Testing Lysander

by L. M. Somerton

  “You remember your safe word?” Kyle asked.

  As if awakening from a trance, Brock nodded. A slow, seductive smile curved his lips and he started to tug against the metal restraints. Relief flooded Kyle’s system. He slipped from the bed and fetched a few things from the dresser, returning quickly to the bed.

  “I’ve seen your blood test results from the hospital in Miami. I want you to know that I’m healthy as well.” He held up a piece of paper detailing his own test results where Brock could see them. “I want to take you bare.”

  Brock’s smile grew wider and his eyes sparkled. He nodded. Kyle almost came there and then at the thought of penetrating Brock with no barriers between them. He gripped the base of his cock and squeezed. His strangled moan brought a knowing expression and a cheeky grin to Brock’s face.

  “Like that, do you? Knowing that you have me so close to the edge when we’ve hardly begun?”

  Brock laughed, the sound joyous, and he bucked his hips. Kyle tossed his paperwork onto the floor and grabbed the lube.

  “Bend your legs.”

  Brock obeyed, his movements eager. Kyle squeezed slippery gel onto his fingers, then spread the lubricant between Brock’s ass cheeks and around his tight entrance. Brock hissed and his muscles clenched.

  “Sorry. It’s a bit cold,” Kyle murmured. Brock rolled his eyes.

  Kyle fought to keep control. Brock’s spark of attitude demanded a response and Kyle wanted to drive his cock deep into Brock’s body, to make him feel claimed. He needed to touch him, taste him, mark him. He wanted Brock panting, sweating and squirming beneath him, mindless with need.

  “Fuck me, Kyle.”

  Kyle could forgive those three words, even though Brock was supposed to remain silent.

  “No fucking… Making love. Nice and slow.” Despite the urgent need that sent ripples of heat the length of his spine, Kyle took his time kissing and stroking every inch of Brock’s body—every inch except his rigid cock. When Brock moaned and arched his back, Kyle backed off and shook his head. “Patience. All in good time. I’m not going anywhere and you”—Kyle flicked the chains holding Brock in place—“certainly aren’t. Just relax and feel.” Kyle stroked Brock’s chest, then dragged a nail across his abs and through the groove between hip and thigh. “Open your eyes.” Kyle leaned forward and captured Brock’s lips. There was nothing soft about the scorching kiss that followed. Kyle didn’t ask for Brock’s submission, he demanded complete surrender, and Brock gave it freely.

  Kyle eased a finger into Brock’s fluttering hole, slow and steady, stretching the muscles and stroking inside his channel. He withdrew, added more lube and began again. “You feel so good. Hot and tight, trying to hold onto my finger. Do you want more?” He slipped his tongue inside Brock’s mouth, teasing him. He pushed a second finger into Brock’s hole and began a steady sawing motion designed to torment him. Brock’s shaft bounced against his belly as he rolled his hips, trying to drag Kyle in deeper. Kyle obliged with a third finger.

  “Please! I can’t…” Brock’s plaintive cry broke through Kyle’s barriers. He extracted his fingers, used the lube to slick his aching shaft, and placed Brock’s ankles on his shoulders. Kyle positioned his dick at Brock’s entrance. He rocked his hips, pushing just the head past Brock’s guardian muscles. Inch by inch, he sheathed himself to the root, his eyes closed and his body shaking.

  “I never imagined how good this would feel… So much more sensation without rubber between us. It’s incredible,” Kyle gasped.

  “It’s perfect.”

  Brock’s passage stretched to accommodate Kyle’s girth. He wrapped his legs around Kyle’s waist, dragging him closer.

  “Fucking move!”

  With a feral grin, Kyle rocked back, withdrawing his cock from Brock’s ass until only the flared head remained, then plunged forward aggressively. All-consuming pleasure rocked him to his core. This was where he belonged and he would give up anything necessary to keep the man beneath him.

  “Harder,” Brock demanded.

  “What happened to silence, brat?” Kyle picked up the pace, surging into Brock’s body again and again. Brock’s heels dug into his back. He needed to get deeper. Kyle looped his arm under Brock’s knee, lifting his leg and opening him to deeper penetration.

