He closed his eyes, leaning back, and let Ewan suck on him, felt the tension build in Ewan’s frantic tugs, felt that muffled moan in his flesh as Ewan stiffened and shot his load. It took a while, and then Ewan sat back, his mouth sliding down to pant heavily against the inside of Channon’s thigh.

  Channon dropped a hand to Ewan’s head, stroking his hair. Ewan made a helpless sound, nuzzling into Channon’s leg. For a moment Channon just breathed, letting his neglected erection die down, enjoying the moment of quiet and Ewan’s unexpected obedience.

  “Well,” Nate said, right when Channon had forgotten he was still watching. “That looked like fun.”

  Channon hunched, not sure how he was supposed to meet Nate’s eye after that. He’d bossed Nate’s boyfriend around, told Nate’s sub to jerk off for him. But when he made himself look up, he found Nate grinning at him. There was something lazy in Nate’s eyes, something deeply sated that told Channon he hadn’t been idle as he watched. The thought of that—Nate working his cock as he watched Channon and Ewan together—made something in Channon’s gut glow hot for a moment. Fuck, if it had been Jack watching. If it were Jack grinning at him now in approval. If only.

  Jack…

  Channon licked his lips, and tried to remember what Nate had just said. “It was. Fun, I mean.”

  “Even though you didn’t want to come?”

  Channon nodded, petting Ewan carefully. “I’m saving it. For Sir.”

  “What a good boy,” Nate said, and the warmth of his approval gave Channon a tiny thrill. “How about you, baby? How are you feeling?”

  “Good,” Ewan mumbled. He didn’t seem inclined to get up, just mashed his face into Channon’s skin and breathed on him, all hot and damp.

  “You need to clean up, baby boy,” Nate said, still grinning. “Come on, up you get.”

  Ewan growled half-heartedly, but let himself be bullied to his feet. He blotted up the mess he’d made on the floor, washed his hands, and allowed Channon to pull him into bed.

  “Goodnight,” Nate said.

  “’Night,” Ewan mumbled, reaching up to touch the edge of the laptop monitor. Then he cut the call and closed the lid, turning to fit himself up against Channon’s body. “Thanks,” he said, and then, after a heartbeat. “Sorry.”

  “You’re welcome,” Channon told him, tucking Ewan under his chin.

  He listened to Ewan’s breathing even out, holding him against the jerks and twitches of his restless limbs. He missed Jack, wished for him so hard that for a moment he thought he might sob out loud. But it passed, the lump in his throat easing, almost gone by the time his phone pinged.

  “Wzzt?” Ewan twitched fitfully.

  Channon stroked his shoulder to quiet him. “Shhh.” Carefully, he reached over Ewan for his phone.

  There was a message from Jack. Well done, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you, my perfect, beautiful boy.

  It swelled the lump in Channon’s throat, filling his chest with something hot and tight. ty Sir I miss u wish u were here

  I miss you too, more than you know. You’re the most important thing in the world to me. Maybe I can prove it to you when you get home.

  u dont need to prove anything Sir Channon wrote, following it with a string of hearts because he liked it and Jack never laughed at him for emoji.

  Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.

  goodnight Sir.

  Channon tucked the phone under his pillow and closed his eyes. He’d be with Jack again in less than twenty-four hours, and Jack would put him in his place, just the way he liked.

  He really couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Five

  “Sir?”

  God, just the sound of his voice. Jack tried to wipe the smile off his face but he couldn’t, and didn’t really need to. Channon knew how Jack felt about him: there was nothing wrong with showing it. So he called out, “In here, sweetheart!”

  There was a thump, and then Channon appeared in the doorway of Jack’s home office. He beamed, his face brightening up into something almost blinding. “Sir,” he breathed, and then he’d crossed the room to drop down at Jack’s feet. “I missed you.”

  Jack ran his fingers through Channon’s hair, bending to meet him halfway for a kiss. “Mmm, I missed you too. Did you have fun at the conference?”

  Channon blushed, obviously remembering the night he’d spent in the hotel room. “Not that much fun,” he said. Then, clearly making an effort, he added, “I learned some things and I made some contacts. And I got to hang out with Rayyan. She’s making a…I think she called it a walking simulator, but it’s kind of like a game. It’s cool!”

