knee. Then he placed palms against each kiss mark and pressed Grayson’s legs open.

Grayson wasn’t hard, but that didn’t surprise Jake. Grayson didn’t look comfortable, he didn’t seem interested and he most certainly didn’t appear receptive. It didn’t matter. Jake was in no hurry. Rushing, actually, was the farthest thing from Jake’s mind. “You probably think that I’m going to tell you that you’re not perfect. That it’s okay to let your guard down and just be human. That stumbling makes you the same as everyone else.”

Jake leaned between the ‘V’ of Grayson’s legs and took Grayson’s wrists in hand. Again he followed the process of kissing right then left set of knuckles, while he reached for his own belt with his free hand. Metal clinked harshly, leather shucked as it was pulled free and Grayson flinched beneath him. “But you would be wrong.”

Jake let the belt fall to the floor and grinned when Grayson relaxed noticeably. Jake prodded Grayson’s arms up, directing them over his head to rest on the back of the couch. “Because I think you are perfect. And I would never let you stumble because of it. I love watching you conquer you as much as I love watching you conquer me.”

Between their two bodies, Jake found the pinnacle of Grayson’s with both hands. One began to work sleeping organ while the other dipped to cup balls. “I know you don’t want my help with any of the crap that you let eat away at your soul. And to be honest, I kind of get it. What right does a simple guy like me have, to tell someone like yourself, how or what to feel?”

A quick muffled sound of censure shot out around fabric and the anxiety in Grayson’s brow pulled into disapproval. “Shhh,” Jake told him. “You don’t have to agree or disagree. I’m just telling you what I think.” Jake flexed fingers on slowly filling skin. “All I’m saying is that if I can’t help you through your problems maybe I can help you rise over them?”

Kneading gave way to light stroking as Grayson’s body responded to touch. “Gray?” He waited for Grayson to acknowledge, prodding when Grayson hesitated. “Is that all right? Can we play my game today?” Even without word, even without eye contact, Jake could tell that discord was fading to mild curiosity. Grayson confirmed it by nodding.

A rush hit Jake’s guts with the intensity of tidal waves smashing rock. A weird sensation: tension, need, power, all mixed into one. As if that one gesture, that simple movement of head, had been the intimation that not only allowed Jake access to the sweetest playroom the universe had to offer, but also put him in control of something he wasn’t quite sure he had the ability to manage. And that mix of fear and fulfillment made him dizzy.

Jake sucked back a deep breath and struggled to keep his speech even. “Okay then. My game, so my rules. They’re simple though, I promise. If you want me to stop just stay stop, okay? I’ll understand that through the gag, no worries. But if you want me to keep going, I’m going to ask you to please keep your hands and arms where I put them unless I ask you to move them.” Pointlessly, Jake’s eyes flew up to study the blindfold that hid Grayson’s. “Is that all right?”

Jake's hands were shaking when he reached up for the gag, pulling it back to allow speech. “Something else,” Grayson demanded. “Something other than stop.” Grayson's lips quirked with the faintest hint of amusement. “I’d hate to say ‘don’t stop’ and get you confused.”

The gag was let go and Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Then be careful.”

He didn’t quite make out the words Grayson spoke next, but he was pretty sure they were something along the line of, “I’ll remember that.” And Jake had no idea if that meant Grayson would endeavour to keep the process in mind, or if it meant that Jake would end up paying for his smugness next time they played. Knowing Grayson, the latter was far more plausible than the first.

“I wonder,” Jake said, resettling palm on dick, “just how high you have to go to get over this one, hmm?” Jake lowered his head, kissed the tip of Grayson’s cock and immediately Grayson slipped hips into position, spread legs and seated more comfortably. “I’ll take that as a good start then.”

Jake swiped, circled, merely tasting, before sliding his tongue down the length of skin to the sac below. As he stroked firm flesh, he mouthed tightening balls just enough to tease—slow, easy swipes—before taking each one between his lips and rolling them over his tongue.

