by J. A. Rock
Aiden’s navel, then blew a stream of cool air on the wet
place. Aiden lifted his hips and twisted. Keaton laughed
softly. “Let’s get this off.” He unbuttoned Aiden’s shirt
and slid a hand under Aiden’s back, lifting him so that he
could pull the article off. He ran his hands over Aiden’s
chest. Aiden inhaled sharply when Keaton’s hands
passed over his nipples.
Keaton let his thumbs drift over the nubs once
more. Aiden kicked, almost hitting Keaton. “Sensitive,
are we?” Keaton smiled and circled Aiden’s nipples with
his thumbs.
“Please. Please… ”
Keaton plunged down, taking one of the hard
peaks between his lips, licking and sucking. Aiden
arched his back and grabbed Keaton’s shoulders. Keaton
moved to the other nipple, flicking it with his tongue,
then letting his teeth scrape it lightly. Aiden dug his nails
into Keaton’s shoulders, whimpering. His legs twitched.
He worried he might come just from Keaton sucking his
tits. He ran his hands down Keaton’s back, loving the
man’s smooth skin, the dips and ridges of his muscles.
Keaton kissed his way down Aiden’s chest to his
navel and then down farther until he reached the
waistband of Aiden’s pants. He undid Aiden’s fly
slowly. Aiden rocketed his hips into the air so that
Keaton could yank his jeans off, but Keaton pulled his
pants down slowly, stopping to run his fingernails up
and down Aiden’s outer thighs.
“God, Keaton.” Aiden gasped. “I need… please… ”
“Patience.” Keaton chuckled. He stripped Aiden’s
jeans the rest of the way off, then exhaled a rush of hot
breath onto the bulge in Aiden’s briefs. He reached up
and gently rolled Aiden’s nipples between his fingers
while he kissed his cock through his underwear.
“Keaton!” Aiden wailed. Scott had never been so
slow, so thorough, so gentle. Scott liked to fuck hard and
fast, or else tease Aiden cruelly without letting him
come. But Keaton—Keaton seemed to want Aiden to feel
good, encouraged his whimpers and moans, discovered
and worshipped Aiden’s body inch by inch.
“You’re so hard,” Keaton whispered, nuzzling the
front of Aiden’s briefs. He hooked his fingers in the
waistband
and
tugged
the
underwear
down.
“Gorgeous,” Keaton remarked, staring at Aiden’s cock.
He slid Aiden’s underwear off, then parted Aiden’s legs.
He traced a path up Aiden’s inner thighs with his
fingertips.
Aiden shuddered. He was soaring, spread and
naked in front of Keaton, at the man’s mercy. His mood
dipped a little as he thought about what he must actually
look like to someone as beautiful as Keaton—not
gorgeous at all, but bony, awkward, pathetic. Most of his
marks had faded, but there were still yellow-gray traces
of bruising on his ass and one hip.
There was suddenly no time to think about
anything else, because Keaton took Aiden in his mouth
and slowly, gently began to suck.
“No.” Aiden gasped, pushing Keaton’s head back.
He felt suddenly frantic, confused.
Keaton pulled back. “What’s wrong?”
“You shouldn’t be doing this. I should be the
one… ”
“What are you talking about?”
“I should be sucking you!”
“Why?”
“Because,” Aiden sputtered. “You’re the one in
charge.”
Keaton grinned, shaking his head. “Well, as the one
in charge, I say lie back and enjoy your blowjob.” Keaton
went down on him again without giving him time to
answer. As he worked Aiden’s cock, his fingers toyed
with Aiden’s balls, keeping a steady counter rhythm to
the bobbing of his head.
Aiden couldn’t help the moans that escaped him, or
the way he arched his back and rocked his hips, thrusting
deep into Keaton’s mouth. He knew he was close and
wondered if he should warn Keaton.
But Keaton stopped just before Aiden came.
Aiden moaned with frustration.
Keaton moved forward and kissed him, brushing
Aiden’s hair back from his forehead, and running his
thumb gently over Aiden’s eyelids. “Turn over,” he
whispered in Aiden’s ear.
Aiden obeyed with a mewl. Keaton’s palms passed
firmly down his back, then gripped his hips. Aiden
couldn’t help rocking a little against the bed. Keaton
spread Aiden’s legs wide, then pressed his lips to the
small of Aiden’s back. He lapped the tender hollow until
Aiden twitched and bucked, then dragged his tongue
down to the beginning of Aiden’s cleft.
He licked down one cheek, then began to nibble the
soft mound of flesh, never hard enough to hurt. Aiden
gasped, grabbing fistfuls of sheets. Keaton brought his
teeth to the sensitive juncture between Aiden’s buttock
and thigh and nipped there. Aiden thrust his ass up,
wanting more but unsettled that Keaton was doing all
this for him, and that he was doing nothing to serve
Keaton. Keaton moved to the other cheek, nibbling and
kissing until Aiden moaned steadily, rocking against the
bed.
