Just Business

by Anna Zabo

  No romance. Nothing long. I don’t do this. Justin turned to Eli—as much as the ropes allowed. “Why me?”

  “Because we already had more.” Eli changed lanes then slid his hand over Justin’s jeans, so close to—but not touching—his cock. “And you thrive on the intensity.”

  He did. Would have loved it even more if Eli moved his hand up a bit.

  “See?” Warmth and playfulness in Eli’s voice. But he didn’t shift his hand one inch.

  Justin flexed, the ropes pressing against flesh and silk, and swallowed, trying to wet his throat. “I don’t suppose you could drive a little faster?”

  “No.” Eli’s fingers found Justin’s shaft.

  Justin grunted, but it sounded more like a whimper.

  “I don’t think the cops would quite understand your . . . predicament . . . if they pulled me over for speeding.”

  Eli didn’t let up for what felt like miles. Lights blurred and the thudding of Justin’s blood mixed with the rumble of the road. His balls ached—hell—every piece of him ached for the bliss of release. He never wanted it to end.

  Which was par for the course with Eli, it seemed.

  They were both breathless when Eli finally put both hands back on the steering wheel. Downtown Pittsburgh rose above the road like a glass and steel medieval fortress—all points and towers and lights. Justin’s stomach tumbled as they curved over bridges, changed lanes, and zipped under more bridges. He swayed in his seat, completely at the mercy of physics and Eli’s driving.

  Exhilarating. Nerve-wracking.

  When they neared the exit for Forbes Avenue and Oakland—the one that would take them near Justin’s apartment—Eli cleared his throat. “Are you sure?”

  He didn’t even think about the answer. “Yes.”

  They passed the exit. Justin exhaled. “Are you?”

  “You wouldn’t be in my car if I weren’t.” This time, when Eli reached over, he squeezed Justin’s knee. “I know this is rather fast.”

  No, not really, but he wasn’t ready to tell Eli how he’d jacked off in the coffee shop bathroom after his interview. “I’m fine. Honest.”

  They exited at Squirrel Hill, and in a matter of minutes, they were parked in Eli’s driveway. Eli got out of the car and retrieved his cane. A moment later, the passenger door opened. “Up and out, if you please.”

  Harder to do than Justin expected, but he managed after the second try. The trip to the front door was a blur of kisses and stumbling, tugging and pushing. In between sucking in air and tangling with Eli’s tongue, Justin stammered out two words. “My bag.”

  “Tomorrow.” Eli pushed him against the door. Teeth scraped against Justin’s chin. Keys jingled and the door against his back swung open. The only reason he didn’t tumble back was Eli’s grip on the ropes.

  “In.” Eli spoke against Justin’s ear. “Before Lavi gets out.”

  “Lavi?” Justin stepped up and walked backward into the dark entryway.

  Eli wrenched Justin around and pushed him against the door, shutting it behind them. “My cat.”

  Sure enough, an annoyed meow sounded from nearby, but was drowned out by the thudding of Justin’s heart when Eli bit his shoulder. The sharp pain tightened his dick and he fought the ropes holding his arms. More than anything, he wanted to tangle his hands into Eli’s hair. So frustrating. So fucking hot.

  Eli ground his cock into Justin’s. Fingers grazed his throat. “Time to get rid of this.”

  The collar. A moment later, it hit the floor. Eli pulled him off the door. “Upstairs. Now.”

  No argument there. “Which way?”

  A groan. Eli rotated him and Justin faced a dimly lit set of stairs—with a pair of reflective eyes halfway up.

  The cat meowed again. Eli placed his hand on the small of Justin’s back and pushed, forcing Justin to the foot of the stairs.

  Justin eyed the cat. “Will she move?”

  “He. And he’d better, if he knows what’s good for him.” Another bite against Justin’s shoulder, this one harder than the last. “You’d better as well, if you know what’s good for you.”

  Justin knew exactly what he wanted: out of these pants and into Eli’s bed. He took one step and another. The cat regarded him with disdain, but did move out of the way when Justin got within a step. He trilled as they passed.

  “Daddy’s busy, Lavi,” Eli murmured. “Besides, you’ve had your dinner.”

  “Talkative thing.” Justin reached the second floor.