  Brock yelled his pleasure at the new angle, arching his neck and thrashing in his restraints.

  “Look at me,” Kyle growled, commanding Brock’s attention. “I want you looking me in the eye when you come.” Kyle prayed that he could outlast Brock. With every hard plunge into Brock’s clenching hole, it got harder to hold off.

  Kyle dipped lower over Brock’s body, pressing against his chest, trapping Brock’s dripping cock between their sweat-slicked bodies. He pinned him with a challenging gaze. “Let it go, baby.”

  Brock’s mouth opened in a soundless scream, his neck corded under the strain. Wet heat hit Kyle’s belly and the scent of Brock’s release filled the air. Kyle let his iron control evaporate. Pleasure bordering on pain hit him like a lightning bolt straight to the groin. He screamed Brock’s name as his heated release filled Brock’s channel. Holding his weight away from Brock’s limp body with one arm, he tangled his fingers in Brock’s damp hair, holding him close, not wanting the pleasure to end.

  “Perfect,” Kyle whispered. He reached for the cuffs and flicked the quick release mechanism. Brock lowered his arms and wrapped them around Kyle’s body, sealing them together. They stayed that way for a long time. Kyle held Brock tightly, surrounding him with warmth and protection. It was a rare and special gift to find one person with all the qualities Kyle admired. Brock had such grace in his submission. He was strong and determined, brave and yet sensitive and responsive. He gave up control with courage that Kyle could never hope to match.

  Winding his arms around Brock’s neck and snuggling closer, Kyle prayed that he’d never have to let Brock go again.

  * * * *

  When the stickiness between them became uncomfortable, Kyle led Brock to the bathroom. They shared a shower in companionable silence and returned to the bed where Kyle lay with Brock in his arms.

  “So, do I have your permission to speak now?” Brock’s tone was gently sarcastic.

  Kyle just raised an eyebrow and said nothing. He accepted the need to talk, but he’d rather spend more time cuddling, fixing Brock’s scent and the feel of his body back into his mind.

  “I missed you.” Brock raised his chin and met Kyle’s gaze. “I missed you so much. It hurt. I don’t want to come across as needy or weak but I have to know what your intentions are, Kyle. You went to a lot of trouble to bring me here—very cloak and dagger, by the way. I need to know why.”

  Kyle traced the line of Brock’s jaw with a finger.

  “I missed you too—every minute of every day since I left you at the hospital in Miami. I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”

  Brock gave him a shy smile. “Why did you leave me? One minute you were there and I thought we had a future. The next you’d gone. I know you had to leave and go back to your job but I spent days wondering when you would come back, but you didn’t.”

  “It wasn’t my choice, Brock.”

  “You could have been dead and, for a while, so was I—dead inside. We went through so much… I know I had no right to make any claim on you, but I hoped… I thought we had something special.”

  Brock may as well have stabbed him through the heart. The pain of his words knifed through Kyle’s chest and guilt overcame him.

  “I’m so sorry—for everything. I’ll understand if you just want to go.”

  “Of course I don’t want to go! Stupid man,” Brock said angrily.

  Kyle winced as Brock prodded his chest.

  “I want an explanation. Why am I here? I hope you haven’t brought me all this way just to tell me you’re leaving again or that we can’t be together?”

  Kyle knew full well that Brock wasn’t just talking about the journey from Northumberl
and when he said ‘brought me all this way’. Kyle had coaxed Brock along paths that he might never have otherwise explored. The trip to Colombia was the biggest, of course. Compelling Brock to use his skills for a clandestine purpose. Putting his life at risk. Brock had taken a huge leap of faith. But more important still was the journey Brock had taken into submission. Kyle had failed as a Dominant. He’d abandoned his sub at his most vulnerable—at a time when he should have been taking care of him, providing for him, making him happy.

  “Fuck… I don’t know how you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

  Brock gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not blaming you, Kyle. You had an important job to do and I understand that, but I fell in love with you along the way and I can’t let that go. Stop beating yourself up. Before you, I only dreamed about feeling metal digging into my wrists.” He rubbed his reddened skin with a smile. “Being held down at someone else’s whim, bondage, domination… All of that was just in a hopeful part of my imagination. I never dreamed it could be real.” His voice hitched. “I can’t imagine never having those experiences with you again.”

