Trick-or-Treat

by May Archer

  “Sir. That is so good. Now you keep them there, understand?”

  Alain nodded. He heard a rustle of cloth behind him, and then Dillon was back.

  “You’re a natural at this, baby,” Dillon approved, his hand reaching down to caress the spot he’d smacked.

  His mouth resumed its attention to Alain’s neck, and a moment later Dillon’s fingers found Alain’s furled nipples, pinching them hard - to the point where pleasure became pain, and then a tiny bit further, to a place where pain became pleasure again.

  Christ. Alain had never dreamed that anything could feel so absolutely perfect as having someone take control of him this way. Sex before had always been rather perfunctory, and even when he’d taken direction, he’d always remained firmly in control of his own needs and desires. Now, Dillon had reduced him to a quivering pile of want in a matter of minutes. His cock was rock-hard and literally pulsing at the zipper of his jeans, begging for relief. “Oh, God, please,” he moaned, but Dillon just pinched harder and bit down on his neck in precisely the right spot. He’d never been with anyone who’d known exactly where to touch him, exactly how hard he liked it.

  It was a little bit terrifying.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, then Dillon was lifting him upright again. “Time for your next treat. Where’s your bed, Alain?”

  Yes. Yes, bed. Bed was good. Right? That was what Dillon was there for, after all. Alain swallowed down the butterflies that reappeared in his stomach. Would he regret this tomorrow? Would the memory of this mortify him in the morning? Dillon’s firm hands brushed over his back and once again Alain arched into the touch.

  Whatever tomorrow brought would be worth it.

  But he still had to cudgel his lust-drunk brain to remember what a bed was and where he might find one. “Uh...”

  “Upstairs?” Dillon asked, a smile in his voice, and Alain nodded.

  Yes. Of course. That’s where he kept the bed. Dillon was so smart.

  “Bedroom is, uh, second door on the left,” he offered. He let Dillon arrange them so their arms were around each other’s waists, and then lead him to the stairs. For the first time, Alain was glad of the obnoxiously large house that boasted a curving stairway wide enough for two men - one of them a giant - to walk side-by-side. This was why he’d bought the house, even though he hadn’t known it at the time.

  “Big place,” Dillon said as they reached the second floor, exactly sixteen steps up from where they’d started. “It’s going to be great once you unpack.”

  “It could be,” Alain agreed as Dillon guided them down the hall toward his room. He realized belatedly that he had full use of his hands for the moment, and without waiting for permission, he guided them up the smooth, hard plane of Dillon’s chest. Dillon’s breath caught.

  “You don’t sound too sure, babe,” Dillon said breathlessly. He pushed Alain’s back into the wall, and Alain could hear him twisting the doorknob. He wrapped his hands up around Dillon’s neck, and realized that the man had pulled off his mask at some point, along with his cape and jacket. The warmth of him radiated through his thin cotton shirt.

  “I’m realizing this is a two-person house,” Alain found himself saying as Dillon’s head dipped so he could nip at Alain’s chin. “I think I might have made a mistake. I’m, uh, not sure it’s a good house for just one guy.”

  “I think you need to learn to have faith, Alain,” Dillon sighed.

  “I do?”

  He could feel Dillon nod. “Keep an open mind, and I think you’ll be just fine.”

  He walked Alain through the open door, and back a few paces to the king-sized bed that had been delivered a couple of weeks before. He felt the smooth wooden post at the end of the bed digging into the small of his back.

  “Yeah, okay,” Alain agreed, barely remembering what they’d been talking about. The only thing he could focus on was wondering where and how Dillon might touch him, anticipating what might happen next.

  He didn’t have to wait for long.

  Dillon grabbed both of Alain’s hands and tied them together behind his back, then looped the tie over the bedpost behind him. He tugged experimentally at the soft bindings.

  “Another scarf?” he whispered.

  “I came prepared.”

  It would be easy as anything for Alain to lift his arms over the end of the post if he wanted to get away, and Dillon had to realize it. The man had managed to reinforce that Alain was still ultimately in control, even as he went about driving him insane.

  It was absurdly insightful and really fucking sweet.

