“W-what?”
“When you’re at home playing with your cock all by yourself, you can come whenever you like—for now. But when we’re together, you need permission.”
“S-since when?” Scott blurted out.
“Since now. Since I decided it would be fun—for me, anyway.”
Scott’s brain was so full of pleasure he struggled to come up with an answer. Then he realised that he was wasting his time. It hadn’t been a question. Joe wasn’t asking him to agree to anything. Joe was telling him how things were going to be. The decision had been made. Joe thought it would be fun. Scott’s opinion was irrelevant, and he now needed Joe’s permission to come.
Under those circumstances, there was only one thing he could realistically say. “P-please?”
“Maybe,” Joe said.
Maybe?
Scott whimpered, instinctively pulling at the tassel restraining his hands. The tie-back was far stronger than it looked. All Scott succeeded in doing was tightening the knot around his wrists.
He groaned as the rope chafed against his skin. There might as well have been another length of rope running beneath his torso to wrap around his shaft and ball sac because the sensation went straight to his cock.
Each tug against the tie-back seemed to pull Scott’s balls up closer to his body, making him all the more frantic to come. The fact he needed Joe’s permission before he could do that only increased his need. Scott clenched his teeth in a last ditch attempt to stop himself cursing Joe out loud.
“No.”
Scott blinked open his eyes. He hadn’t said anything out loud—he was sure of that. He had to have done something else that Joe disapproved of, but Scott had no idea what he could have done to make Joe so angry with him.
“Don’t try to keep quiet,” Joe ordered. “I’ve told you before, I want to hear you.” He tilted his hand, rubbing the tips of his fingers more firmly against Scott’s prostate.
Scott arched against the table top and let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a scream. He’d tentatively hoped that the noise might please Joe in some way, but it made Joe take his fingers away instead.
“N-no! Don’t s-stop!” Scott pleaded, unable to form anything that resembled a complete sentence. “Please, I…”
Scott whimpered. Joe’s fingers belonged inside him; he couldn’t take them away. But Joe didn’t take any notice of his protests.
Gathering up every scrap of energy he could find inside himself, Scott lifted his head and looked over his shoulder. One glance, and Scott knew he’d been wrong. Joe’s fingers didn’t belong inside him. They were designed for pushing Joe’s clothing aside and for rolling a condom down his shaft. All at once, that was obvious.
Slicking the latex with extra lube, Joe positioned the tip of his cock against Scott’s hole. He caught hold of Scott’s hips and held him still, providing himself with a nice stationary target to thrust into.
Scott’s trousers still kept his knees trapped together. His legs trembled as he strained against the fabric, but every bloody seam held true. All Scott could do was lie there and wait impatiently for Joe to thrust forward and bury himself inside his arse.
Scott couldn’t stay silent any longer. Words began to tumble from his lips. He had no idea what he said. Begging, cursing, for all he knew he could have been speaking in tongues. But still, that first punishing thrust never came.
Joe leaned forward, pushing the tip of his cock against Scott’s hole very gently, but even when his glans breached the tight ring of muscle, Joe didn’t rush. He continued to slowly feed his shaft into Scott’s body inch by wonderful inch. He stretched him and filled him so gradually that it seemed to Scott that Joe’s cock was never ending. And each moment that passed only made Scott crave each little bit of Joe’s cock even more desperately.
Scott bit down on his bottom lip before quickly correcting himself and releasing the abused skin from between his teeth. He didn’t have permission to keep his moans and groans to himself.
Oh, God—permission.
“P-please?” he gasped.
Joe stroked his hands up Scott’s sides, from where they’d held his hips steady, to rest over his ribs on either side of his torso. Scott arched into Joe’s palms. At the same time, he clenched around Joe’s cock, relishing everywhere they touched.
Joe’s hands were glorious; so was his crotch, pressed tightly against Scott’s buttocks.
Time ticked by. The room was so quiet, Scott could hear the clock on the wall counting out the seconds. Eventually, Joe swayed back, gradually sliding out of Scott’s hole. Scott held his breath. A lifetime passed before Joe finally ploughed back into him.
Again, then again. Joe finally began to move his hips a little faster on each stoke, until he was thrusting into Scott in earnest. He slid his hands back down and grabbed Scott’s hips, holding him secure as he pounded into him.
The cushion beneath Scott’s groin stopped his hip bones getting battered against the counter’s edge, but the textured fabric rubbed against Scott’s cock in time with each of Joe’s thrusts. Scott felt his pre-cum soaking into the cushion cover, but he was as helpless to stop that as he was to control anything else.
