He nervously licks his lips and nods. My good boy is even good like that. Most might reflexively say, “Yes, Sir,” in response to my order, but Jordan knows what I want from him.
Total obedience.
He always gives it, too. Perfectly.
I turn and position Elliot’s walker before I start unbuttoning his shirt. “Master,” he whispers. “I—”
“Shh.” I kiss him as I finish unbuttoning his shirt and remove it. Then his undershirt, leaving him in his underwear.
I hold out my hands, wiggling my fingers at him.
Elliot takes my hands and I help him stand before putting his walker in front of him. The music starts playing as I lead Elliot into the bathroom, where he takes his contacts out and takes care of business. I’m still fully dressed, for now.
When we emerge from the bathroom, Jordan is exactly where and how I want him, waiting for my next command. I’m watching Elliot’s face when he spies Jordan kneeling there. My boy’s cock is semi-erect, and he looks fucking gorgeous. I spot the bracelet on Jordan’s right wrist and smile. I wondered if I’d have to spank him for taking it off, but he didn’t.
Again, he’s my very good boy.
Glancing down, I see Elliot’s boxers start to fill in.
Excellent. I was hoping for a positive reaction. No, I’m not going to force them together tonight. But I need to desensitize Elliot to Jordan’s presence. I need Elliot comfortable with Jordan, especially at his most vulnerable of times. He needs to learn he can count on Jordan every bit as much as he can count on me.
Once Elliot’s next to the bed, I strip his briefs from him and wrap my fingers around his increasingly stiff cock. “You were so good today, pet. I bet you’d like a reward, wouldn’t you?”
I note the way his gaze flicks over to Jordan before returning to me. “Yes, Master,” he whispers.
“You don’t have to worry about Jordan hearing you, pet.” I squeeze his cock and it finishes hardening in my hand. It’s been weeks since my pet’s had what he really needs. “He’s going to hear you make some interesting noises in a few minutes.” I release his cock and reach out, planting my hand squarely in the middle of his chest and shoving, hard.
Elliot doesn’t have time to react and he hits the bed. I pounce on top of him, forcibly pinning his arms over his head as he struggles and a wild look fills his blue eyes.
It’s game on. My pet desperately needs this, even more than I realized.
I lean in and bite his left pec, his guttural, needy moan nearly a growl. “That’s it, pet. It’s time for a takedown, isn’t it?” Instead of replying he struggles, trying to throw me off him, but I keep my center of gravity low. With his knees hanging over the edge of the bed, he doesn’t have enough leverage to shove me off him.
Between us, his cock is hard and dripping, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to end up with cum all over my tux.
Slight miscalculation, considering I have to wear this tux back to Blair House.
I shift both his wrists into my right hand and cup the front of his throat with my left. “I need to strip, pet. Time out.” He’s already breathing heavily but he finally nods.
I climb off him while he sits up, then gets on his knees in the middle of the bed, warily watching me.
I smile at Jordan. My boy’s wearing a wide-eyed look somewhere between lust and fear, or maybe a heady mix of both, because his cock’s completely hard. “This is nothing, boy. Enjoy the show.”
Once I’m naked, I crack my neck and stand at the side of the bed, watching Elliot for a moment. He’s already tensed, waiting. He knows he’s not going to win. He doesn’t want to win, either.
He wants me to overpower him. He wants me to remind him I’m strong enough to take him down.
I launch myself at him and lose track of time as I pin him several times, spanking and punching and pinching, biting and scratching, until he finally breaks.
“Master,” he gasps as I wrench his right arm up behind him.
I immediately release the hold and kiss him. I can finally glance at Jordan, too, and see the shock on his face. But he’s still hard.
Flipping Elliot onto his back, I find my pet’s hard, too. Tonight, however, I have something else in mind.
I grab the lube and a condom and make quick work of sheathing his cock and slicking him, and my ass. Then I climb aboard my pet and as I kiss him, I take my time working his cock deep inside me. He still holds his hands over his head for me to pin them down. I think he’s mostly forgotten Jordan’s presence.
“Love you, pet,”
“Love you, too, Master.”
My cock’s hard and aching now as I settle all the way onto Elliot’s erection. Then I nuzzle his nose. “Has the boy earned a special reward, pet?”
Elliot knows damn well what I mean. I’ve asked him a slightly different version of this same question many times during our years together.
He also knows what the reward is.
Elliot’s eyes widen. “Master?”
“Yes, or no on the reward? I’m fine letting him sit there. Your call, pet.” I flex my ass around his cock.
Yeah, that’s playing dirty, I admit it. Hey, it’s positive reinforcement.
He gasps. “Yes, Master.”
I kiss him and grind myself against him, slowly riding him for several thrusts before settling in place. Without looking at Jordan, I snap my fingers and point at the bed next to us.
Silently, Jordan rises from his spot and climbs onto the bed exactly where I pointed.
Sitting up enough to give Jordan room, I fist his hair and shove his head down to my cock. But my gaze remains fixed on Elliot’s as I slowly start riding him again.
Fuuuuck. Jordan softly moans around my cock as I control his motions. I don’t want Elliot or myself to pop too soon, but this feels like goddamned heaven.
