Chapter 4

NOTE: This is true for all chapters, but this is a first-draft chapter. Please be forgiving of editing issues, as it will be professionally edited before release!

With his bedroom door closed to expose the full-length mirror on the back, Lucan tried on shirt after shirt trying to find the perfect one. He had considered not going to the party tonight, but until he and his roommates got their shit together and hosted their own, there were only two per month that Lucan felt comfortable going to: last week’s TNG party and tonight’s semi-public one, Deviant Pleasures.

Unfortunately, according to the event listing on FetNet, Court was going to be there.

Oh, well. Humiliation over those overemotional texts licked Lucan’s insides like a dead pet come back to life, but Lucan wasn’t going to let Court’s reappearance make him hibernate. Lucan had gone through a few rough spells where he didn’t go to any parties, but that was before he’d moved in with Dom, Roland, and Erin. He wasn’t going to disappear on people anymore, and he definitely wasn’t going to miss out on playing with Dom. He could schedule a private play session with him, but the idea of private play made Lucan jumpy in a bad way.

He should never have texted Court like he had. But it had happened, and it was nothing Lucan hadn’t done before. The difference now was that he wasn’t going to wallow in his embarrassment for like a week.

He settled on a T-shirt made of teal mesh. Paired with ripped skinny jeans, the outfit was just trashy enough. The official story was that he hated that Court was going to be at the party, but the sad, twisted, and true one was that he hoped Court noticed him, thought he looked hot. Last night…

Lucan turned away from his own reflection. Last night, he’d gotten off to the fantasy of Court grabbing him again and manhandling him into the venue’s bathroom. Lucan wouldn’t let him get away with much, maybe a little kissing, some dry-humping. And Court would whine desperately because he couldn’t have what he wanted.

It was just a fantasy. Court would never act like that, never submit to the will of a sub. Some BDSM rookies never could get it into their heads that it was the bottom who called the shots at the end of the day. They let the Top get away with things.

Court would be one of those clueless rookies. He’d fuck up badly enough at some party and get himself kicked out, and word would get around, and he’d be barred everywhere. It was only a matter of time.

“Y’all ready?” came Roland’s booming yell.

Lucan made his way outside to Roland’s van along with Dom and Erin. Erin had gone full babygirl with her sandy hair in bouncy pigtails and a sucker in her mouth. Dom opened the trunk and set his play bag inside.

Dressed in a brown leather jacket and suave sunglasses, Roland opened the passenger-side door and said, “Come sit next to Daddy, babygirl.”

Lucan and Dom got into the back seat.

Dom chuckled. “How does Ro pull off that pedophile look so damn well?”

From the front seat, Roland flipped Dom the bird. Lucan just rolled his eyes.

Twenty minutes later, Roland was parking the van behind the biker bar where Deviant Pleasures was held. As far as Lucan knew, the bikers themselves weren’t involved in the lifestyle, but they were comfortable with having kinksters as paying guests in their space. The venue was closed to the public for the party with some of the bikers working as bouncers and bartenders.

Lucan and his roommates each handed their twenty-dollar tribute to the guy at the door. Immediately afterward, Lucan scanned the room for Court. The area held several sets of tables and chairs with ten or so people chatting, and a handful of party-goers sat at the bar. Next to the bar was the door to the playroom, the dungeon’s dark walls visible and a faint bass beat thumping from its wide entrance.

Maybe Court was in there? He probably had his eyes glued to whoever was scening. Though he was experienced in private kink with Lucan—and who knew who else he’d screwed since then?—he was probably still getting used to seeing people play with an audience. There was full nudity and sex allowed at Deviant Pleasures, though the guests rarely went that far.

Holding his bag, Dom came up to Lucan’s side. “When were you wanting to scene?”

Lucan chewed on his lip. “Maybe in an hour?”

“Okay.”

Roland and Erin were going over to a table, and Roland had Erin’s turquoise box of coloring supplies in hand. Before they sat down, Roland pulled a small stuffed animal out of his coat, and Erin squealed.

Lucan glanced over at the bar where a muscled guy in a leather biker’s vest was pouring someone a coke. Lucan ached for a drink to calm his nerves, but it was irresponsible to have alcohol before scening, even if he and Dom weren’t going to do it right away. Best to wait until after.

