Moving was weird. It brought rushing back this bloody dress, the room, the men inside it. What was before an almost meditative thing was now raw and real, no distancing piece of glass—my lens or a porn cinematographer’s—between me and them. But I did as I was bid, picking up the heavy chair and depositing it in the spot provided, sitting like a queen before a performance.
And what a performance. Samson shot me a look as his thumb now moved purposefully over the rosette of Jake’s butt. “Watch it,” he said needlessly, then went back to his work. Back and forth, back and forth, sometimes stopping to press more firmly at the band of muscle, teasing the entrance with the tip of his finger, something that drew gibbering pleas from Jake, the other hand dropping down from time to time to idly fondle his balls. Jake became more and more vocal, his head arching back, as if that would be enough to make the other man relent. “You see?”
Samson pulled his hand away so I could see the change he had wrought in Jake’s body. His gentle persistence had made the other man’s body relax, the tight ring no long quite so taut. I nodded.
“He’ll tell you all sorts of stories about what he’s ready for. What he’s done, what’s been done to him. It makes it all confused in that head of his. He had to survive things that others would have found unbearable and still be able to get up and keep going. If you do this, take him on in the way that collar indicates, you won’t have a spontaneous moment again with him. You’ll need to be on your guard, providing him boundaries and restrictions so he doesn’t throw himself into something he can’t get himself out of. That’s how he came to me the first time. I didn’t spend all that time putting him back together for someone like you to fuck it up.”
He conjured a bottle of lube, and Jake began to mutter at the sound of the cap popping. He poured the thick liquid onto his fingers, then at the slick, tacky contact, Jake was galvanised. He pushed backwards, trying to force the fingers into him, and it took Samson’s other hand slapping down on his flank, the digits burying themselves into the silvery skin, to hold him still.
“You take what I give you, when I give it to you,” Samson growled.
“Yes…yes, yes…”
My mouth went dry as I watched him push one finger into him, the sound of Jake grinding his teeth a counterpoint. Samson’s movements in were as slow and studious as all of his previous caresses, forcing the usually volatile Jake into stillness, quietness. That came again as the next finger was pushed inside, twisting, stroking, dragging as Jake’s body opened for him. The only soundtrack was the steady rhythmic slick of Samson’s hand and Jake’s answering low groans.
He added another finger, letting Jake adjust to that, then tried another, but shook his head when it seemed a forced thing. Finally, he pulled away, wiping his hands on a rag he conjured and then coated his dick with lube with his other hand before patting Jake on the rump, directing him forward, waiting until he’d shuffled up a bit before settling between his legs.
“Come on,” he said, gentle and coaxing, lifting the other man until he was almost sitting back on his heels. His focus was entirely on the two of them, working his dick into Jake in tiny little increments.
“Just fuck me already,” Jake snarled, his face a mask of exquisite agony, but Samson held him fast. He couldn’t move, the other man’s arm like an iron band across his bright glowing chest. Samson’s hand slid to his throat, holding him still, and then he surged forward.
I shifted in my chair, scared he’d hurt Jake with the sound that came out of him, like his soul was being ripped free, but it soon became clear that the opposite was true.
“Don’t move,” Samson warned him, keeping him pinned, helpless as he did, sliding slowly into Jake and then out again. His pace was so measured, so controlled, it was kinda frightening to watch. Nothing got past Samson, not even his own pleasure. But he seemed to relish the way Jake came apart in his arms, his mouth on the back of Jake’s neck almost breathing in his cries.
“Kira…”
My ears pricked up at the faint sound, little more than a sigh, but when Samson’s eyes went to me, I knew I hadn’t misheard. That mask of deliberate sensuality faltered at that, because of course it did. He was balls deep in someone he wanted more than a fuck from, and his lover was calling someone else’s name. Fuck, this was a shitty game we were playing.
“Get in there,” Samson gritted, not altering his pace.
I scrambled over to the other side, not sure what I was rushing towards. I crawled onto the bed before an open-mouthed Jake, not knowing what to do. Samson watched my indecision over his shoulder and shook his head, speeding up his strokes.
This is not hard, I told myself. It’s weird, and different, but Jake’s still Jake. He wants to get off. I reached out and put a single fingertip on his glowing chest.
His hand slapped over mine and shoved it down, reaching out and pulling me closer, slamming his lips on mine. He was all teeth and open-mouthed hunger, like he wanted to swallow me whole.
And right now, I wanted him to. Samson, his cottage, whatever this place was, fell away and there was only Jake. His sharp scent clogging my nose, the heat coming from his body, the hard, thick length of him filling my palm, his fingers closing around mine, working him faster and faster. His other arm dragged me closer, crushing fabric against him.
“I think my part in this is over.”
Our heads jerked up to see Samson pulling out of Jake. He grabbed his rag and wiped the cum off his dick, then threw it down on the bed. His eyes scoured the two of us, and then he nodded to himself.
“This will stay up until you finish…whatever this is. The magic will then come back to me, and you’ll be left on your own. Look after him. He doesn’t realise what he is, how precious he is.”
I waited for Jake to react, to call him back or protest, but I saw Samson’s pain when his gaze swung straight back to me, his lips kissing the corner of my mouth. With that, Samson disappeared in actuality.
“Kira…” Jake groaned as his hand went to the slit in my dress and burrowed under it, slipping between my parted legs, then pausing when his fingertips slipped through my wetness. Those green eyes searched my face, his head twisting to one side, as if he couldn’t believe what he felt there. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Y-Yeah, well…” I stuttered. How the hell did anyone think I could be a Dom? “That was fucking hot. You were fucking hot, Jake.”
“Yeah? You aching for me, babe?”
His words, his fingers, yanked my awareness back to my own body, something I’d felt a million miles away from as I watched the two of them. I felt that sharp, deep need inside me as his fingers began to flick at my clit. All I could do was nod as he pushed me higher.
He pulled me closer, his fingers never letting up, and he caught my moans as his mouth covered mine. I was the one shifting and twitching, held pinned, forced to be pleasured. He wouldn’t let go until I finally gasped his name, unable to get anything coherent out.
“Now?” he asked, some of the boyishness back. He asked me for permission like someone used to being knocked back, and all of a sudden, it wasn’t just my cunt that was aching.
“Yeah, Jake. Now.”
I pushed him down on the bed, flicking the dress out to hopefully stop the fabric from creasing too much, and he unfastened those pants. He held himself away from his body for me, ready for me to impale myself on. His eyes raked me as I moved, always roaming, as if he wanted to store this away for later. Until I shifted and then sank down.