Read Bound and Determined Online
Authors: Jane Davitt,Alexa Snow
for permission to fuck up into that circle of palm and fingers.
Only Owen could make getting jerked off such torturous, unbearable
pleasure. Maybe this was punishment for what he'd done, since Owen couldn't
spank him. Maybe this was going to happen over and over until his shoulder
was better, kept in this bed, Owen's bed, hard and aching, with Owen coming
to him and doing this hour after hour, making him sob out Owen's name,
begging for mercy without ever wanting that wish granted.
The thought of it made him even harder, brought another jolt of clear fluid
to the tip of his dick, fluid that Owen spread around with another firm slide of
his thumb. Sterling felt so sensitized that he couldn't bear it, like all the nerve
endings in his body had migrated to his cock and the rest of his body was left
with nothing.
His chest rose and fell in quick, short breaths, his left hand holding onto
the coffee cup in desperation. If he spilled the coffee—well, it wasn't hot enough
to burn him, not really, though it wouldn't feel good. He was more worried
about not getting to come. He wanted to come, wanted it so much, wanted to
see his dick pulsing in Owen's grip, wanted to see Owen's face as it happened.
Owen, who loved him and didn't think he was a huge fuckup. Who didn't think
he was a disappointment, and how that was even possible, Sterling couldn't
begin to guess.
“Please,” he gasped, holding rock-steady, not moving at all. “Please, Owen,
let me come. Can I? Tell me…”
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Owen held his gaze and then nodded. “Show me,” he said as he lifted the
hand that had been lying empty, palm up on his lap to his mouth. He licked
his middle finger, a swift curl of his tongue, and then rubbed it, wet, spit-slick,
through the fluid beading the tip of Sterling's cock, and brought it back up to
his mouth, tasting it with a slow lap of his tongue.
“Oh fuck,” Sterling whispered and came all over himself and Owen, eyes
locked on Owen's mouth. He was totally frozen except for his dick, which shot
what he was pretty sure was a record nine times as his toes curled and his
lungs locked up. He couldn't even make a sound until it was over, and then it
was a moan that escaped him as he shuddered and his shoulder made its
protest to the movement known.
“Let me take that,” Owen said, tugging on the coffee cup, and Sterling let
go gratefully, not caring at all that his back was probably imprinted with the
pattern of Owen's headboard.
“Would—would you tell me again?” Sterling asked. He was still breathing
heavily, but he needed to hear it.
Owen gave him an amused look. “Well, you already came, so I assume
you're talking about the other thing. And yes, I will.” Leaning in close, he
brushed his lips over Sterling's, then said, “I love you.”
It was such a relief that Sterling sighed and closed his eyes. “I don't know
why you would, but—I'm so fucking glad. You have no idea.” The past couple of
days had been so hard.
“I think I do,” Owen said, his voice dry enough to make Sterling open his
eyes again. “I suppose it didn't occur to you that I feel the same way?” He
picked up one of the pillows that had gotten pushed to the bottom of the bed
during the night and tucked it behind Sterling's back. “Better?” Sterling
nodded gratefully. “I don't know what you see in me, beyond the fact that I
know which buttons you like having pressed, but we can bill and coo over each
other when we're less…damp.” Owen took a handful of tissues from the box
beside the bed and gave Sterling's stomach a brisk rub. “I'm going to get you
into the shower; they said that you could take your sling off, so don't worry
about that.”
“A shower sounds good,” Sterling said with total sincerity. He wanted to
symbolically scrub every trace of Kirk off him. “A really long one.”
“I'll share it with you,” Owen said. “You can do some more standing still
while I take care of you.”
Like always, Owen meant what he said—he didn't let Sterling lift a finger
in the shower, just told him to stand there. Owen washed him down, starting
with shampooing his hair and working his way all the way down to Sterling's
ankles, with particular interest in the sounds Sterling made when underarms
and balls were concentrated on. Not that Sterling's cock seemed capable of
stirring right then, which he had to admit was kind of a relief; he wasn't sure if
Owen was going to let him come again anytime soon.
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“Can I go get my stuff after breakfast?” Sterling asked as Owen turned him
under the spray. “It won't take long. I just don't want to leave it there.”
“
You
can't,” Owen said. “But we can go together. I wasn't kidding when I
said I didn't intend to let you out of my sight, for a couple of days at least. I
take it you weren't staying with Alex, or he would have brought your things
with your car.”
“No, just a hotel.” There were a lot of things that went along with that that
Sterling didn't say, like that it had been lonely and boring and then eventually
further tainted by his father's visit.
“I see,” was all that Owen said. “Well, luckily Alex did have the sense to
put your coat and shirt in the car; I brought them in earlier.”
Owen was running his hands over Sterling's chest as he spoke, checking
for soap residue, Sterling supposed. It was distracting like it always was when
Owen was touching him, but there was a new element to the way Owen
handled him; more possessive, definitely more loving, as if saying the words
had allowed Owen to demonstrate just how he felt. Each outwardly mundane
action as Owen bathed him felt like a disguised caress.
The water was shut off, leaving them standing in a steamy, ringing silence.
Owen was so close that their bodies touched; arms, chests, their knees
bumping. The kiss was inevitable, and Sterling closed his eyes, welcoming the
slick thrust of Owen's tongue against his.
