Hard Line

by Sidney Bell

  “All right.” Sullivan’s fingers began to move inside him once more, and the pleasure grew in degrees, through small, almost indifferent brushes of fingertips at first, and then through more pointed, determined pressure, until Tobias was fighting not to grind his dick against the towel Sullivan had thrown across the arm of the chair.

  The effects weren’t only physical; deep inside, in a part of his mind he hadn’t been actively aware of before, he could feel a sliding sensation. Like he was shifting or opening. Submerging—that was it. Like he was sinking into himself, into a new place in his own mind. It wasn’t alien—he’d experienced it yesterday, when he’d been on his knees, far past thinking, little more than a creature of need and desperation. But that dip into thoughtlessness had been almost instantaneous, like Sullivan had shoved him into a pool and Tobias had gone over without so much as a caught breath. This was a slow immersion, Sullivan drawing him in slowly, temptingly. This was something he might be able to stop, if he wanted to.

  He didn’t want to.

  The sensation built, Sullivan’s hand sure and steady, demanding that Tobias’s body give up its secrets, that Tobias give him everything. And the command in it, the surety, was impossible to resist. Tobias spread his legs and pushed back into it and gave.

  “You’re lovely like this,” Sullivan murmured sometime later, when the last of the sunlight had vanished from the windows. “So desperate. So hungry.”

  Tobias didn’t feel lovely. He felt wrecked—covered in sweat and lube, his whole body trembling, his mouth parched. He couldn’t speak anymore, was long past thinking. All he knew was the impossible pleasure that ripped through his body until it almost reached a peak, and his own wild cries of “stop, don’t, wait.”

  Sullivan had three fingers wedged into Tobias now, giving his prostate a brief break while he tormented his rim, the burn painful in a way that only got Tobias closer, in a way that made him yearn for something larger to fill him up. Sullivan added more lube regularly, never letting him get dry enough to tear, always careful.

  Always maddening.

  Again, Tobias cried out, and this time Sullivan pulled away completely. Tobias remained still, vibrating in place, the silence in his head huge and dark until Sullivan’s voice came back: “I’m still here. I haven’t left you. I’m just getting something. Be patient.”

  Dimly Tobias knew that Sullivan was being kind, but he was long past knowing why he thought so. He only knew that the words made him feel safe, and he didn’t have to question the feeling.

  A minute later Sullivan used one hand to guide Tobias into a standing position. He held a bottle of water up to Tobias’s lips. “Drink,” he said quietly. “Not too much at once.”

  Tobias sipped until Sullivan was satisfied. “How are we doing?” Sullivan asked. “How are your back and legs holding up?”

  His mind was so starkly blank and open that it took a second for Tobias to find his legs and back, and several more seconds to assess their state of being. “Okay. Muscles are tight.”

  “No pain, though?”

  Tobias shook his head.

  “What about here?” Sullivan’s hand dropped, his fingers prodding between Tobias’s cheeks, sliding inside him without difficulty. “You seem all right. Wide open, actually. Soft and wet.”

  Tobias sucked in a breath. “I’m okay.”

  Sullivan kissed him once, small and tender, beneath the ear. Then with his other hand he pushed, slowly but irrevocably, until Tobias was once more bent over the arm of the chair. That hand stayed between his shoulder blades, just enough to let him know the weight, to let him know he couldn’t move. Enough to center him and trap him and it was exactly what’d been missing. He sighed in gratitude.

  “Good,” Sullivan breathed, dark and pleased and strained, and shoved his fingers deep, hard enough that pleasure and pain swirled within Tobias and he lost track of the world all over again.

  At some point, he became aware of more water, of Sullivan repeating his earlier questions. Tobias was sore and even copious amounts of lube couldn’t kill the near-constant burn now, and his dick had leaked so much that the towel was dark and damp beneath him, and he could barely breathe for the pleasure that racked his body, and he jerked at the rough, impossible mixture of cruelty and appreciation in Sullivan’s voice when he said, “You’re trying so hard, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

  Tobias whispered, “Will you hold me down harder?”

  Sullivan went still. “If you’ll tell me why.”