  “You’ll have to tell me more about it later,” Jack said, holding him in place to be looked at. Channon looked good—-healthy and happy—if a little needy, fidgeting under Jack’s hands. “Hold still,” Jack said, and Channon did so at once, breathing slow and even as Jack inspected him.

  He was so pretty. Sometimes it seemed easy to overlook, but with those long dark lashes and his soft, full mouth, he was intensely beautiful. To Jack, anyway. He was biased, he knew it, but Channon just did things to him, made his heart ache in ways he didn’t think it ever had before. Or at least, not in the same way. With Nate…

  With Nate it had been different, so fucking painful Jack didn’t want to think about it. Not when he had Channon here at his feet, gazing up at him like a true believer.

  Jack smiled and ruffled his hair. “You took care of Ewan,” he said. “That was very good of you, looking after your friend when he needed it.”

  “You don’t mind?” Channon asked, clearly nervous.

  His hair was silky between Jack’s fingers, sleek and black and just long enough to get a good handful of it. Jack wound it around his fingers. “Not at all.”

  “You don’t like Ewan,” Channon said, simply, as if he was just stating a fact.

  “You do,” Jack said, gripping his hair and slowly pulling his head back. Channon allowed it, pliant as always. “I don’t mind him. Anyway, he needed you and you gave him just as much as he needed and no more. You looked like you would have happily come in his mouth, but you didn’t. I was impressed with your restraint.”

  Channon blinked. “Sir?”

  “Nate sent me the video,” Jack explained, and he was rewarded by the rosy flush of blood in Channon’s face. “He didn’t tell you he was recording it, did he?”

  “No,” Channon said.

  “Do you mind that he sent it to me?”

  “No, Sir.” Though, he was so red. “I didn’t do anything I’m ashamed of.”

  Jack smiled. “And you saved something for me.” Channon nodded as best he could with Jack’s hand holding him firmly in place. “Do you think you deserve an orgasm, Channon?”

  Channon whimpered, the agony of decision stark in his face. “It’s not up to me, Sir,” he said. “But I want one, if you’ll let me.”

  Such a good boy. He’d had to be strong for Ewan, good for Nate, had to express a preference for something he really preferred taken away from him, and now Jack was torturing him with that same question, again.

  “What else do you want?” He watched Channon’s mouth thin, his brow crease. “Ask me for anything. A reward.”

  Channon cleared his throat. “Anything, Sir?”

  “Anything, sweetheart.”

  God, his eyes, so trusting. “May I worship you, Sir?”

  “I said ‘anything’, Channon, you can ask me for a private jet if you want.”

  “I don’t want that. I want…please, can I? May I, I just,” and he sighed, shivering lightly. “I just want to show you how much I love you.”

  Oh. Oh, God. Jack’s chest panged, an ache that was somewhere between pleasure and pain. That Channon could weaken him like this, so easily. It was a thing he would never have allowed anyone else, never have tolerated such a weak spot, but for Channon?

  “Okay, sweetheart. If that’s what you want.” He bent to brush a kiss across Channon’s mouth and then stood up, releasing Channon’s hair and stroking his temples gently. “I think you’ve earned it.”

  He left Channon on the floor, walking out to the living room sofa and tugging the knitted throw over it. “Channon,” he called, stripping out of his clothes. “Come on.”

  Maybe because he’d called him like a dog, Channon came to him like one, on his hands and knees. He kept his head down, only looking up when he stopped at Jack’s feet, and even then it was shyly tentative.

  “I want you naked, sweetheart,” Jack said, and Channon wriggled out of his clothes at once, settling on his knees with his hands resting on his thighs. Slave pose, again, and Jack allowed it, knowing it made Channon feel more submissive, more owned. “Now,” he said, drawing the syllable out. “How exactly did you want to worship me? Was it my feet? My hands?”

  Channon smirked, ducking his head. “Any part of you, Sir.”

  “But you had something specific in mind,” Jack prompted.

  With a sigh, Channon nodded. “Yes, Sir. May I…”

  “Tell me.”

  Channon bit his lip, but then he swallowed his humiliation and said it. “I really wanna worship your ass, Sir. With my mouth.”