  Kyle gave him a serious look. “Get dressed. I’ll tell you everything, but I can’t do it here. With you naked in my bed I just want to tie you down and fuck you through the mattress again.”

  “Only if you promise to do just that later on,” Brock chuckled.

  “Oh, I think that can be arranged.”

  Kyle pulled on a pair of black jeans and a long-sleeved charcoal T-shirt. He didn’t bother with underwear, much to Brock’s amusement.

  “Be careful with that zipper. I want those bits fully operational.”

  “I’ll be sure to keep everything in working order.” He grinned. Brock made everything better. “I’ll see you downstairs. Do you want coffee or wine?”

  “I’ll stick with coffee, please. Something tells me I should keep a clear head.”

  Though he was reluctant to let Brock out of his sight—even for a few minutes—Kyle padded downstairs and brewed some coffee in the kitchen He took two steaming mugs through to the lounge, along with a plate of chocolate Hobnobs. He sat on the sofa and hoped that Brock would join him there, rather than take one of the two armchairs. On the table in front of him sat a manila folder, stamped ‘Top Secret’. Kyle eyed it like he might a rearing cobra.

  Brock appeared in the doorway wearing the same clothes he’d arrived in.

  “I do have a bag in the car,” he said. “I’ll fetch it later. Wow… Hobnobs. This must be a special occasion.” He grabbed a biscuit from the plate, picked up a mug of coffee and sat on the sofa. To Kyle’s joy, Brock sat so close that their thighs pressed together from hip to knee. He would have preferred to put Brock in his lap, but it wasn’t practical while they had mugs of hot liquid in their hands.

  “What’s in the folder, Kyle?” Brock stared pointedly at the cream-colored wallet.

  “Explanations.” Kyle picked it up off the table and laid it on his lap. “I want you to know that if there had been any way for me to stay with you in Miami—any way at all—I would have done it. I hated leaving you there, especially as I was the reason you got hurt in the first place.”

  Brock patted his knee. “I was a willing part of that mission, Kyle. I knew what I was getting into.”

  “You did, but only after I followed you, threatened you…manipulated your natural sense of duty.” He sighed. “I’m not proud of what I did to you, love.”

  Brock put his coffee back on the table, placed the folder on the seat next to him and scrambled onto Kyle’s lap, swiveling so that his bare feet rested on the sofa. “That’s better. Now, stop blaming yourself and get back to the story.”

  “Bossy brat.” Kyle grinned. “Open the file.”

  Brock took it and pulled out a set of A4- sized photographs. He shuffled through them. “This is Lupo’s camp, isn’t it? Or what’s left of it. Looks like it was bombed to hell.”

  “It was. Your pictures got things moving really fast. You remember the canisters you photographed?”

  “Yes,” Brock replied. “Were they important?”

  “Very. The CIA identified them as containing a lethal, cyanide-based chemical. Released into a water supply, it could kill thousands of people. With that and the huge stash of armaments you found, an imminent attack was almost certain. An operation was put into place in days. I had to go back to Colombia and help coordinate the liaison with the Colombian government. Those photographs show the aftermath of a joint attack by US and Colombian military. Special forces raided the camp and retrieved the gas—and the gold—before the camp was wiped off the face of the planet.”

  “Lupo?”

  “Killed in action, along with most of his men. The rest are rotting in a nice Colombian prison.”

  “Good. I don’t remember seeing anything about this on the news, though, did I miss it?”

  “No, you didn’t and you never will. Our mission and everything that followed will remain secret. The repercussions will go on for some time. The gold you brought out was marked and implicates some very important people in terrorist funding activities. By the time I got back to Miami, you’d flown home. I had to spend a few days cleaning up our trail. As far as any records show, you were in Colombia on your planned expedition. You were injured in a climbing accident and given assistance by the US military as a favor to the British Ambassador.”

