Edge Jump

by Elizabeth Noble

  Wrapping one arm around Rylan’s chest, Brett eased him to a standing position and pulled him back so he leaned against Brett. His fingers skimmed lightly over Rylan’s chest, pinching and rolling his nipples a few times.

  “This is what we’re going to do,” Brett’s voice was low and right in Rylan’s ear. “You don’t have a coaching class for about a day and a half. The goal is to wear all this until then. Can you do that, boy?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Rylan felt Brett nod. He leaned his head back onto Brett’s shoulder and Brett’s hand brushed up and down Rylan’s throat a few times before he licked slowly along Rylan’s neck. “Your cock is all trussed up and coming is out of the question until then. For you, not for me. Understood?”

  Gulping, Rylan nodded once. “Yes, sir. I’m looking forward to this, sir.”

  “Anytime you need out of this thing or the plug removed all you need to do is say your safeword. We’ll work out a schedule to remove the plug. The schedule’s not set in stone, so don’t be afraid to ask for a change.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rylan exhaled.

  “Get dressed. It’s very nice outside. No more of this you can’t go onto the ice business, we’re going skating,” Brett said. He released Rylan and guided him to the bedroom door, leaving him to navigate his way across the hall to the other bedroom and his clothes.

  Chapter 16

  It was a clear, crisp evening, little wisps of clouds streaked the sky, and stars were only beginning to twinkle into view. It’d taken Rylan a little longer than normal to don jeans, T-shirt, and sweater. When he sat on a chair to pull his socks on the plug gave him a hearty nudge. The scratch of his clothes sent tingles across his skin making it necessary for Rylan to sit still and breathe deep for a few minutes to compose himself.

  “You can do this. Just take it one minute at a time.” Reciting the words helped him further focus and center himself.

  Going down the stairs on his rump as he’d gotten into the habit of doing if he was in a rush was out of the question right now. Rylan gripped the rails and carefully eased himself to the first floor.

  Brett was waiting in the den. “How you doing?”

  “Okay.” Rylan smiled a bit and nodded. The truth was he had to concentrate on every step and movement. He could do this. He would make it until tomorrow night.

  The storage chest next to the sliding, glass doors sat open. Brett pulled out his hockey skates then held Rylan’s practice skates out to him. After putting his own on, Brett helped Rylan with his. Giving Rylan’s right foot a pat, Brett stood up and held out his hand.

  “C’mon, it’s too nice to stay inside,” Brett said.

  Rylan’s stomach churned and his chest tightened. The thought of being on ice was scary and exciting all at once.

  It was a little tricky maneuvering across the floor and then the deck on skates, even with the blade covers. Not being able to bend one knee fully threw Rylan’s balance off. The bump and nudge against his prostate every time he moved was distracting. He’d have to practice walking as well as skating. Holding onto Rylan’s arm, Brett helped steady him and gave him extra support. Brett flipped a switch before they stepped outside, and dozens of lights strung around the deck and perimeter of the pond emitted a soft glow.

  They stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading down from the deck to the pond to take the shields off their skates. Brett stepped out onto the ice and held out his free hand so Rylan could hold both of Brett’s. Row followed them out onto the deck, and flopped down, watching over them.

  Rylan bit his lower lip, silently reminding himself he was safe with Brett, who would never allow anything bad to happen. He was ensconced in a little bubble of protection that allowed Rylan to push himself as far as he could.

  Brett glided backward, holding Rylan’s hands firmly, as Rylan took hesitant steps onto and across the ice. Excitement coursed through him overtaking his fear and a rush of adrenaline made him tremble. He pulled in a deep breath and blew it out, creating little tendrils in the air in front of him, and looked down at his feet.

  Brett burst out laughing. “What’s the first thing you learn?”

  Rylan lifted his chin, met Brett’s gaze, and snickered. “Don’t look at your feet.”