  He didn’t know how to say that he was on the verge of disobeying—all he could think about was coming. He knew he’d said he wouldn’t come without permission, but he also knew he couldn’t hold off anymore. His brain was too much of a mess to manage those words in the right order. So he went with, “Need to be good.”

  Sullivan made a small, punched-out noise, and his fingers inside Tobias were suddenly twisting in a determined, straightforward way that killed any chance of resistance.

  “No, that’s not—” Tobias started to lurch upward, half-panicked, because it was way too fast, he’d never hold out, not like this, and Sullivan forced him back down, both of them letting out harsh sounds in the process, and none of that was helpful in the not-coming thing, and Tobias cried out as Sullivan drove him straight to the cliff—

  “Come, Tobias. Come now.”

  —and over, directly over the edge.

  The orgasm bowed his back, flowing through him like jolts of electricity, and it fucking hurt, it hurt so good, and it went on for ages, for whole centuries, horrible and impossible and so overwhelming that when it was over Tobias’s legs were useless. He lay slumped over the arm of the chair, shuddering, only faintly aware of Sullivan shoving his jeans down and sliding his dick through the mess of lube between his cheeks. His cock caught on Tobias’s oversensitive rim several times, and it was downright painful, and each time Tobias jerked and each time it made Sullivan’s breathing grow faster, and it wasn’t long at all before Sullivan was coming across the small of Tobias’s back and shuddering against him.

  * * *

  Sullivan had expected it to be a fluke.

  He’d gotten caught up in the moment yesterday, that was all. Speed and impulse and high emotion—it would be hard for anyone to resist desire when it sprang at you from out of nowhere like that.

  A staged scene would be different, he’d told himself. There was always an element of performance to it, and sometimes it was hard to get past the awkwardness of that. More than that, now Tobias had an idea of what was happening; self-awareness could impact a sub’s ability to get lost in play.

  After the conversation he’d had with Lisbeth and Caty, Sullivan had planned to let this thing between him and Tobias die a quiet death. Too much potential risk, too much drama, he had too much pride to sleep with someone who was manipulating him, blah, blah, blah.

  One quiet confession of vulnerability and a heartfelt apology later, Sullivan’s pride and maturity had taken a hard-left turn. When Tobias had haltingly said that Sullivan could do whatever he wanted with him—and don’t think that hadn’t gotten him hard, fuck—Sullivan had gone along with it like a teacher who gave a pop quiz on the last day of school before summer vacation—partially because he got off on being a bastard, partially because he had to fill time somehow. He’d told himself that if it worked out, they’d both get off; if it was shit, well, once the case was over, they’d never see each other again.

  Oh, how the arrogant fell. If it worked out, they’d both get off—what the fuck kind of dumbassery was that? He’d thumbed his nose at the gods of kink, and now in punishment, he had a sub—a true, natural sub, not a partner doing him a favor or a date trying it out for fun, but someone who’d likely be unable to live without kink now that he knew what he’d been missing—sprawled helplessly in front of him, and this wholehearted abandon in the face of Sullivan’s perversion was no fluke
. This, this was magic.

  It had only been a week. As of tomorrow, they’d have known each other for exactly seven days.

  It felt like Tobias had left a deeper mark than that amount of time should allow.

  When Sullivan had caught his breath, he pushed himself upright and tried to get his head in gear. Tobias was limp beneath him, covered in come and lube and sweat, and by all rights he should be about as unattractive as it was possible for a man to be, but he was so gone on the experience that he could only be described as beautiful.

  Jesus, Tobias was beautiful.

  And he’d taken it so well. There’d been nothing but obedience, nothing but the struggle to serve. Sullivan had pushed him hard, especially for someone so inexperienced, and Tobias had never quailed. He’d asked Sullivan to hold him down because he was that determined to be good.

  Sullivan would be lying if he said that wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced.

  “You did so well,” Sullivan said, making Tobias’s lips curve upward at the corners. “You were so good for me.”

