by Kora Knight
TEST OF ENDURANCE
UP-ENDING TAD
VOLUME TWO
KORA KNIGHT
Copyright © 2014
Kora Knight
ASIN: B00OA35882
Amazon Digital Services, Inc.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional. Any similarity to real persons, living and or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
TEST OF ENDURANCE
Tad had been right. Come morning, he had seen his little sexcapade with Scott in a whole new light. Or so he’d thought.
After a long, restless night of tossing and turning—weird dreams with the flogger assailing him on every front—he’d sat over a cup of coffee inundated with sugar and convinced himself it’d been nothing but mischance. The really bizarre outcome from partying with one too many perverts. Seriously, who would’ve thought three big jocks would be covert BDSM tricksters?
“Yeah,” Tad had grunted, nodding to himself. “No way I’m the only one those dip shits pulled that crap on. They probably hustle an unwitting fool every fucking weekend.”
Not that Tad had ever heard of anything like that before. Though, he kind of doubted anyone anywhere would let that kind of laundry get leaked.
To anyone. Anywhere.
He’d taken a sip of his steaming brew and continued to rationalize. In regards to how his body had responded, surely any guy getting worked like that would’ve reacted the same way. After all, it wasn’t a secret that guys were horn dogs. All one had to do was breathe in their dicks’ direction and they’d be more than ready to go. Especially someone of Tad’s tender age. He was a young man in his sexual prime, his need to get off regularly a fundamental drive.
Unfortunately, that logic didn’t exactly hold up. Because if Tad was so intrinsically raring to blow—and he was, there was no doubt about that considering how often his cock ended up in his hand—then why didn’t he pursue the ladies more often? Or like... at all? At the frat party that night, he’d definitely had chicks hitting on him left and right; all smiley and laughing and batting their lashes. Shouldn’t that have set off his all-systems-go? But it hadn’t. Not really. Truth was, he’d been more interested in cleaning the table with those big stupid jerks then scoring a piece of ass.
He’d frowned long and hard into his cup of joe, as if the dark liquid held some secret explanation. But all he came up with was the measly fact that, while he’d been his posse’s designated driver, those girls had been pretty damn drunk. Thing was, even though no standup guy would ever take advantage, there was nothing wrong with harmless flirting. Or getting a number for later. God knew he could’ve easily scored a dozen. And every single one of those chicks had been pretty.
But he hadn’t been interested in that route, either.
With a scowl, he’d downed the rest of his coffee and tried a different angle. He wasn’t particularly comfortable with where his mind was headed. Because it wasn’t like he’d never dated before. He’d had girlfriends. Granted, not a ton, and none had ended up serious. But still, he’d had them. Hell, some he’d even enjoyed being around for more than an hour at a time. The ones that made him laugh.
He’d smiled in remembrance as he headed for the bathroom. Jessie, his feisty little five foot tomboy. Man, that girl had been some fun. Drinking beer and watching sports, she could shoot the shit with the best of them—when, that is, she wasn’t unleashing some of the crudest jokes Tad had ever heard. Which was saying a lot. He had some seriously raunchy friends.
But Jessie broke up with him before too long, claiming that “sizzle factor” just wasn’t there. That he’d felt more like a best friend than a boyfriend. In fairness, he hadn’t been able to disagree. So, they’d parted on good terms and gone their separate ways.
With a sigh, he’d shucked off his clothes and hit the shower. The rest of his relationships hadn’t ended so agreeably. Angry tangents. Awkward tears. According to his ex’s, he made them feel invisible or never showed enough interest.
“Whatever,” he’d muttered, shampooing up his head. “Just means I haven’t found the right one.” The one that caught his eye and held it, got his belly churning deep down where it counted. Kind of like the way it’d felt the night he’d been around Scott, well before the guy even touched him. Tad had rinsed with a scowl at the unbidden thought. Must’ve been from that big fat peek he’d gotten of their kinky dungeon. No virile dude could hold back a boner when faced with that kind of shit. Right? Except for the fact that at that point in time, he’d genuinely been creeped out.
