Chapter Two

 

 

 

Brock woke to the sound of rain pattering gently against the windowpanes. He turned to look at the clock on the bedside table and winced as rigid metal dug into his wrists.

“Shit.”

The events of the previous night came flooding back and he was filled with a combination of despair and resignation. Next to him, the bed was empty and he heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been thrown off balance every time Kyle touched him, wanting more while at the same time resenting every uninvited contact. He had vague memories of waking in the night and fever dreams that had soaked him in sweat and left him feeling weak and drained.

“I need a shower.” He felt sticky and stale. Kyle chose that moment to appear around the en suite door, a tiny towel wrapped around his hips, broad chest glistening with water droplets. He gave himself a quick rub down and bent to retrieve his clothes. Brock couldn’t restrain his whimper as he was presented with a perfect view of a tight backside and muscular thighs.

Kyle turned and smiled at him. “Good morning. Are you feeling better?”

Brock had to hook his tongue back into his mouth and stop himself from drooling. Kyle was completely unselfconscious, standing there in all his glory. Even soft, Kyle’s dick looked huge to Brock, but completely in proportion for the man’s height. Kyle pulled on his trousers and came to stand by the bed, looking down on Brock with laughing eyes.

“I’ll let you use the bathroom if you give me your word not to do anything silly. No trying to run and no attempts to fight me.”

Brock nodded and groaned with relief as his wrists were released. He rolled out of bed, grabbed clean underwear from a drawer and stalked across to the bathroom without a backward glance.

The shower was a joyful experience. Soap and shampoo had never felt so good, but Brock couldn’t get the image of Kyle’s stunning, naked body out of his mind. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and wrapped the other around his painfully stiff cock. He jerked harder than normal, punishing himself for his lack of control, until he came with a gasp against the tiles. He rested his forehead against the cool ceramic and groaned. Why does this man make me feel this way? He should be angry, scared of what was happening to him, but all he felt was a guilty desire to get up close and personal with that hard body. He was also really curious about the mysterious job Kyle needed him to do. It involved photography, it had to be risky and that pushed his professional buttons in the same way that Kyle pushed his personal ones.

“If you’re finished…you need to get ready. There will be a car here to pick us up in less than an hour.”

Brock jumped at the sound of Kyle’s low tones coming from the doorway. How long had he been standing there? From the self-satisfied expression on his face, long enough.

Brock stepped from the cubicle, grabbed a towel and rubbed vigorously, trying to ignore Kyle, who stood and watched, his eyes never leaving Brock’s body. Brock pulled on black shorts and belatedly wished that he’d chosen less clingy underwear. He gave his hair a final rub then combed it with his fingers. He shaved quickly, cleaned his teeth then turned to the door.

“Can I dress?”

His face heated as Kyle examined him.

“I’m tempted to say no—but you are very distracting in that state, so please do.” Kyle leered happily.

Brock dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt and a soft black pullover that he loved. He pulled on socks and boots, watched constantly by Kyle.

“Pack a small bag for the next few days then come downstairs. I’ll make you some breakfast. Oh, and pack as many pairs of those shorts you’re wearing as you like. They look good on you.”

“Screw you,” Brock muttered under his breath as he carelessly threw clothes and toiletries into a leather holdall. He found his least attractive pajamas and shoved them in the bag too. Tartan brushed cotton, a present from his mother, should conceal everything of interest to Kyle. Brock glanced in the mirror. Tousled blond hair shaded his eyes and deepened the shadows under them. His skin was paler than usual and he appeared tired and stressed. Sighing, he turned toward the door and headed downstairs, where the smell of frying bacon assaulted his nostrils and elicited loud grumbles from his stomach.

Kyle had clearly been exploring the fridge because he served up a remarkably good plate of bacon and scrambled eggs with warm toast on the side. Coffee bubbled away in the percolator and delicious aromas filled the room.

“I’ll let you have a cup if you promise not to throw it at me.”

