by Lynda Aicher
Military then. “Marine?”
“Ooh-rah,” he said, fist raising. He grinned.
Sawyer chuckled and punched the waiting fist with his own. “Just a civvy here.”
Cort pulled a face before he laughed. “I guess we can’t all be cool.”
“Fucker,” Sawyer chided, flipping him the bird. His instant like for the nonstoic Marine was a bit of a mystery. There weren’t a lot of people he warmed up to so quickly—not that he let a lot of people get that close to him.
His smile died, the easy warmth chilling. He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, fingers digging into the base of his skull. Right. The ache expanded in his chest before it morphed into the numbness he preferred.
“Do you know if Asher’s in?” he asked, already moving to the door that led into the office area.
“He usually is.” Cort followed him down the aisle before turning off, presumably to finish his task. “I’ll probably see you around,” he called. “But I don’t work the Washington rivers much.”
“No?” Sawyer paused.
“I run Hells Canyon all summer.” He flashed another toothy grin. “I’m only back to restock for our next trip. I’ll be heading out tomorrow morning.”
Sawyer nodded. “Nice meeting you.”
He stepped into the main office, the air-conditioned comfort cooling his hot skin. Why was he so warm? The day was sunny but mild and nowhere close to the hot temps he was used to.
The office was empty again, and Sawyer stopped to study the action photos on the wall. War had explained what Asher had been doing with the photography software. The technology was damn cool. Mick wouldn’t go for anything that fancy, but Sawyer figured there’d be a huge market for it if Asher or Kick decided to sell the technology.
And he was putting off the meeting. Shit. He should listen to his gut and get the hell out before he got in too deep. However deep that was.
“Do you need something?”
Asher’s voice slid down his spine in a shiver so fine he simply absorbed it. His stomach tightened and he squeezed his eyes closed before putting on his game face. Or a neutral one. Normal—his normal expression.
He turned around and eyed Asher standing in the doorway to his office. Still preppy and controlled, his emotions locked down behind his own neutral expression. An equal game then. Was there a chance Asher had enjoyed their exchange enough to do it again? He wouldn’t know if he bailed without saying something.
“Pain.” The single word hung between them, the meaning and intention weighted with expectancy. The cramp in his stomach eased once the word was out. He’d never shied away from his need with any other sadist. He certainly wasn’t going to start now.
Asher flicked a brow up, lips twitching. He stepped back. “Let’s talk.” He headed to his desk, his movements visible between the open blinds.
Talk. Negotiate? Set down rules he didn’t want? Or hear a lecture on Asher’s definition of limits?
His scowl pulled on his brows, annoyance simmering beneath his foolishness. He followed Asher, though, right into the office. The door clicked shut behind him when he gave it a shove. The office area might appear empty, but he wasn’t taking the risk of anyone overhearing them.
But then, he hadn’t been that concerned about that detail the other night. In the middle of the damn woods.
Asher sat in his leather executive chair, arms braced on the desk. His eyes were serious behind the dark frames of his glasses. “How’ve you been?” A spark of amusement flashed in his expression before he glanced down to study Sawyer’s leg.
He swallowed. “Good.” He resisted the urge to rub his palm over the thigh Asher had focused on, refusing to give away how much he still relished it. “You?”
Asher chuckled and sat back. “What do you want, Sawyer?”
“Another go. With you.” He waited a beat. “Asher.” He settled back in his chair and mimicked Asher’s relaxed pose. They were both frauds. The tension filled the room with a vibration that hummed over his skin. Awareness was a new thing to him, but he recognized it all the same. He’d been aware of Asher since their first meeting.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Asher’s soft humph was more action than sound. He cocked his head. “It’s not wise. The other night was an exception.”
“To what? Your rule?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re both adults who have reciprocal kinks that work together. I don’t gossip, plus I’m gone at the end of summer. No ties, no worries.” A perfect arrangement for both of them.
