Page 29 of The Barn: Frost and Q
“No more wanting the blindfold.”
“No. There’s no ick on your face. No worry. You look like my Dom.”
That made him growl with satisfaction. He couldn’t promise it would always be that way. They had a lot to work through. But right here, right now, in this space, that was the perfect thing to hear.
He reached down to unbuckle Q’s belt, then unzip his jeans as carefully as possible. No pinching. No ruining the moment with pain of any kind if he could help it.
Not that kind of pain, anyway. “Now it can breathe some, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” Q’s breath started to come in pants, and his cock stuck up, hard and red and damp at the tip.
Perfect.
“Okay, stop me if anything gets too intense.” He ran his hands up Quentin’s torso, pushing up the shirt so the soft material caught under his arms. He didn’t bunch it up too much, just got it above those pinkish brown nipples.
Frost touched them, rolling them between his fingers lightly, then pinching them quickly enough that Q grunted and bucked a little for him.
“Sir!”
“Is that a goodSir, boy?” He knew it was. He’d seen that cock dance a bit for him. But he wanted the words.
“Yes. More please, if you want, Sir.”
“If I want it. That’s right. I can see you want it, boy.” He twisted a little, not wanting to tighten up Q’s muscles too much. He knew there was a fine line between pleasure and a muscle spasm when someone was recovering, and he and Scott had talked extensively about how muscles could be weird when they atrophied, how nerve centers could go haywire.
“I want to make you come, Q. Have you stroked off recently? Have you given yourself pleasure?”
“No.” Quentin all but whispered it.
“Why not? Does it not feel good?” Orgasms could cause headaches…
“Because my orgasms are for you, Sir.”
Frost damn near came in his pants. As it was, he hurried to open his jeans to let his cock free.
“Oh.” Q moaned for him. “I would suck it for you, Sir.”
“Not this time, baby boy. This is about seeing you come. If you’re very good, I’ll jerk off and come on your chest.”
Quentin whimpered, then licked his lips. “I’m very close, Sir.”
“Good.” He reached for that cock, ready to wrap this one up so they could enjoy the afterburn. He stroked, using his other hand on himself, letting Q watch.
“You’re allowed to come whenever you’re ready, boy.”
Q’s hands opened and closed, fighting the cuffs, and he tensed, his hips lifting up. He cried out, and spunk flew up, his orgasm so damn beautiful.
Frost waited until each last spurt happened, then stood, jerking himself roughly until he shot all over Q’s chest, even getting a little on his chin.
“Thank you,” Quentin gasped. “Thank you, Sir.”
“You’re welcome, boy.” He stroked Q’s hair until their breathing calmed, then released the cuffs and collar, stroking the skin, checking for marks or issues.
“Can we—Can we have a shower?”
“Anything you want, baby boy. This is about you.” And it would suit him, too. Damn well.
The big question still up in the air was where they would sleep.