  It took some elbow grease, but eventually he got Tobias up on his feet, where he wobbled, dazed and big-eyed. He followed Sullivan upstairs and into the shower, where Sullivan shampooed his hair and scrubbed his skin clean. He shuddered when Sullivan washed between his legs, front and back, his cheeks going pink, but he made no move to do it himself or complain. When Sullivan pulled him close and whispered, “That’s right, sweetheart, let me take care of you,” Tobias tipped his head down against Sullivan’s throat and clung with both hands and sighed.

  It was late. The bedside clock said after eleven. Sullivan hadn’t expected Tobias to last as long as he had; a handful of rounds of edging, he’d thought, but because he didn’t know Tobias’s limits well, he’d intended to take it easy. He’d meant to leave plenty of time for aftercare before he dropped Tobias off at the motel.

  Instead, he’d wandered off the map and was stuck with a sub who was still altered. Tobias was fucking adorable in this headspace, following him around like a baby duck, head tipping to rest against Sullivan’s arm as Sullivan stood there thinking, and Sullivan might be a bit of a bastard when it came to tormenting his subs with pleasure, but he sure as fuck wasn’t going to leave an altered sub alone in some dingy motel to deal with the likely endorphin drop on his own. And considering how hard they’d gone and how new to this Tobias was, drop was pretty fucking likely.

  Sullivan sighed and got them tucked up together under the covers, naked and sleepy, Tobias’s face hot against his arm, before looking over the nearest stack of books by the bed. “All right, what’ve we got? The Things They Carried? Hard no on that, I think. Want to learn how to build industrial fans?”

  Tobias didn’t say anything, but a slight wrinkle of his nose told the tale there.

  “Yeah, me neither. How about The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe? Yeah?”

  Tobias nodded and for the next hour, Sullivan read aloud about fauns and Turkish Delight, and rubbed his palm against the nape of Tobias’s neck until he drifted off.

  Sullivan looked up at his ceiling, and if there’d ever been a white flat surface capable of judging a human being, he’d found it.

  “I think I might be fucked,” he told it, and turned out the light. He fell asleep with Tobias’s soft breaths in his ear and the reliable thud of his heartbeat under his palm.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tobias woke up with that itch beneath his skin again.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t feel good. He felt great, actually. His body was loose and warm and he’d gotten his first deep, complete sleep in what might have been months. Since before the letter came, certainly. The room was downright cold while he was cozy under the covers with—with someone else’s arm wrapped around his belly.

  The night before came back to him. He’d slept with Sullivan again. Jesus, he’d done more than that. He’d let Sullivan turn him into a wordless animal. Sullivan had torn him into little pieces, wrung him out, and then put him back together so completely that the only thing Tobias could say about the whole experience was thank you and again.

  That was the problem, actually. That little again. That itch beneath his skin was all about the again.

  His ass was sort of sore, though. He shifted gingerly and, yeah, that was going to be distracting.

  Sullivan hummed sleepily behind him, a long line of bone and muscle against his back, and Tobias went still. He was wonderfully comfortable and he didn’t want to face the morning-after yet. He’d never before woken up with someone he wasn’t in a relationship with, and he’d assumed that casual meant there wouldn’t be any sleeping over. He had no idea about the protocol for this sort of thing.

  Sullivan hummed again and shifted closer, his arm curving up so that his hand rubbed against the light chest hair over Tobias’s sternum. His lips came to rest against the nape of Tobias’s neck, and this was—this was definitely not casual, because this was cuddling.

  He really liked it. He liked Sullivan against him, the lazy, happy sound Sullivan made as he nosed at Tobias’s neck, and the—oh.

  Sullivan’s morning wood was pressing against Tobias’s backside.

  Not cuddling. Sex.

  Which—okay. It was fine. And as Sullivan’s hand trailed lower on his torso to play with the hair right above Tobias’s dick, he could acknowledge that his own morning wood wasn’t opposed to the idea. He certainly wasn’t going to complain.

  He pressed backward and had the pleasure of hearing Sullivan’s breath catch.

  “Hey. You good?” Sullivan murmured, the rumble of his voice broken with sleep, and Tobias melted at the sound of it, so intimate and rough.

  “Hi. I mean, yeah.” Tobias took a deep breath and started to turn over, but Sullivan’s hand closed on his hip.

