The wooded scenery shifted into urban sprawl without Grady noticing. He stared blankly out the window, guilt layering over his anger and self-flagellation. The ice pack had numbed the physical pain in his ankle, but nothing would help with the agony radiating from his heart.
He was being an ass again. A huge giant idiot who couldn’t accept help or even be kind when Micah had gone out of his comfort zone at his request. Shit. Shit. Shit. He hadn’t given a thought to Micah’s limitations when he’d called. That had to be the height of selfishness.
He itched with the need to be free. To move and run and get so far away no one would ever find him. The pent-up energy continued to buzz and build beneath his skin, the racing bounce of his leg seeming to wind it up. Frustration balled into one big knot in his stomach, his throat raw with all the words he wouldn’t let escape.
He was afraid of what would come out if he opened his mouth. Anger, fear, pain, love—he couldn’t be sure and didn’t dare find out.
The radio droned some aimless tune, the noise broken by the occasional clipped navigation cues from Micah’s phone. Every direction was another reminder of how Micah had overcome his fears to help him.
Of how strong Micah was when Grady was too scared to even open his mouth. To talk about the meeting and Kick’s offer and what it’d mean to him—them. If there even was a them.
What would Micah do if he told him he was done submitting? That he couldn’t if he took the Kick offer? Would he even be able to see Micah anymore? Could he withstand the partners’ speculation and disappointed looks if he did? Could he stand himself if he didn’t?
The car came to a stop, the music abruptly cutting off to drown them in silence.
Grady looked around, mind clearing to take in their location. The parking lot behind Dane’s was nondescript but easily recognizable even though he was used to seeing it in the dark. What the hell?
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, questions starting and stopping before they formed.
Micah pressed his lips together, the solid belief that seemed to run through his core floundering for a brief moment. He inhaled sharply and the hesitancy was wiped away.
What…
Grady watched, transfixed as Micah molded his hand around the side of Grady’s neck. He shouldn’t allow it, but the touch sank into him, firm and grounding when he was certain he’d shatter into a million pieces at any moment.
“Let me help you.” Strong, sure words stated as a command.
He wanted to bristle, bark out a curse, or even remain stoically silent, yet the pull was so damn intense. “How?” The question cut over his throat in a raspy echo of his doubt.
A smile slid over Micah’s face, the hardness washing away. “Let me show you.”
He grabbed his phone and was out the door before Grady could respond. Bossy fucker. Rebellion shot forward as he tracked Micah’s long strides around the front of the car. He shoved the door open before Micah reached him, anger bounding forward to cover his vulnerabilities. He wasn’t a fucking damsel in distress.
“No saving.” He scowled at Micah until he stopped.
Micah stood back as he got out of the car, but swooped in to support his side before he could put weight on his injured ankle. A dull throb reminded him of his carelessness and he forced himself to walk on it, each jab of pain his due.
“Helping,” Micah mumbled.
Grady kept his head down after they entered the club, tension strung so tightly around his chest he could barely catch a breath. What was Micah doing? Why were they here? Was the club even open now?
“It’s ready.”
The clipped voice of the asshole grated over him, but he refused to look at the guy. He was here because Micah wanted him to be, not to start a pissing contest he couldn’t win.
“Thank you,” Micah said. “I appreciate it.”
His pulse hitched up another notch when they entered the long hallway off the bar area. The room. He jerked up to stare at Micah, halting. A hundred thoughts flashed in and out of his mind until he landed on one that shocked even him.
“You want to fuck?” He gaped, hurt and stunned at once. “Now?”
He’d thought the pain in his heart couldn’t get any worse, but it did. It shouldn’t, not when sex was the best he had to offer Micah. Yet having it so callously shoved in his face right now stung like a bitch.
“No,” Micah insisted, his hold contracting around Grady’s waist. “God, no.” He stared into Grady’s eyes, every truth and intent on display. He hid nothing and the visual pulled on Grady’s dreams before he hammered them down.
“Then what?” What in the hell did Micah want with him? From him?
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” No need to think on that. It was foolish of him, but he totally did.
Micah gave a single nod and ushered him through the door marked with a big number eight. He limped in, moving out of Micah’s reach to survey the room.
The configuration had changed again. The sawhorse was gone and a dry chuckle broke free when he noticed that. Good memories there. In its place was a large sling strung from eyebolts mounted in the ceiling beams. Black straps were woven together to form a secure net about four feet long that would fit and hold the torso of most adults.
His heart hitched, longing clashing with a rush of fear. Memories of James and all he’d given up for him tore through his mind before he shoved them out. Micah wasn’t James. Yet this was a big leap from bending over a sawhorse or opening his mouth for a cock. And so far beyond the dominant control he gave over to Micah in bed.