Grayson kept his hips still – for all of about one minute. Jake ignored the prompt, using the pressure of forearms to prevent the motion from increasing friction. Grayson was not a patient man when it came to sex, he never was. Why waste time on balls when cock was right there? But this was not a voyage Jake intended Grayson to take full-steam ahead.

Jake took his time relishing scent and sensation, feeling the tensing twin bodies in, on, against his lips. He didn’t jerk, merely stroked the cock above his attentions, long, deliberate slides that didn’t provide near enough stimulation. Jake watched Grayson’s face; even though eyes were hidden from view and lips were wrapped around restraint. He didn’t need to see to know what those eyes were doing – closed, barely there eyelashes dancing against cheeks, eyelids twitching. He knew Grayson’s mouth would normally be closed, lips drawn, breath steady, as Grayson clutched control even in a moment of pleasure. So when Grayson made an impatient push against Jake’s hold, and a frustrated huff was snorted into the air, Jake’s heart leapt.

He released Grayson’s sac slowly, sucking just a little too hard for pleasant, and Grayson flinched with a hiss. “Sorry,” Jake lied, and the ‘humph’ from Grayson’s throat gave no doubt to the transparency of it. He squeezed Grayson’s cock in compensation, and chuckled when Grayson offered a muffled, throaty moan.

Jake’s half-assed handjob might not have been enough to please, but it had been more than enough to get Grayson hard—thick and hungry, straining for proper levels of attention—the sight alone enough to force Jake to steady breath else faint from deregulated oxygen. He slowly dragged lips over the head of Grayson's cock, and sealed them there, suckling and prodding with the tip of his tongue. Once again hips rose to request more but this time Jake didn’t force them back down. He opened his lips and let Grayson push inside; hummed over encroaching thickness as it searched for depth.

“Mmmm...” Jake heard the sound, thrilled with the way it rumbled into silence, and responded to the praise by searching for more, tongue dancing when it had the opportunity to do so, throat well trained to take even the sharpest thrust.

Jake looked up, and damn but he would have loved to rip the scarf from Grayson’s face, to see those eyes wild and flashing like he knew they would be, but he didn’t. It just... felt right this way, this time. Not for him, but for Grayson. Instead of the usual hunch forward, Grayson lay cradled in the corner of the couch, head back and neck exposed. Instead of the usual hands buried and clenching Jake’s hair, Grayson’s arms were still obediently tucked back. There was no need for the formation of eloquent or clever speech, no rituals of spoken love – words were too hard to form around the restriction. So instead of Grayson being lost in Jake’s eyes, Grayson was lost in sensation. And while Jake regretted the loss of emotional contact, it was exactly the response he’d hoped for.

Jake closed his eyes and let his own feelings take over, swallowed hard while Grayson fucked his mouth, and listened with awe to stifled coos. And just as the tension got too much, as heated breath was rushed over the swatch, and Grayson’s thighs began to tremble with anticipation... when balls were like bearings and cock rod-iron, when Jake was certain that Grayson was about to explode... Jake stopped.

The sound that Grayson shot at him made Jake flinch. “Not yet,” Jake panted.

Grayson growled; a feral, angry sound and moved to lift his arms, no doubt to secure a hold on Jake’s hair and insist that a job, once started, must be completed.

“Uh uh!” Jake cried out quickly. The deep crease in Grayson’s brow softened slightly with surprise. Jake scrambled up and yanked off the blindfold. “If you want to stop, say ‘stop’. But don’t you dare move those arms if you don’t.”

For the first time in their six-month relationship, Jake saw Grayson teeter on the edge of uncertainty. And for the first time in Jake’s life, he saw from the other side of the playing field how awesome it was to watch someone struggle to give up control. Stop or keep going. Allow or refuse. Jake bit the inside of his lip. He had no idea if he should be cajoling, or waiting. His heart, however, would not let Grayson struggle. “I won’t hurt you,” Jake said quietly. “I never could. And I promise you, I’ll take you there. Just let me do it my way. Let me try to make you forget that you’re angry. Let me fill your mind with something other than this angsty bullshit that you’re wallowing in.” Jake paused, waited... “Please?”

