Page 123 of Sycopation
Ray pulled off and licked the tip. So fucking good, that. “Glory holes.” A flash of a smile, then Ray’s hot mouth was back around Zavier’s dick, and it took everything Zavier had not to empty his balls down Ray’s throat.
Fucking Ray had been holding out on him, depraved soul that he was. Zavier tightened both his grips, holding Ray’s head still, and thrust in. And again. And again, until he was fucking Ray’s mouth and throat with abandon. Ray didn’t flinch. He did moan and shake and make sounds that were so damn obscene they should be in a high-quality porno. So was Ray’s stare, full of blinking and watery eyes and a look that seemed to sayI can damn well take anything you give.
It was almost a pity to stop, but if he wanted to fuck Ray’s ass like he intended, he needed to, or the evening would be over before he’d even started. He pulled out.
Zavier wasn’t sure which of them was breathing more heavily, him or Ray. “Glory holes, huh?”
Ray’s voice was jacked and rough, but still so beautiful. “Yeah. I—uh—may have gotten some of my seed money for the band from swallowing other guys’...well. Yeah.” A little furrow between his brows. “That doesn’t bother you, does it?”
He smoothed his thumbs over Ray’s cheeks and those plump, ruddy, well-fucked lips. “Not in the least. Remember, I learned much of what I know about BDSM from a rather infamous madam.” He paused. “And I may have made some money as an escort.”
“May? Like you don’t know?” A quirky little smile.
“Did make. Enjoyed it, too.”
Ray’s sigh was a happy thing. “Yeah. Ditto.”
So much he knew about Ray. So much he didn’t. This would be a grand adventure. One to last a lifetime. “Up, Ray. I’m tying you to the bed.”
He wouldn’t tire of that little happy moan in the back of Ray’s throat. Ray rose with grace and moved like he hadn’t just spent quite a bit of time kneeling on the carpet. Zavier took a moment to tuck his dick back into his pants—as much as he could, given its state—and to grab the lengths of rope he’d pulled from the bed. Arranging Ray was easy enough; Zavier bent him over the bed. He had to unclip the wrist cuffs to have Ray stretch his arms overhead, then reclip them. Ray was both squirmy and relaxed, his sinuous body moving just so.
“You better not be humping the bedspread.”
Ray huffed a laugh. “I won’t come until you say.”
“You’d better not.” Zavier could wield a crop for pain as equally as for pleasure. “And stop moving.”
Ray did, though his muscles flexed a little before he gave in.
It took Zavier longer than he’d like to anchor the ropes to the bed. Once he’d managed, though, he tied Ray’s arms overhead and each ankle—once he’d cuffed them, pulled toward the sides of the bed. Ray open and exposed for him. “Comfortable?”
“You have no idea,” Ray murmured, and it was that faraway voice Zavier loved to hear.
“You’re still wearing my bracelet.” The leather band rode low on Ray’s ankle.
“Reminds me of you.”
Interesting. He smoothed a hand over Ray’s ass, then up his back. He didn’t quite understand, no. He’d never managed to fall into subspace, but this? It was a headspace of its own. The trust he’d been given.
He returned to the table by the chair and claimed the last of his items. Flogger, crop, and lube. The latter he set down on the floor, and set the crop next to it.
He smacked his hand with the flogger, and Ray twitched and moaned. “I wonder if I could make you come from just that sound.” He did it again and, as Ray laughed, flicked the flogger across his ass.
That got him a much louder moan. “Shit.”
“Just you wait.” He worked over Ray’s cheeks and thighs and shoulders, warming the skin, ruddying it under the ink. Ray was a delight of moans and twists and curses until he wasn’t—and that was a glory, too. That moment when the motion and the pain swept over Ray and took him higher and higher.
“There you go.” Zavier’s cock throbbed and his mind whirled. Such strength in Ray. Such grace in submission. He slowed the flogger to stopping and switched it out for the crop. “Safewords?”
“Mmm. Red, yellow, and baroque.” More like sleepy words. “Won’t need ’em.”
Zavier resisted the urge to land the first one hard. Still, he put enough sting into it that Ray jumped, his limbs twitching. “Shit.”
“Mmmhmm.” He upped the ante with the next and the next until Ray was gasping and moaning and twisting in a completely different way than he had under the flogger. Both the edge of pain and pleasure sounded in Ray’s throat. Groans and pants. Curses.
“You like that?” He raised a few welts on Ray’s shoulders. His marks on top of the ink. So nice. Zavier’s blood was on fire with need. For Ray’s tears. For his sobs. To kiss and fuck them away.
“Fuck no. Yes,” Ray hissed. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”