His smirk made Brock want to do exactly that, but the allure of his addiction meant Brock would have promised anything in exchange for a mug of his favorite blend. He hoped that his curt nod didn’t betray him—Kyle would probably take full advantage of his weakness and bend him over the nearest table. Brock’s arse clenched at the thought and he tried to switch his concentration back to the coffee.

Hot, bitter silk slid over his tongue and he sighed his appreciation. “Oh God, that’s good!”

His obvious pleasure brought a grin to Kyle’s face. “Just the kind of comment I’ll be expecting in bed.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Brock sat at the table and ate in stony silence. He kept his gaze directed at his food and attempted to focus on the fact that Kyle was his enemy and not a deliciously dominant potential boyfriend. It just wasn’t working. He pushed his plate away and made eye contact.

“Why don’t you just tell me what this is all about, Kyle? Has it not occurred to you that I might help you without the threats?”

To his surprise, Kyle didn’t deny him straight away. He looked thoughtful, as if he were weighing some options then he disappeared into the kitchen and Brock heard him muttering on the phone. When he came back, he gave Brock a stern look.

“Fine. I can see you’re going to be nothing but trouble if I don’t tell you. I had reservations from the start about taking this approach.”

Brock didn’t push. He let Kyle take his time.

“For some time, the British and American intelligence services have been attempting to find the base of a subversive terrorist group funded by the Colombian drug trade. A high-tech spy drone has taken aerial pictures of what we believe is their headquarters but it’s in a remote, inaccessible area. The only way of getting anywhere close undetected is via a virtually unexplored cave system. Access to the caves can only be reached by crossing terrain that would be challenging to the average mountain goat.”

Brock felt strangely excited. “I’m guessing that you need photographs of this base and you want to use my officially sanctioned expedition as cover.”

Kyle took a sip of his coffee. “What we are asking you to do is dangerous. If you are caught, you could be taken hostage and your actions would then come to the attention of various government interests. We have to make sure there is a plausible reason to justify your actions and a trail that could prove you have been coerced.”

“Who is ‘we’ exactly?”

“That’s the one thing I can’t tell you. My organization handles certain…difficult tasks…for the British government and its allies—things that can’t be done above the political radar.”

Brock frowned. “So you’re telling me that your strong-arm tactics are all a ploy? For my own protection?”

Kyle nodded. “That’s right.”

“You should have told me the truth from the start, Kyle, but I have to admit, I’m intrigued.”

Brock was silent for a while as he reflected on what he had learned. Kyle was one of the good guys. That meant that lust at first sight was not such a bad thing. This could turn in to an amazing adventure in more ways than one.

“I should be absolutely furious at how you’ve deceived me,” Brock said quietly.

“Should?” Kyle sounded hopeful.

“I don’t even have any way of knowing that you’re telling me the truth.”

“No, you don’t.”

“But I believe you. Whatever shadowy organization you work for seriously needs to work on its contractor engagement policies though.” Brock’s lips quirked up slightly into half a smile.

“I’ll pass that back to management,” Kyle said with a straight face. He gazed intently at Brock. “So you’ll do it?”

Brock grinned. “Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll take your pictures because they will do some good and because there are probably only two other photographers in the world with the skills needed to do this.”

“There’s a big adrenaline junkie hidden inside that beautiful body, isn’t there?”

Brock ducked his head. “Nobody else will ever get the chance to take pictures like these.”

“There’ll be no recognition. You understand that, don’t you?”

“That’s not why I take pictures, Kyle. Sure, I make a good living, but the satisfaction comes from capturing the perfect shot—freezing a moment in time that will never be repeated.” Brock looked up from beneath his lashes.

“I’m glad you know the truth, but we still have to maintain the illusion that you are an unwilling participant in all this. Until we are tucked away in a safe house, I’ll have to treat you like a hostage,” Kyle said blandly.

Brock’s face heated. “That doesn’t sound so bad,” he mumbled.

“I think there are some very interesting fantasies dancing around inside that pretty head of yours, Lysander. You and I are going to get along just fine.”

