Cole for Christmas

by Treva Harte

  His dom who undid the buttons of his fly slowly while Cole tried not to show how much he wanted to take his cock out and stroke it along with his master’s. Cole knew he wasn’t to touch. Not yet. He could watch though, while his master’s cock slowly came into view. When that cock was finally free, Cole licked the shaft slowly, waiting for more permission. He traced the huge vein along his master’s cock. The vein pulsed under his tongue, promising, promising. Then Cole opened his mouth wider.

  Only when he was half choked with the cock sliding down his throat did Cole tilt his head back to swallow. His master’s cock tasted salty and musky and male. Cole breathed through his nose, adjusting once more to the width and length of that erection.

  Tears came to his eyes when his top fucked his mouth harder. Cole swallowed and relaxed more, straining to get the entire cock down. He shifted despite his best intentions; the battering rocked his knees and sent pain shooting through them. That movement wasn’t allowed, no matter how deep the thrusts were. Cole stopped and sucked harder to make up for his lapse, tasting the start of his master’s cum trickling down his throat.

  Cole let out a pleased hum, and the slow trickle of semen became a flood. He coughed, the fluid spilling down his mouth and dripping from his chin before he could swallow everything. He shut his eyes when his master pulled out. Then he turned his face up to show it gleaming with sweat and cum.

  His master wiped the side of Cole’s cheek and then held his hand out. Cole put his head down again and licked the hand clean, thoroughly. Lovingly.

  “Good boy.”

  He’d pleased his master. Cole was happy—almost as happy as if he’d come himself. But his cock’s frantic beat against his clothing reminded him he hadn’t yet.

  “Th—” His throat felt raw. Cole cleared it and tried again. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome. Now get up, pull your pants down, and then bend over, hands grabbing your ankles.”

  He stood, a little gingerly, and shoved his pants down so his master could get a good look. Then he turned and leaned forward. The other man jiggled the plug still nestled in Cole’s asshole. Cole cried out, his cock jutting up, painfully hard and needy.

  His master gave the base of the plug a series of light taps, sending hot volts of pained pleasure streaking to his balls. Cole shook with each stroke, holding his breath. Whenever the feeling eased, he sucked in air to wait for the next tap. He wasn’t sure he could hold out and tried not to imagine the embarrassment of coming without permission.

  At last he felt lube smoothed against his aching asshole, wet and cold, yet another familiar sensation that made Cole tremble with want.

  Then, without warning, his master pulled out the plug. Cole huffed air, his ass gripping reflexively, trying to fill the suddenly empty space. He heard footsteps leaving the study and gulped. Water splashed in the basin next door. The cool wetness would feel good after the burn of stretching. His dom knew how to take care of him. God, he hoped he was getting cleaned and prepared for his fucking.

  Another squirt of lube hissed out behind him, and he licked his lips at the familiar sound. While he couldn’t see what came next, from that sound it appeared he wasn’t going to have to wait any longer. He wasn’t sure what would happen next since, although his master had hellish stamina, Cole had drained him as dry as he could.

  “What do you want, boy?”

  Is that a trick question?

  “It doesn’t matter. You know how to make me want anything.” It was the truth, not just sub talk.

  “Have you ever been fisted?”

  “N-no, Sir.”

  “You have no cuts or bruises from the plug, so you aren’t particularly tight. Although I don’t think you’re ready for it yet, we’ll try.”

  He didn’t ask if I wanted to. Unless that statement was meant to be a question. Cole wasn’t sure if he did or didn’t want to try. The idea was frightening, but if his master wanted it, Cole usually found he wanted it too.

  Use of the plug all day made Jeff’s first three fingers slide into Cole easily. There was plenty of room to enjoy the stretch and press of them inside. He grunted when the fourth finger entered him; he moaned when all four digits stretched his already sensitive ass. He was going to fail at this.

  “Motherfucker…oh God…motherfucker.” Cole swallowed. “Don’t. Sir. Please.”

