Scott blinked up at Joe. When he realised Joe was waiting for an answer, he nodded.
“Good, because just saying no to me won’t get you anywhere.”
Scott’s cock jerked within the tight confines of his jeans. He still didn’t understand why he loved the fact that Joe would ignore anything but his safe word, but he did. It called to something in the very bottom of his soul, something he was only just starting to investigate. It promised him that everything would be okay, because this was precisely the way things should be.
“I kn-know,” Scott whispered.
“Good.”
The lighting behind the bar cast deep shadows over Joe’s face, highlighting his bone structure. His cheek bones appeared higher, his jaw stronger. He looked almost feline—not like a sweet little kitten with a pretty blue ribbon tied around its neck, but like the kind of big cat that stalked through the jungle and killed anything that didn’t run away fast enough. He should have appeared terrifying, but Scott had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
Without any warning, Joe caught hold of Scott’s wrist and dragged him up onto his feet. He rubbed the pad of his thumb across Scott’s lips. They were hyper-sensitive now, and Joe’s firm touch sent pleasure bouncing through Scott’s body like a pinball through an old fashioned gaming machine. Lights flashed and bells rang inside him.
Scott moaned, desperate to let Joe know how much he loved him for granting him the pleasure of his touch. The sound morphed into something far more high-pitched when Joe placed his other hand on Scott’s crotch.
Joe cupped Scott’s fly in his palm, warming his cock and balls as he curled his fingers around his erection through the denim.
Scott’s attempts to lift himself onto his toes only made Joe tighten his hold. His touch grew even rougher as he began to massage Scott through the fabric.
Scott grabbed Joe’s shoulders, but only to steady himself. As Joe’s muscles flexed beneath his palms, Scott had no idea why anyone would ever want to push him away.
There was no gentleness in Joe’s caress. His touch verged on painful, but somehow that only made more pleasure fly through Scott’s veins.
Joe leaned forward and put his lips to Scott’s ear. “If you’ve got any dates lined up, cross them off your calendar—even the vanilla ones.”
He didn’t stop rubbing Scott’s cock for a second. It made it damn near impossible for Scott to think.
“W-what?” he mumbled.
“I don’t want you to screw, or date, anyone else until I’m finished with you—not even for casual one-offs. No other guys. And no women either,” he added. “If you swing both ways.”
Scott desperately tried to keep back a pleasure-filled moan. As harsh as it was, Joe’s touch was setting off rapid bursts of fireworks inside him—the kind that no gentle caress had ever put a match to. “Ok-k-kay,” he managed to stutter out.
“Good boy.”
A shiver ran down Scott’s spine as those words hit the air. From anyone else, they might have seemed like little more than punctuation, just a response to getting their own way. From Joe, they sounded more like a promise that everything really would be okay—that Joe would make everything perfect for a man who proved capable of being a good boy for him.
“You’re mine now, and no one else lays a hand on my sub without my permission,” Joe went on.
The breath caught in Scott’s throat. Every picture he’d ever seen on the internet rushed to the front of his mind. Subs in bondage. Subs wearing collars bearing their owner’s name. Subs walking at their master’s heal on a thick leather lead. Belonging to Joe, being his…
Unable to speak, Scott simply nodded. Yes. Yes, to it all.
Joe pulled back, just far enough to look Scott in the eye. He smiled down at Scott not even trying to hide his triumphant expression.
He rubbed his hand against Scott’s fly even more quickly. His fingers danced in a complicated routine that had obviously been choreographed by an actual sex-god. No mere mortal could have worked out how to force that much pleasure into a man’s cock without even undoing his zip.
Scott’s hips jerked forward. His vision blurred and, for the first time since he was a young teenager, Scott came all over the inside of his jeans
Ecstasy shot through him, tearing through his body, not caring what sort of damage it left in its wake. Any energy that Scott had left in him fled. He slumped forward, barely able to stay on his feet a second longer.
Bowing his head, he rested his temple on Joe’s shoulder. Joe’s hand was still on his crotch, still rubbing against him through the denim.
With his breaths coming in pants, Scott closed his eyes and watched the pretty patterns swirl behind his eyelids. As blissful as it was, he couldn’t let himself indulge in his ecstasy for too long. He’d already come like a schoolboy; he’d be damned if he’d make the situation even more embarrassing by fainting like a schoolgirl too.
Joe didn’t pull away from him or demand that Scott man-up and stand on his own two feet. He didn’t stop stroking Scott’s fly either. It was almost as if Joe hadn’t noticed that he’d come. Or maybe as if he had noticed, but simply considered that fact irrelevant.
As they stood there together, it felt far more like Joe was touching him simply because that was what he wanted to do. He had the right, and he was exercising it because he could. Scott’s orgasm might have been a vaguely interesting bi-product, but it hadn’t been the aim.