The emotion that hit Jake when Grayson rehooked his arms over the back of the couch was strong enough to drown. Jake leaned forward and laid a light kiss on upper lip, lower lip and chin. “Thank you.”

How Grayson managed to play these games without ripping off binds and restraints, Jake had no clue. Because it took everything in Jake’s power not to succumb to his desire to remove the gag and devour the tongue beneath it. Especially now that Jake had Grayson’s eyes again... with that look in them... God, but that look! Not trust, not yet, but something else—acquiescence, compliance—that made Jake’s body hard and his mind soft. He drew a ragged breath, stroked Grayson’s cheek, “Would you mind getting on your knees then? On the couch please, lengthwise. Use your forearms for support and put your head down and between your elbows.” Jake paused again, teeth working his lower lip. “Please?”

Grayson lifted an eyebrow but began to unfold and rearrange himself. Once in place, ass up and legs spread, Grayson lowered his head as directed and waited.

It was a perfect view and Jake took his time smoothing hands over Grayson’s skin – up thighs, over ass and hips. He pressed Grayson’s sweater up to shoulders and ran fingertips down spine and ribs. Jake positioned himself at the far end of the couch, behind Grayson, tucking one leg alongside. His cock ached behind cotton and he had to force his mind to focus. This was not for him, not now, not yet anyway.

Hands found cheeks, pressure separated them, and Jake’s mouth was already sprouting fluid before he parted his lips and let his tongue have free rein. Both their sounds played duet when wet muscle swiped hole: Jake’s a low growl of satiation, Grayson’s a soft, extended, “Oh”.

Jake’s cock jumped with the signalled praise, it enticed his tongue into creativity, and lifted his hand to apex to provide stimulation to flesh that didn’t seem to have lost much in the way of rigidity. Fingertips squealed leather as Grayson fisted hands. “Nah...” Grayson moaned and Jake had no idea what the sound meant but took it as a good sign that Grayson’s eyelids had fallen.

While Jake’s fist moved, his tongue got bolder. Tentative touches became sensuous swipes, which in turn gave way to inquisitive probing. More sound stuttered around the gag and he moved his tongue into Grayson, matching the timing of stroke on cock. Hips moved, either into the penetration of Jake’s tongue or into the grip of his fist, perhaps both, and Jake groaned against Grayson’s heated skin.

“Unn, gddd... fffuuuuu,” Grayson mumbled. The words made Jake’s skin itch, made sweat break out on his chest and he resisted the urge to bite, just so he could have a deeper taste. “Ummm...”

Jake couldn’t deny himself any longer. If nothing else he needed friction. He pulled his mouth away with a wet kiss, released Grayson’s cock – and if Jake didn’t know better, if he wasn’t one-hundred percent sure that Grayson would never, Jake would have sworn that Grayson whined. “Sneak,” Jake teased, pulling himself up on to his knees. “You were close, weren’t you?”

Jake lined himself up against Grayson, right hand on Grayson’s right hip, left hand clutching the back of the couch, grinding his still fully-clothed cock against Grayson’s naked ass. The sensation made Jake’s entire body sing. “You were totally just going to lay there and not say anything, weren’t you? Afraid I was going to pull away again?”

Grayson’s back called Jake – to lick sweat, to bite shoulder blades, to rest his forehead on spine. Instead Jake brought a trembling hand up to his mouth, wet index and middle finger, and slid them in a firm press, all the way into Grayson’s hungry body. “Ahhh,” Grayson moaned, a deep and extended vowel, and once again Jake’s cock twitched with need.

“Ah, indeed,” Jake answered, breathless. “Except, you’re still thinking way too much if you can attempt stealth.” Grayson rocked back to meet his push.

