Page 38 of Fire & Ice

“I know that things have been difficult for you,” he says. “I don’t wish to push you too hard. In fact, if it were up to me, I might forgo the scene completely, take you to bed and hold you for the rest of the day. Feed you from my hand, perhaps draw us a bath and wash you from head to toe. I’m averythorough scrubber, and my bathtub can easily accommodate two, as you’ve seen.”

As he talks, Leander wanders over to the middle armoire, opening the cabinets to reveal a huge array of impact toys hanging from various hooks. When he turns around again, Tripp’s eyes are wide and wanting, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips without thinking, and Leander smirks. “So here’s the part where you make a choice. We could do that, all of the things I just listed, but then you don’t get to come. Not today, and perhaps not tomorrow.”

Casually, Leander lifts a paddle from its hook and turns it over in his palm, making a show of examining the integrity. “Or,” he says, “I can issue you your punishment, the one you earned for taunting me. For making me imagine you fucking some nameless, garden-variety barfly who didn’t possess the slightest clue what a find, what atreasureshe had lured into her bed.” He makes a concerted effort to keep his voice nonchalantand even, but his words definitely land with Tripp, who struggles to keep still where he sits.

“And then, after I’ve spanked you red and your ass is burning, I’ll turn you onto your back and ride you, hard and rough until I come all over your stomach. Perhaps I’ll even let you finish, inside me at that, as a reward for taking your consequence like the good, obedient submissive I know you are.”

Leander bites his lip as he steps forward towards the bed, flipping the paddle teasingly in his hand. He crouches down in front of Tripp and lays a gentle hand over his bare thigh, skin hot between them. “How much would you like to be inside me, Tripp? Impossibly tight, wet, hot—could your girl from the bar give you what I can, Tripp?”

“No way,” Tripp breathes, his eyelids heavy, and Leander can see that he’s well on his way into subspace, despite the fact that he technically hasn’t made a decision yet. The sight raises his own confidence, knowing that hewasable to recognize Tripp’s needs even in a heated, stressful scenario. Because he’s being gentle tonight, he doesn’t backhand Tripp for the blatant lack of respect.

“No way…” he leads him, instead.

“Sir,” Tripp adds quickly, raising his chin so their eyes meet as Leander straightens back to his full height. “Please, Sir. I want my punishment. Thank you, Sir,” he adds without being asked, and Leander has to fight not to melt into a puddle on the floor like a popsicle in the mid-July sun. He threads fingers into Tripp’s hair, leans down to kiss him—gentle but firm, because he justcan’tresist—and hums.

“Such a good boy,” he murmurs, allowing his lips to graze Tripp’s temple as he stands. “I feel so very lucky.” Withoutwarning, Leander tightens his fingers and jerks Tripp’s head around by the roots of his hair. “Color, Tripp,” he demands, Tripp’s head tilted back at an awkward angle, his mouth parted and his breath coming quick.

“Green, Sir,” Tripp replies easily.

“Stand up.” As he and Tripp switch positions, Leander quickly casts off his original plan to have his sub count the strikes. It’s very clear to him that Tripp wants to drift, to let Leander control the scene completely and just reap the benefits. Despite the fact that this is technically a punishment, Trippneedsthis, and Leander is happy for him to take it however he wishes—today.

Not for nothing, the idea of Tripp hazy and lost to the pain, draped across his thighs, moaning and sighing and totally pliant while Leander turns his ass red—well, it’s certainly no hardship for him to endure.

Tripp crawls over his lap and into that very position with barely a verbal suggestion needed, presenting himself for Leander’s hand without so much as the barest flinch of hesitation. This sort of ability and desire to slip into subspace so easily can be dangerous, and therefore, Leander is on high alert for Tripp’s reactions to the scene. Contrary to what he promised, this whole thing is more of a show to give Tripp what he deserves, rather than to teach him a lesson. As zoned-out as Tripp already is, his ability to safeword isn’t something Leander can take for granted.

When they begin (“Green, Sir”), Tripp responds beautifully. Leander slips fingers underneath the waistband of his panties, tugging them down to mid-thigh and leaving them stretched taut. He warms up each ass cheek with the palm of his hand before switching to the paddle when Tripp grows used to the contact (read: stops squirming).

The smack of leather-covered-wood on skin is satisfying to Leander’s ear, as are Tripp’s corresponding noises. With every strike, Tripp cries out, wiggling sometimes but never protesting or complaining. As time goes on—four, five, six—his cries turn into moans and his cock fills out completely against Leander’s thigh, leaking precum so enthusiastically that it drips onto the floor.