  A sharp smack against Justin’s ass made him jump forward and ignited all the welts on his backside. “He talks almost as much as you. To the left, please.”

  That had better be the bedroom. His jeans were too tight and Eli wasn’t close enough. He walked through a doorway and—yes. Bedroom. Finally. A click of a switch and a floor lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. Not that Justin saw much before Eli yanked him around and kissed him hard, using the ropes as handles. There was the clatter of Eli’s cane falling to the wood floor then Justin toppled over onto the bed. Eli followed him down onto the soft surface. White bedspread, white shirt, Eli’s hair a dark frame around his face. He hovered above Justin, lips almost touching—as if waiting.

  “Please.” Justin arched up, seeking lips, skin, or any part of Eli at all.

  What he got was a sweet and gentle kiss. “I should untie you.”

  “Don’t have to.”

  Eli cradled Justin’s face with his hands. “The sex doesn’t have to be rough.” Gravel in his voice and his hard cock rocked against Justin’s thigh.

  “I know.” Justin caught his breath. “But tonight, it does. You want it. I want it. I can’t . . . get enough of you.”

  There was a look of wonder in Eli that shifted to joy and lust, and then Justin couldn’t breathe for the kiss. Eli massaged Justin’s bulge and one of them moaned. Eli stripped Justin’s pants and underwear off and hoisted him farther onto the bed before he closed a hand around Justin’s shaft.

  The ropes seemed tighter and sweeter and his orgasm so close.

  The next groan wasn’t Justin’s. “Fuck. Condoms. Need . . .” Eli’s kiss seared Justin’s blood. “I’ll be right back.”

  Then there was nothing but a white ceiling with an interesting plaster pattern. Really?

  A door opened to a muttered curse and closed. Two objects landed on the bed and Eli crawled over him.

  “Most people keep that shit in the nightstand.” Justin peered into Eli’s gray eyes.

  Eli shrugged, a blush creeping up his neck. “Haven’t had a lover in a while.” He traced fingers over Justin’s cheeks. “Now where were we?”

  A languid kiss, then a deeper one, and another. Eli’s hand closed around Justin’s shaft and Justin twisted in the ropes, even as is mind whirled around Eli’s words. Skin and blood flared when Eli shifted and pushed his knees wider. Eli’s cloth-covered erection rocked against Justin’s balls and then both moaned.

  “Fuck, Eli, just . . .” Justin let out a breath. “Lovers?”

  “Yes.” Lips brushed lips before Eli pulled back reached for something. Foil. Lube. The clatter of a buckle and the whisper of a zipper.

  Lovers? The weight of it pinned Justin to the bed more tightly than any rope could ever hope to. He didn’t know if he could trust another Dom enough for that. “Submissive?”

  That bright smile lit in Eli. “That, too, when you want.” Another shift and the fullness of Eli’s cock head pressed against his ass. Eli moved forward.

  Justin couldn’t help the cry that ripped from him. The pleasure of Eli filling him, the burn of being stretched and entered so quickly, so smoothly, trembled his whole body and forced the air from his lungs.

  Eli curled fingers under the rope across Justin’s upper arms and thrust in deeper until they couldn’t be any closer, though they both tried. Justin wrapped his legs around Eli as he took him deep, over and over. Hard and unmerciful pounding.

  But the way they kissed, lips and tongues teasing, t
he moans and gasps and mutters—this wasn’t a Dom fucking his sub into oblivion. Despite the ropes, the clothing that still covered Eli, the pain from welts on Justin’s back, they made love.

  Justin’s heart ached against his ribs. He’d gone to the party looking for a fuck, not a relationship, least of all with Eli, but here they were in his bed. Last time he’d done this, it had been a horrible mistake. But the torment of the ropes against his back mixed with the sweet friction of Eli’s shirt against his cock. “Eli, I can’t—” Eli kissed him hard, rocking in deep and hitting him right.

  “Then don’t.” Slurred words.

  Everything turned bright, the sharp blade of ecstasy slicing into Justin’s balls and brain and he spilled himself against Eli’s shirt, suspended between the pain of his back and the joy of Eli wrapped around him. Justin hadn’t tumbled down from the high when Eli’s rhythm broke with a sharp curse and a low cry until he slowed to a stop, his whole body shaking against Justin’s.