  He’d never used a safe word before. He didn’t want to use one now, but—

  Jeff knew what Cole meant. He always knew. “Never mind. You did well today. You have permission to jack off while I make you ready. Stay in position.”

  Cole gripped his cock instantly even as he stifled a protest. He didn’t want to masturbate alone, but what else did he deserve? If he couldn’t do what Jeff expected of him, he was lucky to get that much.

  The cool washcloth wiping him up was relaxing.

  “Jesus!” He jumped as he felt the first sweep of his master’s tongue against his ass.

  Sensitive. Everything was sensitive, alive to the sensual caress of that tongue, and then to teeth fastened lightly against the opening of his ass. His master’s teeth weren’t so gentle after Cole’s flinch. Delicate fire spread with the pain of the bite Jeff had inflicted. Cole moaned as he squeezed his cock, every inch of his skin prickling with heat.

  Pain and sweat and lust. That was what he needed. That was what he got.

  His master stood up at his moan, his legs tight against Cole’s, holding Cole up. A slick, probing finger slid into his ass again, this time hitting his prostate, the prostate teased all morning and afternoon with that damned plug.

  Need and fire and pleasure shot through him.

  “Fuck!” Cole’s knees buckled. Finally, finally, there was enough pressure to—

  “Come.” It was a command.

  Cole screamed.

  And he came. Hard. Hard enough to need his master’s grip to keep him standing. Hard enough to gray out while he gasped for breath.

  “Good boy.” Comforting words grounded him as he shivered with the last shot of cum expelled from his body.

  He slumped, only to be picked up as if he were a baby. His master pulled him into his lap, holding him tightly, warmly, until the world reassembled itself. He rested his head on Jeff’s shoulder and fought tears.

  Jeff whispered against Cole’s sweaty face. “I’ll fuck you tonight, boy. Your ass is sensitive already. Before I’m done, you’ll see stars.”

  Tears gathered at the edges of Cole’s eyes once again, just when he thought he was safe, and he blinked them away. Jeff hated tears when they weren’t in a scene. Instead, Cole just let himself feel comforted.

  “Thank you, Sir. Jeff.” This wasn’t the man—the “sir”—who dominated him. This was the one who soothed him. Now he was with Jeff again, warmed by Jeff’s body.

  * * * *

  The boy—his boy—was sitting on the floor, resting his head against Jeff’s knee. Jeff felt the weight of him as they both stared into the fire. A little brandy, some hot sex… Old tension eased as Jeff leaned his head back. He didn’t touch Cole, but the boy moved to grip his knee.

  His tension still eased more with Cole’s touch.

  “I’ve wanted this all day.” Cole sounded so earnest. “Just to sit here with you.”

  He knew he needed to be careful with the boy. Cole didn’t think they were just playing a scene any more. Up until now Jeff had pushed away anyone who wanted more than he provided during their play. Cole was something of a complication. When they were together, Cole wanted only to obey, to submit, to lose himself the way his master told him. He was perfect. It was outside of their play that Cole’s intensity was worrisome. Jeff had given up on any intense partnership outside of a scene.

  The boy was so young. Young enough to still think there might be more than the sexual play they had together, something more Jeff would allow him, even though Jeff had never promised him anything beyond satisfying their mutual kink. Jeff clenched his hand hard enough to hurt. He grimly rel
axed his fist. He wasn’t going to get upset over this.

  “That’s not all you want.”

  Cole grinned at him. “It’s what I want for now.” Then he stopped smiling. “Are you unhappy with what I told you before? Because having you and submitting to you is enough for me. Really it is.”

  Enough. That bleak word didn’t belong in Cole’s vocabulary. Cole wasn’t meant for enough. He would always need more.

  Why not give the boy more? Better to know now if he would be pleased with what Jeff wanted to provide or if he’d drift away to some new pleasure. Some new person. Jeff promised himself he wouldn’t be angry if that happened. Hadn’t that been him, back when he was his boy’s age? He’d been sure there had to be something more. Someone else.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be the same for Cole.