Then suddenly Keaton pressed his tongue between
Aiden’s cheeks. He licked down Aiden’s crack, stopping
to flick his tongue against Aiden’s hole, then continuing
down to the soft skin between Aiden’s opening and his
balls. Aiden ground against the sheets as Keaton brought
his tongue up again and swirled it around Aiden’s
entrance. Then Keaton thrust the hot, wet muscle inside
Aiden. Aiden cried out as Keaton withdrew his tongue
and plunged it in again.
Aiden pulled at the sheets and scrubbed his cock
against the bed, sure that if he didn’t come in the next
few seconds, he would die. Keaton continued to rim him
and then once again stopped just as Aiden reached the
edge. Aiden nearly sobbed. “Keaton, please. Please don’t
stop. I need this… ”
Keaton leaned over Aiden and opened the
nightstand drawer. Aiden heard him tear a condom
package open, then, a minute later, uncap a bottle of
lube.
“I’m going to take you now,” Keaton said softly.
“It’s going to feel so good. We’ll come together.”
“Yes,” Aiden whispered, still squirming.
Keaton spread his cheeks and slicked his entrance.
It was cold, and Aiden flinched. Keaton slipped a finger
inside of him, exploring, loosening him. Aiden took a
deep breath and let it out. The finger was joined by a
second, stretching him, finding that sensitive place inside
him and stroking it. Keaton slid his fingers out and
nudged Aiden’s opening with his cock. Aiden spread his
legs wider, ready, desperate to feel Keaton inside of him.
Keaton bore in slowly. Aiden felt a f
lash of fear as he
remembered the last time he’d been fucked. He’d lain
across the table, limp, exhausted from fighting, afraid to
move in case Scott started hitting him again. Scott had
made it hurt. A lot.
This didn’t hurt at all. Keaton made love to him in
long, smooth strokes that grew quicker and harder as
Aiden begged. After one particularly hard thrust, Aiden
whispered, “Yes. Hurt me.”
Keaton slowed down. Ran a hand over Aiden’s
back. “Never,” he said firmly. He lowered himself
against Aiden’s back, then rolled Aiden so they both lay
on their sides. Then he rocked his hips forward, inch by
inch. Then backward, inch by inch. Aiden hadn’t known
it was possible to fuck this slowly.
Sometimes minutes passed between Keaton’s
thrusts. Each plunge into Aiden’s channel drove a low
moan of pleasure from Aiden. Keaton reached around
and stroked Aiden’s cock, increasing his pace until
Aiden couldn’t bear it anymore.
“Keaton—”
“Are you ready to come for me?”
“Yes!”
Keaton fisted Aiden’s cock once more, running his
thumb over the slit, and Aiden’s cum shot across the
sheets as Keaton arched and shuddered against him,
coming with a shout.
They lay there for a few minutes, breathing
together. Then Keaton pulled out of him, stripped off the
condom, and tossed it onto the floor. He pulled Aiden’s
trembling body against his and dragged the covers over
both of them. Aiden rolled over so he could bury his
head in Keaton’s chest. Keaton trapped Aiden’s legs
between his own and whispered into Aiden’s hair. “All
right?”
“All right?” Aiden laughed shakily. “That was
fucking incredible.”
Keaton chuckled. “No kidding.”
Aiden wound his arms around Keaton. “Thank
you,” he said softly. He didn’t know what he was
thanking Keaton for, exactly. For the sex, for not hurting
him, for letting him stay here.
Keaton kissed the top of his head again. “Sleep,” he
said.
Chapter Fifteen
Aiden set his pen down and looked over the list
he’d just written.
THE RULES
1. I will behave respectfully and maturely at all
times. This means no lying to, cursing at, manipulating,
or back talking my partner.
2. I will eat three balanced meals per day.
3. I will be in bed by midnight each night, and sleep
at least eight hours.
4. I will not bite my nails or pick at hangnails.
5. I will talk to my partner if I feel afraid, confused,
angry, or overwhelmed.
A fairly simple list—except that as Aiden read over
rules one through three, he absently bit his thumbnail.
He reached number four and quickly sat on his hand. He
grimaced at number five. He appreciated Keaton’s
concern, but no way was he going to bother Keaton with
every little mood swing he experienced.
Simple rules. And the consequences for breaking
them were decidedly silly. Having his mouth washed
out, or having to write lines wasn’t going to do anything
but make Aiden feel a little foolish. And he had a feeling
Keaton was probably a gentle touch as far as spanking
went. Corner time was the only thing Aiden really
dreaded. But Keaton had promised to stay in the room
with Aiden anytime Aiden was assigned corner time. He
stuck the list on side of the refrigerator facing the wall so
that he’d always know where it was, but guests wouldn’t
see it. He had a hard time taking this domestic discipline
thing seriously. But if it made Keaton happy, what the
heck?