  Despite the all the aches, with Eli buried inside him and his breath rasping against Justin’s cheek, this was the most peaceful Justin had felt in ages.

  Eli shifted and pulled out. He trailed fingers across Justin’s forehead. “You okay?”

  Justin wet his lip. “God yes. Just need to lie here for a thousand years and I’ll be fine.” He closed his eyes, but a haze of light ringed his vision anyway. Every muscle weighed him down. Bones of lead.

  A chuckle. “Give me a moment.”

  A gentle tugging forced Justin to open his eyes. Eli knelt next to him, unknotting rope. “Can you sit up?”

  With Eli’s help, yes. So very heavy, though. His head, his arms. “Sub drop.”

  “Hadn’t noticed.” Eli’s dry reply spoke otherwise. “Let me get these ropes off, put some salve on your back, and you can crash.”

  That was fine. He leaned his forehead against Eli’s shoulder. The tension against his arms and torso ebbed until all that remained were the ropes binding his hands. Warm lips brushed Justin’s forehead. “Stay with me a bit longer.”

  “Sure.”

  How he ended up on his stomach, face cradled by the softest pillow he’d ever felt, he wasn’t sure. Eli was applying something cool to his back, quenching the fire there. Justin relaxed into the quiet stillness of the room and Eli’s touch and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  When Eli returned from washing his hands, Justin was asleep, sprawled on one side of the bed, his naked, welted back uncovered. Slow steps forward. He didn’t want to wake Justin. He shouldn’t have worried. Even when he draped the sheet and blanket over Justin, he didn’t move, his breathing deep and even. Eli scrubbed his face. He should undress, crawl into bed, and let that same sleep consume him.

  He couldn’t. Too much buzz, too much energy, and a single question kicked around in his brain.

  Are we doing the right thing?

  He didn’t know. He still didn’t know. Eli pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. Fuck.

  Downstairs. Sleep was not an option and he needed not to look at Justin, not to want to kiss his skin or feel his heat. Eli stripped off his button-down—too much Justin on that. The t-shirt beneath was damp, but with sweat. His leg hurt like mad with every controlled step from the room. While the pain descending the stairs made him cling to the bannister, it did nothing to clear his head.

  Eli stumbled into the living room and sank down on the couch. What was he doing? No clue. Absolutely none.

  Through the dim light filtering in from outside, Eli picked out bits and pieces of his life. The photo of the Western Wall he’d taken in Jerusalem. Noah’s Kiddush cup. The sculpture of a cat he’d bought in Egypt. The tacky rainbow mug he’d picked up last year when Michael and Sam had dragged him to Pride in the Street. Plants. Candles. Items that meant something, but only to him because no one else knew the reasons they were in this room.

  For the first time in ages, that hurt. He wanted Justin to know him—not the CFO, not the Dom, not the cold man with the cane and limp, but the guy who sat in the dark with his heart in his throat. The one who had a fuckload of issues and a therapist on speed dial and a patchwork heart.

  He’d known Justin two months.

  He didn’t bring men home from parties. Didn’t fuck them in his bed. Hell, when was the last time he’d dated? Eli pulled his aching leg up onto the couch.

  That was easy. Michael, during undergrad. They’d salvaged a strong friendship from the debacle, but after that, he’d given up completely. Too many broken pieces, too many odd quirks he wasn’t sure were him or the result of the fallout from the accident.

  Eli leaned his head back against the couch and looked up at the lines of light and shadow on the ceiling. Justin’s obvious pain had burned through Eli like a firebrand.

  Even now, even after coming three times, the memory of Justin’s cries, the shuddering way he sucked in air after each blow, the tracks of tears down his face warmed Eli. Justin had a body built for thrashing.

  God, he was such a monster. Eli covered his eyes and grit his teeth.

  Are you, Eli? Dr. Brohmer’s voice rang in his head. Not like they hadn’t had that conversation a few dozen times.

  I love their pain, love making them feel it. How they move, how they sound. I—how can I not be a monster? People aren’t like this!

  Her snort had been indelicate. Many people are like this. These men crave what you offer. Are they monsters, too?