  Using Brett’s hand as a brace, Rylan balanced on his good leg and gingerly pushed off with his right foot. A few sparks of pain shot through his leg and it trembled slightly, but nothing like the discomfort felt when he did his physical therapy. His body was adjusting to a position and muscles that hadn’t been used in a while. A few seconds of concentrating on settling his body, evening his breathing and focusing inward was all that Rylan needed to relax and enjoy their outing.

  Some repositioning and experimenting was all that was needed before they were skating a leisurely pace around the frozen pond. Brett turned so he skated backward, guided Rylan in front of him then pulled him closer. He wrapped one arm around Rylan’s waist and they spun in a slow circle before skating side by side again.

  Rylan felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders. The cool night air gently ruffled through his hair, making it flutter against his neck. Every inhalation pulled in clean, refreshing air, rejuvenating and further lightening his mood.

  Again, Brett turned and pulled Rylan against him, rubbing his fingers through Rylan’s hair for a few minutes. Rylan nuzzled Brett’s cheek before softly brushing his lips against Brett’s. Rylan’s hips twitched closer to Brett and the plug bumped his prostate sending tiny jolts of pleasure through him.

  A shudder worked its way down Rylan’s spine. He moaned softly and rested his head against Brett’s shoulder. “This is…I like this, it’s nice…all of it, the whole thing.” Slipping one hand between them, Rylan palmed Brett’s groin and squeezed very gently. “Thank you, sir. I feel a lot better.”

  Brett held him tightly, bent his head, and pressed his mouth to Rylan’s. Pushing his tongue between Rylan’s lips, he swirled it around Rylan’s mouth and skimmed the roof of his mouth.

  They glided over the ice for a little longer and it was completely dark by the time Rylan began leaning more heavily on Brett.

  “Are you getting tired?” Brett asked softly.

  Don’t compete.

  “Not so much tired as I haven’t used some of these muscles for a while, I’m getting sort of crampy,” Rylan confessed. They made their way back to the deck, Rylan eased down onto the closest chair and rubbed his calves before taking off his skates. “Oh, that was fun. But I think I need a little more practice to skate for any length of time and without you supporting me.”

  Brett nodded. “Yeah, I get the same feeling too if it’s been few weeks or months for me. I always forget how strenuous even light skating is.” He took off his skates and massaged one foot for a few minutes. Then he helped Rylan pull the skate off his right foot before he collected their skates and opened the door, ushering Rylan and Row back into the house.

  Rylan settled in the media room and ordered dinner while Brett busied himself finding them a movie for the evening. Sitting in one spot was a challenge, one in which Rylan was determined to succeed. They’d pre-arranged a break schedule when the plug was removed for a half hour or so. Each time Rylan fully expected Brett to initiate sex, even though he didn’t. Rylan was a little surprised because Brett wasn’t wearing anything to prevent him from having an erection and their positions on the couch while they watched the movie told Rylan how turned on Brett was.

  Sleeping that night tested Rylan even more. Wearing the plug at night meant every little turn in his sleep sent tiny sparks through him when his prostate was jostled and he never realized how active he was while asleep. In the morning Brett removed the plug, then left Rylan to take care of personal business. He was in the shower when he heard Brett moving through the bathroom.

  “Lonely in there?” Brett’s voice was deep, low and hungry in a way that made Rylan shiver.

  “A little.” Rylan opened the shower door and pulled in
a moan when Brett slipped through.

  He was glorious. Tawny skin with a slight smattering of dark, curly hair and covered in water it showed off his physique perfectly. With every inhale Rylan was drawn to how Brett’s chest expanded, muscle stretching and skin twitching. He turned Rylan to face the wall and wrapped both arms around him, holding them close. Planting a string of kisses along Rylan’s neck and shoulders, Brett murmured, “Hmm. I love that you’re doing this.”

  Rylan’s cock continuously leaked fluid. He’d get no delightful explosion of ecstasy from an orgasm and no erection, yet he was plenty aroused. If it weren’t for the cage he didn’t doubt for a second he’d be shooting his load right now. Leaning his weight back against Brett’s solid body, Rylan moaned softly.

