And it could have been easy--so easy--if he could only move his hands down where he needed the most attention. The throbbing in his cock had ceased to be pleasant not long after he realized the ascot wouldn’t come off anytime soon, although he hadn’t expected Big Boss would be greedy enough to take advantage of him like this. Now it was just a consistent irritant, a figurative and literal itch that wouldn’t go away. His hips twitched and he rubbed his erection against the side of the table, pitifully. A whimper followed.
Words, soon after.
“Ask me.”
Kaz blinked once, then twice, looking owlish. “--What…?”
“Ask me to touch you,” Big Boss said, breath tickling his ear. His voice was low, probably intended to sound seductive even though it came out sounding like a threat.
“Boss--”
“I won’t do it unless you ask.”
Kaz didn’t know how to respond. Anger had long since been drained from him along with any further will to fight, that much was glaringly apparent; the drive had flowed out of him like water through the cracks in a pair of hands. But he’s serious, he thought, and that much of a bastard to go through with it. This was a case of a master dangling a bone above a starving dog for no other reason than to see how far it would jump, and like a dog Kaz was whimpering. He wasn’t fully aware of it at first, and when he was, he was beyond mortified. It provided one last incentive to resist, weak as it was.
“You’re being ridiculous!”
Big Boss responded by pounding into him hard enough to drive his stomach into the table, hard enough to elicit a cry. “I -- only have time. Ask.“
He pulled out again and prepared to dive back in and the awareness of that was worse than any heart attack, unbearable, Kaz’s heart just may have skipped a beat and he clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow and oh, I’m really going to hate myself for this--
“…Touch me. Please.”
A beat. The thrust didn’t come, at least not immediately. Either the older man was stalling or he was waiting for something, expecting more. Kaz immediately assumed it to be the latter.
“Touch me,” He tried again, louder. The fact that he was begging wasn’t an issue; consider it the figurative act of a beast chewing it’s own leg off to get out of the snare, except there was no more pride left to save. All gone. “You know I want it. Please touch me, Snake.” No reply and he added a more tentative ,“Boss.”
More of that tickling breath against his earlobe, wet, hot air licking at the flesh, then a baritone rasp -- a chuckle, self-indulgent and amused but not maliciously so. Lips closed the distance between them and kissed the younger man’s neck.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” He said and reached around Kaz’s hips to effortlessly grip his dick. “If only you could always ask for things that nicely.”
Slut.
His hand began to slide up and down and Kaz was too consumed by the relief that followed to feel much of anything that followed, including the tinge of shame that came with submitting.
Rope burn from an ascot--his ascot--was the least embarrassing thing to come out of all of this. The winner of that little contest had to be the image of him, an even bigger mess than before, slumped on the floor leaning against the leg of the table--his table--and panting like a dog. He felt slimy and gross, like he hadn’t had a bath in weeks. Something told him he’d need several before the night was over.
Having just finished fastening his belt, Big Boss reached for his cigar tin inside his pocket and said, “So? How did it rank?”
Silence on Kaz’s end, save for his own erratic breathing. His eyes traveled from the semen drying on the inside of his thighs to Big Boss’ curious face. Flatly, he replied:
“6.9, give or take.”
“That low?” The older man asked, obviously feigning surprise. A coy smile danced on his lips, making him look both boyish and sly. “How many other birthdays have you had to compete with this?”
“Enough where I expected cake from them,” Kaz shot back, resting his head against the leg. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing to an even pace and rubbing at the red marks around his wrists. “I’d have given you a solid 10% if you delivered on that end.”
“Is that so?” Kaz nodded a little, smug. Big Boss turned on his heel, raising his hand in a farewell.
“Maybe you’ll get one. If you start cleaning up now, you can get one baked before midnight.”
His grin widened marginally. Kaz scooped up a can of vegetables that had fallen from the tabletop during their session and chucked it at his head.
Words, soon after.
“Ask me.”
Kaz blinked once, then twice, looking owlish. “--What…?”
“Ask me to touch you,” Big Boss said, breath tickling his ear. His voice was low, probably intended to sound seductive even though it came out sounding like a threat.
“Boss--”
“I won’t do it unless you ask.”
Kaz didn’t know how to respond. Anger had long since been drained from him along with any further will to fight, that much was glaringly apparent; the drive had flowed out of him like water through the cracks in a pair of hands. But he’s serious, he thought, and that much of a bastard to go through with it. This was a case of a master dangling a bone above a starving dog for no other reason than to see how far it would jump, and like a dog Kaz was whimpering. He wasn’t fully aware of it at first, and when he was, he was beyond mortified. It provided one last incentive to resist, weak as it was.
“You’re being ridiculous!”
Big Boss responded by pounding into him hard enough to drive his stomach into the table, hard enough to elicit a cry. “I -- only have time. Ask.“
He pulled out again and prepared to dive back in and the awareness of that was worse than any heart attack, unbearable, Kaz’s heart just may have skipped a beat and he clenched his teeth and furrowed his brow and oh, I’m really going to hate myself for this--
“…Touch me. Please.”
A beat. The thrust didn’t come, at least not immediately. Either the older man was stalling or he was waiting for something, expecting more. Kaz immediately assumed it to be the latter.
“Touch me,” He tried again, louder. The fact that he was begging wasn’t an issue; consider it the figurative act of a beast chewing it’s own leg off to get out of the snare, except there was no more pride left to save. All gone. “You know I want it. Please touch me, Snake.” No reply and he added a more tentative ,“Boss.”
More of that tickling breath against his earlobe, wet, hot air licking at the flesh, then a baritone rasp -- a chuckle, self-indulgent and amused but not maliciously so. Lips closed the distance between them and kissed the younger man’s neck.
“That’s what I wanna hear,” He said and reached around Kaz’s hips to effortlessly grip his dick. “If only you could always ask for things that nicely.”
Slut.
His hand began to slide up and down and Kaz was too consumed by the relief that followed to feel much of anything that followed, including the tinge of shame that came with submitting.
--
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Having just finished fastening his belt, Big Boss reached for his cigar tin inside his pocket and said, “So? How did it rank?”
Silence on Kaz’s end, save for his own erratic breathing. His eyes traveled from the semen drying on the inside of his thighs to Big Boss’ curious face. Flatly, he replied:
“6.9, give or take.”
“That low?” The older man asked, obviously feigning surprise. A coy smile danced on his lips, making him look both boyish and sly. “How many other birthdays have you had to compete with this?”
“Enough where I expected cake from them,” Kaz shot back, resting his head against the leg. He closed his eyes and focused on slowing his breathing to an even pace and rubbing at the red marks around his wrists. “I’d have given you a solid 10% if you delivered on that end.”
“Is that so?” Kaz nodded a little, smug. Big Boss turned on his heel, raising his hand in a farewell.
“Maybe you’ll get one. If you start cleaning up now, you can get one baked before midnight.”
His grin widened marginally. Kaz scooped up a can of vegetables that had fallen from the tabletop during their session and chucked it at his head.
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I'll be in my bunk.
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S for Sexy. This was friggin' perfect.
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