I really hope so, Brock thought hopefully.

While Brock fetched his bag from the bedroom, Kyle cleaned up the kitchen. When Brock returned, Kyle looked at his watch. “Okay, time to go. It’s best you don’t know where we’re going, so you’ll be blindfolded once we’re in the car.”

Brock waited in the hall while Kyle took their coats and Kyle’s bag to a waiting car. Kyle returned and escorted him down the drive and into a low, black saloon with deeply tinted windows. There was a driver in the front and a blackened screen between them. Kyle clicked the locks shut and turned to Brock. “This compartment is soundproof. The driver can’t hear us, so it’s okay to ask me questions, though I’d rather you wait until we get to the safe house. I’m going to blindfold you now.” He produced a length of dark cloth and made to tie it around Brock’s eyes but Brock flinched away.

“Hey, it’s okay to be nervous. I’m not going to hurt you, but this is non-negotiable,” Kyle said, his voice soothing.

Brock held still as the cloth went around his eyes and was knotted tightly behind his head.

Resigned, Brock leaned back against the seat and breathed in the scent of polished leather, only to jump out of his skin as Kyle rested his hand on Brock’s thigh and began to stroke.

Brock tried to push Kyle away, but his hand was immovable.

“Consider this a training exercise in self-control, Lysander. You’re going to have to follow my orders on this mission, so let’s see how you manage with a simple one.” Kyle brushed against the hardening bulge in Brock’s trousers. “Keep nice and quiet.”

 

* * * *

 

A long car journey in total darkness was not the best experience Brock had ever had. As soon as his mind wandered into thoughts of whether or not he could really trust Kyle, he would be jerked back to reality by a new assault as Kyle traced the ridge of his cock or rubbed his thigh. Every time Brock moved his hands protectively into his lap, they were unceremoniously shoved aside. He sat in silence, bearing the delicious torment as best he could, muscles rigid with tension. His every involuntary reaction got a low chuckle or satisfied murmur from Kyle. Brock bit down hard on his lip and fought back the urge to curse.

When the car finally rolled to a halt, Kyle immediately got out. Brock heaved a sigh of relief as the locks clicked down, leaving him alone. He hadn’t been able to relax for a minute of the journey and now he had to deal with his achingly hard dick and a desperate need to come. Lack of sight magnified his other senses and though he hated to admit it, he loved the feeling of being powerless.

Brock guessed that ten minutes passed before the door opened and cool air washed into the interior of the car. It was awkward to climb out with his eyes covered and he struggled until a firm grip clasped his biceps and pulled him forwards. The grip did not release, but guided him along a path of some kind. He could hear the rustle of leaves in the breeze and Brock sensed that large trees surrounded him. There was no traffic noise or any identifiable sounds, other than those of birds and the distant bleating of sheep, all of which was cut off as they entered a building and the door shut behind him. He flinched at the sound of locks clicking and heavy bolts sliding into place.

When his hair was stroked, Brock nuzzled against the palm.

“You look very pretty in a blindfold, I’m loath to remove it, but I suppose I must.”

Kyle unknotted the strip of cloth and pulled it away from Brock’s face. Brock blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted to the light. He took in his surroundings. They stood in a narrow corridor and a set of stairs rose in front of them. To the side was a single door, suggesting that they were in a small cottage of some kind. Kyle opened it and beckoned Brock into a cozy lounge-diner with a wood burner well alight in the fireplace. The soft lighting came from small lamps as heavy external shutters covered the window. There was a decent TV, a DVD player and a bookshelf carrying a selection of recent thrillers and fantasy novels.

“As you can see, there are films and books to keep us amused—I hope your taste is similar to mine,” Kyle said. “A few days here won’t kill us. I just need you off the radar for a while. In a moment, you can ring your mother and let her know that you are taking a short trip with friends. Don’t tell her anything that may give away what we’re doing, Brock—that’s in all our interests.

Kyle handed him a cheap mobile phone and watched while he dialed the number.