He scanned up to the restraints dangling from the four supporting ropes. To lock him in. He’d be completely at Micah’s mercy, stretched out in that thing, a good three feet off the floor.
Fucking hell.
Micah was offering the very freedom Grady craved. A chance to forget his fears and doubts. To sink into subspace, fly, and just be.
His skin buzzed with the excess energy he couldn’t shake, anticipation crawling up his spine to block out his reservations. It was just him and Micah. Not James. Not anyone from Kick.
Not his Dom either. Micah wasn’t ordering him into the sling. He was offering and that was the difference.
He wanted to fly so goddamn badly. He’d thought he’d buried those old cravings. And he had—until Micah.
He turned to stare at him, heart in his throat. How in the hell had he known? Grady couldn’t run away, but he could escape. He could give everything over to Micah and let go until he found that place where nothing mattered except for the man standing before him.
Even if it was only for a while.
He didn’t have the words to voice the emotions overflowing within him. He maintained eye contact though, as he deliberately tugged his grimy shirt over his head and tossed it aside. He didn’t care what Micah had planned. He should. His past told him to be afraid. To know the details before he walked into any scene. But right now he didn’t care.
Just as long as he flew.
Micah didn’t so much as flinch when Grady shoved his shorts and underwear down in one swoop. The material pooled at his feet, the cool air rushing in to glide against his oversensitive skin. Every nerve ending was on hypersensitive mode, ready to fire at the slightest touch.
“I’m not a sadist,” Micah said, his deep voice cutting through the space between them.
Grady smirked. “Or a Dom either, right?”
He slipped off his shoes and socks and headed for the sling. He had no doubt it was intended for him.
And if it hadn’t been, it was now.
His ankle throbbed with each step. The wound on his knee protested with every bend, and he didn’t care. He sucked in a breath and absorbed the pain into the stewing pot of angst and need.
His dick twitched at the thought of what was coming—whatever it was.
“Careful,” Micah said, directly behind him, a hand coming to rest on Grady’s lower back.
A laugh jerked from his chest, the suggestion almost ludicrous, considering what they were about to do. “It’s too late. I’m already broken.”
Micah yanked Grady’s chin around, the sudden grip on his jaw inescapable. Micah’s expression was fierce with his conviction. “You are not broken,” he insisted. “Hurt, yes. Broken—not even close.”
He couldn’t breathe. Not a single bit of air was getting through his shock. Micah truly believed what he said and damn if Grady knew why.
A long beat passed before Micah lowered his lips to Grady’s. Another of those light touches that rocked his soul and threatened to break him quicker than any thrashing. They were so damn more potent than the plundering kisses that revved his lust. He shouldn’t crave them, yet he chased after Micah’s lips when he pulled away.
No. No. No.
He jerked back, eyes squeezed closed. A huge inhale refilled his desperate lungs, but it was still significantly short of quelling his scrambling emotions. The urge to run was back and shoving hard against everything Micah offered. It tore up his spine only to race down in a fine shiver that settled in his groin.
Freedom, that was all he wanted. A chance to fly without running.
The chains creaked as he awkwardly settled himself into the sling, the nylon straps chafing over his ass. With one last inhale, he shut out his memories and lay back. The webbed net supported his back and head, swaying slightly as he shifted around to find a comfortable spot.
He didn’t resist when Micah lifted his injured leg. “Let me know if this causes you more pain.”
He snorted. “I thought that was the point.”
“No.” Micah ran a hand down the inside of Grady’s leg in a caress that teased more than enticed. His cock twitched, balls tightening in anticipation before the touch retreated. “That’s not the point.”
Was he telling the truth? Did he really understand what Grady needed? His heart dared to believe, but he shut it down before it opened too far.
Micah carefully slid Grady’s foot through the looped strap until it rested on his calf, away from the knee wound and his sore ankle. The self-tightening loop contracted into a firm hold when Micah let go. He quickly did the same to Grady’s other leg, each movement hitching Grady’s heart higher in his throat. His wrists were lifted and efficiently locked into the upper loops to leave him spread, bound, and completely at Micah’s mercy.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck. The thought alone was terrifying and thrilling. He closed his eyes, tested the restraints to find them secured, the bands snug around his flesh. Air whispered over his genitals, the exposure flagrant and humbling.
His breaths gusted through his nose in quick pants, but he kept his mouth firmly closed. This is Micah. Not James. I trust Micah. I want Micah. I want this.
Micah stepped back, the residual warmth of his presence replaced by the sensual heat of his perceived gaze. Grady couldn’t open his eyes to verify it, but his skin heated in an upward wave that matched his image of Micah’s focus.
“Say stop, and I will,” Micah said.
