"Good boy."
The next strike landed lower, catching the sensitive skin just above my waist. This time I was ready for it, leaning into the pain rather than away from it. Ryder established a rhythm, alternating between the sharp sting of the flogger and the gentle brush of his fingers, building the intensity gradually until my entire back was on fire, a canvas of sensation that demanded all my attention.
"You're beautiful like this," Ryder murmured, pausing to trace a particularly sensitive welt. "So strong, taking everything I give you." His praise washed over me, warming me from the inside out. This was what I needed: to feel valued, worthy, even in my surrender. Especially in my surrender.
"More," I begged, arching my back to offer him better access. "Please, Ryder." He obliged, the flogger landing with increased force, driving little grunts from my lungs with each impact. The pain was exquisite, riding the edge of too much without quite crossing over. Ryder knew my limits intimately, knew exactly how to push me to the brink without breaking me.
Time seemed to stretch and compress, measured only in the rhythm of the flogger and my own harsh breathing. I lost track of how long we'd been at it, lost in the sensations and the blessed silence in my mind. For the first time in weeks, there were no haunting images of Cade's broken body, no echoes of my own past trauma. There was only this moment, this pain, this release. I didn't notice when the tears started, only became aware of them when Ryder's hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing away the wetness on my cheek.
"Let it go," he urged, his voice gentle now. "Let it all go, Cole." Something broke open inside me then, a dam crumbling under too much pressure. I sobbed, ugly and raw, my forehead pressed against the wooden footboard as my body shook with the force of it. Ryder's hand remained on my face, a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions.
"That's it," he murmured. "You've been carrying too much for too long."
When the tears finally passed, leaving me drained but somehow lighter, Ryder moved behind me again. He slid the back of my boxers down, and then I heard the snap of a bottle being opened, then felt the cool slide of lube against heated skin as his fingers traced the cleft of my ass. I shifted, spreading my knees wider in silent invitation.
"You sure?" Ryder asked, his finger circling my entrance without pushing in.
"Yes," I breathed, beyond pride or hesitation. "Please."
He worked me open slowly, methodically, one finger becoming two, then three. The stretch burned in the best way, another layer of sensation to keep me grounded in the present. When his fingers brushed against my prostate, I moaned, my cock hardening further in my boxers.
“Fuuuuuck, Ryder,” I groaned. “Please, I need you inside me.” I could almost feel his shock.
“Cole…” his voice trailed off. I understood the hesitation. In all the time we had done this, I had never let him go that final step. Never allowed him to take the final step to consume me fully. I didn’t know what it was this time, but the need was so strong inside me that I felt close to tears again.
“Please,” I begged. “I’m ready.” Ryder hesitated for a few seconds, and I actually feared that he would say no. But then his movements resumed with an eager jerk.
"These need to go," Ryder decided, hooking his fingers into the waistband of my boxers and dragging them the rest of the way down my thighs. I lifted my knees one at a time to help him remove them completely, then resumed my position, now completely naked and exposed. I heard the rustle of fabric, the clink of a belt being unbuckled, the tear of a condom wrapper. And then Ryder was pressing against me, the blunt head of his cock nudging at my entrance.
“Colour,” he grunted, his voice strained.
“Green, fuck me,” I replied without hesitation.
He pushed in slowly, giving me time to adjust to each inch, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks.
"Fuck, Cole," he groaned when he was fully seated inside me. "So fucking tight." The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, the stretch bordering on pain in a way that kept me firmly in my body, in this moment. Ryder began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and force. Each thrust jarred my body, making the welts on my back sing with renewed pain as they rubbed against his chest.
"Touch yourself," Ryder commanded, his voice strained with the effort of control. "I want to feel you come around my cock." I released my grip on the footboard with one hand, reaching down to wrap my fingers around my neglected length. I was already so close, teetering on the edge from the combination of pain and pleasure and emotional release. But it was just us, no flashbacks, no memories, no crippling guilt. Just him and me at that very moment.
"That's it," Ryder encouraged, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he approached his own climax. "Let go for me, Cole." My orgasm hit with the force of a tidal wave, washing over me in pulsing waves that seemed to go on forever. I cried out Ryder's name mixed with broken profanity as I spilled over my hand andonto the sheets below. Ryder followed moments later, his hips stuttering against me as he groaned out his release.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, both panting, sweat cooling on our skin. Then Ryder carefully withdrew, disposing of the condom before returning to help me up from my knees. My legs were shaky, barely able to support my weight after being in one position for so long. Ryder guided me to lie face down on the bed, murmuring soft praise as he arranged my limbs comfortably.
"Don't move," he instructed, though it was unnecessary. I doubted I could move if I tried. I heard him leave the room again, returning a few minutes later with what sounded like a bowl of water. The first touch of the warm, wet cloth against my back made me hiss, the welts still sensitive. But Ryder's touch was gentle now, carefully cleaning away sweat and tears, tending to the marks he'd left with the same focused attention he'd used to create them.
"You did so fucking well," he murmured as he worked, his voice a soothing balm to my raw emotions. "So perfect for me." The praise settled around me like a warm, comforting blanket. When he'd finished with my back, Ryder rolled me over carefully and cleaned the rest of me with the same tender attention, wiping away the evidence of my release before tossing the cloth aside and stretching out beside me on the bed.
For a while, we lay in silence, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my chest. The mass of emotions had passed, leaving behind a strange clarity that had been missing for weeks. I turned my head to look at him, taking in the softness in his usually sharp features.
"I'll talk to Cade," I said quietly. "I'll apologise to her." Ryder nodded, his expression serious.
"She needs you, Cole. She needs all of us."
"I know." And I did. I'd been so wrapped up in my own pain that I'd forgotten the most important thing: Cade was still here, still fighting, still trying to put herself back together. And she couldn't do it alone, any more than I could.
"I'll be better for her. For all of us." Ryder leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple.
"That's all any of us can do. Be better tomorrow than we were today."