Brock imagined his mother cleaning flour from her hands before picking up the phone at the other end. She was often up to her ears in baking.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Lysander, sweetie, how lovely to hear from you. Is everything okay?”

As he heard her voice, Brock’s hands began to shake and he couldn’t prevent the slight tremble in his voice as he answered.

“I’m fine, getting ready for the trip, you know. I had a bad reaction to the jabs, but a day in bed seems to have sorted it. I’m just ringing to let you know that I’ll be out of contact for a while. I’m going climbing with a few friends, as I won’t see them for a while after I go to Columbia.”

“Sounds lovely, dear. You be careful. No taking silly risks.”

“Of course not, Mum, I may not be able to get in touch from Columbia, so it could be a while before we speak again. Give my love to Dad.” After a few more exchanges, he said goodbye and handed the phone back to Kyle, whose expression was carefully neutral.

“That was harder than I thought it would be.”

Kyle smiled at him sympathetically. “Unfortunately, in my world, lies are a necessity. My parents think I’m a security consultant.”

Brock sat on the edge of the sofa and put his head in his hands.

“This is starting to feel unreal. Perhaps I’m still reacting to those jabs. I’ll wake up soon and you’ll be gone.”

“And there was I thinking that I was the man of your dreams.”

Brock felt a spike of desire and took a deep, ragged breath. He didn’t want Kyle to see him as weak and emotional. He steeled himself to look up and met a gaze that spoke of understanding and sympathy.

“I’m not an unfeeling monster. I do understand what you’re going through.” Kyle’s words were barely audible and he turned away quickly.

“Come on, I’ll show you upstairs then we’ll have some lunch.”

Two bedrooms and a bathroom made up the first floor. One bedroom was a small single. It contained the kind of bed that Brock decided would have fitted well in a very dated hospital—one with a green metal frame and a thin mattress covered by a frayed sheet. In addition to the external shutters, the window was barred. There was no bulb in the light socket and no door.

“Mine, I presume?” Brock stared into the unfriendly space and grimaced.

“Well. It would have been.” Kyle grinned.

The other bedroom was much larger, dominated by a double bed with a metal scrollwork headboard and luxurious covers. There was a wardrobe and a small linen press along one wall, and Brock’s bag sat in a corner.

“The choice is yours—you can either sleep in here with me or in the other room. I won’t force you to share a bed with me, though I won’t pretend that I don’t want you to.”

Brock flushed.

“You could order me to sleep in here, couldn’t you?”

“I could, but I won’t. It’s your decision. Of course, once you’re in here with me, there will definitely be orders to follow.”

Brock swallowed and changed the subject. “I’m hungry.”

“Mmm. Me too.”

The diversionary tactic hadn’t worked, as Kyle was clearly not thinking about food. His eyes were fixed on Brock’s as he moved closer. He placed his hands deliberately around Brock’s body and pressed his thumbs into the groove at the top of his hipbones. A butterfly pinned to a display board couldn’t have felt more trapped than Brock did at that moment. He tried to pull away, but Kyle was very strong and held him easily in place, grinding his thumbs in harder. Brock could feel his cock swelling and his temperature rising. He wanted to resist, but Kyle had pressed the switch in his brain that responded to control. It felt so good to be held by strong hands, to know that Kyle could take him by force if he wanted to.

 

Kyle patted Brock’s perfect arse and let him go. He’d made his point. Brock fled down the stairs. Kyle watched him go with a smile. Brock’s responses turned him on in a way that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Brock was so pretty—part of Kyle wanted to bury his head in that soft blond hair and whisper words of comfort, the other part wanted to tie Brock down, tear his clothes off and hammer his arse until he screamed. Intuition told Kyle that Brock would enjoy the second option more.

Kyle waited a few moments for his iron erection to subside a little then followed Brock downstairs. His quarry was curled into the corner of the sofa with his head buried in a book, blond waves falling forwards to conceal his face. Kyle didn’t bait him any further but went into the kitchen to prepare some lunch. He returned about fifteen minutes later with bowls of steaming soup, warm crusty bread and mugs of tea.

