by K. L. Hiers
Tom let himself be led down to the garage door, his stomach twisting up with excitement. He had no idea what Cypress was up to, but there was no way it could be more of a surprise than him showing up at the funeral home like this.
Oh, Tom was wrong.
It was a much bigger surprise.
There was a small folding table and two chairs set up inside the garage with a small vase of flowers and two lit candles. A large bag of takeout was resting on the floor, and Tom could see a bottle of wine waiting to be opened.
Tom was totally speechless, staring in awe at the spectacular vision before him. His heart was galloping all over the place, and he squeezed Cypress’s hand, trying to communicate how touched he was since he still couldn’t get a word out.
“Do you like it?” Cypress asked, winding his thick arms around Tom’s waist.
“I love it,” Tom gushed, finally finding his voice again. He laughed, giddy and happy, exclaiming, “This is the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“That’s a damn shame,” Cypress said, leaning down for a deep kiss. His hands pressed into the small of Tom’s back, holding him close as the kiss heated up.
Tom ran his fingers through the sides of Cypress’s beard and into his hair, forgetting about dinner. Making out in the funeral home must have created some sort of Pavlovian response because now all Tom could think about was getting on his knees.
“Mmm, dinner first,” Cypress murmured, finally pulling away and running his tongue over his lips. “Dessert later.”
“You really did all of this for me?” Tom was still having trouble wrapping his head around it.
“Mmhm. I wanted to pick you up at seven because I had reservations at York’s for seven-thirty.” Cypress gestured to one of the chairs, pulling it out for Tom to sit.
“York’s?” Tom scoffed, sitting down and scooting in with Cypress’s assistance. “That place has like a six-month waiting list.”
“I know,” Cypress said with a wink, “but I did the flowers when the York’s got married a few years ago, and they are very grateful customers. I really wanted to wow you for our first date.”
“Mission accomplished. But wait, what about the reservations?” Tom frowned. “Were the York’s upset that you canceled like this?”
“What? Oh, no. They were fine. Wished me good luck with tonight, as a matter of fact.” Cypress sat down across from him, digging into the takeout bag. “I had to guess on what to order you. Filet mignon okay?”
“Wow, yeah, it’s perfect.” Tom paused. “What were you going to do if the door wasn’t propped open?”
“I would have waited for you to check your phone,” Cypress replied. “Only one of us is an aspiring criminal, you know.”
“Oh, ha ha.” Tom fished his phone out of his pocket, confirming he did have a text message from Cypress asking him to meet him out in the garage with a smiley face.
“This kinda thing happen often?” Cypress passed a plastic takeout container to Tom. “Having to work late at the last minute?”
“More than I’d like,” Tom admitted, ready to drool when he opened it. Inside was a perfectly cooked filet, roasted asparagus, and mashed potatoes. “Holy shit, this looks amazing.”
“Eat up while it’s still warm,” Cypress urged, grabbing a container for himself. “Meat should be tender enough to cut, even with crappy plastic silverware.”
“Thank you. Seriously. This is awesome.”
“Get used to it.” Cypress opened the wine, pouring them both a plastic cup full. “I enjoy spoiling my partners.”
“Partner?” Tom quirked a brow as he took his cup, sipping slowly.
“Partner, lover, boyfriend.” Cypress shrugged. “Whatever you’d prefer. I don’t really mind.”
“Is it safe to say we’re dating, then?”
“It’s safe to say I’m considering it.” Cypress smirked. “I don’t have any interest in seeing anyone else except you, Tom. That is one thing I need to be up front about. For me, it’s monogamy or nothing.”
“Me, too. I was never really good with sharing. I know it totally works for some people, but not me.” Tom popped the silverware out of the little packet, quickly starting to saw into his filet.
“Easy now,” Cypress laughed. “Do you cut dead people like that? Hang on.”
“What?” Tom blinked as Cypress got up, coming around and plucking the knife and fork out of his hands.
