Page 52 of Fire & Ice

Forearms? Check. Broad chest, trim waist? Check. Ass? Double check.

Tripp is toast.

Spritzing a little of the cologne that he’s noticed Tripp tends to sniff on his skin with heightened interest, Leander jams his feet back into his duty boots (because Tripp loves those, too, but also because they’re already dirty from work, so a strip club floor probably won’t make them worse). He laces them tight and then strides out into the living room like he hasn’t the faintest clue why Tripp’s jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Lee,”Tripp whines, hands tucked between his thighs as he squirms like a hooked fish on Leander’s couch. Thankfully, his face still appears to be bruise-free.

“Lee?”Leander repeats with intention, his tone incredulous and his eyebrow raised challengingly.

“Sir,” Tripp amends, easily chastised and shrinking in on himself slightly while still eyeballing Leander’s form with open desire. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

Checking his watch for the umpteenth time, Leander sighs. Theyarealready late, what’s another few minutes? “You know,” he says, pacing slowly across the room until he comes to a stop directly in front of Tripp, where he turns a sharp forty-five degrees on his heel to face him. “I let you slide with thatoften,don’t I?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tripp mumbles, swallowing visibly, his cheeks turning pink.

“And you’ll be calling meLeeall evening, by mutual agreement. That’s agift,from me to you. As such, you would think you’d have enough respect for me not to do it here.” Leander taps his foot as Tripp raises his eyes guiltily. “Either we can end the scene now, or you can accept your punishment.”

Right away, Tripp shakes his head and blows out a breath based in what isveryclearly relief, just as Leander knew he would. “Oh, I—Sir, I accept whatever you see fit to give me. Sir. Please.”

So predictable. So wonderfully willing.

“From your mouth…” Leander says with a shrug, like he couldn’t care less (he cares).“Alright, as you wish. Stand up, pull your jeans down to your thighs and bend over, hands on the arm of the couch.” Tripp complies swiftly and Leander struggles to hold back a groan of arousal when the panties appear once again. Stretched tight over the curve of Tripp’s ass, the jewel-toned fabric accentuates the freckles on his skin, making them stand out. Adorable and enticing, all in one.

“Safeword,” Leander requests softly, running gentle fingers over one of Tripp’s cheeks, dipping down under the satin just to feel the plug nestled in place there. This whole scene provokes a wildly intense wave of possessiveness over his sub, and Leander feels very pleased with himself that he’s found a way—an excuse, if you will—to mark him up before they venture out in public.

“Halligan,” Tripp replies dutifully, his words slightly muffled by the way he has his face buried in his own arms.

“And are you using it?”

“No, Sir.”

The first smack to each cheek is reasonably gentle, just warming the skin up. Leander loves this part, would linger here a lot longer if they didn’t have other places to be.Alas. Five strikes on each side: that’s what Leander decided on before Tripp even accepted his punishment, and it’s what he doles out accordingly. When it comes to strength of impact, he doesn’t hold back—Tripp can take it, he’s practically a pro by now—and after ten, his own hand is smarting something fierce.

When he’s finished, both of Tripp’s cheeks are delightfully red. They’re stunningly contrasted against the pretty green panties, and it takesevery fucking ounceof Leander’s self-restraint and practiced control of both his body and mind to stop himself from yanking Tripp’s plug and taking him right then and there. God knows, Tripp wouldn’t protest.

In the end, it’s the fact that this was supposed to be a punishment—adeterrenteven—for Tripp that stops him, but Leander’s still slightly regretful. By his own estimation, there’s less than a five percent chance they’re going to make it back to this apartment tonight without him coming atleastonce, preferably inside Tripp and hopefully while finally getting his hands on those damn panties.

Leander indulges in the possibilities that lay ahead regarding that very thing while he considers whether to put gel on Tripp’s ass (no), ultimately yanking him to his feet from behind and tucking him back into the jeans himself.

The cage Tripp was wearing last night is gone, Leander can’t help notice, though hedidgive permission for Tripp to take it off before going to sleep this morning. In truth,nothaving it on will likely make this night much harder for a sub new to public play, which is interesting, and not something Leander is going to point out. He’s anxious to see what Tripp does with it.

Adorably, Tripp gasps a little when Leander turns him around, but he goes pliant when Lee fists a hand in his hair and tugs him into a pretty intense, brutal kiss that’s mostly tongue in his mouth and teeth against his bottom lip. The effect is pleasing to Leander’s eye when he pulls away—Tripp’s still plenty put together, butjustmussed enough that a discerning eye could guess what he’s been up to.

Tonight, Leander’s feeling reckless. Most of their friends know by now that he and Tripp are hooking up, and Leanderwantspeople to notice, wants them to ask. Wants them to be aware that in nearly every way that matters, Tripp ishis.

Fuck propriety.

***

As it turns out, Beau did not forgive them for their latenessquiteso easily. In fact, when Leander and Tripp didn’t show up at the designated meeting spot outside the Truetts’ apartment building for a full thirty minutesafterthey were supposed to arrive,andneither of them were answering their phones, Beau instructed the rented party bus to leave them behind.

That alone was enough to wreck Tripp’s good mood, sending him into a spiral of moping and grumbling that Leander tires ofextremelyquickly. It’s nearly enough to prompt him to bust out the secret weapon in his pocket, but theyaredriving, and Leander isn’t interested in spending the remainder of his evening being pried off of whatever tree he and this bunch of metal become forcibly wrapped around.

“Marley doesn’t drink, Tripp,” Leander finally interjects with a heavy sigh, interrupting an endless rant about Beau’s expectation that Tripp would leave his beloved vehicle overnight downtown for “just anyone” to come along and “violate”.

The wrinkles in Tripp’s forehead deepen and he looks honestly confused. “So?”

“Sooo, she can drive us home. Back to my place.” Leander corrects his misstep quickly and casually, and thankfully, Tripp doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Or at least, he doesn’t say anything if he does.

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