“I hope this is okay.”

He put the tray down on the coffee table and picked up one of the bowls. It smelled delicious and the savory aroma broke down Brock’s resistance quickly. He put his book on the floor and picked up the other bowl. “Thank you. Is this homemade?”

“Yes. I find cooking therapeutic. There’s a freezer full of soups. Feel free to help yourself.”

“This is amazing.” Brock dipped a chunk of bread into his bowl and ate it with relish.

“I did lunch—you can cook dinner.”

“You might regret that decision.”

Kyle gave a short laugh, “As long as you manage not to burn anything, I’m sure it will be fine. It’s difficult to go wrong with pasta and there are homemade sauces in the freezer you can choose from.”

“Okay, it’s a deal.”

Brock ate the rest of his lunch in contented silence then glanced over at Kyle.

“I’ve been patient and you have my word that I will get you the best pictures I can. But I want to know more.”

Kyle looked at him thoughtfully. He cleared the dishes away then returned from the kitchen and sat next to him on the sofa.

“I’ll tell you more soon, I promise. I have orders to follow too. My bosses know that you are now a willing participant, but they still have to be cautious.”

Kyle slipped off his boots and socks and swung his legs up so that he was leaning against the opposite arm of the sofa, knees bent so that black denim hugged the curve of his arse tightly. He pushed his toes underneath Brock’s thigh and wiggled them into a comfortable position.

“You look tired. Are you still feeling the effects of the jabs?”

“I feel weak and I have a headache, nothing serious. I’m tired because I didn’t sleep well for some reason.” The sarcasm was evident in his voice.

“Then you need to rest. Come here.”

Kyle parted his legs and patted the space between them. Brock froze and shook his head slowly. Kyle decided to see if his intuition was accurate, that Brock just needed a reason to submit to him.

“You said you’d follow my orders. Now come here.”

Silently Brock turned and shuffled backwards into the space waiting for him. Kyle pulled him back so that he was lying against his chest then pinned him into place with his thighs. He leaned forward and breathed in the scent from Brock’s hair.

“Relax. Close your eyes and pretend that I’m your dream man.”

He could feel Brock trembling, muscles tensed as he ran a finger along his defined cheekbone.

“So beautiful…” Kyle resisted the urge to stroke and touch every inch of the body resting against him. He was already hard enough that Brock must be able to feel him pressing against his lower back. He wondered what Brock was thinking, hoped that he was secretly enjoying their closeness.

 

Brock could hardly breathe. Kyle’s ample cock was digging into his spine and all he wanted was for it to move lower. Kyle touched his face and he had to fight not to turn into his warm palm and nuzzle there. He felt light-headed and dizzy, but he didn’t think the inoculations were to blame. Blood left his head and descended to his groin as if gravity had increased its pull. He swallowed and tilted his head back, exposing his slender neck in an act of trust. He trembled, but not from fear, and gasped as soft lips sucked the sensitive skin above his collarbone then moved to his neck. Kyle encircled his chest with a strong arm and held him in place as he bit down gently at first then harder into the juncture between neck and shoulder until Brock cried out. Kyle’s grip on him softened and he pulled back, rubbing a thumb over the sore place on Brock’s neck. Brock knew he’d been marked and God help him, he liked it.

Some of the tension left Brock’s body and he relaxed against Kyle’s firm chest. His lashes fluttered and he felt himself slipping impossibly into sleep, his exhaustion compounded by the emotional exertion he had been through. He turned his head and snuggled against Kyle’s body, enjoying the spicy scent that permeated Kyle’s pullover and drifted into his dreams.