  Hot hands ran down his chest, dragging at the waistband of his jeans and then moving lower to tease him through the fabric. Even hotter words were breathed into the skin of his collarbone as Dillon’s lips traced the hollows there. “I fucking love your hands. I want them all over me. But I want this to last, even more, so that will have to wait until later.”

  “Oh, God...”

  The stroking fingers continued to torment him, the sensation firm enough to make his hips buck but light enough to keep him riding the edge of satisfaction. Just when he thought he might explode inside his pants, Dillon’s fingers went to his zipper, tugging it down gently. The feeling of the cool air on his hot cock rocked him - another layer of sensation that fried his overstimulated brain. Everything was magnified behind the blindfold.

  “Christ, you’re perfect.” Soft, reverent words that sent Alain’s pulse flying. Dillon had no reason to say something like that - there were no expectations between them besides honesty, after all - unless he really meant it.

  Alain was so stunned, it took him a second - a second of hot, moist breath on his belly button, no less - for him to realize that Dillon was no longer standing, but kneeling in front of him. Oh, shit. His nose nudged the hair above Alain’s hard cock, even as his hands pushed Alain’s jeans down several inches to hang on the curve of his ass.

  “What are you doing?” Alain demanded, his voice strangled.

  Dillon chuckled - a familiar sound that resonated in Alain’s chest - tugging Alain’s jeans down and all the way off, before biting a spot on his thigh. “If you can’t figure it out, baby, I’m not doing it right.”

  And then all Alain could do was moan out loud as Dillon licked a long stripe up the underside of his dick from root to tip. His ass clenched at the sensation.

  “That’s it, baby. Get loud for me, Alain. I want to hear it.”

  Then Dillon went wild, his tongue licking and sucking all the way up the shaft before his lips closed around the head and he sucked hard.

  It was exquisite and nearly painful. Dillon’s mouth was a hot vise around him, his lips moving up and down in steady rhythm, trying to take more and more of Alain’s cock in his mouth, until finally he was able to swallow around the tip. Alain’s hips bucked and be braced his hands on the bedpost, trying to get leverage.

  “Please! Oh, Jesus, Dillon, please.”

  “Please what, Alain?” Dillon’s voice was wrecked, gravel-ruined from lust and cock sucking, and Alain had to dig his short fingernails into his own palm to keep from coming just from the knowledge that he and he alone had done that to the huge, sexy man.

  “Please let me come.”

  “Like this, baby? With only my mouth? Before we get to any of the good stuff?” The words were whispered into the skin of his dick, imprinted there.

  “Good stuff?” Alain’s voice was reedy and thin, not surprising since all the blood and oxygen in his body were currently occupied.

  Dillon hummed and moved his head down, his arm knocking Alain’s feet wide apart.

  “Let’s see how high you can go, Alain. You let me know when you feel like you’re going to come. Understand?”

  Alain swallowed. How high he could go? He nodded enthusiastically, and like he’d only been waiting on Alain’s agreement, Dillon’s tongue traveled further back, sucking Alain’s tightened balls into his mouth one at a time and rolling gently.

  Alain�
��s eyes wheeled back in his head for a moment, and he wondered if it were possible to pass out from too much pleasure. Robotics Developer Dies of Acute Bliss, the headline would read. And at the moment, he was absolutely fine having that as his epitaph.

  He lifted a foot off the floor, and Dillon hummed in approval, guiding Alain’s leg up and over his shoulder, allowing him some small amount of leverage.

  Dillon’s mouth captured Alain’s cock again, sucking him all the way down just as his wet finger brushed over Alain’s pucker.

  Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. Alain couldn’t keep himself from thrusting forward, and despite the hands braced on his hips, Dillon did nothing to stop him, allowing Alain to piston his hips and drive his cock deeper and deeper into Dillon’s willing mouth.

  “Dillon, I’m close. I’m so close,” Alain moaned, and suddenly Dillon’s mouth was gone, his fingers wrapped firmly around the base of Alain’s cock.

  “You are so gorgeous, Alain. So perfect. Every inch of your body. Every part of your over-thinking brain.” Dillon murmured broken words into his hip. “I love the way you let me give this to you.”