“Good boy,” I say, smiling down at Elliot. “If my pet ever wants to use you like this, boy, you’re under orders to let him. Pet, you always have permission to use the boy, if you want. Even if I have you on orgasm restrictions, unless I’ve specifically told you that he’s off-limits. If you’re horny, use the boy at your leisure. Whether you let the boy come is up to you.”
Again, that’s playing dirty, but I’m not above using some positive reinforcement.
They both moan at that order and I feel Elliot’s cock twitching inside me. That mental image nearly sent Elliot over the edge, I’m certain.
Good. It’s not in doubt that they’re physically attracted to each other. I want them wanting each other. They’re both eager to please, and I suspect if Elliot overcomes his self-consciousness that he’d be fucking Jordan half to death once he gets a feel of the boy’s mouth.
We maintain that delicate balance for several minutes until I crest too close to the edge and can’t hold back any longer. I pick up the pace and make Jordan swallow me all the way to the root as I spill. That triggers Elliot’s orgasm. Even after I go soft, I keep Jordan on me, holding me in his mouth.
I lean in and kiss Elliot. “Can I take care of the boy, pet?”
Again, I know that’s mean, taking advantage of Elliot when he’s happily come-drunk, but at least I admit I’m a very bad man.
“Yes, Master.”
I sit up and, without dislodging Elliot’s softening cock from me, I lean over and grab Jordan’s erection. I quickly jerk him off and then make him lick my hand clean. “Good boy,” I tell him, massaging his scalp. “Very good boy. Back to your spot and wait for me. Hands at your side.”
He climbs off the bed, a little shaky now from the force of his orgasm.
I lean forward and kiss Elliot again. “Love you so much, pet,” I whisper.
“Love you, too, Master.”
“Let’s go clean up.” I reluctantly move so I can help him into the bathroom. Five minutes later, I have him back in bed. It’s nearly three in the morning, and if I climb into bed with him, I’m going to fall asleep.
I sit on the edge of the bed a
nd spend a moment kissing him. He’s nearly asleep. “Thank you for tonight, pet. I love you so much. I’m so proud of you, and proud that you’re mine.”
He gives me a sleepy smile. “Love you, too, Master.” I start to stand when Elliot speaks again. “Thank you, boy. I appreciate all your hard work.”
I blink back a prickle of tears as I motion for Jordan to stand and join me, and nod that he can respond.
“You’re welcome, sir,” he says. “I’m glad you like it.”
I press one final kiss to Elliot’s forehead. “Go to sleep, pet. You’ve got an early morning. Text me when you can. I’ll see you when you come to the White House. Staff will be here by five a.m. to get breakfast ready for you and your family. I set the alarm on your phone for you.”
“Thank you, Master.” His eyes fall close. He’s already softly snoring by the time we make it to the end of the bed to start finding our clothes.
Hopefully he’ll sleep well and not be troubled by nightmares.
We dress in silence and I retrieve my phone and shut off the music. When we leave, I pull the bedroom door shut behind us.
It’s rare that Elliot will have household staff present in the mornings when he wakes up. He’ll prefer to be alone and has already issued orders to normally have them wait until he’s left for the day, or at least not come in until after he’s up and dressed for the day. Unless he’s hosting an event, like tomorrow morning’s breakfast, he won’t have full-time staff present.
That’s practically unheard of but, then again, it’s been a long time since there’s been a bachelor VPOTUS.
I wait to speak until we’re downstairs. “Are you all right?”
Jordan nods.
I pull him in for a hug. “He needs different things than you do, boy.”
“I thought you were going to hurt each other.”
“That’s kind of the point. He likes to be hurt.”
“I mean in bad ways.”
I chuckle. “That was nothing. You should see some of the play we do when we’re not both exhausted.”
I give him a moment, because it feels like he’s not ready to move yet.
“Did you mean it when you told him he could use me?”
“Mmm-hmm. Is that a problem?” I hope it’s not, because it’s been one of Jordan’s hottest fantasies. Of course I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t know Jordan wanted it.
I might be a sadist and a bad man, but I’m not a fucking monster.
“No, Sir.” He wears a playful smile. “That’s not a problem at all.”
“Don’t be disappointed if it takes him a while to take you up on that. Don’t try to rush or push him.”
“I won’t.”
“Even if it’s a long time, he won’t forget that I made the rule. I wanted him to know the door’s open. Now we wait for him to walk through it.”
Then again, considering Elliot’s track record in that department, we might be waiting a long damn time.
We return to Blair House and now I’m beyond exhausted. We strip and fall into bed, Jordan draped over me and. My fingers close around his right wrist, around the bracelet there.
My day collar.
My boy.
Mine.
Maybe now Elliot will ask me for more. Maybe he’ll get to know Jordan better.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
The psychologist warns me not to get my hopes up, but it’s difficult not to.
At least we’ve finally hit a plateau that’s solid and sustainable for me for as long as it takes. That’s more than I thought I’d ever have even a few months ago.
Chapter Forty-Two
Then — One Year Later
I was raised in Laguna Beach, California, by extremely liberal parents who were dismayed I decided to go into law enforcement instead of following in my father and grandfather’s footsteps to join their brokerage firm.
