Testing Lysander

by L. M. Somerton

  Kyle’s deep tones sent a little shiver of desire down Brock’s spine. He rolled onto his side and drank in the sight of the man sharing his bed. The sheet reached only to Kyle’s waist. Bare-chested, he lay propped on his pillows, with one arm behind his head. The other stretched across Brock’s pillow. Kyle played with Brock’s hair, pulling it gently.

  “Have you been awake long? What time is it?” Brock glanced around the room. He could hear a clock ticking but couldn’t see it anywhere.

  “It’s just after eleven in the morning, local time, and I woke up about half an hour ago. I got to the shower and back without you even noticing, sleepyhead.”

  “It’s the bed’s fault… It’s too comfortable.”

  Kyle chuckled. “I’ll bring you back here one day for a proper holiday. I’ve always wanted to explore the Art Deco District.”

  “Sounds lovely.” Brock’s stomach rumbled. “Something tells me I need to eat.”

  “Why don’t you go and freshen up and I’ll order some room service.”

  “Okay.” Brock’s disappointment at not sharing a shower with Kyle was offset by the thought of an imminent food delivery.

  By the time he’d showered, shaved and brushed his teeth, Brock felt one hundred percent better and a hell of a lot more alert. He remembered little of arriving at the hotel the previous night and now he got the chance to see just how luxurious the place was. The bathroom was all marble and polished chrome, the towels thick and fluffy. He ignored the robe hanging on a hook and settled for one of the towels slung around his hips. He was just about to go back to the bedroom when there was a light tap at the door. He stayed in the bathroom while Kyle dealt with the room service delivery but ventured out as soon as the snick of a latch signaled that the waiter had departed.

  “Oh that smells good. What did you order?”

  “Pancakes with strawberries and syrup, hash browns, scrambled eggs and bacon. There’s freshly squeezed orange juice and an industrial-sized vat of coffee.”

  “I’ve died and gone to heaven. The only thing that could make it better would be if you took off that robe.” Brock fluttered his eyelashes at Kyle.

  “Lose the towel and I might oblige.” Kyle didn’t wait for Brock to obey. He pulled the towel away himself, leaving Brock bare.

  “Hey! What about you?” Brock protested.

  Kyle raised an eyebrow and dropped the robe. Underneath he had on a pair of clingy black shorts.

  “Not fair,” Brock sulked.

  “Seems perfectly reasonable to me,” Kyle replied. “Now eat, because my cock has a pressing appointment with your ass and it doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Brock enjoyed every mouthful of his breakfast, though he ate it quickly. He sat on the bed with his knees drawn up in an attempt to hide his burgeoning erection. Every now and again he cast a shy glance at Kyle, whose predatory expression sent tremors of desire through Brock’s entire frame. He nibbled on a strawberry and fought back the urge to smile. Kyle was getting impatient. His fingers tapped on one muscled thigh and his underwear was straining to contain his cock.

  “Enough.” Kyle piled all the crockery in a heap on the discarded tray and dumped it onto the stool in front of the dressing table. “You’re a tease, Lysander Brock, and for that you need to be punished.”

  “What did I do?” Brock protested.

  “You converted the simple task of eating a piece of fruit into a pornographic act—a serious offense.” Kyle removed the belt from his discarded robe. “On your knees.”

  Brock debated whether or not to obey for all of ten seconds. Kyle was unbelievably sexy when his inner Dominant came to the surface. All Brock wanted to do was submit, to hand over all responsibility and allow Kyle to use him as he wished. His cock ached as he shifted to a kneeling position in the center of the bed and held out his hands for Kyle to bind.

  “Behind your back, I think. I don’t want you to have any opportunity to touch yourself,” Kyle said gruffly.

  Brock crossed his wrists in the appropriate position and kept still as Kyle tied his hands.

  “Good. Now keep your knees together and bend forward.” Kyle positioned a couple of pillows beneath Brock’s chest so that he was supported and his face wasn’t pressed into the mattress. Brock sensed the displacement of air too late to prepare for the sharp blow to his ass. He yelped as a narrow line of heat seared his skin.