  Except there was a problem already. Sarah.

  Cole thought he still wanted Sarah.

  Hadn’t Jeff wanted a Sarah too, during that time he thought he could get everything he wanted? Jeff traced the line of Cole’s jaw. Sometimes no one could tell you differently, even when you knew your choice was going to be a disaster.

  “Jeff?” Cole looked up, smiling a little uncertainly.

  Cole was lucky. He had someone now who could watch over him.

  Cole turned to kiss Jeff’s hand, his lips soft and gentle. It was almost a child’s kiss, although what Cole was thanking him for wasn’t anything a child should want.

  Thank God he wasn’t as young as Cole. Thank God he’d already gone through his disaster and never had to do it again. It might be cruel to disillusion Cole, but Jeff was going to give his boy exactly what he thought he wanted. Cole would find out the truth soon enough.

  Chapter Three

  There wasn’t any other way to do it. She needed to flat-out confront Quentin Jeffries. The problem was Sarah didn’t think anyone would be happy if she started a confrontation in the university offices.

  Avoiding a public argument meant she had to look up his home address. She gritted her teeth as she Googled and went through the references. She deliberately refused to count the number of awards he’d won. Cole might be a genius, but Jeff had been around longer to collect the academic goodies every professor or professor wannabe lusted over.

  Of course winning awards didn’t mean you weren’t an asshole. In fact, assholes usually won the most. Wasn’t that the way the world worked?

  She finally pulled up the right information and printed off the address. She could have accepted Cole’s invitation to come over, but she preferred to leave him out of this as much as possible. She wasn’t going to ask for Cole’s help to smack Jeffries down.

  Even though having to meet with him was all Cole’s fault.

  She looked at herself in the mirror. Nothing in her teeth, hair brushed, and her most professional outfit on. She’d probably need something better when she started on rounds of job interviews, but that was a year or more away, and she had to deal with this today.

  Just to be safe, she threw some Tylenol in her backpack. She was undoubtedly going to have a headache before she was done. She used to have them when she confronted her former undergrad advisor. She expected no less today.

  * * * *

  “So why are you so angry, Sarah?” Of course Jeff looked calm. He even smiled. But that was just to irk her, not because he was amused. My, what big teeth you have…

  She scowled. He probably thought he could intimidate her with his huge house and the expensive furniture and decor. She stared down at the Oriental carpet in his library and knew she was intimidated just a little. It was like stepping into a museum for the rich. A place where she didn’t belong.

  She wasn’t that intimidated. Not enough to back down. Her friend was too important.

  “Because of Cole. Because he cares about you.” She shut her eyes and counted to ten, trying to come up with the right words. “And you’re married. So you can just tell him the truth and get out of his life.” Oh, hell. She felt her face heat in embarrassment. Too late. She couldn’t believe she’d blurted her thoughts out all at once in front of him.

  So maybe she was a lot intimidated. It wasn’t the house. It was the man. He’d always been imposing. Quentin Jeffries could make her shake with one long stare from those gray eyes. She’d been awed and ultimately crushed by him once before. He’d mattered more—personally and professionally—back when she was an impressionable undergrad. That wasn’t true now.

  “Am I married?”

  Tall and imposing on the outside didn’t mean you couldn’t be little and slimy on the inside.

  “I was at those damned student parties you hosted. You know—the ones you hosted along with your wife? Your incredibly attractive wife.”

  She’d daydreamed about trading places with his wife once, a long time ago. She’d been an idiot. Not that she’d admit she’d done anything of the kind, and things were different now.

  “Are you absolutely sure? Haven’t you kept up with departmental gossip?”

  “I haven’t been back to your department in years. What would be the point?” She’d die rather than admit all her so-called friends had stopped talking to her when she was forced out. There was nothing to go back to.