  Alain shook his head. “Not me. N-not perfect. If you really knew me, you wouldn’t...”

  Dillon moved back and grabbed Alain’s hip harder, turning him in place. The twisting made the scarf pull tighter against the bedpost and against his wrists, truly trapping him for the first time. His heart began to beat harder.

  He barely had time to breathe, “W-what are you doing?” before Dillon’s large hand was cracking down along the curve of his bare ass once, then twice, then over and over again in rapid succession.

  Alain flinched away from the stinging slaps. “Fuck, Dillon! Fuck. No!” But by the time the dozenth well-placed blow had landed, Alain was also squirming for a different reason. The lingering heat from each smack had lit his ass up like Christmas, and suddenly he could feel every inch of flesh in a way he hadn’t before.

  Dillon’s voice was ragged as he panted in Alain’s ear. “You do not say shit like that about yourself. Do you understand? Not ever, but sure as fuck not when you’re with me, or I will punish you.”

  Dillon was leaning against Alain as he spoke, the hard brand of his cock pushing against Alain’s hot, tender ass like it wanted to leave a permanent impression.

  “You have no idea what I see when I look at you, Alain. How strong you are. How smart and sexy you are. How much I want you.”

  Alain felt tears prick behind his eyelids. In his entire life, no one had ever said anything even remotely like that to him. No matter how much he’d given in a relationship, no matter how hard he’d tried or how agreeable he’d made himself, no one had ever wanted him that much. How fucking fitting that the one time he heard it, it was his fantasy night with a guy who’d never be interested in him once the sun came up.

  “We’re gonna slow things down,” Dillon told him grimly. “Because obviously we are not on the same page right now.” His open mouth found Alain’s earlobe and bit down just hard enough to make Alain cry out. “But we’ll get there, Alain,” he vowed softly. “I promise you we will.”

  Dillon shifted him to the side, helping him lay down on his stomach on the bed, then retying his wrists to the posts. Then he levered himself onto the bed, straddling Alain’s back.

  His fingers dug into the muscles of Alain’s neck and shoulders, loosening knots that had been there for longer than Alain could remember, then slid lower down his spine, kneading away every bit of tension in his back. It was sensual and amazing, though he never once reached for Alain’s dick and his fingers didn’t stray below Alain’s waist... well, not much, anyway, and it was the most arousing thing Alain had ever felt.

  Never had anyone taken this much time with him, this much care. Usually, he was the one who took on that role. He’d never wanted to seem demanding, he realized. He’d never asked for attention, and so he hadn’t ever received it.

  Definitely not like this.

  He bit his lip as Dillon’s fingertips traced patterns across his hot skin, back and forth, up and down, as though they had all the time in the world. As though their one night together wasn’t already nearly over.

  The idea nearly made him want to cry, and suddenly it was too much - the words, the gentle caresses, the fantasy. He didn’t want the blindfold anymore - didn’t want this heightened sensation and the weird, deep trust.

  “Dillon,” he rasped out. “Take the blindfold off.”

  Dillon’s hands froze on his back. “Take it off? Why?”

  “Because I want to,” he said stridently. “Because I’m done with this.”

  “Alain -”

  “No! No. Tonight’s been great, and fun, and all that. And you! You’re awesome, but it’s not for me. I can tell. I’m vanilla as the day is long.” He chuckled bitterly. “Just ask my ex-boyfriend.” He grabbed a shuddering breath. “I’m getting really uncomfortable now, and...”

  “Scared.”

  Alain’s mouth opened, then shut. He frowned beneath the scarf. “No.”

  “Yes,” Dillon said softly, stretching himself out along Alain’s back. His hands - hands that felt both rough and strangely familiar on Alain’s body - had stopped their kneading, but they rubbed slow circles along Alain’s biceps. “Not of the darkness, and not of me, but you’re scared. Scared of trusting me, trusting this.”

  Alain swallowed, but said nothing. Dillon’s words had a ring of truth, but that didn’t change anything. Did it?