  Wearing the plug kept Rylan stretched and when Brett’s lube-slick cock pressed into him Rylan reached back and scraped his fingertips along Brett’s thighs. He shuddered when Brett groaned, each thrust more powerful than the one before. Brett held him tightly enough so Rylan was almost immobile. Arching his back, he leaned his head onto Brett’s shoulder, trembling when he felt Brett’s cock throbbing and pulsing out warm fluid.

  It was exhilarating, the teasing simply from seeing Brett, being touched by him, feeling more turned on than ever before and getting no satisfaction. It was odd, but a sense of contentment settled over Rylan. He was pleasing his Dom, and to Rylan that was the best feeling in the world.

  The day passed quietly enough. Rylan was excited about skating on the frozen pond again and they spent twice as much time as they had the night before. Rylan pushed through the pain and concentrated on the sensations from the plug and thoughts of what it would feel like when his cage came off. Brett made good on his statement of coming as much as he liked and he bent Rylan over the back of the couch when they came in from skating.

  That night, Brett spent considerable time teasing Rylan, exploring his body, nipping and licking every inch before Rylan was guided to the chair. Brett raised it to the full height, so Rylan stood, his bad knee supported on the padded arm. His other leg was cuffed at the ankle and fastened to the chair’s base. There was a T-bar attachment they’d never used but this time Brett fitted it into place. The restraints were placed in such a way that Rylan’s arms were stretched out completely. If during any scene his knee was put under stress or caused too much pain Rylan only needed to say the word ‘knee’ and they’d readjust and continue, usually with the mood unaffected. It wasn’t the same as using his safeword and Rylan was comforted knowing that an activity wouldn’t be stopped, only modified. He’d jokingly used the term ‘caution word’.

  He had no idea when the cage would come off, or if Brett would give him the option of continuing to wear it. Rylan decided he was excited about both choices. At long last, Brett pulled out one of Rylan’s favorite leather straps and treated his ass to some fine smacking. With every crack of the leather Rylan’s body relaxed and he leaned back against the restraints. He took deeper and deeper breaths while he let the pleasure and elation from the stinging hits combined with the frustration of no erection flow over him.

  Brett’s hands caressing Rylan’s sides and chest then smoothing some cream across his ass heralded the completion of his spanking, which always gave Rylan mixed emotions. He wanted the spanking to continue, but knew whatever was to come next would be just as thrilling. Brett’s fingers reached between Rylan’s legs and began ever so slowly removing the cage.

  Nipping at Rylan’s ear, Brett asked, “Can you keep control?” He gave Rylan’s balls a firm tug and twist making Rylan squirm as much as possible while restrained.

  Rylan swallowed hard, nodded once, and whispered, “Ye-yes, sir.”

  Brett worked painstakingly slowly, taking his time covering Rylan’s ass, groin, and entrance with lube. “How would you like it, boy?”

  The choice of positions was almost never offered. Rylan’s breath caught and his excitement doubled, making his cock twitch and his balls tighten.

  Brett pushed two fingers inside Rylan, moving them back and forth against his prostate. “Are you really in control, boy?” Brett’s voice was low and mischievous.

  “I…ah…sir…yes,” was the most coherent thing Rylan could say. He took a few more deep breaths, closed his eyes, and concentrated on centering himself. Licking his lips, Rylan spoke slowly and carefully. “This way, sir.” Hopefully Brett would understand.

  Slowly, very deliberately, Brett pulled his fingers out of Rylan and equally gradually pushed his cock completely into Rylan. He stilled and they both inhaled deeply. Rylan’s body relaxed back against Brett without any prompting from his mind. Their breathing synced with the rolling of Brett’s hips. His thrusts sped up and he reached around, taking hold of Rylan’s cock, pumping it in time with the movement of his pelvis.

  Body quivering, Rylan whispered, “Sir, please…I…”

  “Go on,” Brett said softly. He groaned and shoved closer to Rylan and squeezed his cock.

