What is your safeword, Charles?
Ishowered and cleaned myself, inside and out, and I’m naked on the bed with my ass in the air. This is how he likes me. Even before things got this serious between us, Raf always liked to objectify me. I just didn’t know how much I’d grow to like it.
Sometimes when he makes me wait like this, I think about when I first came to LA. The way he was with me when we were getting to know each other. Raf was playful and fun. I mean, he still is, but it’s different now, the things we do behind closed doors. The things he’s been saying tonight are the first real talk we’ve had about showing these games we play to anyone else, and the idea is thrilling.
“You’re hard,” Raf says from behind me. I was so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t hear him come in.
“For you.”
I think he smiles. I hope he does, at least.
His hand ghosts over the small of my back and he’s beside me now. I relax under his touch.
“I have to be honest with you, Chaz.” Raf sits on the edge of the bed. “I want to do some really fucked up things with you.”
“You always do.”
“In public.” His finger traces over my hole, and I fight the shiver that wants to tremble out of my bones.
“I know that’s new,” he continues, his finger swirling gently over my entrance. I love when he touches me this way. This reverent and worshipful way that’s such a contradiction to the way he defiles me through the night. “What do you say?”
“If it pleases you,” I whisper, rolling my forehead back and forth over the pillow. I want to rut into the sheets and generate some friction for my hard-on because I need to come. He does this to me. Reduces me to this quivering pile of flesh for him to mold, and manipulate, and destroy.
“No one I haven’t vetted,” he says, standing up and smoothing out his pants. “They’ll stop if you tell them to.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Raf’s finger returns to my ass and pushes inside. He must have sucked it into his mouth first because his skin is cool and damp, but it still drags as he pushes into me. He taps his finger against my prostate, then withdraws.
“You probably won’t be thanking me later. But then again, maybe you will.” He drops two quick slaps against my ass. “Get up and get dressed. It doesn’t matter what you wear because it won’t be on for long, and you’ll need this.”
He tosses a leather cock ring onto the bed, and I scramble to dress, wrapping the leather around my cock and balls before grabbing a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt.
“Is Verity going to be there?” I ask. The things Raf and I do are things that I don’t necessarily want my sibling knowing about.
“They are my boss, so yes.” Raf raises an eyebrow and smirks at me. “But I’ll ask them to stay downstairs.”
My cock is thick with want. He had to have known I’d agree to come with him to work tonight, because it sounds like he already has people lined up for whatever he’s planned, and it sounds like he’s planned…me.
We haven’t had other sexual partners. Not since we got together and things got serious. But it’s something we’ve talked about and fantasized about. Sometimes Raf fucks my throat with his cock and my ass with a dildo, and we pretend he’s sharing me with his friends.
And I really like it.
And sometimes I think back to Missouri, when letting Father Chase’s son lash me to the barn with bailing wire was inventive and edgy. It was, for Missouri, but the things that run through Raf’s mind put my previous escapades to shame.
This is what I came here for.
Not for him, but to see what life was like outside of Polo, and man, am I seeing it. I think about it the entire way to Rapture. Raf ushers me upstairs to the loft, and I’m thankful I don’t see Verity or their fiancé, Aaron, because this is a side of me where they have no part. I know they’re into some kinky shit, but that’s not anything we need to discuss.
The loft is dimly lit, and there’s a couch, a bed, some toys strung up on the wall. It’s all pretty nondescript, and I’m not sure what to do. Raf went in first, so I close the door behind me and then he turns to look at me.
He’s so handsome.
‘Hot’ is the better word, maybe. He’s slight and dark haired, but he commands a room like he owns it, and I’m always so hard for him. I think I would have wanted him even if he didn’t know how to reach into the deepest, darkest parts of myself and bring them to the surface. I’d have been happy with him even if things weren’t this way.
“Strip,” he commands, so I do. I fold my clothes the way he likes me to, and I set them in a pile in the corner with my shoes.
“Kneel.” He points at his feet, so I crawl to him, the way he likes me to.
