Page 31 of Thwack!

“There’s my boy,” Maddox said, a word he never called Jack, but Jack felt it today. He was Maddox’s boy. His good boy. His good boy being punished because Maddox had the right to punish him. There didn’t need to be an infraction or a reason. It didn’t have to be the way he wanted it or liked it. He submitted. That was all.

His consciousness floated away on a cloud of pain and love and surrender. He had no thoughts, only sensations, and even those were dim and hazy. He hardly noticed when Maddox eased himself out from under him to come around behind him and slide into him. It was a quick fuck, pleasing only Maddox as their fucks often did. Nothing would be offered to Jack except this opportunity to suffer on his Dom’s behalf.

Maddox groaned lightly as he came, his fingers drilling holes into Jack’s hips.

“Who’s my good boy?” he asked as he withdrew.

“I am,” Jack answered without shame. “Thank you.”

“Come on, babe. Let’s get in the shower. That really took it out of you, didn’t it?”

He nodded as he clambered to his feet. He shucked his clothes right where he stood and let his hard cock lead the way to the bathroom. Usually he soaped up Maddox, thrilled to run his hands over his husband’s lean physique, but today Maddox pampered him, all the time whispering words like baby and precious.

Jack was still tender—not his ass so much, but his heart—and the words opened him wider than he could bear.

“Maddox,” he said, not sure what he was asking for, and Maddox pressed him against the tile wall and took him again, slowly this time and with a hand on his cock until he came with the force of a hundred pent-up orgasms.

“I love you,” Maddox said as he continued to fuck into him. “I love your strength and your suffering and your surrender and how you give me all of it. I love your body. I love your brain. I love hurting you and using you. I love this.” He squeezed Jack’s balls hard enough to make him scream and came.

“You see what I mean?” he asked when they were warm and dry and wrapped around each other in bed. “It’s the simple things in life. Too often underappreciated.”

Jack smiled into Maddox’s neck, holding him tight because his world was still spinning. Their love was the furthest thing from simple, but he would never make the mistake of under-appreciating it.

~~The End~~

Need more Jack and Maddox? Their story begins in Deep Under and continues in Back Under

Midnight Raider

Leo was hungry. Julian’s mom had made meatloaf for dinner, which Julian claimed was the best meatloaf in the world, but Leo hated meatloaf, best or not. He’d picked at it to be polite, but he and Julian had gone for a long run that afternoon and picking wasn’t enough.

Now, lying in the top bunk, he was sorry he’d agreed to come home with Julian for spring break. Sure, it was a free place to stay in Daytona, which was where everyone wanted to be for spring break, but he was homesick. He hadn’t seen his own family since Christmas and he missed his mother’s cooking. At least she knew how much he hated meatloaf.

He rolled onto his back and put a hand on his stomach, which was growling at him softly. The touch of his palm on the bare flesh of his stomach momentarily distracted him from his hunger because the other problem with staying at Julian’s was a lack of privacy. His cock swelled up to meet his hand, pushing against his boxers and asking to have a different sort of hunger satisfied. He toyed with it, sliding his hand over the bulge it made, down to the swell of his balls, which he squeezed lovingly. But then Julian shifted, making the bed rock, and he remembered he wasn’t alone.

Better to do something about his stomach, he decided. If he ate, he could fall asleep. Julian’s mom had said he should make himself at home and when he was hungry at home, he opened the fridge. Obviously he wasn’t going to wake up Mrs. Sandiston at this hour, but if he did wake her up, that was what she would tell him to do.

Moving as quietly as possible, he slipped over the side of the bunk and dropped to the floor. He groped around for the clothes he’d discarded before climbing up to the top bunk, but then Julian shifted again and he decided fuck it. The house was dark and silent. He would dash downstairs, grab a yogurt or a granola bar, and be back in bed before anyone was the wiser.

The stairs creaked as he felt his way down them, running a hand along the wall to keep his balance rather than turn on the lights. The hardwood floor was cool and slick beneath his bare feet, which registered the transition from wood to tile as he entered the kitchen. The blue digital gleam of the microwave’s clock pulled him toward the refrigerator—a huge bulk of stainless steel standing sentinel in the corner. All around him was an unfamiliar silence. He felt like an intruder, like a thief, and when he forced himself to open the refrigerator, its light came on like an accusation.

He froze, waiting to be caught, then exhaled with a laugh. His stomach gurgled happily at the sight of so much food. Yogurt and fruit, even cold cuts. Dare he make himself a sandwich? He snagged a deli bag of turkey and another of sliced American cheese, then selected a squirt bottle of mustard from the door and rifled through the vegetable bin to find a head of lettuce and half a red onion. Balancing everything in his arms, he turned and hip-checked the refrigerator shut.

Shutting the refrigerator left him in darkness with no idea where the nearest light switch was. He shuffled forward, aiming for the island he remembered being in the center of the kitchen, and stubbed his toe on it at the exact moment the overhead lights came on, almost as if he’d kicked a light switch in the floorboards.

Then a deep voice said, “What do you think you’re doing?” and the combination of surprise and fear and pain from the stubbed toe had him jumping so violently that everything he’d been carrying flew out of his arms. Most of it landed on the island, but the mustard hit the floor and exploded, sending rich brown streaks in every direction.

Leo looked down at the mustard, then he looked up at Mr. Sandiston who’d just caught him raiding the refrigerator.

“I was hungry,” he offered tentatively.

“So you decided to help yourself?”

He wanted to believe Mr. Sandiston was joking, but Mr. Sandiston came across as a man who rarely joked. His jaw was square, his mouth firm, and his physique suggested that the one thing he definitely didn’t joke about was arm day.

“Your wife told me to make myself at home.”

“And this is what you do at home, hmm?”