Book Read Free

By His Rules

Page 23

by J. A. Rock


  Keaton unsnap his fly and remove his pants. Keaton

  ripped open the condom package and uncapped the

  lube. “Come here,” he ordered. Aiden turned and

  walked unsteadily to the table. Keaton stood and drew

  one of the cushioned chairs back from the table. “Kneel,”

  he said, patting the cushion. “You can grab on to the

  back of the chair.”

  Aiden knelt on the edge of the seat, slowly moving

  forward, gripping the rungs of the chair back. Keaton

  wondered for a second if the boy’s pants would split,

  they were stretched so tight across his buttocks. Keaton

  reached under Aiden and undid the fly, pulling his pants

  down and off.

  Aiden wore light blue briefs, and Keaton could see

  red splotches from the spatula on the backs of his thighs,

  disappearing under the fabric. He stretched the

  waistband of Aiden’s briefs, then let it snap. Aiden’s

  breath caught. “I’m going to take you, Aiden. Exactly as I

  want to take you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Keaton,” he corrected.

  “Yes, Keaton.”

  “And I want you to enjoy it.”

  “Yes,” Aiden said softly.

  “I’d like to hear you beg for it.”

  Aiden moaned. Keaton hooked his fingers under

  the waistband of Aiden’s briefs and peeled them down,

  exposing the pink and white flesh beneath. “Mmm,”

  Keaton said, palming Aiden’s left cheek, rubbing it

  slowly, firmly. “Such nice color.”

  Keaton stepped over to the counter and picked up

  the rubber spatula. “I might need this again,” he said,

  cracking it against his hand. He loved how Aiden’s

  buttocks clenched at the sound. “What do you want,

  Aiden?”

  “F-for you to fuck me. Please. Please, Keaton.”

  “When do you want your fucking?”

  “Now!” Aiden begged. “Please.”

  Keaton chuckled and picked up the lube. He

  spread Aiden’s cheeks and greased the boy’s hole, giving

  Aiden a light slap when he flinched from the cold.

  Keaton slipped a finger into the tight opening. Aiden

  struggled to breathe, his knuckles white as he gripped

  the chair rungs. Keaton slowly moved his finger in and

  out, swirling it around the tight channel, loving the little

  hitches in Aiden’s breathing. Keaton added a second

  finger. Aiden groaned. “Please, please I can’t take it

  anymore.”

  “What can’t you take?” Keaton asked.

  “Teasing. Please just fuck me!”

  “Teasing. Please just fuck me!”

  “Oh I’m going to tease you awhile,” Keaton said

  smugly. He thrust his fingers, drawing groans and pleas

  from Aiden. Then he added a third finger and began

  brushing the boy’s prostate as he finger fucked him.

  “Oh,” Aiden cried. “Oh oh oh!”

  With his free hand, Keaton pinched the undercurve

  of Aiden’s right cheek hard. Aiden squealed and rocked

  against Keaton’s fingers. Keaton began a pattern,

  pinching a spot on Aiden’s bottom, creating a sharp,

  concentrated pain, then delivering a sound slap to

  spread the pain out. All the while, he drove the cone of

  his fingers into the boy’s ass. He even gave a light pinch

  to the back of the boy’s balls, which produced such a

  lovely moan that Keaton flicked the heavy sac with his

  forefinger. “Ow! Oh! Please, please, please… ”

  “What do you want?”

  “You… in me… now.” Aiden panted.

  Keaton withdrew his fingers. He slicked himself

  and drove in without preamble. He fucked the boy’s

  tight, hot passage, reaching around to palm Aiden’s

  chest, rubbing and pinching his nipples.

  “Oh!” Aiden yelled. “Yes! Oh God, stop! Please,

  don’t stop. Ow, yes, please… ”

  Keaton reached over and picked up the spatula,

  and, like a jockey in the backstretch, began walloping

  whatever parts of Aiden’s rump he could reach as he

  raced toward his own orgasm. Aiden cried out and

  rocked on the edge of the chair, his face pressed against

  the rungs.

  “Come on, boy,” Keaton ordered. “Bring me

  home.”

  Aiden clenched his ass around Keaton’s cock, and

  Keaton shot his load into the condom with a shout. He

  almost collapsed against the boy’s back, but with a last

  reserve of strength, he stood up straight, grabbed Aiden,

  and laid him faceup on the kitchen table. He pulled the

  boy’s legs apart and took the hard, bobbing cock into his

  mouth. Aiden writhed, his fists clenching and

  unclenching. Keaton sucked the shaft, swallowing

  around it, then lapped at the head. He withdrew, and

  Aiden moaned, “No. No, no, please… ”

  “Have you learned your lesson?”

  “Yes!”

  “What is it?”

  Aiden could barely find breath to answer. “That

  dressing naughty gets me two orgasms.”

  Keaton laughed. “Who said anything about two?”

  “Oh please… ” Aiden’s back arched.

  “Dressing naughty gets you paddled, and”—

  Keaton licked the slit of the boy’s cock—“teased.”