  “All very neat then. Loose ends tied off in sweet little bows.” Brock sounded sad more than anything. “Why didn’t you find me after that?”

  Kyle sighed. “I couldn’t. I was under orders from my employer and a part of me wanted to leave you to get on with your life. But I couldn’t… In the end I didn’t have the courage to let you go.” He kissed the top of Brock’s head.

  “What do you mean?” Brock nuzzled against him.

  “Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”

  Brock hopped off his lap and Kyle led him upstairs to the spare bedroom. The same one that Brock had started out in on his first night at the cottage so long ago. Kyle pushed the door open and Brock gasped.

  “Holy hell! This has changed…”

  The room was lined with bookshelves and a large desk beneath the window held all the latest computer equipment and camera accessories.

  “The organization I work for would like to offer you a job, Brock. Some very influential people were extremely impressed by your performance in Colombia and they believe you would be a valuable asset.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m just a photographer.” Brock frowned. “This is so unexpected.”

  “You’re not just anything, my love.” Kyle picked up a phone handset from its cradle on the desk and dialed a number. “Here. My boss wants to talk to you.” He handed the phone over, gave Brock what he hoped was an encouraging smile and pulled the door shut behind him.

  Kyle went downstairs and kept himself busy in the kitchen, putting together a light meal of pasta and salad. Every now and again he glanced at the ceiling, trying to picture Brock in the room above. He felt terrible for landing such a surprise on Brock without warning, but it was the only way his employers would allow him to have any contact at all. They had arranged to get the photographs to Brock through a circuitous route involving the Secret Service. They had designed the clue to bring him to Dorset. Kyle had gone along with the plan because he wanted, more than anything, to be with Brock.

  “Selfish bastard. You should have just let him go.”

  “And then we would both have been unhappy.”

  Kyle turned to find Brock walking toward him. He pulled him into a hug and for a while they clung to each other without speaking.

  Kyle had to know what had happened. “Are you okay?”

  Brock shook his head. “Not really. Those are scary people you work for.” He rested his head on Kyle’s shoulder.

  “I’m a scary person, love.”

  “Not to me,” Brock said firmly. “Your nameless boss gave me a choice. I can either accept his job offer, in which c
ase I have to stay here so that you can induct me, as he put it. Or I can refuse, go back to my old life and you get fired.”

  Kyle nodded. “That just about sums it up. They don’t believe I will remain effective if I’m forced away from you. They’re right.” He let Brock go and took their food through to the dining table. He served up bowls of pasta and sat down. “That’s why I didn’t give you a chance to say anything when you arrived. I wanted you to understand what staying with me will mean. I want you to know how I feel, what’s going through my head when we are together. I… I like it when you submit to me. I love it when you are bound and vulnerable. Dominating you turns me on in a way I find hard to describe.” He maintained eye contact and Brock blushed as he spoke again. “I think you like it too. I know you do. But you’re having a tough time accepting the way you feel. I wanted to show you how it could be between us before my boss dropped the job offer on you. I hoped it might influence your decision.” He stared at his food, appetite gone. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to stay.” He couldn’t meet Brock’s eyes as he waited for a response.

  “If you try to push me away again, Kyle, you may be the one tied to the bed.” Brock’s voice was barely more than a whisper, but his smile lit up his face. “I accepted the job—and all the conditions that come with it.”

  “You did?” Kyle shoved his chair back and let it topple to the floor. Brock’s joyful laugh warmed all the cold places inside him and the tension melted from his body.

  “I did.”

  Kyle lifted Brock off his feet and swung him around. Then he gave him a very thorough kiss. “Then let the adventures begin.”

  Epilogue

  Brock spread the tartan blanket out on the grass and did a quick check for invading insects before sitting down. Since his experience with Lupo, he’d developed a mild phobia about ants, even though the kind to be found on the average English hillside were a fraction of the size of the bullet ant he’d been threatened with. Needless to say, Brock had researched bullet ants and found that everything Lupo had said about them was true. Thinking about what might have happened if Lupo had carried out his threat to introduce Brock’s dick to the vicious little creature was now his fail-safe method of deflating an erection in awkward situations.