“You know what that means, right?” Jake hooked his fingers and Grayson sighed, shoulders seeming to melt into the furniture, back bowing, toes flexing. Jake repeated the process, thankful for their forethought to buy leather when a thick drop of precum trailed from Grayson’s cock at the whim of gravity. Jake shifted, put his weight over Grayson’s back, let go of the couch and reached around the man’s waist. He began to pump Grayson’s cock again, hard, fast. It only took seconds to bring Grayson back, to coax more fluid from the desperate organ, and make Grayson’s eyelids flutter in time with rough breath. Jake leaned closer, whispered directly into Grayson’s ear, “It means you have to wait longer now.” In one swift movement Jake let go, pulled his fingers away, and righted himself.

The expected angry growl was nothing more than muted supplication, a plea that thankfully took very little form around the gag. Because Jake wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand listening to Grayson say ‘please’. Or ‘I love you’. Or ‘God, baby, fuck me’. Or any of the other things that would have shattered Jake’s tenacity in a matter of seconds.

“Okay,” Jake said, hushed, almost more to himself than to its intended. He cleared his throat and repeated it. “Okay.” Once more? Twice? Another dozen? ‘More’ was all Jake’s mind told him. Grayson wasn’t there yet. On the way, yes... but not there. Jake fumbled for denim, for buttons, zipper, reaching in to free his cock, the feel of own hand enough to make him want to just say ‘fuck it’ and rut like spring-fevered beasts.

Forcing patience, Jake dragged the head of his cock slowly, so, so slowly along the cleft of Grayson’s ass. He watched as the body underneath his shook with the sensation, felt Grayson shove against him, listened with self-satisfied glee to the “Yaaa, ffuuuu, yaa...” Grayson tried to spit out.

Jake leaned into the slide, hard flesh along spit-slicked skin, heady with anticipation, trying desperately to cling to reason – to remain in control. Because damn it all but Grayson knew exactly how to move those hips, how to encourage Jake’s body, bypassing Jake’s brain and speaking directly to his cock, “Just fuck me. Never mind your game. Fuck me hard and get me off.”

And cock, traitor that it was, saw no problem with falling back into its normal role and cheerfully performing the request. Jake pushed the thought to the farthest corners of his mind and turned down the volume of the part in him begging to allow the indulgence of submission.

It was a low groan that pulled Jake back on course. Grayson had turned his head, curls stuck to damp forehead, gag soaked with spit, and eyes shut tight. Breath was forced, brow was creased, and Grayson’s need—pure, raw, need and want—was so real and so obvious that it just about made Jake cum without anything further than the friction being provided.

“Gray,” Jake’s words came out thick and slow. “Look at me.”

Grayson focussed his eyes in Jake’s direction. Their gazes locked. Jake reached for the vial of lube he’d left on the coffee table. “I want you so bad, Gray. Wanna feel you all around me. Wanna feel your body shake while I make you drip and writhe.”

And damn but if the words alone didn’t make Grayson shiver. That rush of power flashed through Jake’s core again. He maintained eye contact while he stroked the fluid over his cock. "Would you like that, Gray?" he asked, almost panting at the stimulation of his own fist.

It only took a simple moan from behind the gag for Jake to sink tip to balls inside a channel that positively clenched with want. Grayson arched, pushed back, accepted all that Jake gave him with a low growl while Jake fought back the urge to pound mercilessly. Instead, Jake moved with a patience that would have made martyrs jealous. Long, deep, complete strokes worked in and out of Grayson's body, slowly teasing swollen glands and anxious nerve endings.

"Mooorr," Grayson groaned and Jake bit back a chuckle, though he couldn't conceal the smile.

"Deeper?" Jake asked and leaned into the next descent. Once buried, Jake paused, prodding ass with crotch in tiny nudges that did nothing but titillate sensitive parts inside Grayson's body. When Grayson tried to insist with his own swing of lower body, Jake responded by lying over his back and holding Grayson still, continuing the easy rocking. The movement around Jake's cock was alive and intense and overwhelmingly sensational. The sounds, however, the soft huffing, the almost-whines, even the occasional grit of teeth, were what drove Jake's body to distraction.