Asher’s brows lowered, his frown contemplative. “What are you proposing?”
“Fuck,” he scoffed, tired of the negotiations. “This isn’t rocket science. You fuck me up and I let you.” Asher narrowed his eyes, and Sawyer went in with his best reason. “I can handle a lot more than you dished out the other night. And I think you want that. My pain slut is your sadist’s nirvana. I think we should let them play together.”
“Holy fuck.” Asher’s laugh jilted the air with a full dose of humor. Head tilted back, chest rolling, he let go. It shouldn’t have been amusing. Ah hell, yes it was.
Sawyer gave in and joined him, his embarrassed chuckle blending with Asher’s. He covered his face, disbelief rising. That had to have been the corniest thing he’d ever said. “Shit. That was bad.”
“Seriously.” Asher tried to stifle his laugh, but it didn’t work. “Horribly bad. I should beat you just for that.”
“Yes.” His laughter died. He stared at him, total seriousness dropping into his voice. “You should.”
The room went silent in the next breath, the humor falling from Asher’s face. He sucked in a breath, nostrils flaring, holding in the air. Sawyer didn’t breathe either. He kept his gaze steady, every muscle tense. Would Asher concede or stay firm? He’d respect whatever he decided, but for the first time ever he cared about the answer.
He wanted to give himself over to Asher again. Wanted to feel his pain, to relish whatever he dished out and then take more. And maybe he’d get more of his touch, too.
Asher thrust up from his chair and stalked around his desk. He blew past Sawyer without a word or glance, yanked the door open, and left.
What the hell?
He sat there stunned, watching Asher through the blinds as he ducked behind the front counter and dug around in a drawer. Then he was coming back, a hand towel with the Kick logo on it in his fist. His gaze was direct and intent when he closed the door. The click of the lock echoed through the room like a promise.
Sawyer’s breath released in a slow exhale. This was good.
Asher twisted the blinds closed, cutting off sight to the outer office. He moved to the two exterior windows next and systematically closed both sets of blinds until the office was plunged into semidarkness. The overhead lights weren’t on, and only dim streaks of sun leaked around the edges of the blinds.
His heart raced when Asher turned his attention to him. That alluring control had dropped into place to draw him in. It wasn’t the over-the-top Dom shit he detested, either. This was confidence mixed with surety. Asher knew what he wanted and wouldn’t compromise on getting it.
“You take this without the entire office knowing and we’ll talk.”
Sawyer straightened. “What?” Excitement pooled in his stomach and danced with his desire.
“I know your limits.” Asher moved his chair away from the desk, voice calm. “Anything change?”
“No.” He stood and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the tension that’d crept across his shoulder blades.
A sinister smile slid over Asher’s lips, a touch of evil intent sparking in his eyes. And didn’t that just set Sawyer on fire? He almost vaulted over the damn desk to get at whatever Asher was offering.
“Red and yellow.”
“Got it.”
“You’re off until Wednesday, correct?”
“Yes.”
Asher moved some papers to the side of the
desk, placed a pen in the cup holder, and stepped back. He pointed at his desk. “Bend over. Ass exposed.”
He had no urge to ask what Asher planned. He should, probably. Some tops spelled out everything that was coming, either to taunt or inform. It didn’t matter to him, just as long as he got the pain. Years of play meant there wasn’t much he hadn’t experienced.
His walk around the desk was completed in a few strides. He held Asher’s gaze as he undid his shorts and lowered them to the ground along with his briefs. He paused, shot a half grin, and removed his sandals as well. The pain that’d come with every step the following day had kept his focus off the sudden absence of the damn smoke.
Asher’s rough chuckle was its own reward. He’d caught the hint and hadn’t gotten pissed at his directness. Another point in favor of the non-Dom aspect.
His dick hung half interested between his legs. This was never a sexual craving for him, yet he didn’t deny that Asher was an attractive guy despite his too-hip, too-geeky front. Maybe because of it. He was as far from the stereotypical sadist as he could get in appearance, but this wasn’t a game for him.
