Bated Breath: An M/M/M BDSM Erotic Short

by Casey Cameron

  Bated Breath

  An M/M/M BDSM Erotic Short

  Casey Cameron

  Contents

  Bated Breath

  Books By Casey Cameron

  More Than Luck

  Perfect Game

  Love Keeps Giving

  Tying the Knot

  Omega Studies

  His Alpha’s Alpha

  Omega On the Line

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2017 by Casey Cameron

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This title is intended for adults only. It contains explicit sex acts and adult themes. Please keep out of reach of children. All characters in sexual situations are eighteen years of age or older.

  Bated Breath

  I woke slowly, drifting pleasantly in the halfway place between asleep and awake while I enjoyed the last remnants of a pleasant dream. As awareness slowly dawned on me, I saw the soft glow of morning sun through my eyelids.

  The realization jerked me awake, my eyes flying open. I wasn’t in my own bed—I could only sleep with blackout curtains over the window, thanks to the neon sign of the nightclub across the street from my apartment. What the hell had I done last—

  Then the fog in my brain cleared out enough for me to remember, and oh god, the memories that came back were…intriguing, to say the least.

  My best friend Nathan had taken it upon himself to introduce me to the delights of gay sex with a bang—literally. On top of that, I’d had a crash course on BDSM, courtesy of his—friend? Dom?—Michael, whose broad shoulders and salt-and-pepper temples had quite possibly awakened some latent daddy fantasies I’d never realized I had. And whose bed I was in right now.

  Nathan was there next to me, fast asleep and drooling on his pillow, but Michael was nowhere to be found. The bedroom door was open, though, and I could hear the telltale sizzle and clink of breakfast being prepared out in the kitchen, so I had a pretty good idea where he was.

  The idea of going out there was painfully awkward. Even though the guy had ordered me around and put his dick in my ass, the fact remained that I didn’t really know him, and the array of conversation starters available to me were kind of on the weird side. So hey, I really enjoyed watching you slap my best friend in the face while I fucked him last night. What’s new with you?

  I considered rolling back over and pretending to sleep until Nathan woke up so he could walk me through that minefield, but my bladder was pretty insistent that I not do that. I hadn’t been paying a whole lot of attention to my surroundings last night, but I couldn’t remember seeing a bathroom anywhere. Awkward as it might be to see Michael, it’d be way more awkward if I peed in his bed, so I fumbled around for my underwear and tugged them back on so I could face the firing squad with at least a little of my dignity intact.

  Still, there's only so much dignity you can muster while you're in a stranger's house in nothing but your boxers, so I felt a little sheepish as I stepped out and caught sight of Michael bustling around in his kitchen. He was chopping something I couldn't quite see, and he focused on it with none of the intensity I'd seen from him last night. He was relaxed, his posture loose and easy, and he was even humming a little tune to himself.

  It was kind of adorable.

  He looked up as I got a little closer, and I was stunned for just a moment. His face—his eyes—just…wow. He had this strong jaw that was slightly stubble-roughened, and eyes that were so blue I just wanted to dive into them. He was absurdly attractive, and the fact that he had his sleeves rolled up and was wielding a knife with practiced dexterity only made him more devastatingly hot.

  His eyes flicked briefly up and down my body, and my sheepish worry evaporated when I saw a look of solid approval on his face. I swallowed nervously as he smiled at me. "Good morning," he said, his voice light and gentle, a smile threaded through it.

  "Good morning," I managed to get out around the lump in my throat. "Uh, where is your bathroom?"

  Michael gestured toward a door off the front hallway, and I made a quick retreat, my face flaming. God, the way he'd looked at me—I'd been about to pitch a tent in my boxers, and even though it was obvious there was mutual attraction, it would've shown an embarrassing lack of self-control. Michael seemed to be all about control.

  I managed to get my body reined in, which was a relief—peeing with a hard-on is never a fun endeavor. When I got back into the dining room, Michael indicated a stool in front of the breakfast bar. "Sit down."

  It was an invitation, not a command, but I had to fight a flush of arousal anyway. It reminded me of last night, which maybe it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like he’d spent much time ordering me around. He'd certainly ordered Nathan around a lot, though, and Nathan had fucking loved it. I’d loved watching it, too, even though the whole thing seemed a little…intense for me.

  My seat put me facing directly at Michael as he worked, and I saw that he was making omelets. "Do you like mushrooms?" he asked as he sliced some with that same practiced motion. I remembered that he owned a bar, and I wondered if he'd had restaurant experience. He sure seemed to know what he was doing.

  He kind of seemed to know what he was doing with everything so far.

  "Yeah, there's not much I don't like," I said, and felt a hot rush of embarrassment as I realized it could've been taken in a different way. Michael glanced up at me, his eyes twinkling, and I cleared my throat, turning my head quickly away.

  "How are you doing this morning?" His voice was perfectly casual, like he could've been asking about me having a mild cold instead of a kinky threesome.

  "Good," I said, still hesitant to meet his eyes. "Everything was...really good."