  A trilling meow shook Eli from the past and Lavi jumped up onto the couch, padded his way onto Eli’s lap, and head-butted him in the chin. Eli wrapped his arms around Lavi. He was soft and warm and purring up a storm. “Daddy’s not doing too well.”

  Lavi merely rubbed his chin against Eli’s and snuggled his nose into Eli’s ear, his purr pitching to a squeak. Adorable. Heart-melting. He pressed his face into Lavi. He’d leave a few tears behind, but Lavi never seemed to mind.

  Eli was human. That was the conclusion he’d reached each time he had that conversation. No doubt he was a sadist, but playing without consent twisted his stomach. The few times he’d misjudged a sub’s limits and he’d safeworded—those moments were burned into his brain. He’d dealt with the aftermath, talked it out, and made sure all was well. Then he’d come home and emptied the contents of his stomach into the nearest toilet.

  You cared about those men, Eli.

  He had. He hadn’t loved any, but there’d been affection there, a desire to shepherd them to the next stage in their kink—usually to a more permanent relationship with a suitable partner.

  Justin was different.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the moment when Justin had morphed from someone he wanted to fuck into the man he wanted to wake up next to. Make breakfast for. Share bits of his life with. It was insane. Or wonderful. Terrifying.

  Exhaustion finally plowed into Eli’s bones. Bed, next to Justin: that’s where he belonged, at least for this night. They’d figure out the rest a day at a time.

  Eli scratched Lavi’s head. “You always say the right things.”

  Lavi’s bashed his head against Eli’s nose before he hopped to the floor, tail in the air, purr still resounding. He headed for the kitchen.

  “If you think you’re getting food now, you’re quite mistaken.”

  Lavi vanished into the darkness of the kitchen, then reappeared, rubbing his face against the edge of the doorframe.

  Eli hobbled up from the couch. “Bedtime, sweetheart. Breakfast tomorrow.”

  The response was a long, pitiful meow.

  “Oh, don’t give me that.” He limped toward the kitchen. “Fine. A few treats.” You are such a sucker.

  Once Lavi was placated, Eli took to the stairs, pulling himself up each step. Justin lay exactly where Eli had left him. Even when he flicked off the light, Justin didn’t stir.

  In the light from the street, Eli stripped and slid into bed next to Justin.

  No, he wasn’t a monster—just tired. Top drop.

  He and Justin h
ad given and taken what they needed, finally consummating the desire they’d been dancing around for two months. They’d make it work, somehow.

  Because lying next to Justin was sublime. Sleep washed over Eli and pulled him under.

  Chapter Nine

  The first hint Justin wasn’t home was the bed. Both too firm and too soft, it wasn’t a lumpy mess. The room was light and airy and smelled of lavender, wood polish, and sex, not of damp mildew under awful air freshener.

  Eli’s house. Eli’s bed. Justin stared out into the bedroom. His back and ass ached with a dull glow he knew would flare the moment he moved.

  Last night he’d been stripped, flogged, and fucked by Eli. Now they were dating? Or in a Dom/sub thing? Justin’s head swam. Rolling on his back would hurt, but he needed to see if Eli really slept next to him. He turned, gritting his teeth when his back connected with the mattress, and looked.

  Mussed black curls and stubble that made Eli’s jawline look so sharp by the end of the week. Relaxed and still, Eli looked younger, nearly Justin’s age, if he had to guess. Beautiful.

  Justin rotated to his side and Eli’s eyes flickered and opened.

  Eli cupped a hand against Justin’s face and stroked his cheek with a thumb. “Justin. You’re here.”

  Drenched in sleep, Eli’s voice slipped through Justin, stirring desire and need. “Yeah. I am.”

  “Good.” Eli closed his eyes, but the gentle swirling of his thumb didn’t stop.

  “I thought it might be a dream.”

  Those gray eyes opened again. “A good one, or a nightmare?”

  He slid closer and kissed Eli’s chin, running his tongue over the stubble there. “Dreams of you are always good.”

  “Even when you hated me?”

  Justin flinched, but he deserved that. “Even then.” Eli shifted his hand to the back of Justin’s head, pulling his hair, the sharp tug thickening Justin’s cock. “I don’t hate you now.”

  Eli’s laugh vibrated Justin’s body. “I should hope not,” he whispered in Justin’s ear.