  “Mmm. I’ll allow it.” Jack settled himself on the sofa, jacking one foot up on the ottoman and spreading his thighs. They framed Channon’s face, his hungry look, and Jack dropped a hand between his legs to beckon. “Come on, sweetheart. Show me how much you love me.”

  The look on Channon’s face was heart-melting, the whole hungry, lovesick look of him, the way his gaze trailed down Jack’s thigh to light on him below. He came in, slow but determined, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin of Jack’s inner thigh, and then on the other side, and then more kisses, leading himself in. Jack spread open wide for him, glad he was freshly showered, and just glad of Channon home again, of his eagerness to please and need to be needed. Channon’s mouth was soft, his tongue hot and hungry as he lapped at the part of Jack’s cheeks, slipping between them to find him hidden in there. It was a heady experience to allow Channon into him, to loosen up for his tongue, spread wide for him and allow him to breach Jack so intimately. And his enthusiasm made it all the sweeter. Jack lay back and allowed Channon to worship, to lap at him gently and push inside, his hands warm on Jack’s cheeks, breath huffing hot and ragged over Jack’s hole.

  The small, wet sounds he made. Jack ran a hand through Channon’s hair, letting out a slow sigh. “God, sweetheart, that’s good. You like that, huh? Eating me out? You like getting your tongue in me?”

  Channon made a muffled sound of agreement and then, so casually it must have been an accident, Jack felt Channon’s thumb brush the rim of his hole.

  It sent a shock through his body, a sharp and delicious threat. Jack gasped and gripped Channon’s hair, unnerved by the sudden burst of want that billowed in him. Channon’s thumb, and maybe…

  “Sir?” Channon asked, and Jack realized he was holding him too tight.

  He resisted the urge to apologize, simply loosened his grip. “Sweetheart.”

  “Do you want…?” And Channon did it again, just ran his thumb over Jack’s spit-slick rim, his eyes flickering up to Jack’s with the rest of a question in them.

  Did he? His mouth had gone inexplicably dry. There was, he knew, nothing wrong with wanting Channon to finger him, it was just…this wasn’t something they did. This wasn’t part of the deal.

  And yet.

  Hadn’t the deal changed already? They were always changing it, molding it to their desires. If their desires changed, after all, they had to.

  So. He nodded. But of course, Channon needed more than that. “Go ahead, sweetheart.”

  Channon’s eyes went wide, and then he rubbed the edge of his thumb gingerly over Jack’s pucker. “Like this, Sir?” He pressed the tip in, gently, and Jack let him, let Channon push his thumb in up to the knuckle, listening to Channon’s breath gone fast and shallow, his gaze fixed in rapt attention at the place where Jack swallowed him up.

  “Put one of your fingers in your mouth,” Jack said, and Channon slid his thumb free to obey. “Get it nice and wet. Now. Remember how I showed you.” With Ewan, but he couldn’t say it, not now, in this precious moment.

  Channon slipped inside him easily, sliding in like he was meant to be there, twisting his hand to run his finger over Jack’s prostate, his eyes flickering up to see if he’d got that right.

  Jack groaned, unable to help himself. It felt so alien. An old thing. Something he hadn’t done in so long he wasn’t sure his body remembered how. God, it felt good, though. And now, with all his old fears over what kind of man let another man fuck him gone to dust, he couldn’t help but wonder: What if Channon…?

  But not now. Jack dropped his head back against the sofa. “Worship my cock while you do that,” he said, and Channon did, licking his cock until it was stiff and wet and leaking. His finger in Jack was a little clumsy, a little uncertain, but it felt so good Jack couldn’t bring himself to offer suggestions. The sense of rightness, of Channon being right where he was supposed to be, grew in him, filling up his skull until his ears felt full, his brain saturated with it.

  Why is it only ever you who does this to me? Jack thought, dizzy with the joy of Channon’s worship, his careful attention.

  Because you’re mine, seemed the obvious answer, but that wasn’t all of it. Because it’s you. Better. So much fucking better.

  Channon’s finger rubbed gently inside with this insistent rhythm that made Jack feel almost drunk, and suddenly Jack wanted him out, needed to take back control before he lost it. It was a primal feeling, something he couldn’t explain or deny.