  "Glad to hear it," Michael said as he scraped the chopped mushrooms into a bowl and got started on some onions. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't too much for you. Sometimes in the light of day, things can feel a little different."

  I considered what he said, and tried to figure out if I was feeling any different. I didn't think I was--at least, not about the stuff he'd done to me. Nathan, on the other hand...

  "I'm not sure what Nathan gets out of this," I blurted out before I had a chance to stop myself.

  Michael looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

  "Um, I mean," I stammered, "I was definitely getting something out of it, but the stuff you were doing to me was a little more...mild, I guess?"

  I must have sounded like such a novice, but all I saw in his face was understanding.

  "Nathan enjoys a certain style and intensity of BDSM that might be intimidating for a beginner," he said as he casually whisked some eggs. It was kind of absurd to have something so mundane going on while he was talking about something so...not mundane.

  Not that there was anything wrong or necessarily abnormal about BDSM, of course. Different strokes for different folks. It just seemed like an odd juxtaposition.

  Michael continued. "Last night I wasn't taking it very far, but we really only scratched the surface of what there is to do, and what Nathan likes."

  "Yeah," I said, swallowing around another lump in my throat. "I kind of got that impression."

  "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

  "Not uncomfortable, exactly," I said with a thoughtful frown. "It's just that...I guess I don't see why he's into it. Like the, uh, slapping," I said, wondering why it was so difficult to talk about this when I’d been there doing it last
night. "I mean, I've definitely enjoyed giving a little slap on the ass in the heat of the moment, and I could see enjoying that myself. But a slap in the face is something kind of different. It seems degrading, I guess. And it wasn't like you were doing it lightly. It sounded like it hurt."

  "There can be an element of humiliation to it," Michael said with a nod. "For some it's about the sensation--not the pain, exactly, but the sharpness of it, the awareness of your own body that it inspires."

  I felt my body give an involuntary shiver at the thought of it. Okay, that made a little sense.

  "Nathan also has a significant pain kink, which we do explore from time to time. It's not something I'm particularly into, but I can understand what he gets out of it, and I enjoy giving him what he wants."

  "That's what I don't understand," I said, a little plaintive. "What could you possibly get out of being hurt? It's not generally a pleasant thing."

  Michael thought for a moment. "It's not about the pain, it's about...surrender. By giving his body and giving up control over everything he feels--the good and the bad--he can go deeper into his submission. The surrender is what takes him down, not the pain."

  I chewed on my lower lip, feeling a little heat pooling in my groin. That definitely sounded better than just getting...well, smacked around. Still... "There have to be other ways to do that, though. The uh, surrender."

  "There are," Michael said, giving me a smile that was all mischief. Oh god, the things that smile was doing to me. The things I would let that smile do to me. "Everyone likes different things, and for some it's easier with pain. Some prefer tenderness and praise. Some like restraints."

  I shivered again, a prickling sensation going up my spine. Restraints were sounding unexpectedly appealing. I imagined rope wound tight around my wrists, the slight scrape of it and the tension as I struggled against it.

  "Some like other ways of giving up control," Michael said, his voice low.

  "What other ways?" I croaked, my mouth dry.

  "I could show you," he said with a wicked smile.

  You know, I really should have paused to consider it. I mean, that would've been the wise thing to do. He could have been suggesting absolutely anything—literal whips and chains, locking me in his basement, hanging me from the ceiling like a side of beef. But I couldn't help it--I trusted Michael, and I wanted him to teach me everything there was to learn about this world.

  "Yes," I said, with no hesitation at all.

  Michael moved with the sureness and intensity I’d seen from him last night, sticking his bowl of eggs and plate of vegetables in the fridge, and for some reason I felt myself getting a little hard at the sight.

  That was weird, right? It wasn't like there was anything inherently erotic about the act, but the deliberate way he did it—firm and decisive—made it clear he was absolutely, positively about to do very erotic things to me. And I had absolutely no doubt I was going to like it.

  Michael circled around the counter to stand a couple feet away from me. He pointed to the ground in front of him. "Kneel," he said.

  I fought down a surge of panic tinged with disappointment. I knew full well that whatever was happening between us was casual, but I'd kind of hoped we'd open with something a little more tender. Maybe some kissing.

  We'd kissed only once last night, and he hadn't even used any tongue, but oh god, that kiss was seared into my memory. I definitely wanted more of that--the firm, sure press of his lips had given me every sign that he was an incredible kisser.

  Still, I trusted him. He'd taken good care of me last night, found all my pleasure buttons and pushed every one of them, so this was probably going to be good too. I rose from my chair and carefully kneeled in front of him.

  Was I supposed to keep my eyes down? Clasp my hands behind my back? I had no idea what the etiquette was here. I looked up, mainly looking to him for guidance, and the look he gave me in return was thrilling—soft and full of awe.

  "You look perfect like this," he murmured, stroking my cheek, and I couldn't help but lean into the touch. God, he was already turning me into a puddle.

  Michael continued stroking me with careful fingers, dragging them up and down my face, down to my neck, and back up into my hair. The ever-present brush of fingers sent tingling warmth running up my spine, and a sort of relaxation filled me.