“Color, Tripp,” Leander asks after strike number seven, but Tripp only moans without a coherent reply. “Color, Tripp,” Leander repeats, reaching down to grab his chin and tug it skyward so that he can see his eyes.

“Green,” Tripp murmurs dreamily, but Leander’s seen enough to know that they’re done with the paddle for tonight. He hauls Tripp upright and into his lap, one leg bracketing either side of his thighs. Leander cups Tripp’s head and drags him down into a languid kiss, squeezing one of his reddened ass cheeks roughly and making Tripp moan into his mouth. It’s heavenly—Tripp is loose and pliant, cock hard against his abdomen, and Leander wouldloveto throw him down on the bed, push his legs back and sink inside of him.

That isn’t what he promised Tripp, though, and Leander is nothing if not a man of his word. With a grunt, he wraps both arms around Tripp’s waist and stands up, barely long enough to turn and dump Tripp down onto the bed. Bending to scoop his legs up, Leander urges Tripp to scoot towards the middle as much as he can.

To Tripp’s credit, he complies without question or complaint, lying there naked and sprawled out, with heavy-lidded eyes that lazily track Leander’s every movement. Satisfied and entirely aroused, Leander strips in record time before retrieving the lube from his bedside table drawer and wasting no niceties when it comes to prepping himself.

Climbing up and over Tripp, Leander leans down to kiss him. His lips trail across Tripp’s cheek, whispering praise and dirty little things in his ear, enough to make Tripp arch up against him and whine. He keeps things perfunctory, and as soon as his ass is anywhere close to ready, Leander turns the lube on Tripp’s cock, slicking it up like crazy before grabbing the base and sinking down.

Tripp—Tripp is a fucking revelation beneath him. The perfect, patient sub, desperate to near quaking, shivering from arousal and the undeniable pain of the fiery skin of his ass cheeks, but still tryingsodamn hard to please. He groans and tips his head back as Leander’s body envelops his cock, briefly flustered about what to do with his hands until Leander grabs them and places them firmly on his hips.

“Touch me, you can touch me,” Leander pants, his own eyes fluttering closed as he pushes himself down to fully-seated. It’s been a minute since he’s done this, and while it’s pleasurable and it’sTripp,it’s also a not-small dick up his not-used-to-it ass, and Leander finds himself curling forward into the chest in front of him for a moment to adjust. To his surprise, Tripp’s hands fly to his back and drift gently down over it, nails scratching blissfully then followed by flat, soothing palms.

“Feels so good, Sir,” Tripp whispers, and Leander clenches his muscles in response, dragging another moan from his sub’s lips. “Thank you,” he adds, andthat’s it—Leander has to slap a hand over Tripp’s mouth before he loses it. To lean into the moment, he keeps it there, straightening up only to look down his nose and rock his hips into Tripp’s pelvis.

Just above Leander’s hand, Tripp’s eyes are wide but still plenty glazed, beautiful and piercing as they hold unflinching contact with his own.

Tipping his head back, Leander lets out a groan as he moves, riding Tripp enthusiastically, sliding up and down his cock and rolling his hips in a circle. The more he moves, the better he feels, and planting a foot next to Tripp’s flank gives him the leverage he needs to hit his own prostate.

HeusesTripp, fucks him hard, chases his own pleasure and relishes the way Tripp shakes and sweats and fights to hold on beneath him.

“You—you can come,” Leander gasps out, knowing that he’s less than a minute from finishing himself and not even remotely attempting to hold back. As he grinds down and swivels his hips, Leander gets a hand around his cock and strokes until his orgasm flows through his body, nearly sending him to a higher plane as he spurts hot and wet all over Tripp’s stomach, as promised.

Tripp isn’t far behind, Leander’s permission unlocking some kind of floodgate he was barely holding shut, and his hips jerk up while his hands pull down.

Even through the fog of his own afterglow, Leanderlovesfeeling Tripp let go, relishes the gripping of his hips in both need and desperation, and Tripp’s hot seed spilling so satisfyingly deep inside him. It feels like amark,a brand, and while the man doesn’t know it—Tripp thinks he had toaskto belong to Leander, to behis, when the opposite is true—Leander has always belonged to Tripp, whether either of them realized it or not.

Cleanup is faster than usual this time, perhaps in part because Leander has something to look forward to when finished. Today, he doesn’t have to worry about getting out of the room, or what heshouldbe doing,shouldbe feeling. He just gets tobewithTripp.

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