Page 90 of Sycopation
“Yeah, that’s it, Ray. Show me how much you enjoy being tied down, being plugged for me. I want to hear it. See it.”
He moaned and squirmed and gasped. So close. “Zav. Fuck, Zav. I don’t know what to do.”
A chuckle. “Fuck yourself, Ray. Nice and hard. Pound that bed until you come all over it.”
Fuck. Ray pulled at the binding, let go, and did exactly what Zavier said. It hurt a little—the fabric was rough and not slick, but the friction was incredible. Thrusting as Zavier had ordered drove the plug against his sweet spot over and over until the bursts of lights in his vision turned too bright. He groaned out as his orgasm overtook his body.
“Fuck, yeah, Ray. Keep going.” Gravel in Zavier’s words. The bed dipped.
Ray shuddered and twisted because the plug wouldn’t stop shifting, wouldn’t stop driving him high even when his balls emptied. Too much, not enough.
Then Zavier’s hand was on his back, stilling him. “I’m taking it out,” he whispered.
The loss was both relief and agony. Ray missed being full. “Don’t—no. Need...”
“Mmm. I’m not finished with you yet.” Pressure against his ass again—then Zavier’s dick was sliding in, replacing the plug.
Lights and sparks and heat. Wasn’t going to come again, and everything ached as Zavier thrust in and out, but he was there inside him, on him. Weighing him down. Zavier felt like nothing else in the world. “Fuck—yes.”
A sigh, and maybe it was the yes that did it, because Zavier was ramming into him. As if their bodies needed to be one, as if this was the last thing they’d ever do together. Felt so fuckinggood, Ray couldn’t help the moans or the shouts or babbling Zav’s name over and over.
Somehow Zavier found that spot on his shoulder and bit it again before he groaned and pumped hard into Ray, chasing his own pleasure until neither of them was moving.
Zavier’s huffs as he caught his breath tickled Ray’s ear.
“Fuck yeah. Yeah.” Ray kept repeating that until Zavier slid out, caught his head and kissed him, over and over until Ray couldn’t speak anymore.
After that, Zavier rose and released him, taking off the cuffs so reverently, Ray couldn’t help blushing. “It’s like you’re worshiping me.”
Zavier laughed. “I am, in a very small way. You gifted yourself to me. Let me do this for you.” He kissed Ray’s wrists and ankles, had him roll onto his stomach again and applied some kind of salve to his ass, then drew him up to standing. “We’ve made a mess of this bed.”
Good thing they had another. Zavier helped Ray into the other room and made him drink a bottle of water before they slipped under the covers together. Ray’s head swam with the ache of his body, his heart, and the swirl of confusion in his head. “Zav?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you get out of this?” Surrendering let him out of his mind, but god, the work it must take for Zavier to get him there.
Zavier kissed his forehead. “Everything.”
“Not good enough.”
He felt Zavier chuckle. “It’s too late to explain psychology. I enjoy your pain and your pleasure and your surrender and making you struggle and watching you overcome. I adore being inside you. Biting your skin. Tasting you. Everything, Ray.”
Oh. Well, that didn’t sound so bad. He liked all those things too, but in reverse. “We match.”
Another huff of laughter. “In a way, yeah.” Another kiss, like the last. “Go to sleep, Ray. I’ll watch over you.”
He sighed, relaxed into Zavier’s arms, and obeyed that order, too.
Zavier hadto admit that it was nice to wake up next to Ray in a hotel bed. The games and sex they could squeeze in on the bus or at the venue kept him going, as did their chats and their connection with each other. He’d never felt so satisfied by any kinky relationship before. Such a joy to get Ray off and have him obey, even when the orders made him uncomfortable. He’d at least try, like with the spanking last night.
In some way, their games had helped Ray and given him an outlet—and given him strength to push back at Carl. If it was something as simple and intimate as wearing that bracelet tied around the base of his cock—tight enough to stay and remind him of Zavier—they were both happy enough to command and comply.
Compatible. Comfortable. That was what they were.
But a morning like this, where Ray was quiet and sprawled out next to him and sleeping soundly, was a goddamnedgift. Zavier resisted the urge to stroke his relaxed features. Beautiful and carefree. While he also enjoyed tense, passionate Ray, there was something about the trusting and vulnerable version that stirred a deep satisfaction in him.
He’d never tire of this sight.