  “What the fuck? Did you pack a cane, Kyle?” How the hell did he get that through customs without comment? And if he packed a cane, what else has he got hidden in his bag?

  “Address me correctly.”

  “Ow!” A second strike had Brock wriggling down the bed in an attempt to escape, but the pillows hampered his movement.

  “Keep still.” Two more blows punctuated Kyle’s words.

  “Fuck, that stings… Sir.”

  “I don’t hear your safe word.” The next two hits were harder. “I want your ass nice and warm before I fuck you. No bruises, though—not with the journey we have ahead.”

  Brock detected regret in Kyle’s voice and his buttocks clenched at the thought of a more aggressive spanking.

  “In fact…” Kyle stroked Brock’s abused flesh. “I think I’d better stop now. You have an attractive rosy glow back here.”

  “I’m so glad you’re enjoying yourself, Sir.” Oh, and so am I! There was no way Brock would admit to Kyle that he was so turned on his dick could hammer nails. The restraint, the pain—even Kyle’s tone of voice—combined to put Brock into a state of submissive bliss. The only thing that could possibly make it better would be a damn good fucking.

  A couple of well-lubed fingers penetrated Brock’s ass with little finesse.

  “Oh! Yes… More, Sir.” Brock pushed back as best he could but Kyle was never going to let him take control. Kyle withdrew completely.

  “No! Sir… I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

  “Well that’ll be a first.”

  The crinkle of foil told Brock that he was going to get what he wanted—and soon. He wondered again what it would be like to take Kyle bare. Good. Really good. Do I trust him that much? The sudden realization that he did trust Kyle enough crashed over Brock in an overwhelming wave. He already trusted Kyle to keep him safe in bondage, to respect his safe word. Going bare was just another step along the path.

  “If we make it out of this, we could get tested,” he said quietly.

  Kyle stilled and Brock worried that he’d gone too far with his suggestion.

  “No one else will ever get to touch you, so yes, we will. I decided that when you mentioned it in England.”

  Brock sucked in his breath as Kyle pushed the blunt head of his gloved cock against Brock’s hole. Such a controlling statement should have made his erection wilt. Instead, it made him even harder.

  “Fuck me, damn it.”

  “For a man with his hands tied and his ass in the air, you are awfully demanding.”

  Brock wiggled his butt, trying to encourage Kyle to press home his claim. His balls ached. His need to come was all-consuming, beating down any sense of self-preservation he’d ever had.

  “Fuck. Me.”

  Brock smacked him hard and thrust forward at the same time.

  “I need to get you a gag.” Kyle grabbed Brock’s hips and proceeded to pound his ass until Brock saw stars, planets and whole fucking galaxies. Bent over and bound, all he could do was take what Kyle delivered. His shoulders ached and his muscles flexed as he attempted to break free of the ties around his wrists. They were soft but immoveable, adding to his delicious frustration. Kyle’s grunts mixed with his own whimpers and cries as the unstoppable surge of orgasm shot through his body. He came hard and Kyle helped him along by grabbing Brock’s dick and tugging roughly.

  Brock panted through his release, hardly able to suck in enough air. Kyle’s punishing rhythm didn’t let up. Brock pressed his forehead into a pillow and bit back a scream. His eyes watered. He clenched his ass, bringing a yell from Kyle, who went
rigid and grunted, filling the condom. For a few seconds the only sounds were of gasping moans and a ticking clock. Brock breathed to the clock’s beat and gradually settled. A gentle tug on his wrists told him that Kyle was untying him. His hands came free as Kyle slipped from his body. Brock slumped forward onto his face with a happy, sated sigh.

  “Just going to deal with the condom and fetch a washcloth.” Kyle stroked the back of Brock’s calf before moving away. Brock hummed. The best part of a scene, however tame and obviously excluding orgasm, was the aftercare that Kyle provided. For a rough, physical man, he could be surprisingly tender. Brock dozed until the heat of a wet cloth pressed against his skin.

  “The heat and pressure will make sure you don’t bruise. Are you sore?”