He was biting his nail again. Damn it. He felt a flash
of annoyance. What business was it of Keaton’s whether
or not he bit his nails? Scott’s rules had made sense. They
were all designed to make sure Aiden was a good sub,
that he pleased his dom. And Scott’s punishments were
true punishments. These rules, except for number one,
had nothing to do with Keaton, or Keaton’s pleasure. So
why did they matter so much?
“You don’t have to sleep there,” Keaton had said last
night when they went upstairs and Aiden headed for the
guest room. “Unless you want to.”
Aiden had attempted a smile, though his heart was
pounding. “I thought the reason I was here was to appreciate
the guest room?”
Keaton had laughed. “I’m relieving you of your duties.
If you’ll accept my invitation to share the master bedroom with
me.”
Aiden had accepted, closing the guest room door
and following Keaton into his room. Their room? Aiden
still wasn’t sure what he and Keaton were. Partners,
Keaton had said. But what exactly did that mean?
Aiden sat back down and listened to his stomach
try to digest the cereal he’d eaten for breakfast. Was it
possible that Keaton really cared about him? Cared
whether he was healthy, happy—safe? He’d spoiled the
thrill of being asked to share Keaton’s bed by leaping up
in the middle of the night to throw up his dinner. Keaton,
of course, had woken and come into the bathroom. Aiden
had tried to explain to Keaton afterward that he didn’t
need help or comfort while he was throwing up, that all
having Keaton there did was embarrass him—but
Keaton wouldn’t listen. And fine, maybe it did help a lot
to have someone rubbing his back while he puked. That
still didn’t make Keaton’s intrusion acceptable.
Now he was supposed to start brainstorming for his
personal statement. He slid a fresh sheet of paper in front
of him and picked up the pen. Keaton had told him to
freewrite for fifteen minutes about his dream role as an
actor—the lead in the play he and Keaton had discussed
the other night on the way back from the gym. Why did
he want to play the role? What drew him to the character,
to the play? What unique interpretation of the part could
he offer? What skills did he want to master before taking
on the role?
Aiden stared at the paper. The thoughts that had
flowed so freely in the car with Keaton were now hiding
in the shadows of his mind. He didn’t know why he
wanted to play the part, beyond the fact that it would be
fun. But he was too weak an actor to play it well, and he
didn’t have anything unique to bring to the role, so why
bother writing about it? How was this supposed to help
him write a personal statement?
He scribbled a few bullet points.
* The role would be cool.
* I’m a shitty actor
* Who fucking cares?
Keaton had said Aiden didn’t need to show him
what he’d written; it was for Aiden’s personal use. Aiden
sat there until fifteen minutes had passed; then he went
to find Keaton in the studio.
“Hey,” Aiden said, standing in the doorway.
“Hey there,” Keaton said. He was arranging coils of
clay in an off-kilter tower. “How’d the writing go?”
“Good,” Aiden said. A flash of guilt tore through
him at the lie. He ignored it. “I think it’ll help with my
statement.”
statement.”
“That’s great. What you told me the other night
about that play and that role really shows your passion
for theater. That might be a good starting point for your
statement.”
“Yeah. How’s your stuff going?”
“Good. I’m getting a little frustrated with this vase.”
“It looks—crooked.”
Keaton grinned. “It’s supposed to be. Trouble is,
it’s not quite the kind of crooked I want.”
“You look like you could use a break.”
Keaton wiped his brow with the back of his hand,
smearing a little clay onto his forehead. “Maybe so. Want
to take a walk?”
Aiden shrugged, stepping closer. “I had another
kind of exercise in mind.” He put his hand against the
front of Keaton’s pants.
Keaton’s breath hitched. “Oh really?”
Aiden grinned. “Really.” He dropped to his knees
and undid Keaton’s fly.
Keaton groaned softly, and the sound sent electric
waves through Aiden.
He was about to take down Keaton’s pants and
underwear when Keaton pulled him up by the
shoulders. “Hold on.” He kissed Aiden thoroughly, until
Aiden’s face was flushed and his breathing was rough.
“There.” Aiden’s legs trembled as he sank to his knees
once more and uncovered Keaton’s bobbing cock.
During the next ten minutes, Aiden heard sounds
he’d never imagined coming from someone as collected
and dignified as Keaton Hughes. He finished, wiped his
mouth, and grinned up at Keaton. “Good?” he asked.
Keaton tugged him up and kissed him again, hard,
backing him against the workbench. A cup of water
tipped over. Aiden struggled for purchase and put his
hand on a soft, cool mess of unmolded clay. “It was
okay,” Keaton said. But he couldn’t keep a straight face
for more than a few seconds. He unsnapped Aiden’s
pants and let them fall, tugged his briefs down. “It was
good. So good I’d like to show my gratitude.”
He reached around Aiden and picked up a large,
clean paintbrush. He dragged the bristles against Aiden’s