Okay, so maybe Scott sauntering around half-dressed amidst it all had had a little to do with it. After all, he was one impressively-stacked dude. Muscles fucking everywhere. Tan and bunching and hugging his frame, like its own big formidable entity. The sight of him had made Tad restless with the strangest sort of energy.
Tad had bit back a curse and snagged a towel when he realized he’d come full circle—back to his undeniable reaction to Scott, and all his pervy ways. And man, the guy had a lot. Too many for his own good, and Tad’s, for that matter, too.
Tad had straight up gotten a boner just thinking about it. Stalking out of the shower, he’d tried to ignore the thing, but no such luck would be had. Instead, it made like a neon sign, advertising the fact that the guy had turned him on. But in Tad’s defense, Scott had been stimulating every inch of his body in every imaginable way. And with the guy being a dude himself, he’d definitely known what he was doing.
All his lusty commentary hadn’t helped.
He’d reveled in Tad’s naked body, moaned at its responses. Genuine appreciation that rang so true, it’d made Tad blush like a girl. And if Tad was being honest, he’d have to admit that he kind of liked the praise. Liked how Scott wanted him so fucking bad. Hell, at one point the guy’s voice had turned so husky, he’d sounded just as needy as Tad’s dick. That in itself had been totally hot.
And hadn’t that fact just pissed Tad off. Toweling off his head, he’d forced himself to ask the question: What was it about Scott? No other guy had ever gotten to him like this. Not like Scott. It made no sense. Especially since he was getting the sneaking suspicion that it wasn’t all because of Scott’s ‘skills.’ In retrospect, Tad recognized that he’d picked up ‘a vibe’ the minute Scott opened his door. That easy disposition, those big warm eyes, the way he smiled that really great smile. Tad had immediately felt himself ease.
So he’d supposed it was reasonable to assume that, had someone else been running the show, things wouldn’t have ended the same. Never would Tad have accepted the flogging’s ‘alternative’ and never would he have given up his shit. But that’s exactly what he did. Handed over his virgin ass to the enigma that was Scott.
Seriously. What the actual fuck—
Tad’s phone sprang to life, kicking his attention back into the present; after dark in the college campus parking lot, sitting in his Jeep. Good. He didn’t need to be thinking about that crap again anyway. Nearly a week and a half later and he still found himself daydreaming over it way too freaking often. Which was starting to get really annoying. Not that his perpetual boner seemed to mind.
He swiped up his rucksack, yanked out his cell, and glanced down at the screen. Jay. Best friend since high school and his personal pain in the ass.
“S’up, Jayman.”
“Brah! You outta class yet?”
“Yup. Just ended. What’s going on?”
&
nbsp; “Nadda much. Just heading over to my girl’s with Breck and Ned. Figured we’d break out the cards and deplete Marcie’s alcohol stash. You should come by, too. I promise not to rob you blind.”
Tad swore he heard the guy muffle a snicker. A smirk tugged at his lips. Dickhead. Jay clearly was never going to let him live that night down. If only he knew just how bad Tad truly lost. “I dunno. Not really in the mood for cards.” They were, after all, what got him into his current head-fuck to begin with.
“Uh huh. You’re just afraid I’m gonna wipe the table with your ass.”
Tad couldn’t help chuckling. His surfer-relocated-inland buddy’s taunts were always so comically ineffective. “Keep dreaming. Unlike your ill-skilled butt, those guys hustled me like pros. I didn’t stand a chance.”
“So the story goes,” Jay laughed. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve lost your credibility. Gotta reestablish that shit, my man.”
Tad shook his head, gazing across the parking lot. “Bite me.”
“Ha. Sounds like something a loser would say.”
Tad had certainly been a loser that Friday. Had gotten his ass handed to him … then handed to someone else—someone Tad didn’t particularly want to start thinking about again.
“Come on, brah,” Jay urged. “Come hang out.”