  Kyle’s caring concern sent a pleasant shiver over Brock’s sensitive skin.

  “I’ll be feeling you for a while.” He grinned and rolled over.

  “You like that, don’t you?” Kyle smirked.

  “Ask me again when we’re trekking through the cloud forests.” Brock studied Kyle and admired his hard, muscled body. There were several small scars and he wanted to learn the story behind each and every one, preferably while licking and kissing them. He longed to be held and, as if Kyle had read his mind, he climbed into bed and pulled Brock against him.

  “We have a few hours still before we have to leave for the airport. We should take advantage while we can and get some more rest.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Brock snuggled against his lover and tried to forget that it might be the last chance they got to hold each other in comfort for quite some time.

  * * * *

  Flying time from Miami to Bogotá took just three hours and forty-five minutes. Everything ran to schedule and, other than a short delay waiting for their baggage to arrive on the somewhat creaky carousel, arrival at El Dorado International was painless. Brock followed Kyle toward the taxi rank, taking in the sights and sounds of a country he had read about extensively but never visited before.

  “I love that they call the airport after a mystical city of gold,” he said, as the two of them joined the short queue for a cab.

  “You’re a romantic at heart, aren’t you? Do you fancy life as an explorer searching for lost treasures?”

  Brock laughed. “I think you’re more suited to being the next Indiana Jones than I am. I’ll just take the pictures of you in action.”

  The next cab was theirs. Kyle heaved their bags into the trunk and gave directions in rapid Spanish to the waiting driver, then they both got comfortable in the back of the car.

  “We’re about ten miles northwest of the city center. The drive to the hotel shouldn’t be too bad at this time in the evening, although traffic here is never good.”

  “You’ve been here before?” Brock asked.

  “Several times.”

  Kyle didn’t expand and Brock thought it best not to question him further. He could only imagine the kind of reasons Kyle might have for his frequent visits to South America. Best not to know.

  “Are we staying at the hotel I booked or have you changed the arrangements again?”

  “No major changes from now on. The arrangements—on the whole—remain as you planned. The precautions in Miami were just that—precautions. There are a lot of curious eyes on the ground there that I wanted to avoid. Here we’ll be watched regardless of where we stay, so we must be what we purport to be—a photographer and his assistant in transit.”

  “Well, my local team recommended The Orchids. It’s not the cheapest place but it’s smaller with a good reputation for service. It’s in the Candelaria district, which I really wanted to see.”

  “It’s an interesting part of the city, and there are plenty of good restaurants if you know where to go. We should be able to get some great tapas tonight.” Kyle licked his lips, making Brock laugh.

  “Hungry?”

  “Absolutely. But I won’t keep you out too late. We can’t lie in quite as long tomorrow morning as we did in Miami. The flight to Cartagena leaves at midday. This will have to be another place added to our list of return visits.”

  The taxi dropped them off in an unassuming street outside an arched wooden entrance. When Kyle rang the bell pull, a small window set into the planks opened and an elderly man examined them. Kyle gave their names and the doorman’s suspicious expression broke into a wide smile.

  “Welcome, welcome, bienvenidos, gentlemen. We have been expecting you.”

  The large wooden door swung open on silent, well-oiled hinges.

  “Good evening. My name is Santiago and it will be my great pleasure to see to your comfort during your short stay. Welcome to The Orchids.”

  Santiago’s English was heavily accented but impressive. Kyle replied to him in rapid Spanish and the old man grinned, exposing a gold incisor in an otherwise perfect set of teeth.

  “Forgive me, señor, but it gives me pleasure to practice my English. I hope you do not mind?”

  “Not at all,” Brock answered. “You speak the language very well, Santiago.”

  “You are very kind. I hope that you both will point out my mistakes. Now, let me show you to your suite. You must be tired after the journey.”

  Brock followed Santiago through the gate into a small, enclosed courtyard strung with fairy lights and hung with lanterns. To one side, a cloistered walkway, edged with stone planters full of flowers, led to a glass door protected by intricate wrought iron.