 

Kyle knew that Brock must have been utterly spent, both emotionally and physically and that he shouldn’t read anything deeper into the position he now found himself in. However, the weeks he had spent learning about Brock’s life, following him and observing everything he did, made him realize he was deeply attracted to the younger man. It wasn’t simply physical lust either, though he couldn’t deny that it was part of the equation. He had fallen for the whole package—Brock’s sense of adventure, his passion for his work, his sensitivity. Blond hair and those beautiful eyes were the icing on the cake. Kyle ran his fingers down the scar on his own face. He felt rough and ugly in comparison. If they’d met through normal means, he was sure Brock wouldn’t have spared him a second glance, yet here he was with this gorgeous creature asleep on his chest, rising and falling slightly as Kyle breathed gently so as not to disturb him. It felt wonderful, yet at the same time was the worst possible torture because he knew it couldn’t last. He was fooling himself if he thought Brock would ever want him. He sighed and closed his own eyes, one arm still protectively wrapped around Brock’s chest.

 

* * * *

 

When Brock stirred a couple of hours later, he was still curled against Kyle’s body. For a few delicious moments, he allowed himself to believe that it was his boyfriend who held him so securely and that the hard body he leaned against would press its weight against him, skin to skin, if he wished it. The irony was that he did. Just the thought of all that toned muscle making contact with his naked flesh was enough to make Brock painfully hard. He wanted to feel the rake of stubble across his skin. He wanted to be thrown down and taken hard. Against all logic, he hoped that Kyle would lose patience and do what his eyes continually threatened. The way in which their lives had collided was shocking, but despite everything, Brock liked this man who had gatecrashed his world.

Carefully Brock lifted Kyle’s arm away from his body and slid forwards. With a sigh of relief, he stood and crept toward the stairs. He needed to splash cold water on his face and another part of his anatomy would probably benefit from a dousing as well.

 

* * * *

 

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Brock cooked dinner. They watched a movie from separate chairs. Neither man mentioned what had happened that afternoon, but the livid bruise on Brock’s neck bore testament to that brief escape into sensation. Kyle felt ridiculously protective. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m shattered. Is it all right if I go to bed?”

Kyle nodded. “Of course. I need you fit and well. Get ready and I’ll be up shortly.”

Kyle gave him fifteen minutes to use the bathroom then followed him upstairs. Brock sat on the edge of the single bed in the small, cell-like second bedroom. He wore dark pajamas in some kind of tartan pattern, his pale bare feet rested on the floorboards. Frustrated, Kyle sighed. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, I do.” Brock gazed directly at him, blue eyes glittering sharply. “Much as I’d love to jump into bed with you, Kyle, I have to know you want me for the right reasons. It’s not like we’ve just come back from a dinner date, is it?”

Kyle scowled. “Fine. It’s your choice. Lie down.”

Kyle went to the other bedroom and came back a heavy blanket that he placed over Brock.

“Those pajamas are your way of torturing me, aren’t they? Tell me you don’t normally wear them.”

Brock smiled sweetly. “I usually sleep naked.”

Kyle turned and stalked from the room, muttering expletives under his breath.

Kyle went through his pre-bed routine with a raging hard-on and a head full of Brock. He got into bed and spent an hour tossing and turning and beating the hell out of his pillow. All he could think about was Brock, cold and alone, in the other room.

“Bugger this.”

He threw back the duvet and sat on the edge of the bed. He was wearing black shorts that did little to disguise the prominent bulge testing the elasticity of the fabric and he debated covering up a bit more. “Fuck it.” What he had in mind did not require more clothing. He crossed to the dresser and hesitated before picking up his handcuffs and the flick knife that sat between his comb and coin tray.

“This is a really bad idea.”

Kyle prowled across the landing to Brock’s room, where he wasn’t surprised to find him awake.

Kyle didn’t say a word, just yanked the covers off the bed and loomed over Brock’s helpless form. He tugged Brock’s arms up and cuffed him to the bed frame. In his hand, the knife glinted in the dim light. As he climbed onto the bed and knelt across Brock’s thighs, Brock yanked on the cuffs, rattling the chain. He looked wide-eyed and expectant rather than scared. Kyle rested the tip of the knife in the hollow at the base of Brock’s throat and glared.