He forced his eyes open to stare between his spread legs. Still fully clothed, Micah wore an expression that was lustful and controlled at once. His power slammed into Grady, along with his own vulnerability. His stomach clenched with a sucker punch of want instead of the expected panic.
“I won’t say stop.” He was absolutely certain on that. He rested his head back, muscles going lax with that final leap. The energy still buzzed beneath his skin, waiting for a spark so he could explode before he imploded. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”
“If only that was really true,” Micah mumbled. He gave the sling a shove and moved to a cabinet by the door.
Grady started to protest but choked on the words before they were out. What was the point? He’d show Micah he meant it. Hell, he was aching for everything Micah wanted to give him right now. The disorientating motion of the swing played with his stomach and dislodged his thoughts, forcing him to focus on the rocking until it slowed.
“Is there anything completely off-limits?” Micah asked when he came back.
“Nope.” Not a thing. “Whip my ass raw if that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what I want,” he countered, a hint of something soft in his voice. “And I doubt you do either.”
“Really?” He glared down his length, all sense of awkwardness gone. “Then show me what I want, you arrogant fuck.” Do something. Anything. Jesus, just make this hissing, clawing beast inside him cease.
Micah’s brows lowered, a predatory glare overtaking his features. His nostrils flared, lips pressed into a thin line. “Close your eyes.”
He returned Micah’s glare, that familiar unspoken challenge clashing between them before he lowered his head and did as he was ordered. His throat worked in an attempt to subdue the sudden rawness that tore gashes down it.
A hand skimmed up his chest and he flinched, the touch gentle, soothing when he’d expected harder. It continued over his torso, a second hand joining to cover his upper body in a leisurely rub that left his skin warm and sensitized.
He slowly relaxed into the touch, the tension flowing out of him to leave an expectant hum. Still waiting, still needing but patient.
Micah leaned over him, his jeans scraping Grady’s inner thighs in a shocking reminder of his vulnerability. A shiver raked him, but his thoughts numbed when Micah’s mouth closed over his nipple, teeth biting down on the nub to pierce his chest. The jolt spread outward to weave a spell of desire that countered the pain. Micah teased the clamped tip with his tongue, flicking it back and forth in a maddening pace until Grady’s cry rang through the room.
He remembered this. The contradictory sensations that scrambled his thoughts and promised more. So much more.
His dick sprang to life, blood rushing in to fill it to throbbing in seconds. He rocked his hips against Micah’s, twisting in an attempt to get away yet closer. Micah’s chuckle rumbled over his skin before he switched to the other nipple and bit back down.
Fuck. The silent curse rebounded in his brain as Micah tugged upward, stretching the delicate tip until Grady’s only thought was the pain. A few quick flutters of Micah’s tongue had him arching into the heat. Then Micah released him, a throbbing pulse captivating his entire chest as both nipples beat in unison.
He sucked in needed gulps of air, embracing the fading soreness. God, it was good. So damn good. Micah leaned back and plucked at each nub, blew a cool breath over both. The light sensation sent a prickling wave straight to his groin.
“Ready.”
For what? He opened his mouth to ask when a tight clamp bit down on his already-tender nipple. Holy…He rolled up, reflexively tucking away from the new pain when the second tip met the same fate. His eyes flew open to stare at two alligator clips attached to his throbbing nipples. He tried to log the connection between the visual and the corresponding bite of pain but gave up. It was intense and amazing at once.
He flopped back, panting. Blood roared through his ears, pounded in two pointed spots on his chest, and pulsed in a residual thrum in his lifted ankle. Endorphins were threading their mystical way through him with every beat, shifting over the anger, washing past the frustration, soaking up the disquiet.
He gave himself over then, completely and fully. Micah had him and nothing else mattered. He was good here. Oddly safe.
Wet heat engulfed his sack. “Fuck.” He thrust up, the shock of pleasure tearing through his groin and up his dick. Micah sucked and rolled the balls in his mouth, moaning his enjoyment and tormenting Grady further. The vibration raced over the sensitive flesh and bled into a wave of fiery need.
He scrambled for a hold on the chains, the links digging into his palms as he leveraged his pelvis up, wanting more of the pleasure Micah was doling out. His erection lay untouched on his stomach, abandoned and desperate for attention.
But Micah licked downward instead of up, each kiss and lick a foreshadowing before he closed over Grady’s hole, tongue swirling around the puckered flesh.
Grady couldn’t stop his cry, didn’t even try to. The strangled sound morphed into a rolling moan as Micah continued his assault. Over and around, a press in, then a retreat. A long suck followed by a flicking thrust until he was begging to be penetrated. To be stretched and filled and aching to come.
A sudden, hard tug on his nuts jerked him from his blissful haze. A rousing shot of pain zinged into his groin and doubled the throb in his chest. His shout blasted the air, agony spreading outward from the continued stretch and squeeze on his balls.