  Rylan’s relief was so intense it made him dizzy. It wasn’t the powerful waves of pleasure that swept through him giving him the most satisfaction, it was the incredible sense of accomplishment he felt.

  * * * *

  The morning of Celia’s service was cold, clear, and sunny. It was the type of day Brett and his sister always loved. The perfect day for outdoor skating. Brett’s heart was both saddened and lifted. If Celia could pick the perfect day, this would be it.

  The funeral home where the service was being held was large, but still Brett worried there wouldn’t be enough room. The owner had gently suggested Celia’s service be closed and by invitation only with the service and photos made available online. Another suggestion was not to publicize her service, simply announce it immediately afterward. Even doing those sorts of things the number of people expected meant the funeral home used their entire facility to accommodate Brett. Since they’d had enough time between planning and the event, it was possible to host only Celia’s service.

  The parking lot was packed and Brett rented the lot of a nearby high school and a shuttle service to transport people to and from the funeral home. He was delighted by how his suggestions for decorating were accomplished. Brett and Celia had been born in the United States after their mother and father emigrated there, from Japan and Spain respectively. The room where the service was to be held was adorned in elements from both their Japanese and Spanish heritage, as well as their lives on the ice. Brett’s mother had once told him her ancestors included Samurai—something that thrilled him as a little boy to no end. The funeral home staff had obviously done some research and found their Spanish family coat of arms as well as replicas of Samurai swords. Portions of the service would reflect their American, Japanese, and Spanish cultures. Brett was utterly impressed how it all came together and blended so nicely, just as their parents had when they’d met.

  One separate room was set up with two large televisions, one playing photographs of Celia from her birth to shortly before her death. The second was exclusively ice skating performances starting when she was a small child and culminating with the tribute Rylan had performed ‘with’ her. Refreshments for the guests were made available in there as well. The funeral home lobby was dominated by a large, locked trophy case that had been set up to display many of Celia’s awards, including her Olympic medals. White and dark purple orchids were everywhere, along with flowers sent by fans and people who were invited but unable to attend.

  The entire scene was beautiful and heart wrenching.

  A Shinto priest and Protestant pastor, reflective of the two religions Celia and Brett grew up with conducted the ceremony. In compliance with their Shinto and Spanish ancestry, Brett had Celia cremated. A small shrine had been set up in place of a casket with elements of both religions and cultures displayed.

  Brett didn’t have the words to express how impressed and grateful he was for the work and effort the funeral home staff had extended.

  Rylan’s suit was dark gray, and in honor o
f Celia his shirt was white and he wore a dark purple tie. Brett followed Shinto teachings, dressing in solid black. His one bit of color was a dark purple pocket square for his suitcoat. He was sure his Shinto ancestors would forgive him this once. Watching Rylan now, intermingling with the guests, Brett had the thought, and not for the first time, that Rylan was amazing. He was focused and seemed calm and together. Brett was a mess and felt as if he’d dissolve into sobs at any second.

  The pastor had asked Brett to speak and though the last thing he wanted to do was get up in front of all these people and talk, he agreed. When the time came he stood next to the shrine and held the little speech he’d prepared in shaking hands.

  It was only a few paragraphs, but Brett barely made it through the first few sentences before his voice cracked and he couldn’t see the paper through his tears. His throat closed and his mouth simply wouldn’t form the words he’d wanted to say.

  Rylan stepped up and gently nudged Brett to the side. Taking the paper in one hand and holding Brett’s hand with the other, Rylan finished the speech. Brett never ceased to be astonished by Rylan’s ability to maintain composure in public. Rylan had once explained he was able to put his emotions in a mental box if he had to, so he could complete a performance. This was no different really. After he’d read Brett’s words, Rylan then led Brett to a quiet corner. He sat with Brett, held him and they both cried.

  The rink at Big Sky had been converted to a reception area. The ice was covered with flooring, tables set up, and caterers went to work. When the service was completed people were encouraged to join Brett, Rylan, and the rest of the staff at Big Sky for a meal. The skating complex had been Celia’s home; it was only fitting.