Cypress began to cut the filet into small, orderly pieces.
Tom didn’t know why but having Cypress cutting his meat for him was making him blush. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Cypress said, brushing his fingers over Tom’s shoulder before sitting back down. “Now, we need to talk about sex.”
Tom almost choked. “Right now?”
“If you want to wait, we can.”
“Please. Sorry. I don’t want someone to come in and hear me talking about weird sex stuff.”
“Completely understand.” Cypress took a drink of his wine. “Probably better to discuss it at your place.”
“My place?”
“Where else are we gonna have our dessert?” Cypress winked. “Unless you’d like to have it right here.”
“No, no, my place is good. So good.” Tom fidgeted, hating how the thrill of messing around in the garage tempted him. “And, uh, how far are we planning to go exactly?”
“That all depends on you,” Cypress replied with a lazy roll of his shoulders, leaning over the table. “How far are you willing to go to make sure I keep your little secret? What would you be willing to do?”
Tom shuddered, savoring the answer before he breathed it out loud, “Anything.”
“Mmm, well.” Cypress smiled wickedly. “I suppose we’ll soon find out, won’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, sir.”
By some miracle, Mister Doodles hadn’t made a mess anywhere, and Tom raced outside to walk her. He promised her a thousand doggy treats for being such a good dog, grateful she had spared him the embarrassment of cleaning up poop in front of his hot date.
Cypress was waiting patiently inside the living room, lounging comfortably on the couch.
They’d both driven their separate cars over to Tom’s house after finishing the delicious dinner. Tom didn’t see any sign of his fellow employees, and he was glad because it would be a little weird trying to explain why he was having an impromptu date in the middle of their garage.
He’d helped Cypress clean up and pack away the chairs and table—which, as it turned out, belonged to the funeral home. They were used to set up for visitations, particularly ones that had catering. Cypress had found them in the back of the garage and borrowed them to set up for the date.
Tom’s fingers were shaking by the time he came back in with Mister Doodles, fumbling to get her leash unhooked. He fed her the offensive kibble and called out to Cypress, “Would you like something to drink?”
“Wine if you have it.”
Searching his kitchen turned up a bottle of muscadine wine and a few beers in the fridge. He made a mental note to go grocery shopping so he’d actually have something good to offer guests. He poured them each a glass of wine and sat down beside Cypress on the couch.
Having ignored her kibble, Mister Doodles had taken up residence in Cypress’s lap.
Cypress was petting her, accepting the wine with a smile. “Mmm, thank you.” He smirked down at the dog. “So, this is the dreaded man-eater?”
“That’s her,” Tom laughed.
“Very fearsome.”
“Right? Heh.” Tom anxiously cleared his throat. “So, what exactly do we need to talk about for sex?”
“Jumping right in, aren’t we?” Cypress chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tom’s cheek. “I love your enthusiasm.”
“Well, you said we had to talk about it.” Tom sipped his wine, aiming for confident. “This is me wanting to talk about it.”
“Fir
st and foremost, when was the last time you were tested?” Cypress asked.
“After I broke up with my ex-boyfriend a few months ago,” Tom replied easily. This kind of sex talk he could handle. “You?”
“Last month, totally clean, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Now, I have condoms, but I’m leaving it up to you if we use them or not. Everybody’s got their preferences, so—”
“I’m good without,” Tom mumbled, slurping his wine noisily. “I’m so good.”
“Fine by me.” Cypress smiled. “Now, time for the fun stuff.”
“Fun stuff?” Tom’s confidence began to drain. It was one thing to discuss protection and STI’s, but now they were headed into uncharted territory.
“You’ve never been in any kind of dominant and submissive relationship before,” Cypress began, “but you are absolutely dying to be my submissive.”
“Yes?” Tom cringed.
“Oh, that was a statement, not a question.” Cypress stopped petting Mister Doodles and reached for Tom’s hand. “It’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a sub.”
“I’m not… weird?”