  “You’re always thinking, always overthinking. Sometimes you just need to trust what you’re feeling, believe what your gut tells you instead.” The hands moved higher, fingers smoothing along Alain’s cheek, dragging along the corner of his mouth, making his heart skip-BOOM, skip-BOOM. Dillon’s voice was a ragged whisper in his ear. “Let me show you Alain. Baby, please, let me.”

  Alain nodded, caught by the words, by the tone of them. “Okay.”

  Always overthinking, he’d said, and he wasn’t wrong. But…Always? How would Dillon know?

  “If you really want to stop, you tell me. Say the magic words and I’ll remove the blindfold. Yes?”

  He nodded. Trick or treat. If his suspicions were correct, the irony was strong.

  Still, he cleared his throat and told Dillon in a whispered rush, “Lube and stuff in the nightstand.”

  Dillon laughed softly and buried his face between Alain’s shoulder blades like he was savoring the scent. “Oh, Alain. Christ, I love how your mind works.” And Alain’s heart skipped a beat because those were not the words of a perfect stranger, but of someone Alain had come to trust and to maybe, possibly even... love.

  Dillon began his ministrations again, his hands tracing patterns on Alain’s skin, but this time it was clearly with intent. His hands began to wander, one fingertip dipping low to trail over Alain’s pucker, the other reaching around to trail down his hip.

  Alain felt him leave the bed for a second, and when he returned, he helped Alain onto his knees. Kisses rained down his neck as a thin trickle of lube spread over his hole, and then Dillon’s blunt but clever fingers - first one, then two, then three were inside him, slicking him, preparing him.

  “God, you’re so hot, baby. So tight. I can’t wait to get in there. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”

  “I can’t... I can’t wait. Dillon, please.” He gave a weak chuckle that ended on a moan as Dillon’s fingers pulled all the way out before sliding home again. “I’m as high as I can go without losing my mind forever.”

  “We can’t have that,” Dillon said, an audible thrum of excitement in his voice.

  His fingers moved away, and Alain found himself rocking on his knees, practically keening with need.

  “Hurry, Dillon. God. Hurry!”

  There was a rip of paper, the squelch of lube, and the harsh sounds of their breathing - everything sounding incredibly loud and meaningful with no sight to give it context.

  Dillon pinched his ass, hard. “One more thing, Alain,” he
whispered. “One more thing before I come inside you.” He hesitated for the first time all night, and Alain’s muscles locked down. The voice was familiar, yes, but he’d never heard that tone from him before. “Tell me this isn’t just a one-night fantasy. Tell me you really want this. Tell me...”

  “I do,” Alain said, because even though admitting it was scarier than every Halloween horror movie he’d ever seen all rolled into one, the joy spreading through him made the butterflies quiet for once and for all. “I want this every day, more than anything. I want...”

  Dillon pushed inside him with one thrust, and Alain gasped at the fullness. Pleasure-pain-pleasure, as it always seemed to be with this man, who knew exactly how far to push him...

  Who had always, always known exactly how far to push him, in the gym and everywhere else.

  “I want...” Alain began again, but then Dillon slid all the way back and thrust his way home once more, and Alain’s words were momentarily forgotten.

  And so it became a rhythm, their rhythm - Alain chanting a litany of want, please, want, while Dillon delivered with mind-obliterating precision. His fingers dug grooves into the soft skin of Alain’s hips just the way his quiet words had carved themselves into Alain’s mind - firmly, simply, in a way that was meant to last.

  Dillon slid out and turned Alain onto his back, and the scarf around the bedpost unknotted, giving Alain extra leverage, but he had no intention of using it. Instead, as Dillon slid back home, Alain grabbed the post in both hands and used it to hold himself in position, to more perfectly align himself for Dillon’s thrusts.

  “Yes!” he cried, as Dillon’s cock tagged his prostate on a thrust. “God, yes. Please. I want you to come inside me.”

  Dillon lowered his weight more fully onto Alain, and the friction of his pelvis on Alain’s cock made them both moan. That was all it took to make Dillon lose his mind. His thrusts became frantic stutter-steps, his rhythm devolving into something primal. “Alain,” he said, like it was a prayer. “Alain, Alain, Alain.”