Tad glanced at his phone. Nine thirty. Evening classes sure did eat up life when he had to get up so early. But since he worked days to pay for school, his options were pretty few. Which sucked big time. Unless, of course, it was serving to help get surfer boy off his ass. Because playing cards was truly the last thing he wanted to do. It’d just keep him thinking about a certain night he was bound and determined not to dwell on.
Besides, the last time he’d been at Marcie’s “love shack,” all she’d had to drink was wine coolers and schnapps. Nothing like sipping on god awful sweet shit while watching two sex fiends make out.
He grimaced at the memory and shifted in his seat. “Sorry, bud. Gonna have to pass. Got work in the morning.”
“Shaw,” Jay groused. “You anti-social bastard.”
Tad laughed. “Look on the bright side. At least now you won’t have to buy breakfast with Marcie’s campus meal card.”
Jay laughed in return. “Fuck you. You cleaned me out one time. One freaking time.”
“Uh huh,” Tad grinned. “Surely never more than that.”
“Seriously, brah. Every other time was just a liberation of pocket change. The insignificant relinquishing of dirty coins and fuzz.”
Tad laughed. “That’s the story you’re sticking to?”
Jay’s smile came through in his voice. “Hell, yes.”
“Well, go easy on Ned, then. He still owes me twenty bucks.”
“Please. He owes me forty. How else am I’m gonna get my hard-earned back?”
Tad grinned, shaking his head. “I’ll catch up with you later, Jay. Have a good one.”
Ending the call, he stared at his phone, thumb lingering over its contacts icon. Just yesterday he’d added Scott’s number to the fold—right after he caved and watched that fucking video. The one Scott recorded of Tad’s pay-up flogging… and everything that transpired after.
In Tad’s defense, he had resisted watching for over a week. And that shit hadn’t been easy. More times than he could count, he’d nearly thrown in the towel and bee-lined it down memory lane.
He should’ve just thrown the stupid thing out, crushed it under foot or fed it to the disposal. But he hadn’t, foolishly believing he could keep himself distracted elsewhere. Work. School. Hanging out with friends. He even crashed a couple more parties when the weekend rolled around. Getting wasted-drunk had helped a little. Until he’d almost asked their DD to drop him off at Scott’s.
But by Wednesday night, his willpower was running on fumes. On edge and frustrated—and mentally exhausted—he finally succumbed, convincing himself that by watching the thing he’d purge it from his system. So, he’d climbed into bed and fired up his lappy and…
Yeah, shit went downhill fast.
Well, except for his dick. The second his naked butt showed up on the screen, limbs spread and face pressed to that wall, his cock had sat up and gotten hard in a hurry. Scott sauntering around in nothing but jeans hadn’t seemed to help. Nor did the way he’d studied Tad so intently. Dark, heated eyes, perusing every muscle, like a tiger ready to pounce. Watching the guy watching him had been heady as hell.
Right then and there, he should’ve shut the thing off. Who cared if they hadn’t even gotten to the flogging? But Tad couldn’t. It was his own private train wreck he couldn’t look away from. Too powerful a part of him wanted to see the rest. So, he watched it all, every fucking minute—eyes hooded, cheeks hot, and a fist around his cock. At that point, he’d figured what the hell. He’d already tormented himself for days, why be a glutton for punishment.
And what do you know, all that personal porn busted a pretty fat nut. A bit premature, but good nevertheless. And yet it was nothing compared to the one Scott had handed him. But only because he’d kept Tad from coming for so long. He’d literally driven Tad to desperation, swelling his nuts to the breaking point with mindless anticipation.
But man, when he did blow, he’d hit the roof.
Tad’s hand squeezed the steering wheel as the memory replayed. “Fuck,” he bit. “I’m doing it again.” Tossing his phone on the passenger seat, he scrubbed his face with one hand and adjusted his junk with the other.
End result? Watching that video hadn’t helped at all. If anything, it’d made shit worse. So, now what the freak was he supposed to do? It wasn’t like he could ask his buddies for advice. Bend their ear with the sordid details of his plight.