  “This is a beautiful building.” Brock looked around in admiration. He pulled out his camera and took a few quick shots. “I’ll have to take some more tomorrow in the daylight.” He caught Kyle’s knowing expression and took a picture of that, too. “What? You have to admit this place is worth a picture or two?”

  “I’m just amazed that you haven’t whipped that thing out sooner.”

  Brock’s cock jerked. Kyle was staring in the direction of Brock’s groin and not at his camera equipment.

  Santiago gave them both a bemused shake of his head and went inside. Brock did his best not to act like a little boy on an adventure. The thrill of new sights and sounds—new images to capture—never failed to get him excited. Coupled with the hot looks that Kyle kept sending his way, his pulse raced.

  They crossed a cool, marble-floored lobby to an old-fashioned cage elevator.

  “We can deal with the check-in formalities when you’re settled. Your suite is on the top floor,” Santiago explained.

  They all got into the lift and it was a bit of squeeze with the three of them and the baggage. Santiago slid the security door shut and pressed the button marked Three. The lift lurched into action and moved upward surprisingly fast. Brock was quite relieved when it shuddered to a halt and they could all spill out onto the small landing. Only two doors opened from the area and Santiago took them across to the one on the left. He opened it with an old-fashioned, heavy key then handed the key to Kyle.

  “Best rooms in the hotel, gentlemen.” Santiago gestured for them to enter with a sweep of his arm.

  Brock gaped. The room was stunning, decorated in pale turquoise and gold. Elaborate plasterwork edged the ceiling and an enormous, gilt-framed mirror took up a third of one wall. The furniture was mahogany, polished to a high gloss, but the star attraction was a four-poster bed swathed with deep blue velvet curtains.

  “Wow.” Brock hadn’t expected anything close to such luxury. “Santiago, are you sure this is our room? I didn’t book a suite…”

  “We only have eight rooms and a wedding party booked the other seven. We put you up here because it will be a little quieter. The honeymoon suite is across the landing, but that won’t be in use until tomorrow night. Your bathroom is through there.” He pointed at a door in the corner. “And through the arch is a small seating area.”

  While Brock explored, Kyle tipped Santiago and sent him on his way. “We’ll be eating out, so we’ll stop at reception to register on our way. If there’s somewhere close by you could recommend, that would b
e helpful.”

  Santiago nodded. “Of course. I’ll give you directions when you come down.” He left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Kyle piled the bags on the luggage rack. “I’ll think we should go straight out. If I get anywhere near that bed, I’ll only want to fuck you on it and that’s not nearly so much fun with a rumbling stomach.”

  Brock peeked into the bathroom. “There’s a tub in here that’s big enough to swim in.”

  “I’ll fuck you in that, too.” Kyle pushed past him. “Unless you want to watch me pee, wait outside. I need to freshen up.”

  “You’re such a romantic.” Brock went and sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you saying you don’t want to be fucked? Scratch that… Tied down and fucked?” There was a slight echo to Kyle’s words as he shouted from the bathroom.

  Brock flopped back on the bed and groaned. With just a few words in that deep, growly voice, Kyle had got him hard. Again. The four-poster appeared perfect for some bondage games—nice and sturdy.

  “Well?”

  Brock glanced up to see Kyle, shirtless, drying his hands on a towel. He got even harder.

  “I didn’t say that. This bed has all kinds of possibilities.”

  Kyle threw the towel back into the bathroom, strolled across to his bag and rummaged around until he found a fresh T-shirt.

  “It does. I can picture you, naked, stretched out for me while I fuck your mouth and leave you hard and wanting.”

  Brock licked his lips at the thought of tasting Kyle’s thick shaft.

  “Yes please.”

  “Well, the sooner you get ready, the sooner we can get out of here, and once my stomach is satisfied, I’ll be able to focus on satisfying other things.”

  * * * *

  The sidewalk in front of the tapas bar that Santiago recommended was peppered with welcoming, well-padded chairs arranged around cocktail tables. Most of the tables were occupied by locals drinking and enjoying the relative cool of the evening breeze. A bright, hand-painted sign declared the bar to be called Estrella’s.