And it definitely wasn’t a game for Sawyer.
The desk was standard height, which meant his ass was lifted high when he bent over it, his dick and balls swinging free and exposed. He widened his stance and stretched his arms over his head to grab the other side.
“The things I could do…”
Asher’s voice had lowered to that penetrating tone that had whispered over him with the promise he’d delivered on before. “Then do them.” He glared over his shoulder, impatient.
Asher laughed, head shaking. “You can’t goad me into action. I don’t work that way. And in case this wasn’t clear before”—he leaned down to brace himself over Sawyer—“this is a mutual exchange, but I don’t take direction well, and I won’t be your service top.”
Fuck yes. He closed his eyes against the rush of need that swept through him. No guy had ever lit him up like this before he’d even touched him. Once again Asher crowded into his space, too close yet not close enough.
He swallowed, forced control into his voice. “If you’d do something, then I wouldn’t have to direct you.”
Asher straightened, his musky scent going with him, and a full breath finally filled Sawyer’s lungs again. Air ghosted over his testicles, his dick limp now. His anus clenched at the click of a cap that sounded like lube. He wasn’t opposed to a good hard fucking, as long as he got the pain first. A give-and-take like that was part of the deal, at least in his mind.
He jerked at the first touch of cold that was swiped down his ass crack. His clench was reflexive, but he quickly forced his muscles to relax. The silence upped his focus on the action. On the chill of not gel or liquid, but cream, as it was rubbed over and around his hole. The cold sensation was his first clue as to what was coming. The distinct menthol scent was the second.
A groan escaped as flashbacks of past experiences with sports creams rushed in. Like the switch to the sole of his foot, it was subtle but so damn intense.
Asher continued to rub the cream in a slow massage over the sensitive nerves protecting his hole. The muscle flexed on its own, the sensation perking up his dick whether he wanted it to or not. The chain reaction was automatic and he let it flow, took every feeling that came and sucked it into the void within him.
The burning started out slow, a subtle shift from cool to not that prickled over his skin. A warning perhaps before the fire fully engaged.
He sighed into the coming storm, the tension flowing out of every part of him. Yes, he could do this to himself, but it wasn’t the same, and he could never go far enough before logic made him stop.
This was all Asher’s to control. His to decide and administer.
He stroked a hand up Sawyer’s back, his shirt shoved up to his armpits. “You want this, don’t you?”
“So much.” More than words could ever communicate.
The burn had ignited now, his asshole becoming a ring of fire Johnny Cash had probably never envisioned. He clenched his teeth and held in the groan that rose up his throat as the fire climbed and spread. It speared into his gut and spiked over his bottom like a thousand fire ants having a party on his ass.
A finger was pressed in then, the penetration itself barely noticeable. It was the knowledge of what it meant that sent him into heaven. The burn would go deeper, sink into his hole, and light him up from the inside out.
“Yes,” he breathed, pulling the sting in, centering on the torment that was quickly engulfing his backside. His dick was completely hard, mostly from the stimulation and the guy administering it.
“Turn around.”
Asher’s command was combined with the retreat of his touch. Air swooped in almost immediately to inflame the area. He tensed, fingers digging into the wood as he gritted his way through the initial hit of intensity. Sweat peppered his skin, his back clammy with the effort it took to hold the agony in.
A tap to his hip reminded him of Asher’s request. Shit. Moving was incredibly uncomfortable. Each shift brought a distraction along with another flash of fire as it spread and abated. And damn if it wasn’t perfect.
He faced Asher, his wince tight, but he didn’t make a sound. No one was going to hear him. If Asher expected him to fail that part of the challenge, then his expectations were way too low.
The gleam of appreciation in Asher’s eyes was a reward he rarely sought. He usually didn’t care how tops saw him or how he took the pain they delivered. But the light in Asher’s eyes spoke to him on a simplified level free of pretense and posturing.