"Gdddd damm," Grayson choked, trying to work away the scarf with his tongue, frustrated. "Fuuu me!"

The command would normally serve to spur Jake into action, and he almost did just that; almost reacted without even thinking about it. But he reined in his response and instead pulled his cock out and straightened his back. "Oh, no you don't," Jake huffed.

Gripping the root of his dick with one hand, resting the other lightly on Grayson's back, Jake slipped backed in with the head of his cock only. While muscle attempted to grip the slick penetration and force it further, Jake repeated the motions, popping in, just to pull back out, watching Grayson's forehead crease and fists grip uselessly against the couch.

Grayson groaned, struggling to annunciate from behind his bind. "God damn it, Jake! Fuck me!"

It was Grayson's voice that finally offered the right inflection – an edging of desperation around the command, a plea behind the order. Jake snapped his hips forward, forcing a heated cry from Grayson's throat. The sound damn near blew Jake's mind. He fell closer, dropped his hand around Grayson's waist and reached for the hardest part of Grayson's body. Another sound fell, bounced around walls and hardwood, and dove into Jake's core like a wayward jolt of electricity.

Jake didn't just fuck, he drove Grayson's ass like he was trying to find buried treasure. Grayson's cock pulsed in his hand, a low moan rumbled, and as Jake felt his own body reach for orgasm, he slipped his palm lower, circled thumb and forefinger around the base of Grayson's cock and squeezed. Grayson's entire body shook and bucked against the denial with another strangled cry. Jake straightened, gasped, and let his own shudders take over. Abandoning Grayson's cock, he grabbed both of Grayson's hips, pulled out, and shot a thick, wet load across Grayson's back.

With a quick lean, he flipped Grayson over, caring less that the furniture would now wear a heavy coat of cum and stared into Grayson's eyes. "You fucker!" Grayson garbled and Jake yanked at the gag until he could force it off. Before the man could breathe another retort Jake fell forward and sank his tongue into the depths of Grayson's mouth. He drank every grumble and snarl until his own body relaxed and gave up its incessant pounding.

When Jake finally pulled away, when Grayson's lips and tongue were allowed to speak unfettered, Grayson's quiet voice stumbled over words. "I don't… just… what? I don't know what you want me to do. I don't know what you want."

Jake smiled and kissed Grayson softly. "I want you to stop thinking," Jake whispered. "And just feel. If you're still thinking, then the shit that's bothering you is still being granted space too. Let it go. Stop wondering what I want and reach out for what you need."

The snap of the lid on the bottle of lube once again clicked within silence. "Are you ready to do that?" Jake asked and reached down with slippery hands to coat Grayson's cock with fluid.

"Ah-ah," was Grayson's reply and Jake couldn't hold back the grin as Grayson's eyes rolled back.

"Is that a yes?" Jake's fist was painfully tight as he twisted it over the head of Grayson's cock. "Or should I just keep doing this?" Another sharp twist and drag on the over-stimulated body part that reacted as though the movement was as sensuous as a tongue, regardless of the pain.

"Ah! Jake!" Grayson arched into the sensation, defying natural order in Jake's mind as the body below his moved. Jake tugged harder, rubbing his palm into the soft skin of Grayson's glans, while Grayson's eyelids fluttered and breath was gasped. Leather made wet sucking noises as sweaty skin, greasy with Jake's ejaculation, writhed against the couch. With his left hand Jake stroked, with his right he continued the aggressive friction. Grayson didn't seem to know whether to pull away from the abuse or thrust up into it. "Unh, God! Jake… fuck…" Hips lifted of their own accord, straining, seeking, and Jake had to force himself not to lower his head and soothe the reddening skin at the tip of Grayson's cock with his tongue.

"Do you think I could make you cum like this?" Jake asked and Grayson answered through vocalization alone. No syllables shaped the declaration, but the thick, heated tone in the groan spoke without it. With his knee, Jake shoved Grayson's body into the middle of the couch and straddled Grayson's pelvis. "I won't though."