  I had a sudden rush of nerves as I realized Nathan was just in the other room, and could walk out at any moment. He'd see me like this, on my knees in my underwear, and the thought of it made me feel more exposed than if I’d been naked. Embarrassment rippled through me, but Michael's hand traveled back up into my hair and tightened into a fist, pulling my head back. The sharp tug against my scalp made me gasp, and jerked me out of my building panic. Grateful, I gazed up at Michael.

  The look he gave me was pure hunger, and I felt my cock twitching in response.

  "That's better," he said with a small smile. "Don't think, just feel."

  His fist in my hair, he moved my head around--side to side, pulling back, pushing down, like he was posing me for his own entertainment. I found that I didn't mind the idea that much—the thought of being on display for him. I knew that he wouldn't mock me for having a stupid look on my face, or for doing something the wrong way.

  He would take care of everything; all I had to do was trust him.

  Michael finally released my hair, and I heard the soft rasp of a zipper. My eyes flicked open in time to watch him drawing out his cock, half-hard and looking just as delicious as it had last night.

  Jeez, I’d been openly bisexual for a couple months, and I was already becoming a cock connoisseur. Oh well, might as well roll with it. I licked my lips.

  He guided his cock to my lips, and I opened for him obediently. "Suck me," he urged, and I was all too happy to comply.

  I could feel him throbbing in my mouth, his cock filling and hardening in urgent pulses as I worked him with my lips and tongue. I loved the feeling of power it gave me, the sure knowledge that I was doing this to him, that he was getting hard because of me.

  It didn't take long before he was steel-hard, and I bobbed eagerly up and down his length, making obscenely wet noises with every stroke. I heard him hum in pleasure, his hand resting gently in my hair again, and I swirled my tongue around the head, relishing the way it made him suck in a breath--not quite a gasp, but close. A tiny loss of that perfect control. His cock throbbed harder, blood thrumming beneath the skin.

  As much as I loved the feeling of his cock in my mouth, I couldn’t help but feel a little pang of disappointment. He’d been so full of promises, telling me he was going to show me a whole new world of submission, and that had suddenly turned into me giving him a blowjob in his dining room. Which—don’t get me wrong—was pretty great, but it wasn’t what I’d hoped for.

  But before the disappointment could settle in my gut, he took me by the hair again and pulled me off his cock. I gasped, part pain, part longing to get his cock back in my mouth. This time it felt different, though—I felt my body sort of…leaning into it. Moving along with his hand, following it as he pulled me. The sensation that ran through me was…the best I could describe it was gentle exhilaration.

  “Put your hands on my thighs,” he said, and I did. The fabric of his pants was rough beneath my fingers, and I was suddenly intensely aware of the fact that he was fully dressed, while I knelt in front of him in only my underwear. There was an innate power imbalance to the situation, and even though I wanted to see more of his devastatingly hot body, I kind of liked the way it made me feel even more like I was at his mercy. Like this was something he was doing to me, not with me.

  “Good,” he said, his grip still tight in my hair. “Keep them there. If it’s too much for you, you can tap me or let go and I’ll stop.”

  I swallowed, my breath coming in short pants as I realized what he was about to do. The handful of internet hookups that comprised my experience with men hadn’t prepared me for this. All the guys I’d hooke
d up with had been surprisingly considerate, especially after I told them I was new at this, so I didn’t have any experience at all with having my face fucked. I had no idea if it was even something I’d like.

  As I looked up at Michael’s stormy eyes, dark with lust, my trepidation vanished. Might as well find out.

  I gave him a quick nod, not trusting my voice to be coherent, and the motion pulled against his hand in my hair and made me gasp again.

  And then his cock was sliding back into my mouth, hot and thick and still slick from my spit. I moaned around it, the feeling of it pushing into me almost too much. My own cock was hard as a rock, probably tenting my boxers absurdly, but I couldn’t bring myself to care, not when Michael was fucking my mouth with slow, gentle motions of his hips. He held me in place, but his grip was light, a guide more than a restraint, both hands buried in my hair as his breath grew a little more unsteady.

  I could feel the muscles in his thighs shifting under my hands, all hard, corded power as he thrust into me. Every movement was a gentle reminder of all the restrained strength in him, all the ways he could make me do what he wanted me to do.

  He went deeper, and I gagged a little as the head of his cock hit the back of my throat. He pulled back but only slightly, his cock still filling my mouth as his hand slid down to stroke my throat. I shuddered under his touch, equal parts eager and terrified.

  “Deep breath,” he said, his voice soothing. “Relax your throat.”

  Part of me wanted to pull off and snap something at him about how hard it was to relax your throat when there’s a cock in it, but his hand was still there on my neck, stroking and massaging, and against all odds, I found myself trusting him again. Relax. Okay, that wasn’t so hard. I could do that for him.

  I took a deep breath and focused on my tight muscles as I let it out, trying to picture the tightness in them flying away with the air from my lungs. His hand was warm and firm, a stern caress, and it helped the last of my tension slip away.