“You might wish I didn't love you,” Owen murmured. “I'm going to be so
much stricter with you now, so much more demanding.” His hand slipped
between their bodies, and Sterling moaned as Owen cupped and rolled his
balls. “I hope you enjoyed this morning, because that's not going to happen
again for a few days. I like you desperate, begging me to come. For me,
though… Months of denying myself the feel of your mouth on me… I don't see
any reason why that state of affairs should continue, do you?”
Once Sterling figured out what that meant—okay, maybe he
was
a little
slow, but he'd blame it on the meds from the night before—he found himself
genuinely shocked. “You mean—we don't have to wait until my birthday?”
“There doesn't seem much point now, does there? Between us, we've
broken that rule a couple of times already. I think I can trust you not to inform
the college of my breach of ethics.”
“You can,” Sterling said eagerly. “I wouldn't—I'd never do anything to hurt
you.
Never
.”
Owen patted his hip and nodded. “I know. I do trust you. And it's been a
very long time since I've been able to say that to someone I was involved with,
so I hope you appreciate that it actually means something. Now come on—let's
get you dressed and fed, and we'll go over to the hotel and get your things.”
* * * * *
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Walking into the hotel room was more difficult than it should have been,
even with Owen right there beside him. His father seemed to still be there, the
echo of his words, the sneer on his face.
The gifts he'd brought back.
Owen had pointed at the bed and told Sterling to sit on it and not move,
an order Sterling knew he was going to protest eventually, when his shoulder
had healed, but not today, and started to pack up Sterling's scattered
belongings with swift efficiency. When he got to the bag with the presents, he
paused. One present had fallen out, lying on the floor. Owen picked it up and
read the tag, then turned to look at Sterling. “You brought them back with
you? Would you like to mail them to your mother and sister?”
Sterling shook his head slightly, not knowing how to explain.
Owen put the present back in the bag, then looked at Sterling. He'd
missed the shake of Sterling's head, but now saw the expression on his face.
“What is it?”
“My father. He brought them.”
Frowning, Owen straightened up. “You left them at your house and he
brought them here?”
“It's not my house.” Sterling grimaced. “I'm not allowed to talk to them or
go home unless I get his permission first, and I can only ask for that if I'm
willing to give up my 'deviant lifestyle.'” He smiled at Owen, or tried to. “He
doesn't know the half of it, does he?”
“He doesn't know you at all,” Owen said, walking over to him. “He looks at
you and misses everything that any father would be proud of and focuses on
the one thing you can't change—don't
need
to change. Do I have to tell you how
stupid of him that is? How it reflects badly on him, not you?” Owen exhaled
sharply, his expression reflecting his distress. “God, I'm so fucking sorry,
Sterling.” He put his hand lightly on Sterling's injured shoulder, no weight to
the touch. “So this is his fault.”
The temptation to blame his own stupidity on his father was strong, but
Sterling thought it was better not to. “No, it's mine. I knew better. I knew Kirk
wasn't what I wanted, but at the time it seemed like something was better than
nothing, you know?” He was looking into Owen's eyes earnestly. “I'll never
make that mistake again, I promise.” With Owen right there, owning him, it
was the easiest promise in the world to make.
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Chapter Eighteen
“Yes, he's fine. He had a second MRI last week, and the doctor thinks that
surgery will be necessary, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it;
Sterling doesn't want to schedule it until the semester is over.” It was late
spring, and Owen was on the phone with Michael, who he'd also called the day
after Sterling's injury. He'd known Michael would calm him down after his
rage-inducing conversation with Kirk—who had, to be fair, been extremely
apologetic and offered to pay Sterling's medical bills. Which wasn't the issue;
Owen would have been more than happy to pay them himself, but Sterling was
still a student and covered under his father's insurance.
Like he'd expected, Michael had done a perfect job of soothing him, and
he'd been able to hang up after twenty minutes and go back to the drowsy
Sterling without clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.
Now, with Sterling upstairs getting ready for their first trip to the club
since he'd been hurt, Owen was comfortably seated on the couch and had
Michael on the other end of the line checking up on them.
“Well, I'm glad he's feeling better,” Michael said, just a suspicion of a
knowing smile in the words, “but what I really want to know is, does he pay
rent, and if so, how?”
Owen rolled his eyes tolerantly. Thousands of miles away, and he still
knew exactly what Michael looked like right now, mischievous and impertinent.
Years ago, he'd have dealt with it by spanking him until all that sass turned
into sizzle, but that wasn't his responsibility anymore. Sterling and
Michael…very different men, but they both knew exactly how to get what they
wanted from him.
“Yes, he does, as it happens.” A nominal one, anyway. “The basement's
self-contained, with a door that locks, and as far as the university is
concerned, he's a tenant, no more. There's been some gossip, but nothing I
can't deal with, and Sterling's very good at brushing off questions he doesn't
want to answer.”
“But he doesn't actually live down there, right?” Michael asked, his
curiosity evident.
“He uses it,” Owen replied. “I wanted him to have a place of his own,
somewhere to entertain his friends. He sleeps with me, of course.”
The basement bedroom had become somewhere they used now and then
for role-playing, with Sterling showing a playful inventiveness that spurred an
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initially reluctant Owen on. Sterling loved assuming another identity for an
hour or two, throwing himself into each role with enthusiasm.
“Well, of course,” Michael said. “And how are things with his family?”