“Why the hell didn’t I d-d-do this years ago?” Scott blurted out.
* * * * *
“Youhaven’t done anything,” Joe corrected. “Idid this.”
Scott thrust his hips forward, bucking off the bench in his enthusiasm, but Joe was pretty sure that Scott was still entirely oblivious to the way he was thrashing around. Joe ran his eyes over Scott’s body once more, taking in every taut line of muscle.
With his hands clenched into tight fists above his cuffs and his chest rapidly rising and falling in time with his ragged breaths, Scott was stunning. And his newly shaved skin was amazingly tactile; Joe couldn’t stop stroking his fingers over it. It was his new addiction, and he fully intended to indulge it whenever possible.
Dipping his head, Joe blew against Scott’s balls again. Scott whimpered, making Joe grin. He dipped his head a little further and ran the tip of his tongue over the smooth skin just to the right of Scott’s cock.
“Oh, G-G-God…”
Turning his head, Joe let the almost-two-o’clock-in-the-morning shadow on his jawline brush against Scott’s groin.
Scott didn’t even seem capable of asking for heavenly intervention this time. The sound that left his throat didn’t contain anything recognisable as a syllable.
Joe stood up. The legs of his stool scraped across the floor.
“Where are you g-going?” Scott demanded, trying to sit upright, only to slump back when his cuffs stopped him short.
“Wherever I want to,” Joe said.
It was an automatic reply—little more than punctuation designed to reinforce Scott’s lack of control, and the fact that Scott didn’t need to try to control anything at all when they were together. But it was in that particular moment that Joe realisedthat, for the first time he could remember, he had absolutely no interest in walking away from someone—and not just because he was painfully hard and determined to come.
Being with Scott, controlling Scott, claiming ownership over Scott—it all felt so right.
Joe’s hand went to his fly; his body more than happy to take over while his brain was occupied with complications his cock didn’t give a damn about.
Scott lifted his head again. He turned his blindfolded eyes toward Joe’s crotch as if he thought the leather might disappear if he stared hard enough. Joe shook his head. That wasn’t going to happen, not while Joe was the only one who had a say in the matter.
Joe pushed his jeans down his thighs. Ignoring his hard-on for now, he ran his fingers through the thick dark thatch of curls above his cock. He looked back and forth between Scott’s shaved skin and his own pubic hair, glorying in the differences between them and, even more than that, relishing the fact that he was the one who had created those differences.
As glorious as the contrast was, it wasn’t long before Joe had to move his hand to his cock. He stroked himself a couple of times before stepping forward and letting his thighs come to rest on the edge of the waxing bench.
Releasing his cock, Joe leaned forward and grasped the metal bar that Scott’s cuffs were attached to. Scott frowned again, as if he once more found it impossible to work out what was going on.
Joe leaned a little further. His cock brushed against Scott’s newly shaved skin. They both gasped at the same time.
Joe stared down at Scott’s blindfolded face as he rolled his hips, rubbing their cocks together, letting his balls brush against Scott’s shaved sac—hair moving against bare skin, a dominant moving against a submissive.
Dipping his head, Joe brushed his cheek against Scott’s, just below the line of the blindfold. Scott had obviously shaved his face before their date; Joe had made a conscious decision not to.
The contrasts between them extended far beyond their balls.
Scott whimpered. He turned his head. Their lips met. Joe instantly took control of the kiss. There was no dramatic physical difference between their mouths. Nothing there marked either of them out as seeking a different role. It was all about action now, and Joe thrust his tongue into Scott’s mouth, demanding that Scott follow his lead.
Scott parted his lips in welcome, lapping at Joe’s tongue, sucking on the tip as it slid in to and out of his mouth.
Joe’s grip on the bar behind the waxing bench turned white-knuckled. His movements sped up. Pre-cum slicked their movements as Scott squirmed beneath Joe’s thrusts.
Joe nipped at Scott’s bottom lip, ordering Scott to calm down. When Scott gave a shocked little gasp and froze in position, Joe forced himself to fall motionless too. He stared down at Scott for several long seconds before beginning to move again. This time, he made a point of emphasising the control he had overboththeir bodies.
He slid his hands along the bar until they rested over the chains attached to Scott’s cuffs. Joe’s hold on the metal links effectively shortened the chain and took away a little more of Scott’s freedom.
Dipping his head, Joe put his lips to Scott’s ear. “You have permission to come, make the most of it because you never know how long it will be before I give you another chance.”
Scott groaned with frustration and need. It was music to Joe’s ears.