Pain given and received equally in an exchange of need more than power. The connection was alluring and terrifying at once. And potentially filled with more pain than he could handle.
Asher wet his lips, smiled. “That’s just the warm-up.”
He grinned right back, clenching his ass to incite the burn even more. “Give it to me.” He sent a pointed look to the tube of cream in Asher’s hand, pretty certain of what was next. He removed his T-shirt to keep it clean, and then braced his hands on the desk behind him, hips thrust forward.
“I fucking love pain sluts,” Asher murmured, truth spreading from each adoring word. He purposely squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers while Sawyer watched, Asher’s every movement deliberate as he set the tube aside and flashed another of those sexy grins at Sawyer.
Sexy? When backed with the confidence Asher had and the guarantee that came with it, yes. Everything about him right now was sexy as fuck.
Asher held his gaze as he wrapped his hand around Sawyer’s erection. His stomach clenched, the touch a flash of pleasure against the burn still raging around his hole. It was a tease before that same fire spread over everything.
And it would.
The first few strokes were all chilly enjoyment, each swipe up enclosing the sensitive head before sweeping back down. He watched the hand moving on his dick and absorbed the erotic sight with the knowledge of how demented it was. The burn started faster and spread quicker as Asher twisted his hand to ensure the cream was rubbed into every inch of Sawyer’s dick. The juxtaposition of the pain with the incredible feeling of the hand job swelled in his chest.
Asher didn’t ignore his balls, either. More cream was added, rubbed onto the thin skin and spread down to his hole until his entire genital area was engulfed in flames. Sweet, sweet pain that raced deep into his gut and flushed over him in heavenly torment.
His arms shook and his toes curled into the industrial carpeting, but he didn’t make a sound. Didn’t hop and jump around or crumple in half in an attempt to ease his suffering and release the building pressure. There was no point when it was exactly what he wanted. Needed.
To feel.
Asher urged him upright, forcing him to stand on his own. His legs trembled, but he held his weight, hands fisted at his sides in a clench so tight his knuckles ached.
Then the cream was on his nipples, rubbed in
as Asher toyed with each one until they screamed from the stimulation. His mind hitched and fuzzed out on the complex mix of stimuli. The distinction between good and bad, pain and pleasure swelled and merged until he was nothing but sensation.
Every time Asher stroked his dick he wanted to scream into the burn and wail at how good it was. Desire ran hot and fevered within the flames that roared through his groin and over his entire chest. But he held it all in, still. Stayed silent except for the small grunts and harsh breaths that bled out between his clenched teeth.
“Focus on this.”
The sharp pinch on the underside of his sac almost launched him off the floor. He couldn’t stop the pitch of his body as he doubled over. He was stopped by Asher, his arms encircling Sawyer to keep him on his feet.
“Fucker,” he mumbled into Asher’s shirt, forehead grinding on the hard bone of his shoulder. The addition, whatever it was, became a direct point of throbbing pain that thundered over the burn. It sliced through his nuts and threatened to break his silence.
Sweat ran down the side of his face, and his hair clung to his cheek. His stomach rolled with the sick wave of nausea brought on by the agony. Each breath became a labor of resistance, a concerted effort to take the pain in and contain it.
It never had a chance of breaking him. Not this kind of pain. But it wouldn’t ravish him, either.
The endorphins were flooding in to mask the intensity and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He wouldn’t hide in them, though. All of this was pointless if he did that.
The stroking restarted on his dick, persistent and forceful. So good and yet painful as the burn shifted and sunk deeper. His whimper escaped unwanted, but he was beyond caring how it sounded. His hands found their way onto Asher’s waist, fingers digging into his sides.
“You’re gorgeous,” Asher whispered into his ear. Too close again. Too near. “I want more.”
He shuddered. Those were possibly the hottest words anyone had ever said to him. “Do it,” he rasped. Make me take it. Make me scream—only he couldn’t here.
