“I know what I’m doing,” Joe promised.
Scott relaxed, but only a fraction. His shoulders remained tense. Behind his back, Joe was sure Scott’s hands were clenched into nervous fists. “You’ve d-done this before, sir?”
The sir was a nice touch, Joe thought. Being asked to top had only made Scott more determined to remind the world that he was a sub through and through; as if who topped could really make any difference to any of that.
Joe smiled down at Scott. Yep, in so many ways, Scott was still as innocent as hell.
* * * * *
“I’ve occasionally had a sub top me in the past,” Joe said, but his tone made it sound like he was thinking far more than the words relayed.
Scott studied his expression very carefully. Joe smiled far more often now than he had when Scott had only known him from the clubs, but he still didn’t let his emotions show easily. A man had to seek out little hints if he wanted to know how Joe might feel about the world around him, but Scott was tentatively beginning to consider himself a master of that art.
Joe’s lips twitched. His eyes sparkled a little more brightly than usual. For some reason, he seemed to find Scott’s question amusing.
“It’s not something I want all the time,” Joe went on. “But being topped now and again can be fun. Even for a dom.”
“I d-didn’t mean any off—”
A shake of Joe’s head cut Scott short. “None taken.” He wrapped his fingers around Scott’s cock.
That settled the matter. An offended man would never want to stroke so much pleasure into a guy’s erection. Scott moaned. Unable to fight against a rush of pure instinct, he pushed his shaft more firmly into Joe’s fist.
As suddenly as Joe’s hand had arrived in Scott’s world, it vanished. Scott hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes until he found himself opening them again. He blinked at Joe, then looked down and saw the lube covering the condom.
There never had been a hand job on offer.
Scott took a deep breath and let it out very slowly. No, there was no hand job; Joe was offering him his arse instead.
Scott hadn’t lied when he said he’d fantasised about topping Joe, but the idea had been so insubstantial in his mind, a pure fantasy. He’d wondered about it the same way he daydreamed about what it felt like to fly or be able to breathe underwater. He’d never actually considered that Joe would allow anyone, let alone permithimto—
Every thought vanished from within Scott’s head as he watched Joe calmly reach behind himself and withdraw a large butt plug from within his hole. It was impossible to tell how long he’d been wearing it, but it had obviously been there since before Scott arrived at his apartment.
It had been there while they kissed, and while he sucked on Joe’s cock. The whole time they’d been standing there, Joe’s arse had been filled by the shiny black plastic and—
“Get on the bed.”
Subjected to far too many surprise attacks, Scott’s mind simply gave up. His body took over complete control. That was a good thing.
It was far easier to let his brain concentrate on simply filing everything away in his memory, so that he’d be able to look back upon it all later, assess everything, and work out whatever the hell it all meant, when he was alone.
For now, bodily obedience was all he needed. Clumsy with his hands still tied behind his back, Scott scrambled onto the bed.
The mattress dipped as Joe joined him. Scott remained kneeling in the centre of the bed, waiting for another command.
Joe moved with complete confidence. Scott couldn’t help but admire that, as well as the large amount of naked skin Joe was favouring him with that night, of course. Each of Joe’s muscles was beautifully defined—especially those under his tattoo. They bunched and shifted beneath his skin as Joe moved across Scott’s line of sight and knelt facing the headboard.
The mirror. Suddenly, Scott understood both its purpose and its position. Their eyes met in the reflection, just as they had in the sauna, but this time their positions were reversed.
Without even saying a word, Joe seemed to call Scott closer. By the time Joe had settled his hands comfortably on the thick black metal rail that ran across the top of his headboard, Scott had shuffled forward far enough to kneel between Joe’s comfortably spread legs.
Unable to hold Joe’s gaze a moment longer, Scott looked down. His cock was achingly hard. It rose away from his body pointing straight toward the cleft between Joe’s buttocks. The condom was uncoloured, the flushed skin of his cock clearly visible through it.
He’d shaved before coming to meet Joe, and not just his face. As always, Scott’s crotch was primed to be as vulnerable and sensitive as possible. From his hairless groin, Scott’s attention moved to Joe’s lubed-up hole.
Joe hadn’t shaved. From the stubble on his jaw to the fine dark hairs that surrounded his hole, he was a perfect contrast to Scott.
No. Screw contrasts, Joe was just perfect.