  “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

  Channon slipped his hand free, licking his way up to linger at the head of Jack’s cock, lapping at the slit. His eyes came up to meet Jack’s, begging him for something, and Jack huffed out a breath of laughter. He was so fucking cute when he was hungry for cock. Oh, who was he kidding—Channon was fucking adorable all of the time.

  “Get the lube,” Jack said, and Channon grabbed it out of a drawer in the coffee table. “Now come up here and give me a kiss.”

  Channon beamed like it was his birthday. He scrambled up into Jack’s lap to straddle his hips, not settling his weight yet, just ducking his head to peck Jack’s mouth, pulling away with a cheeky grin like he’d stolen something.

  But Jack wanted more than that. He tugged Channon firmly against him and captured his mouth, curling a hand around the back of Channon’s skull to hold him in place. Channon sighed happily, and Jack licked his way in, claiming Channon and tugging sharply at his lip. Channon melted against him, but Jack could feel the restlessness in his body, his cock rigid against Jack’s skin, desperate for release. Poor thing. Between them Jack and Channon abused Channon’s cock, teasing it over and over and denying it satisfaction. But this time, Jack really did want to see Channon come.

  First things first. Jack wrapped his arms around Channon’s torso, squeezing lube onto the fingers of one hand, and slicked them up between Channon’s cheeks. Channon bucked forward, rubbing himself on Jack’s belly, and then he made an obvious effort to hold still and relax. Well. That wouldn’t last.

  “Sweetheart,” Jack murmured against Channon’s mouth. “You were such a good boy last night. Did you like it when Ewan sucked you off?”

  “Yeah,” Channon breathed. “He’s good at it. But it’s not like when you do it.”

  Jack slid a finger into him, a long, slow series of slides. “How come?”

  “’Cos he does it like I do it. Because it’s for you. My Sir.”

  “You think Ewan thinks of you like that?”

  Channon blinked. “No, Sir. Ah!” Jack worked a second finger in beside the first, opening Channon up. He raised his eyebrows for Channon to go on. “No, like…like it’s for me. Except it’s not, it’s because he wants to, but still. It isn’t about what he wants. It’s to please.”

  “And when I suck your cock?”

  “Then it’s to please you,” Channon said, his eyes fluttering closed as Jack stroked him inside. “Sir…you do it because you want to, because you want to see me come, or just torture me with it. Not because I want to. Not for me. Always for you.”

  It was true. And it sounded so good, but Jack knew this was the kind of thing that made him…controlling? Maybe.

  “How do you feel about that?” he asked, watching Channon’s face shift as Jack pumped his fingers in deep.

  Channon cried out, his hands gripping the sofa behind Jack’s head. “Ah! Good, I…I fucking love it because I’m yours, and—”

  “You love it because you’re mine? Or you love it and you’re mine?”

  “Both,” and Channon rocked back on Jack’s hand, moaning softly between words. “I love both.”

  That was it, that was too much. Jack wanted him with a powerful desperation that he didn’t examine too closely. He steadied Channon against his chest, taking back his fingers to slather his hand in lube. He was quick in slicking his cock, barely touching himself before he had Channon hovering over the head of it, his hole wet, his whole body trembling in Jack’s arms.

  “Take it slow, sweetheart,” Jack told him, but Channon slipped out of his arms and slid onto him too fast. Jack bit back a curse, but Channon’s heartfelt groan sounded more aroused than hurt, and then he was easing himself down, taking Jack in, inch by hot inch.

  “Sir,” he moaned, and Jack caught him by the hips, rocking him down, jacking his hips up to meet Channon a little more each time until Channon sank into his lap, his weight drawing him all the way home. “S-sir,” he slurred, his pupils gone big and dark, and Jack kissed him to cover how hard his heart was thrashing.

  He helped Channon get his bearings, easing him up an inch and then tugging him back down into his lap. Channon was tight as a fist, as hot and wet as a mouth, and Jack licked hungrily at Channon’s lips as he fucked up into him.

  “Sir, Sir, Sir,” Channon gasped, and Jack could feel him leaking, his dick smearing wetness on Jack’s skin as he rocked onto Jack’s cock.

  “Yeah? Sweetheart, are you going to come for me?”

 

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