I had no interest in that.
Like many boys, I fell in love with what I thought was a cool-ass job after I saw a movie about a brave Secret Service agent saving the world. That was my Holy Grail—working at the White House and protecting the president. Back then, I would have settled for a slightly less cool job as an FBI field agent, maybe a criminal profiler catching serial killers or something.
I always had a way with languages and was a polyglot by middle school. In college, I majored in psychology, because I knew it’d be an advantage when I applied to the Secret Service, all while buffing my résumé in the area of languages. A massive love of anime and manga led me to learning Japanese on my own, plus I minored in Russian in college.
All of that gave me a leg up over my competition after I passed the physical tests when I applied to the Secret Service. I think my parents still hoped I’d change my mind and stay in California, go to work for Dad, take over the firm. Or, at the very least, go back to college for my doctorate in psychology and then go into practice for myself. Something…safe and dull.
I had no interest in that.
I thrived in the Secret Service, reveled in every ounce of pain during training, relished every achievement. Once I was sworn in as a field agent, I immediately set my sights on advancing through the ranks and got myself stationed in DC.
That’s where I met Special Agent Christopher Bruunt.
AKA Priest.
That was long before he was known as Priest, of course. Back then, Chris was my boss and soon became my friend. I deduced from discussions we had on long overseas flights during advance team work that we shared some…special interests. Just a few hints I picked up at first, until one evening I made a joke that he laughed at—a subtle double-entendre that only another Dominant would think was funny.
I didn’t delude myself thinking it meant I suddenly had an in with Chris. If anything, he now expected more from me, drove me to work harder.
Damn right I loved it. Because I absorbed a career’s worth of knowledge under his tutelage. He was the one to tell me I’d made it into PPD, and then, later, onto The Shift.
Following the plane crash that nearly killed me, my rat bastard of a father “joked” minutes upon my parents’ arrival at the hospital that maybe it was a sign I shouldn’t have been working for the government. Mostly because the advance trip was for then-candidate Fullmer, before the Republican was elected president.
I get it, I wasn’t happy about it, either. Here’s the thing—when you take the oath to become a Secret Service agent, it’s not a partisan oath. You have to be willing to take a bullet for whoever your protectee is, even if you hate their guts and disagree with everything they stand for politically.
Mom scolded Dad for his “joke” but it left a silent rift between us. One of the main reasons I decided to return to DC and go to work for a private security company instead of remaining in California was Dad’s little “joke.”
Men died, and here my supposedly bleeding-heart liberal father was turning it into a partisan issue, all because he wasn’t fond of my career, or the man I happened to be working on behalf of at that time.
I’ve avoided extended trips to California since. There have been times where I’ve lied and said I was overseas on an assignment and couldn’t leave, getting me out of family holidays.
I love my family but, once I had Elliot in my life, that was too much emotional stress on me to put myself through their “loving advice” for days on end. Lying about my job or whereabouts is one thing.
Lying—worse, denying the love of my life?
That’s a line I can’t bring myself to cross. Not with them.
Ironically, my parents never had a problem with me being gay. Yet I’m not sure how they’re going to react to me bringing Jordan home to meet them this Christmas.
Mostly because I haven’t brought someone home to meet them since I left after college.
Don’t know how they’ll react to our age difference. That Jordan’s from the political world might not go over so well with them, either, but who knows?
If I could, I’d bring
Elliot home, too. Introduce both of them as being mine. Though I’m relatively certain that’s something that will never happen. Once I introduce Jordan to them, explaining Elliot’s role in my life as anything other than my best friend will get…sticky.
I mean, sure, if Elliot de-asses his head, I’ll nut up and lay it out to my parents that we’re poly.
Until then…
It’s not something I’m going to worry about.
Elliot stayed in DC for the holiday, but his parents are flying in tonight and staying with him in the spare bedroom.
Yes, that’s pissed off his sister, but she’s been put up at Blair House.
Also, a “guest” she wanted to bring with her was denied access by Secret Service.
Meaning Elliot told me he didn’t want to meet the guy, I talked to Kev, who then talked to Secret Service so Elliot didn’t have to look like the bad guy to his family.
The guy she wanted to bring is a big-time dark-money contributor to several conservative religious PACs.
Fuck, no, she can’t bring him home to meet her brother as a freebie. Let him pay money for a rubber chicken dinner at a DNC-sponsored event like everyone else trying to snag a moment of Elliot’s time.
Today, it’s bitterly cold in DC, barely warm enough the rain shouldn’t turn to sleet or ice, but we’re getting out just in time. A front is supposed to move through tomorrow and possibly shut down the airports.
It’s 72 and sunny in Laguna Beach.
I spent last night with Elliot. He hasn’t yet taken advantage of the standing invite to use Jordan, although we have had three more nights since the inauguration where Jordan participated from the sidelines.
I won’t rush things.
Elliot also hasn’t used Jordan as his body man on any overnight trips, although he does use him several times a month for local events, and twice now has taken Jordan with him on day-trip events requiring flying out on Air Force Two.
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 41