He headed into the playroom. Home, his soul whispered. Black floor mats gleamed under unobtrusive lighting that lent a glow to the skin in the room. A dark-skinned submissive looked particularly beautiful contorted and wiggling in a hog tie as her femme Top giggled and tapped the bottoms of her feet with a cane. Another couple occupied the spanking bench. As it was still early, the two out of three bondage frames stood empty, but near the third one, a small group gathered. One of the party was Court.

Lucan’s mouth went dry. Court was wearing leather pants and nothing else, and red scratches streaked his back. At the end of his perfectly sculpted arm a metal object glinted—one of those cooking tools used to separate pulled pork. Meat claws? Griffin, the Dungeon Master from the last party, had another of the tools in his hand. He must have shown Court what they felt like.

The thought of Court submitting to pain of any kind was strange, but it was always a good idea for a Top to feel a sensation before inflicting it on a bottom.

Unable to control his feet, Lucan stepped closer.

“You’d be surprised what treasures you can find in the supermarket,” Griffin was saying, and his round belly shook when he laughed.

Court handed him the meat claw.

“Giving Court some tips?” Lucan asked. He didn’t mean to speak, but again, it was as if he couldn’t control himself. He was too warm, his chest too tight.

Court looked at him, his eyes squinting as his lips spread into a smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Lucan said.

Nobody had ever been happy to see Lucan after they’d been on the receiving end of his crazy texts. Only Court. It was a prime example of why they were awful together.

Court showed Lucan his back. “How is it?”

The scratches were barely visible now. “He went easy on you.” Seeing the muscles under the smooth skin, Lucan sympathized with Court’s desire to touch. The difference was he would never just act on his desire without thinking.

Griffin said, “Have you started building a toy bag, Court?”

“I have a few things,” Court said.

“Like what?” asked Lucan.

Court gave him a look of pure heat. “Stuff you’d like.” He leaned close and whispered into Lucan’s ear, “Can we talk somewhere?” He was near enough for Lucan to feel his warmth, but he did not put his hands on him.

Still, Griffin gave Lucan a look that asked if he should intervene.

Lucan shouldn’t go anywhere with Court; Court didn’t honor boundaries. But the pull was like quicksand, or like spirits come up from a dark dimension to yank Lucan down.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Court pulled back and gestured for Lucan to take the lead. Where should they go? Lucan’s thoughts moved too fast for him to follow, but his feet took control again, taking him and Court out of the bar altogether and outside into the warm summer air.

He stalled a few feet from a group of smokers, his heart thudding down to his toes.

“My car?” Court asked. If he was nervous, he didn’t show it, but Lucan couldn’t remember ever seeing Court shook up.

“Yeah.” Lucan followed Court across the parking lot, the light from various lamps reflecting off the smooth parts of the pavement and Court’s leather pants.

They stopped next to a gold sedan. There were lots of cars around, but no people.

Lucan opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a sound out, Court rounded on him, pushing him back-first against the car door then framing him with his perfect bare arms. All that skin, so close but no longer touching as Court used his body as a cage. Lucan’s stomach churned in fear and delight. All he could do was freeze.

“Tell me what you meant the other night. When you were texting me about cuddling and aftercare. Why were you so pissed at me?” The blunt words and Court’s stormy eyes seemed to shake a few ice sheets loose. This wasn’t anything like Lucan’s fantasy.

He wanted to turn away, but there was nowhere to go. Just hard metal and Court’s hard body, and if Lucan moved just a little, he’d touch it. Him. The danger.

“Forget it,” Lucan managed.

“No.” A squeak to Lucan’s left—Court was clenching his fingers against the car, and he shifted almost imperceptibly closer. “We’re not doing that. You don’t get to confuse me with your bullshit and then cut me off when I ask for an explanation. I’m not young and stupid anymore.”

Lucan was sweltering and chilled at the same time. Court’s words were hard-hitting and true, like catching Lucan in a lie, calling him out on bad behavior. But what did Court want him to say? “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t in my right mind.”

Court showed his teeth, staring Lucan down. Time moved slowly under the weight of the silence and tension, and eventually, Lucan’s lips and tongue responded. “You were a shitty Dom, okay? You didn’t give me aftercare. I was looking at your stupid FetNet profile and you had that stupid kink listed, ‘cuddling as aftercare,’ and I just fucking snapped. You’re full of shit. You aren’t into that at all!” Lucan’s whole head burned, and he squeezed his hands into fists.

Between Court’s brows, a deep wrinkle appeared. “Says who?”

“Says me!” Lucan tried to push Court away with both hands, but all Court did was push back, the pressure keeping Lucan’s palms snugly against the warm, bare skin. “Let me go,” Lucan whispered. “I don’t want to do this.”