“I really hate these fucking pajamas.”

Kyle slid the knife down until it met the resistance of a button. The blade slipped through the threads smoothly and descended to the next. In seconds, all five buttons had been sliced free, allowing him to push the gaudy cloth back and expose golden skin and small dark nipples.

“A little better.”

Kyle trailed the knife down twitching stomach muscles until it reached a tartan waistband then followed it round to a slim hip. Slowly Kyle drew the knife down the entire length of the leg seam, slitting the fabric effortlessly. Then he did the same the other side. He started on the arm seams and when he was done, pulled the ruined garments from Brock’s body.

“Improving all the time.”

Brock’s sweet whimper was all the encouragement Kyle needed. He licked his lips at the sight of tight trunks hugging a barely restrained erection and he ran the tip of the knife across the bulge. He pushed one finger beneath the waistband and stroked Brock’s abdomen. Brock’s muscles tensed beneath his touch and small moans escaped Brock’s tightly compressed lips. Kyle slit the elastic at each side and tore the fabric so that tattered rags barely covered Brock’s cock and balls. He stroked his thumb down the newly exposed flesh between hip and thigh and Brock bucked, losing the remnants of material covering him.

“Perfect.”

Using just one finger, Kyle stroked lightly. He circled the gleaming tip of Brock’s dick and spread the liquid down his shaft. He fondled his swollen sac delicately then paused. “One word and I stop.”

The silence was telling. The only sound? The rapid breathing coming from Brock’s slightly parted lips.

Kyle wasn’t as gentle with his mouth as with his fingers. He plunged his head down and pulled back with fierce suction. Brock tasted incredibly bittersweet, his flavor spreading across Kyle’s tongue as he licked. Kyle nuzzled Brock’s inner thighs as he transferred his attention momentarily to smooth, firm balls then returned to swallow him with confident skill. He pushed Brock’s thighs even farther apart, taking him deep. Brock’s back arched as Kyle used his teeth to make an impression in delicate flesh.

Brock’s needy moans grew more urgent, telling Kyle that he was close. Kyle renewed his efforts. He rode the movement as Brock bucked. He pushed Brock down and mouthed him harder. As warm fluid coated his tongue, Kyle swallowed greedily. Finally he pulled away and sat back. Brock’s pretty eyes were squeezed shut. The muscles in his arm were hard and defined as he pulled on his bonds. He looked stunning.

Kyle wriggled out of his underwear. “Look at me, Lysander.” He spoke gently but firmly and Brock responded. He opened his eyes wide as Kyle moved until his cock touched Brock’s lips.

“One word and I stop.” Kyle held his breath then let it out with a hiss as Brock’s kiss-bruised lips parted. Kyle didn’t hesitate. He fucked Brock’s mouth with controlled aggression. He wanted to own the beautiful man beneath him—possess him, mark him. To Kyle’s surprise, Brock responded as best he could, using his tongue as much as Kyle allowed. Kyle intended to pull away before he came, but the moment arrived with such force that he flooded Brock’s mouth with his cum. Brock didn’t struggle or fight it. He swallowed again and again, taking every drop.

After a few recuperative seconds, Kyle clambered off the bed.

“Don’t go away.” He grinned at Brock’s irritated expression and headed for the bathroom to clean up. He took his time, enjoying the thought of Brock lying there, restrained, the taste of Kyle’s cum lingering on his tongue.

When Kyle returned to the bedroom and released Brock’s wrists, the man sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

“I…we…shouldn’t have…”

“Stop thinking. Use the bathroom then get to bed—the other bed.” Kyle issued the order in a tone that brooked no argument and Brock meekly did as he was told. When he was done cleaning up, he joined Kyle in the main bedroom and slipped beneath the covers, lying as far away from Kyle as possible. Kyle grunted and dragged Brock closer. He spooned against Brock’s back, making sure that his semi-soft cock rested neatly in the channel between Brock’s arse cheeks. He flung his arm over Brock’s warm body, held him firmly in place then dropped into sleep.