  “Maybe to find out I’m divorced. A messy, ugly, scandalous divorce where everyone else could look sanctimonious and murmur how it was lucky there weren’t any children involved. It was as bad a divorce as even you might have wished on me, sweetheart.” Sarah thought she saw his jaw tighten for just a moment, as if he wished he could swallow the words.

  “Oh.” He was single and probably out of the closet. Now what was she supposed to do with all her righteous anger?

  “You still look like you want to kill me. Is that all for Cole? Are you sure?”

  “I’m still mad over what happened three years ago, but I’d never have tracked you down for that. I didn’t do it when you basically kicked me out of the running to get into the English grad department, and I wouldn’t do it now.” She swallowed. “I thought you were trying to fuck Cole over. Why wouldn’t I? Look what you do to other people. Does screwing up lives come so easily to you that you don’t think twice about it? How do you live with yourself?”

  “Since you haven’t told me how I’m screwing up Cole’s life, I have to assume this is really about your life. About my recommendation you find a different field of study.”

  “No, it’s not! What you’re doing to Cole now is worse, but—”

  “Because I was right about you.”

  “What do you mean you were right?” Sarah forced the words through her clenched teeth. It hurt to keep from screaming. But better vicious control than trying to strangle someone bigger and stronger than her, right?

  “What I said. Where are you now?”

  “In graduate school. I’m doing well there. No thanks to you.”

  “In the history department.”

  “Yes!”

  “Which is likely where you belonged all along. When your history advisor asked me about admitting you, I told him you’d thrive there even if you had started later in the game and had only minored in history as an undergraduate.”

  “You said something in my favor? I don’t understand.” She had no idea why she hadn’t figured out before that everyone in the university checked things out with everyone else. Of course they’d asked him. Jesus.

  It wasn’t humiliating enough she’d sort of had a crush on him back then. Now she had to know he’d both kicked her out and helped get her a place in the history department. She’d been so proud of doing that on her own.

  “It was simple enough. You weren’t right for the English department. You weren’t interested in literature. You were interested in the history that created literature. In politics, in sociology—in anything but the play of words. You had almost taken a double major in history anyhow, you were so interested in it.” He sounded as cool as if he were discussing the time of day, rather than how he’d destroyed her plans.

  “I…I l
oved literature.”

  “Then why not transfer to another school and prove me wrong? Why go to another department where you’re doing well now? Better than you ever did as a literature student.”

  Had he checked her grades too? Probably.

  “So you were a bastard to me all for my own good?” If you say yes, I’m going to scream.

  The silence lasted just long enough for Sarah to wonder if she’d actually kicked away a little of that ice to the human underneath.

  Instead Dr. Quentin Jeffries looked at her with even more composure. “No. I was a bastard because my wife was leaving our marriage, and she hated me. I hated myself, and I hated that she’d outed me…to myself if not to anyone else. I had to admit I wasn’t a married man who sometimes had sex with men. I was going to be a divorced man because I wanted sex with men more than I wanted to be married. And you looked like my ex. Everything I wanted to say and do to her and couldn’t, I took out on you.”

  Sarah blinked. Well, that was unexpected. Why did she suddenly feel awful for being right? None of that had been her fault. He had been as bad as she claimed all along. But she’d never expected him to admit it. And she hadn’t expected to feel a trace of pity for him. Not that he seemed to be asking for any.

  “Now I don’t know what to say.”

  He didn’t hesitate at all. “That makes a pleasant change. My helping you find your true calling was a happy mistake for you. I didn’t do it for altruistic reasons. You’re right. I was a bastard.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me forgive you? Because now you’ve changed or something?” She wasn’t clenching her teeth or trying to bite and scratch. That couldn’t mean she’d forgiven him. But at least she didn’t want him to die a slow, agonizing death in front of her so she could laugh.

  He could keel over after she left instead.

  He continued, “I’m not sure I’ve changed, but I’m comfortable with who I am. So I’m not out to prove how much of a bastard I can be any more.” She actually thought she saw a little sadness in him, but she knew she had to be wrong. That would make him too close to a human being.