“You’re lying,” said Court. “You love being under me.”

“That’s not the point!” Heat spread through Lucan like his body was preparing for a porn shoot or something. He hadn’t had sex in a long time—years. And this was Court. If they want there, it would be good. It had always been so good.

Oh, he wanted Court to touch him, hurt him, making him lose control.

Court gripped Lucan’s wrists and shoved them down. He didn’t let go as he pushed himself against Lucan, his lips finding his cheek. “I’ll cuddle you after. Promise.” He spoke against Lucan’s skin so that Lucan felt every word–the vibrations and breath.

Lucan was so hard he wanted to scream. Involuntarily, he rubbed himself against Court. “We can’t.”

“I want to. You want to.” Court punctuated the words with a slow lick to Lucan’s cheek, and it was at that moment, while his whole body shook for how tense and needy he was, that Lucan knew he was going to let this happen.

His mouth was so dry that it hurt when he swallowed. He must have been panting. “Okay.”

Court pulled back, letting go of Lucan’s wrists. His eyes were dark pits. “Get in the car.”

What? Oh. He had to move. He turned and fumbled for the door handle before yanking the door open and crawling into the backseat.

He got situated on the far side. How uncomfortable this cramped space would be barely registered as all of Lucan’s senses became consumed with what he wanted, where he was about to be touched, Court crawling in with him and pulling the door shut and undoing his leather pants.

Court had a little trouble getting them off, which made Lucan laugh.

“You look good in them at least,” he said.

Court gave Lucan a playful look. “Shut up and get over here.”

It was as if Lucan had never had sex in his life. He’d never been more awkward crawling onto Court’s lap and trying to undo his own pants like he’d never seen a button. It was just he couldn’t stop looking at the shape of Court’s cock inside his underwear.

“Are you gonna take those off, too?” he asked shyly and gestured with his head.

“You first.” Court nudged Lucan’s hands away and undid the fly himself. He yanked Lucan’s jeans down, exposing boxers. Lucan had wanted to be comfortable tonight when he scened, but the cotton fabric made the wet spot he’d apparently leaked obvious.

Court rubbed his thumb in the moisture, touching Lucan’s cockhead in the process.

Lucan held back a whimper, shifting back and meeting resistance in the form of the front seat’s rigid back. “Stop torturing me.”

Court chuckled. “Don’t be pathetic. You know what torture is, and this isn’t it.” Finally, he pushed down his briefs, exposing a thick, familiar cock with an unfamiliar dydoe piercing.

“That’s so hot,” said Lucan, thumbing the silver ball at the base of the head that glinted in the light from a streetlamp outside the car window.

Court nudged the tiny black ring in Lucan’s septum. “So’s this. Cute.”

“Thanks.” Lucan couldn’t help but smile at the compliment.

Court ran his fingers through Lucan’s hair, pushing back the dyed-blond strands. For a second, Lucan thought he might kiss him, but instead, he suspended his palm below Lucan’s mouth.

“Spit,” he said.

The unexpected command had Lucan hesitating. But it was clear why Court had asked, so Lucan did as told.

“I need more than that,” Court said. “Drool for me.”

Embarrassment heated Lucan’s cheeks. He did not like talking about bodily functions or being ordered to perform them. But it was just spit. Lube.

He pooled saliva in his mouth and spit it into Court’s palm.

“Good boy,” said Court.

Lucan’s cock pulsed in response to the praise. He needed Court to touch him, please, now.

Court wrapped his big hand around both their cocks and pumped. Yes. The jewelry in Court’s piercing added another dimension to the friction, rubbing against Lucan’s sensitive skin and teasing his nerves.

Court moved his hand away, leaving Lucan to helplessly rut, but then he was yanking the fabric scrunched at Lucan’s lower back further down, exposing more of his ass. With his other hand, he delivered a stinging slap.

Lucan yelped then moaned as the pain bloomed. Nails digging into Court’s shoulders, he continued to rut and silently begged for more pain.

Court gave him another hit. He picked up a ruthless rhythm, no warm-up as any spanking enthusiast would insist was non-negotiable.

Lucan didn’t mind. He loved the shock and fear of being helpless to the sensations, and though these weren’t necessarily pleasant, they scratched an itch—one that Lucan had been carrying around so long he’d almost forgotten to take care of it. Hit after hit after hit rained down, on one side and then the other as Court switched hands.