“The only thing ‘weird’ about any of this is thinking there is something inherently deviant about enjoying sex,” Cypress said. “Sex is fun, makes you feel good, and there’s tons of ways to express yourself. One of those ways just happens to be submitting yourself to another person.”
“So, like with whips and chains?”
“Baby steps,” Cypress teased. “We’ll get there eventually if you’d like, but that’s why we need certain rules in place for safety.”
“Like the two tap thing?”
“Exactly. Non-verbal commands are essential for when you can’t speak.”
“I’m not gonna be blowing you that much,” Tom scoffed.
“There’s also gags and other toys to consider,” Cypress pointed out. “Depending on how far you want to go, there are a variety of situations where you wouldn’t be able to speak.”
“And how far are we going?” Tom asked, his pulse picking up. He hadn’t had enough wine yet to be this lightheaded, and he could only blame the feeling on present company.
“Tonight,” Cypress began thoughtfully, “I’m going to spank you. I’m going to take you right to the edge again and again, but I won’t let you come. You’re going to wait until I tell you to.
“You’ll get yourself ready for me. I want to watch you touch yourself, stretching open your hole for my cock. Then I’ll fuck you. Hard as I can. If you’ve been a good boy, I’ll let you come after I do.”
Tom had brought his glass up to his lips but hadn’t been able to take a single drink, hypnotized by Cypress’s filthy mouth.
“How does that sound?” Cypress asked coyly, tipping his glass back and polishing it off.
“Good.” Tom could feel his cock already starting to chub inside his scrubs, and his skin felt prickly. “Really good.”
“We need to choose a safe word,” Cypress said. “It needs to be something you would never say during sex, something unique.”
“Calvarium clamp.”
“Is that…?” Cypress laughed. “Is that something for embalming?”
“Yes.” Tom grinned. “It’s for reattaching the skull cap, the calvarium, after someone’s been autopsied.”
“That is fascinating,” Cypress said earnestly, “and definitely a conversation we will be having later.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for getting excited about something you love,” Cypress warned, holding Tom’s chin firmly. “Your passion is one of my favorite things about you.”
“O-okay,” Tom said with a shaky smile.
“Now, go take a shower, and I’ll be waiting right here for you.”
“I smell like formaldehyde, don’t I?”
“Let’s just say I like your new cologne better,” Cypress said with a chuckle. “Go on.”
Tom chugged his wine and was ready to bolt to the shower, but Cypress caught his arm when he stood up. “What?”
Cypress gently pulled, catching Tom in a sweet kiss. It was slow, warm, and Cypress slid his tongue over to mingle with Tom’s. Tom almost fell, his head reeling from the intensity. He’d never felt so much from a kiss, and he was nearly panting when Cypress finally broke away.
“Go,” Cypress murmured, chuckling softly, “before I try to fuck you right here.”
Tom turned to leave, yelping when Cypress swung out to pop his ass. “Hey!”
Mister Doodles suddenly growled, yipping ferociously at Cypress.
“Whoa, easy, girl.” Cypress held his hands up while she continued to snarl at him. “Just playing around. Promise.”
“Aww, thank you, Mister Doodles,” Tom cooed, reaching back over to ruffle the top of her head. “Look at you, protecting your Daddy from the mean, mean man.”
“The mean, mean man who’s gonna be tearin’ up that ass in a minute!” Cypress called out as Tom retreated to the bathroom.
Tom had never showered so fast in his life, leaving his scrubs on the floor in a heap and bathing in an excited rush. His cock was already half-hard, his blood racing from what was about to happen.
All the stress from the day was melting away, lost down the drain with the suds from his shampoo. He took a deep breath, willed his cock to behave, and stepped out to dry off.
For the next few hours, he wouldn’t have to worry about a thing. All he would have to do was let Cypress take control, and he could be a good boy.
It was so simple.
No Junior harassing him, no angry screaming in his head, no blood, no death…
Only him and Cypress.