  Aiden let out a groan of frustration, gyrating his

  hips, trying to get more contact. “I’ll be good,” he

  whimpered. “Really. Just please, please let me come.”

  “How do you think it’ll feel to have those tight

  pants stretched across your sore ass all day?”

  Aiden keened. “I don’t knoooooowwwwww.”

  “You should have thought of that before you wore

  those in front of me.” With a grin, he went down on

  Aiden once more, taking him all the way into his throat.

  Aiden came hard, then went completely limp.

  Keaton wiped his mouth, leaned across the table,

  and kissed the boy. “Naughty boy. You’re all worn-out.”

  Aiden’s eyes fluttered, and he nodded.

  “Maybe you should lie down awhile.”

  Aiden didn’t protest. Keaton scooped him up and

  carried him to the living room, depositing him gently on

  the couch, facedown, and spreading a blanket over him.

  Aiden sighed and arched his back, pushing his ass

  into the air. Keaton gave it a couple of firm pats through

  the blanket.

  “Owwwww,

  no,

  I’m

  being

  good,”

  Aiden

  murmured, eyes closed.

  “You are,” Keaton agreed. “I just can’t resist.”

  Aiden smiled. “Love you,” he said.

  “Love you too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Aiden woke up, dark thoughts crawling inside him.

  He didn’t know what had caused the shift in his mood.

  Had he had a nightmare? He grabbed his phone from the

  coffee table to check the time and saw he had two new

  texts. From Scott.

  Party @ Obey 2night. Brng boyfriend. Or don’t. New toys

  to show you. Hot. Hard-core.

  The second text read:

  I miss you.

  Aiden shook his head. Scott Runge was a


  manipulative, arrogant bastard. He ought to text Scott

  back and tell him to fuck off. Except that heat surged

  through him at the thought of a party in Obey’s basement

  dungeon and at the idea of new toys and a hard-core

  scene. He’d loved what he and Keaton had done this

  morning, but part of him still missed hard-core play—the

  costumes, the equipment, the real, lasting pain.

  He shifted and winced as his sore butt made contact

  with the couch. Talk about lasting pain. Another text came

  through from Scott.

  Pick u up @ 9.

  Shit. No way did Scott mean it. He wasn’t going to

  come here to pick Aiden up. Aiden forced himself to

  breathe. There was a good chance he and Keaton would

  still be at Hera’s at nine. Scott could wait as long as he

  wanted. Aiden already had plans.

  What if Scott did wait?

  What if he was in the driveway when Aiden and

  Keaton got home?

  Aiden’s heart jumped anxiously, and he willed it to

  be calm. It was two thirty-two. He wasn’t sure where

  Keaton was. He decided to go to the gym for an hour,

  then come back and get ready for dinner.

  The exercise made him feel a little better—until he

  got home and checked the mail and found an envelope

  from UC Irvine. He tore it open and scanned the letter.

  They had rejected him.

  He stuffed the letter back in the envelope. No big

  deal. One school out of three. He hadn’t really expected

  to get in. But a second later, his chest tightened and he

  had to fight back tears. No one would want him. He’d be

  stuck in this town forever, tossing pizza dough at

  Zippy’s, appearing in the occasional community theater

  production.

  At least he’d have Keaton.

  But was that enough? There was more to life than

  being in love. What about his own future, his own goals?

  He opened his car and threw the letter inside, then

  decided to go for a quick walk around the block to clear

  his head. There was still a cold anxiety gnawing his

  stomach as he returned to the house and found Keaton

  putting together a salad.

  “Hey,” Keaton said. “How’s your ass?”

  “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long,” Aiden

  said. “I already slept in this morning.”

  “You needed a nap after what we did.”

  “You always know best,” Aiden muttered.

  “You okay?”

  “Perfect. I’m gonna go shower.”

  Aiden went upstairs and showered. His butt was

  still bright red. He rubbed it, trying to take some comfort

  from the pain. His cargo pants had been folded neatly

  and placed on the bed, but he ignored them, putting on a

  pair of jeans and a nice button-down.

  He spent most of dinner angry at himself for not

  being in a better mood. It was hard to hold up his end of

  the conversation with his mind on Irvine’s rejection and

  Scott’s invitation – and the promise that he’d show up at

  Keaton’s to pick Aiden up.

  “Yoo-hoo. Aiden.”

  He looked up.

  Hera waved at him. “I was just saying how Rim

  Job”—she glanced at Keaton—“sorry, Rima said she

  liked my hair.” Hera had buzzed one side of her head

  and shaved the initials FU into the fuzz. “I thought she’d

  freak. Maybe she’s edgier than we gave her credit for. Or

  she just doesn’t get it.”

  Aiden tried to smile. “Yeah.” He picked at his

  shrimp curry. Hera had cooked tonight instead of Kim,

  and the quality of the fare was disappointing. But Aiden

  had a feeling that even if he had one of Kim’s vegan

  dishes in front of him, he wouldn’t have been able to eat.

  “Come on, it’s not that bad,” Hera said, watching

  him.