Lucan worked his hips until a sweat broke out, and his cock begged for release. But he couldn’t get there. He was on the cusp, trapped in a wonderful hell, too restricted by his clothing that wasn’t all the way off but too single-minded to do anything about it.

The ruthless hits to his ass stopped abruptly, and Court growled like an animal. Lucan cried out as the pain in his ass intensified; no longer drowned out by unbroken stimulation, the skin throbbed, angry.

Court stuck two burning-hot fingers into Lucan’s mouth. With no hesitation this time, Lucan coated them in as much drool as he could muster. Then Court found Lucan’s hole and pushed his fingers in.

Lucan moaned loud from a parched throat. His hole clenched involuntarily at the intrustion, but Court shoved despite the bit of resistance. When Court found Lucan’s sweet spot, Lucan knew he was going to come, but then Court gripped the base of Lucan’s cock and staved it off.

“No,” Lucan moaned, slapping Court’s shoulders. “Please!”

Court remained a wordless tormentor, stimulating Lucan’s prostate in a relentless rhythm. Lucan had no choice then but to give in to the onslaught, and his spine curved as he bent over Court, rubbing his face on the rough felt fabric of the car’s interior.

“Good boy,” said Court.

Lucan whimpered. He needed to empty his balls so badly, but Court kept his orgasm just out of reach, building and building the pressure in Lucan’s groin but giving it nowhere to go.

After a while—Lucan didn’t know how long—Court withdrew his fingers and let go of Lucan’s cock. Lucan choked on air. His cock twitched helplessly but still couldn’t shoot, and Court ran his hands up and down Lucan’s back, shushing and soothing.

Then he yanked Lucan’s head up by the hair and once more had him produce drool. Lucan was like a marionette now, whittled down and given over to Court’s whims.

Court’s strokes were torturously slow. He was doing it to himself, too, barely giving their swollen cocks enough friction for—for anything. That piercing rubbed in the most awful way, making Lucan shudder but not pushing him high enough. He needed more. More sensation, more anything.

“Look at me,” said Court.

Lucan registered that he’d been staring at their cocks in Court’s hand and tore his eyes away to focus on Court’s dark gaze instead. “I need to come.” He rubbed his forehead against the top of Court’s head.

“I know. I got you.” Court began pumping in earnest.

Desperate and ruined, Lucan thrust into Court’s grip erratically, mindlessly, like an animal. And Court made low, guttural noises, a beast in frat boy skin. As they slithered together faster, Court punctuated every beat with a growl. Then cum hit Lucan’s neck—Court’s cum.

Court let go of their cocks. Lucan’s twitched once, twice, still didn’t squirt.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” Lucan really hurt Court this time, digging deep scratches into his arms.

Court seemed impervious to pain. Once more, he spanked Lucan: slap, slap, slap, slap against his already slapped-raw skin.

Lucan embraced the pain as the sensation that would get him there. He rubbed his cock against Court’s spent one, grunting and whining and whimpering. Then Court scratched down Lucan’s sensitive ass cheeks, and Lucan’s orgasm finally hit. He rutted through for long, impossible seconds that left him empty and exhausted as if he’d just done hours of physical labor.

Slowly, he returned to reality. He registered the fabric of the car’s interior against his palms, the condensation on the rear window, the sweaty stickiness wherever his skin touched Court’s. His mesh shirt sat raked up his back, his jeans and underwear bunched around his lower half. Court was taking deep, noisy breaths where he was folded into the seat, neck bent at what had to be an uncomfortable angle.

Gingerly, Lucan crawled off Court. He pulled his pants and underwear over his ass that had to be red as hell and splayed out as loosely as he could on the unoccupied side of the backseat.

Court pulled up his pants and stopped panting like he’d just run a marathon. “Shit.”

Lucan didn’t want to talk about it. What had he just let himself do? What had he let Court do? Panic rising in his chest, he reached for the door handle and shoved the door open. Somehow, summer’s nighttime air was cooler than that in the vehicle.

Court held Lucan back with a grip on his arm. Always with the grabbing!

“I thought we were going to cuddle,” said Court.

Eyes on the parking lot, Lucan said, “I don’t want to.”

“You’re just going to run away?”

Lucan yanked his arm free and turned to glare at Court. “Just give me a fucking second. Is that too much to ask?”

Court waved his hand in an angry, dismissive gesture.

Lucan got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Holding his head, he kicked at the pavement, cursed himself, only barely managed not to scream. He was such an idiot!

NEXT: Chapter 5

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