He stepped slowly back into the living room, his hair still damp, and his nerves on edge. He didn’t worry about the curve of his belly or how thick his thighs were, focused only on Cypress.
Cypress—having put Mister Doodles on the floor, the dog now fast asleep—leaned forward on the couch and looked over Tom hungrily. “Wow.”
Blushing, Tom began to step closer, saying, “I didn’t think to put anything on. You know, considering what, uh, what we’re going to do.”
“You’re perfect,” Cypress said, sitting back and patting his thigh. “Come here.”
Knees turning to jelly, Tom eagerly surged forward and climbed into Cypress’s lap. He ran his hands up his broad chest, trying to ignore how hard he was already, pressing close as he leaned in for a kiss.
Cypress held him as they kissed, palming his ass and squeezing lightly. He brushed their noses together, asking quietly, “Safe word?”
“Calvarium clamp,” Tom replied dutifully.
“Good boy. Are you ready to begin?”
“Yes, please,” Tom said urgently. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a sudden chasm opening up inside of him, and he was quickly overwhelmed with need. “I want you. I want you to make it all go away. Please.” Tom didn’t even know what he was saying. It just kept tumbling out. “I need it to hurt. I need to feel it. I need to make it stop. I want it all to stop.”
“Hey, hey,” Cypress soothed, his hands gliding up Tom’s back. “Easy… Tom? Look at me.”
Tom hadn’t even realized his eyes were filling with tears until he met Cypress’s gaze. He had to blink them away to see clearly. He felt completely undone, and they hadn’t even started. He was ashamed, and yet he only found a deep understanding when he looked in Cypress’s eyes.
“You’ve been carrying too much for far too long,” Cypress said quietly. “I thought about not punishing you, but maybe I should.”
“For what?”
“For not taking care of yourself,” Cypress said. “From now on, I want you to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. Not just what you did at work today, but how it made you feel.”
“I don’t… I don’t know how,” Tom whispered.
“You’ll learn,” Cypress promised, offering a cheeky little smile. “It seems I have more to teach you than I thought.”
Tom managed to smile back, sagging against Cypress’s chest as they kissed again. The uneasy feeling was slipping away, sucked into Cypress’s hot mouth and the smooth touch of his hands moving all over his body.
The first crack of Cypress’s hand on his ass startled him, making his hips jerk forward.
“You can’t keep all of these feelings inside,” Cypress said sternly. “It’ll eat you up. I can’t begin to understand the terrible things you see, but you have to find a way to cope other than burying it all.”
Tom nodded, his hands digging into Cypress’s sweater. This new demand warred against everything Tom had ever been taught, but he wanted it so badly. He wanted to let it all out—all the pain, the anxiety, the suffering, everything he’d been bottling up for the last ten years.
Cypress spanked him again, harder, hard enough to make Tom cry out.
The pain was fleeting, leaving a lovely zing in its wake that made Tom arch his back. “I’ll learn. I promise. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good.”
“I know you will be,” Cypress said, rubbing his palm over the cheek he’d just struck. “I’m going to help you, Tom.”
“Yes, please.” Tom moaned when Cypress struck him again, rocking back and forth as he tried to escape the burning sensation. He could feel adrenaline coursing all through his body and making his cock ache.
In every strike of Cypress’s hand, there was white-hot pleasure burning within the quick slap of pain. All of Tom’s nerves were raw and exposed, and Cypress’s strong hand delivered blow after blow of intense sensation.
He deserved this, yes. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, not in years. He knew he was going to snap if he didn’t. He had to be better, he had to be good. He had to be a good boy.
Tom was lost to it all, melting and being shaped anew with every strike. He felt a tear fall, and he couldn’t even say why. It all felt so good, and he didn’t want it to end.
The next spanking made a delightful popping sound, like a firecracker going off, and it was loud enough to stir Mister Doodles from where she was sleeping on the floor.
When she growled, Cypress chuckled. “Mm, maybe we should adjourn to the bedroom?”