Propping his elbows against the wheel, he rested his brow in his palms. Maybe his brain was just hyping the whole thing up, making it something that in reality it wasn’t. A mental elaboration. The byproduct of his horny subconscious’ perved-out imagination.
He shot his cell phone a sideways glance. Maybe he just needed to go see Scott. Don his balls, bite the bullet, and drop by to say hello. Maybe that would get it through his skull that the guy was nothing but that. A guy. And that even though the dude’s body was insane and his smile was even hotter, there wasn’t any chemistry going on between them. Sexual or otherwise.
No way would things still feel the way they had that night. Not when the circumstances would be so drastically different. Because, really, being butt-naked at the end of a flogger would totally make one behave out of the norm. And that’s not including a half hour of edging.
Yeah, a second visit to Scott’s would be completely different. For one, the guy wouldn’t be tasked to physically sex him up. And two, Tad could walk out whenever he wanted without any concerns for his health.
Scott would razz him, Tad would dish it right back.
Two ordinary dudes behaving ordinarily ordinary.
Besides, Tad did say he’d stop by to help with Scott’s video. He could use that as his reason for coming over. Though honestly, he truly did love weightlifting. Something he’d discovered right off the bat that the two of them had in common.
So, there it was. He’d drop by, they’d do their little camera gig, and things would slide back to normal. And then Tad could finally dust off his shoes and put the craziness behind him.
With a curt, resolved nod, he swiped up his phone and quickly thumbed out a text. ‘Cause yup, he was too big a pussy to call. Maybe Scott wouldn’t answer.
Tad: Scott. What up. It’s Tad.
Strumming the steering wheel with cell in hand, he suddenly got cold feet. “Don’t answer. Don’t answer. Please, dude, don’t answer.” An incoming message chimed a minute later.
Scott: Tad? Babe! Where you been?
Tad: Dude. Don’t call me babe. I’ve been around.
Scott: Haha. Not around here.
Tad: School’s been nuts. You home?
Scott: Yeah. You coming by?
Tad: Thinking about it
. Still need help with your videos?
Scott: You volunteering?
Tad: Why not.
Scott: Awesome. Last client leaves in 20.
Tad: Cool. Be by in a bit.
Scott: Drive it safe, BABE.
Tad: Asshole
Scott: ;)
Lips twitching, Tad shook his head. He’d almost forgotten what a punk Scott was. Which was actually one of the things he liked about the guy. Good for spontaneous verbal jab exchanges, while keeping it amicable and light. Harmless. Tad had realized that about him not five minutes after having met. Despite the humiliating circumstances they’d been introduced under, Scott never once tried to rub it in or make Tad feel like a loser. Even though that was exactly what he’d been. Thing was, most guys would’ve had a field day, taking every opportunity to shame Tad even worse. But not Scott. Instead, he’d treated Tad like a freaking Adonis.
A smile tugged at Tad’s lips. Yeah, of all the things Scott was—and he was definitely a lot of things—a dickhead wasn’t one of them. Just a whole lot of passion and playfulness. And a shit ton of mad crazy muscle.
And hadn’t those all proved one hell of a combo.
“Not for long,” Tad murmured, shoving his stick shift into gear. With a quick stop home to change and grab a bag, he made it to Scott’s in thirty.
But as he cut off the engine and reached for his door, he damn near chickened out. He glanced out his window at the unassuming house. Brick-faced with black shutters, it brought back way too many memories. And emotions. What if going inside, seeing Scott again, only made things worse? Geez, he could just see himself now: one great big ridiculous blushing face for the duration of Scott’s entire shoot. And god, what if he popped a boner? The dude would probably fire his ass after just one measly gig.
He grit his teeth and bit back a curse. No. Screw that. He’d gone there for a reason, with a goal to achieve. And damn it, he wasn’t leaving until he’d motherfucking achieved it. He climbed out of his Jeep, hit the alarm and meandered up to the porch. Besides, he thought, rapping on the door, the only messing around they’d be doing was with a bunch of weights. It wasn’t like they’d be headed back to that big kinky wall.
