Page 8 of Bet On It

“Door number two, Sir.” The words came from Ty’s mouth, ripping that warm blanket off, replacing comfort with burning need. Why would he need a fucking blanket to keep him warm when he felt like his insides were made of molten lava, and all he wanted was for that volcano to erupt?

Spencer inched a little closer, facing his body toward Ty. Keeping his left foot on the floor, his right leg was bent on the couch with his shin pressed firmly against Ty’s left thigh. Ty felt like he couldn’t breathe as Spencer whispered, “Are you sure about this?”

Without taking his eyes off of Spencer, Ty reached forward for the box on the coffee table. Slowly, he removed the lid and finally looked down to see his fate. A brown piece of cloth was the first thing he saw. Removing it, Ty stared at the material. There were two panels connected by brown string; one small panel of cloth in the front and one in the back. Realization hit him, picturing the guy from Spartacum?it was a loincloth.

Ty reached for his beer and tried to chug, forgetting he’d already emptied it. His eyes focused on the beer bottle Spencer was holding in front of his face. Grabbing that one, Ty knocked back the entire bottle.

“I figured you should have proper attire when serving your Master, so this will be your uniform for the next two weeks, from the second you walk into this house. You’ll only remove it to leave for work or errands, or”—Spencer stared hard at Ty before his eyes averted down to Ty’s groin, and he placed his hand on the inside of Ty’s thigh, achingly close to the, once again, raging dance party—“when I have you remove it for my pleasure.”

Ty swallowed hard, sure Spencer could hear him gulp like a cartoon character.

“But we need to discuss something first. You need safewords.”

“What the hell is a safeword?” Ty was suddenly nervous. He assumed it was a word that would keep him safe, but safe from what?

“You use it when you want me to slow down or stop whatever I’m doing. No questions asked. They can be anything you want them to be.” Spencer cleared his throat. “And since you’re new to it all, we really need to set up boundaries. I refuse to do anything that sacrifices our friendship.”

Friendship. Somehow, that word had come to mean something more to Ty. “So, I just choose any words?”

“Yeah. Some people just stick to green, yellow, and red. You can choose any three that will mean go, slow down, and stop.”

Green…now it makes sense why that guy called out the color that night. “I’m not using green.” No way, no how was he using the same word as that tied-up, begging booty call.

Spencer furrowed his brow. “Ooookay. What then?”

Ty thought about it for a minute. Hmm…a word that’ll mean: For fuck’s sake, keep going… He smiled and said, “Peachy.”

Spencer barked out a laugh. “Okay, Elio. And the other two?”

“Those can be yellow and red, I guess.”

They held each other’s gaze for a minute before Spencer softly asked again, “You’re sure about this, Ty?”

This was what he’d chosen. He’d signed on for this when Spencer had given him the opportunity to back out. Ty prepared himself for shame to slam into him, but none came. Instead, he stood and faced Spencer. Spencer’s brows drew together, a line forming between them as if he didn’t know what Ty was about to do.

“I never back down from a bet…Sir.” Ty raised his arms and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Eyes focused on Spencer, he then pushed his sweats down until gravity did the rest, pooling them at his ankles. After kicking the sweats to the side, Ty hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. Could he do this? Jesus, this was huge.

“Take them off,” Spencer ordered, his voice strong but with a hint of uncertainty.

But, damn did Ty’s cock love to be told what to do…at least when it was Spencer doing the ordering. When Ty saw lust pour off his best friend in tidal waves, and the outline of his hard cock pressed against his jeans, it solidified Ty’s next move.

Sliding his thumbs down the sides of his legs, Ty pushed the boxers to his feet and kicked them to the side by his sweats. He’d never felt so vulnerable in his entire life, and it turned him the fuck on like nothing ever had. His arousal stood proud and true, pointing in the direction of Spencer’s stunned face. Spencer licked his lips, and Ty’s cock jumped as he leaned forward, inches from that hot mouth. With his eyes locked firmly on Spencer’s, Ty reached his left hand over and grabbed the loincloth off the couch then stood back up.

Hooking it around his waist, he laughed when the piece in front hung on his hard cock like a towel rack. “Guess that’s going to be a problem.” He looked back up to see Spencer staring at him like he was starving, and Ty was his next meal.

“Not a problem for me.” Spencer stood, and as he did, the mound beneath his jeans brushed up against Ty’s cloth-covered cock. Both men inhaled deeply.

“Now what?” Ty asked.

“Now…”—Spencer whispered, pausing to stare at Ty. Ty felt like he couldn’t breathe, anticipation making him antsy—“you do my laundry.”

Seriously? That’s what he’d waited for?

“Is that disappointment I see?” Ty wanted to wipe that smirk off Spencer’s face. “Well, if you do a good job with my laundry, I’ll even let you…”—Spencer was whispering in Ty’s ear now, leaning over so their cocks were touching. Ty felt his breath catch, and he closed his eyes,—“make my…”—swallowing hard, Ty waited with bated breath—“lunch for tomorrow.”

Ty’s eyes shot open, and he looked at Spencer, their faces extremely close now.

“What’s the matter, Ty?” Spencer’s voice was still soft but teasing. “Did you have something else in mind?”