Grayson's eyes fluttered open, his mouth worked to voice the reprimand, but all that ended up coming through vocal cords was a long, quiet, "Ahhh," as Jake lowered his body over Grayson's burning cock. Jake locked his gaze to Grayson's, laid over Grayson's torso, and reached for the binds on Grayson's hands.

The moment Jake reached up and began to yank at the scarf, Grayson lowered his arms, effectively trapping Jake against him. "No more," Grayson mumbled. "Need you now. Need to cum."

"Oh, good," Jake chuckled into Grayson's ear, tongue swiping at the skin Jake found there. "I was just going to say that." Grayson huffed, in delight, in disbelief, Jake didn't even care which.

Grayson shifted his hips, lowered himself and Jake pressed back until Grayson's body was buried. "Unngh," Grayson groaned, gripping Jake to him with still bound hands like he was afraid the man was going to slip away again.

"Nah," Grayson said, picking up the pace instantly, slamming in and out as well as he could manage at the angle he was afforded. "Gah!"

Jake buried his face in Grayson's neck, hot breath puffing against sweaty skin, twisting hips and spine to grant Grayson the necessary access.

"Fu…" Grayson's voice trailed, fingers kneaded pliable globes, and his cock flexed gratefully inside Jake's body. He pulled a deep, shaky breath and turned his lips to brush Jake's ear. "Jake," Grayson husked and the sound caused a million caterpillars to squirm along Jake's nerves.

"Gray," Jake whispered back, rolling his body into Grayson's thrusts.

"Ah, Jesu…" Grayson puffed, gritting teeth so hard Jake could feel the muscles tense against his own jaw. "Jake," Grayson started again, lips to ear, breath rushed, tone deep and seductive. "Can I cum now?"

All authority was lost for Jake as those words bloomed through his mind. "God, Gray yes! Fucking cum!" The growl that Grayson let loose, the final thrust that seemed to pierce Jake's core, the way Grayson's body arched like a bow underneath him, the hot rush of seed that seemed to never end, became a kaleidoscope of sensations that had Jake dizzy.

Grayson's head fell back with a thunk. Gasping, eyes closed, unmoving, Grayson looked like a spent God. Sweat coated Grayson's skin, a flush of exertion coloured chest and cheeks, and Grayson's heart beat so hard Jake was sure he could see it pounding behind pectorals. The sight of Grayson stole Jake's breath and made his own heart skip a beat. The intimacy of the moment, yes… but more… peace. Grayson looked completely, undeniably, at peace.

"Thank you," Grayson muttered and though the phrase was quiet, almost embarrassed, Jake knew it was heartfelt.

“For you,” Jake choked, lips on throat, chin, cheeks. “Always for you.”

Grayson sighed – a soft, contented purr. His arms came up, his fingers threaded into Jake's hair and Jake was pulled into a long kiss. "I know," Grayson said finally, resting their foreheads together. "I know."

"Now," Grayson said, lips turning up into a tiny smirk. "If you don't undo my wrists I'm going to kill you."

Jake looked up quickly, noted the expression, and smiled back.

"Slowly and painfully…"

"Okay, okay," Jake laughed, reaching back to grab the couch and pull himself off of Grayson's body while Grayson dragged looped arms over Jake's shoulders and head. "Demanding little…"

Grayson cocked an eyebrow. "The game is over Jake." Instead of waiting Grayson brought the knot to his own mouth and worked it free with his teeth. Grayson's lips quirked in amusement, "I'd hate to have to remind you who's boss around here."

Jake grinned and reached to help unwind the last of the scarf, rubbing the deep runnels from where Grayson had twisted the fabric into his skin. "Really?" Jake teased. "I wouldn't hate that in the least."

Grayson snorted. "Good." He pulled Jake back down to his chest and rested his cheek against Jake's hair. "Wake me in an hour then."

The End

Copyright © 2011 AF Henley

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