  “Stay like that.” As soon as Tobias complied, Sullivan’s touch gentled. He stroked Tobias’s side and belly for a while. “How’s your puzzler?”

  “My what?”

  “Your head. Freaking out? Anxiety? Pleased as punch?”

  “Green,” Tobias whispered.

  “Anything you’d take back if you could? Anything that didn’t work for you?”

  Tobias shook his head, perhaps with too much emphasis, because Sullivan laughed. “All right. Up for another round?”

  Tobias hesitated. On the one hand, yes, he was up for anything and everything, and the more Sullivan touched him, the more his libido was waking up and insisting that going along with any of Sullivan’s ideas was an excellent plan for the day. On the other hand, the more he shifted around, the clearer his soreness became, and the idea of something going inside him right now was intimidating.

  “Say it.” Sullivan didn’t sound mad, only curious. “I always want you to tell me things like this.”

  “I want to do it again, but I’m kind of sore.”

  “Your ass? Or other places too?”

  His back ached a tiny bit from holding that position over the chair arm for so long, but that was more the kind of ache that would go away with activity. “Just there.”

  “That’s workable.” Sullivan’s lips landed on his nape again, kissing hot and damp across the skin, and Tobias shivered. This went on for long, lovely seconds while Tobias’s bones turned into molten lava and his spine bowed, helplessly begging for more.

  “God, you’re sweet. Don’t move.” Sullivan shifted away, throwing the covers down around their lower legs and letting cool air into the bed between them, but he was back a second later, the sound of the lube cap snapping open and then closed, and Tobias was about to protest, to say but I said I was sore, when he thought Sullivan knows.

  And maybe it was backward, but that thought hit him in the belly like a Molotov cocktail. If Sullivan knew Tobias was sore, that meant Sullivan didn’t care. Or, more likely he cared, but he’d decided that the
pain was immaterial. That Tobias was here to serve him and this minor soreness wouldn’t be allowed to get in the way of that. And Tobias shuddered at the idea of his body being so intensely meant for Sullivan’s pleasure that even being sore wouldn’t stop them. He abruptly wished he was in more pain, because then it would take more out of him, it would cost more, and he would feel every agonizing movement, and each second could be a gift that he would give to his—

  He didn’t have a word for the end of that sentence.

  He didn’t have time to consider how he felt about that glaring absence, either, because he was jumping, startled. Sullivan was smearing wet lube not between his cheeks, like Tobias had expected, but lower, between his thighs.

  Tobias tried to muffle his disappointment, but it came out anyway, in the shape of a small unhappy noise.

  “Uh-oh,” Sullivan said, still working his fingers there slickly. “What’s up? Talk to me.”

  “I—it’s nothing.”

  Sullivan’s hand stopped. “Tobias, the way this works is that you do as you’re told. Which means that I get an answer when I ask a question. You have a bit of a history of not saying things because you don’t want to upset people, yeah?”

  Tobias had to admit that Sullivan had made the correct inference, embarrassing as it was. “Yes, I do.”

  “Not with me, okay? I try to pick up on cues, but I’m not a mind reader. I have to be able to trust what you tell me. That’s—that’s sacred to this game we’re playing, okay? I might not always give you what you’re asking for, depending on what it is, but I have to know. You can tell me what you feel.”

  Suddenly Tobias was stupidly, humiliatingly on the verge of tears.

  “I want that,” Sullivan continued, twisting the knife, opening Tobias up in a place that had nothing to do with sex. “Really. Tell me stuff. I’ll never punish you for being honest with me. Okay?”

  Tobias stared straight ahead at the wall, afraid of what his voice might do if he opened his mouth.

  “Hey.” Sullivan propped himself up on one elbow and nudged Tobias to lie a bit more on his back so they could see each other’s faces. He lifted his hand, then scowled at it for being wet with lube, before making a noise of mild frustration and pressing his lips to Tobias’s cheek. That was how Tobias realized a few tears had slipped loose after all. Sullivan couldn’t brush them away, so he was kissing them away, and Tobias snuggled backward, closer. Sullivan wrapped his arm around him again, careful to keep his lubed fingers off the sheets, and it was awkward and a little funny and Tobias liked all of it so very much.