  “It’s fine,” Aiden said. “I’m just not that hungry.”

  The conversation continued around him, and Aiden

  suddenly wanted to scream. Wasn’t anyone else in this

  room confused, lost, or worried? How were they all

  blissfully enjoying this silly dinner when the future was

  so unstable? You could love somebody and lose them.

  You could want something and never get it. You could

  work hard and still end up miserable. Who cared about a

  new haircut, or shrimp curry, or eating three meals a day

  and sleeping eight hours? No matter what precautions

  you took, what defenses you put up, what friends you

  surrounded yourself with, life would find a way to hurt

  you.

  He glanced at his phone. Eight o’clock. In another

  hour, Scott would pull up in front of Keaton’s house.

  “It’s already dead,” Keaton said, watching him stab

  a piece of shrimp with his fork. “Just eat it.”

  “I don’t want to,” Aiden replied.

  “Are you sick?”

  “No, I just don’t fucking want to! How hard is that

  to understand?”

  Hera and Sloane looked up. Only Kim continued

  eating her salad as though nothing was happening.

  Keaton put a discreet hand on Aiden’s back,

  rubbing small circles. “I hear you,” he said quietly. “But

  we have a rule.”

  “I don’t care. I’m a grown-up. I’m a guest here. I

  don’t feel like eating, and what the hell are you going to

  do about it?”

  It felt good to make a scene, at least for a few

  seconds. Then shame flared in him, and the anxiety in his

  stomach turned to pure dread. Whatever was going on in

  his mind, he couldn’t handle it.

  Hera nudged Keaton. “We have a spare room if

  you need to take him somewhere and beat his ass.”

  Sloane laughed.

  Aiden fled the table.

  He went to the front bathroom and shut himself

  inside, locking the door. He took a deep breath, trying to

  steady himself.

  I need you, Keaton. I don’t want to, but I do. I need you to

  help me, even though you don’t know what’s going on.

  But right now, Keaton was the problem. His

  levelheadedness that made it impossible to do what

  Aiden wanted to do—fight. Aiden didn’t need kindness

  right now; he didn’t need patience, understanding,

  guidance. He needed humiliation, pain. Resistance.

  And he knew where he could get that.

  * * * *

  Keaton wiped his mouth with his napkin and

  pushed back his chair. “I apologize,” he said. “I’ll just go

  see… ”

  “No apology necessary,” Hera said. “Aiden has

  always been… passionate.”

  “You mean a total drama queen,” Sloane muttered.

  Keaton managed a weak smile. “Be back in a few

  minutes,” he said. “I wouldn’t miss dessert for the

  world.”

  He walked out into the foyer and knocked softly on

  the door to the bathroom. “Aiden?” No answer. He tried

  the knob. Locked. “Aiden. Open up, please.”

  “I’m in the bathroom!” Aiden shouted. “Can’t I get

  some privacy?”

  “Afraid not.” Keaton waited. “You can’t hide i
n

  there all night.”

  “Watch me.”

  Keaton leaned against the door. “You’re not being

  very polite.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Keaton went back to the kitchen. “Do you have a

  key to the bathroom?” he asked Hera quietly.

  “Sure.” She went into the hall and returned with a

  key, then made herself scarce. Keaton unlocked the

  bathroom door. He started to open it, but Aiden pushed

  it shut from the other side. It was no contest; Keaton was

  larger and stronger, and he forced his way in. Aiden

  retreated to the corner and huddled by the shower,

  eyeing Keaton warily.

  Keaton shut the door behind him. “What’s all this

  about?”

  “Why does it always have to be ‘about’ something?

  Why can’t I just be in a bad mood without you picking

  apart my brain trying to figure out what’s wrong?”

  “Because I’m in charge, and it’s my job to pick apart

  your brain. Now tell me what’s going on.”

  Aiden scowled. “Now you want to talk.”

  Keaton waited, confused.

  “You want to talk about how I’m fucking up. You

  want to talk about what I’m doing wrong. But you don’t

  ever want to talk about what’s important.”

  “I don’t follow you.”

  “No. Why would it matter to you what happens if I

  go off to school somewhere, or you get a job somewhere

  else? I must be the only one stupid enough to worry

  about that.”

  “Ah,” Keaton said, something clicking.

  “Ah?

  You

  think

  you

  fucking

  understand

  everything?”

  Aiden was as furious as Keaton had ever seen him.

  If they’d been at home, Keaton would have let the boy

  shout himself out. But they were guests, and it seemed

  wrong to be having this discussion in their hosts’

  bathroom.

  “I think I understand,” Keaton said. “But I don’t

  think this is the time or the place to talk about it.”

  “When are we going to talk about it?” Aiden

  demanded. “Ever since we said we loved each other, I

  haven’t heard anything from you about what that means.

  How long we’ll stay together. You tricked me into

  needing you, and now I’m this fucking codependent

  wimp… ”

  His brat was spiraling. Keaton needed to put the

  brakes on this fast, get Aiden through dessert, and then

  they could talk things over at home. Keaton put out his

 

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