“What the fuck?” He squirmed, hips twisting to get away from the torture. The swing rocked with his movements, breaths hitching in on short gasps.
Micah’s hold remained firm and unyielding as he leaned over Grady, eyes intense with things Grady couldn’t decipher.
“Breathe into it,” he urged, his other hand settling between Grady’s nipples. The weight seemed to sink into him, providing another focal point. “That’s it,” he encouraged when Grady’s breaths slowed.
He knew this too. To breathe and absorb instead of fight. To let the pain in instead of resisting it.
Micah swooped in for a kiss and managed to steal whatever air Grady had. His tongue took possession of him, darting in to claim his right to be there. To take whatever he wanted and Grady gave it back. All of it. He couldn’t just lie there even if he was supposed to.
He drove upward into the kiss, biting back and forcing his own way into Micah’s mouth. The heated battle overtook everything else until a particularly menacing squeeze to his balls demanded his acquiescence. He reared back, a roar ripping over his throat to blast the room with the excruciating pain engulfing his entire groin.
“Take it,” Micah encouraged. “Give it to me.”
He wanted to deny him, clenched his jaw tight to hold in the next wave of agony. His skin was clammy and hot. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his head in a silky path he shouldn’t have been able to feel, yet was strangely amplified.
A fierce determination brightened Micah’s eyes, the gray hues lit by the flecks of blue that threatened to swallow Grady into their depths. The challenge flared bright, yet beneath it was that earnest tenderness that managed to reach into him and caress his soul.
He heaved forward, claimed Micah’s mouth in a rage-filled kiss, shoulders straining against the arm restraints until he couldn’t hold the position any longer. Micah chose that exact moment to give another squeeze to his already-throbbing balls. Grady levered back, his pain ripping from his chest, his howl echoing through the room.
He went slack, eyes squeezed closed as he released it all. The anger and misery, the weeks of guilt and questions, the decade-old fears and beliefs that’d driven his life. He screamed until his throat dried out and his voice went hoarse.
A tremble raked his limbs, shook his skull, and hitched under his gasp.
“Fucking amazing.”
Micah’s voice reached him from a distance, a fog closing around his thoughts as the pain floated into a numb medium.
Then there was pleasure, sweet sucking heat on his dick, wet licks and stunning flickers over the head that sent his overloaded senses into a tailspin. He twisted his head, everything throbbing in time with the build of his orgasm. Deep in his groin, over his pulsing balls, up to his throbbing nipples. His anus clenched and spasmed with the need to be filled. It was too much and not enough at once.
A whimper floated through the air to breeze over the slurping sounds. “So good,” he slurred, unable to even rock his hips into the heaven below. “More.” The begging word went unnoticed though, the consistent up and down amazing but just short of triggering the orgasm hovering in his groin.
And then there was pain, a sharp jab that rolled into a deep throb over his abused nuts. It ripped through the pending orgasm, shattering the blissful escape before making a sharp turn to engage it. The wet heat surrounded his erection again, swift ups and downs that danced with the pain until they became one. His brain couldn’t separate them and he gave up trying, choosing to let go instead.
To fly with the rush and tide.
It came and went in repeated cycles until he was lost, unable to determine or guess what was coming next. He rode the edge of his orgasm as Micah masterfully built it up and let it subside only to do it again.
So, so good. Micah was everywhere, his hands on Grady’s legs and abs and chest and down his sides. Never leaving him, keeping him grounded but free.
His world didn’t matter outside of this man. His touch. This moment.
A weak cry wobbled out when Micah finally filled him. One long, slow descent that satiated the gaping need hungering for exactly that. To be stretched around his solid length, completely bound to him.
Micah’s rhythm increased, hard, jerking lunges that smacked Grady’s tender balls and buried him so deeply Grady swore they were one. Lust and desire were etched in every line of Micah’s face, his focus solely on Grady. The swing jarred back with each hit, aiding in the beat and adding a rhythm of its own.
The forgotten nipples clamps were suddenly released and a new wave of thundering agony roared through his chest as the blood rushed back into the deprived tips. He swam in the intensity, incoherent sounds bubbling out. Pain and pleasure, want and need, rejection and assent all merging into a wondrous brew created by Micah.
His orgasm hung in the balance, the pressure hovering on the brink. Each glide over his prostate fired a knife of intensity up his dick until everything coiled and waited for that one last trigger.
Micah gripped his dick, hard tugs timed with his thrusts. “God. Fuck. Come,” Micah gritted out between grunts.
Fuck yes.
He shook and cried out, the explosion bursting out of his pores. It raged through his heart and ravaged the relentless fidgeting beast with pounding fury until all that remained was the blissful, quiet peace he’d only ever found with Micah.