Safe in His Arms (13 page)

myself.‖

―Wine snob, you mean,‖ Russell interjected, humor in his tone.

―Yeah, okay,‖ Hank grinned back. ―Guilty as charged.‖ He took another drink of

the tasty beer. ―I come to find out, not only are you a wine expert, but this beer is

fucking fantastic! I had no idea a beer could taste so complex. Once again, I‘m learning

something new from you.‖

Once back in the loft, they settled on the sofa, each with a fresh bottle of Colorado

Mule. Russell turned on a small CD player on the floor beside the crammed bookshelf

and sat down beside Hank, who realized with a small shock there was no TV. Hank had

flat screen TVs in just about every room in his house, including the master bath. Maybe

Russell just couldn‘t afford one. Poor guy.

Russell put his arm around Hank and pulled him close, kissing the top of his head.

―How‘s it going with the IRS thing? Get straightened out yet?‖

Hank stiffened but tried to keep his voice light. ―Oh, not yet. But soon.‖

―You doing okay for money meanwhile? Need a loan?‖

Hank almost spat out his beer. Russell had no concept of the amount of money it

took to run his estate. Indeed, Hank hadn‘t really appreciated the costs until he‘d been

forced to count every penny, as he was now doing. He had been outraged at the measly

prices the art dealer had offered him for the paintings he‘d decided to part with, and

they were offering pennies on the dollar for his gold jewelry.

―You okay?‖ Russell patted his back.

―No offense. It‘s just my expenses in a month probably exceed your income for a

year. I really doubt any loan you could make me would do much more than pay for a

week of lawn service.‖

―Jesus, Hank. You can be such a condescending little shit, you know that?

Sometimes I have no fucking idea why I put up with you.‖

Hank recoiled. He could feel his face growing hot. ―Damn it. I put my foot in my

mouth again.‖ He tried to laugh. ―I never seem to know when to shut up.‖

―I‘ll agree with you there,‖ Russell said, but thank god he was smiling again. ―Let‘s

not talk about money or heavy stuff right now. I‘ve got something else in mind.‖

Russell led Hank past the living area to the bedroom. He took Hank into his arms

and kissed him, holding Hank‘s face between his hands as he explored Hank‘s mouth

with his tongue.

Hank‘s cock rose as they kissed, hardening when Russell whispered, ―I‘m going to

tie you down so you can‘t move, Hank. And then I‘m going to blindfold you. Are you

ready to please me?‖ Hank nodded, a shiver running through his body. Something

always seemed to happen to him when Russell said these words in his low, sexy voice.

When he asked Hank if he was ready to please Russell, the question was invariably

followed by some new, hot test Russell had designed for him. He would be required to

balance himself, bare-assed against Russell‘s thighs while he spanked him, not moving

a muscle no matter how hard the blows were. Or he might be required to control his

orgasm for as long as possible, no matter how incredible Russell‘s hands and mouth

felt, driving him along until he could do nothing but beg, ―Oh god, please let me come!‖

The latest delicious erotic torture included Hank‘s arms being tightly bound behind

his back, secured with leather straps at both the wrists and biceps, forcing his bare chest

outward. Russell had attached clover clamps to Hank‘s nipples, one at a time.

―Look right here,‖ Russell had said, when Hank had winced and squeezed his eyes

shut to work through the pain. ―Look into my eyes. Focus. There is no pain. Only

sensation. Let it move through you, right down to your cock. Let it turn into the heat

that drives you wild.‖

Hank had stared into those very blue eyes, losing himself in them. And somehow,

just as Russell had promised, the pain melted into sensation, desire into white heat,

white heat into lust, fueling his erection so that when Russell caught his cock in a

sensual grip, it only required a few strokes before he was begging to come.

For some reason these tests Russell set out for him thrilled him on a primal level he

didn‘t really understand. It went past mere sexual arousal. It went somewhere deep

inside him, to a place he couldn‘t identify—somewhere new, frightening yet wonderful.

Somewhere he was afraid to go, and yet begged never to leave.

When they talked about it afterwards, Russell had explained that Hank wasn‘t used

to feeling vulnerable. He wasn‘t used to trusting anyone on any level. When he gave of

himself in this deeply personal way, Russell said, he was showing his trust. Hank

understood this, but it went even deeper. It was a willingness to open himself in a way

he never had before—nothing hidden, no secrets, naked in every sense, beholden to

Russell‘s love as he offered his own.

Love
.

What the fuck was that, anyway? Hank had always staunchly asserted there was no

such thing. He‘d lectured Reese about it, the few times Reese had tried to run that line

by him. He‘d been so sure he was right, so confident that life was nothing more than a

hustle and may the best man win.

Yet now he wasn‘t so sure any longer. Russell had never actually said, ―I love you,‖

and certainly Hank had not. But the word had a sort of power now it had never had for

him. It was intertwined in his mind with Russell, and he found he liked the way it made

him feel, when it didn‘t scare him half to death.

He stared into Russell‘s eyes, losing himself for a while in the deep sea blue. He felt

the tenderness behind the fire, and it gave him courage. ―Strip,‖ Russell commanded,

―and lie on the bed on your back. I‘m going to bind your wrists and ankles to the bed

frame.‖

Hank did as he was told, eagerly undressing and tossing his clothes in a heap on

the floor. Russell was watching him, the smile edging toward a frown. ―You know

better than that.‖

Hank raised his eyebrows in question before remembering. Russell was big on him

keeping things neat. He didn‘t like the way Hank tossed things around and left messes

where he made them. Hank was annoyed at first by Russell‘s insistence he clean up

after himself. ―That‘s what the maid‘s for,‖ he would remind Russell, before recalling

poor Russell had probably never had a maid in his life. But now Hank made an effort to

fold his clothing neatly and put his dishes in the sink, at least when Russell was around

to observe him.

He retrieved his pants and shirt, folding them over a nearby chair. He even picked

up his underwear and socks, dropping them on the chair as well. Russell nodded and

then pointed to the bed. Hank lay down, his cock bobbing in anticipation.

He was still as Russell moved around him, securing his wrists and ankles in snug

rope bindings. ―Spread your legs. Farther. Lift your ass. That‘s good,‖ Russell said, as

he slid a pillow beneath Hank‘s hips.

Hank felt a shudder run through his body as he tested his bonds. He was stretched

spread eagle, his arms and legs pulled taut, cock and balls vulnerable and on display.

―You comfortable?‖ Russell asked, bending down to kiss Hank‘s mouth.

―Yeah,‖ Hank said. ―I‘m good.‖

He watched as Russell moved toward the bureau and opened the top drawer, from

which he withdrew a fat candle and a box of matches. He also pulled out what looked

like a bottle of baby oil. Hank felt a sudden jolt of panic. ―Hey, you‘re not going to fuck

me with that candle, are you?‖

Russell looked confused for a moment and then laughed. ―No, no, of course not.

Have you ever experienced hot wax play?‖

Hank stared, fascinated as Russell lit the candle and set it in a saucer on top of the

bureau. ―You mean dripping hot wax? On me?‖ Hank‘s voice came out higher than

he‘d intended and he cleared his throat and swallowed. ―Doesn‘t that burn the skin?‖

Despite his fear, his cock was raging, his heart beating fast. ―That‘s what this is for.‖

Russell held up the bottle of oil and unscrewed the top. ―It‘ll protect your skin.‖

Hank couldn‘t take his eyes off the candle flame. ―Man, I don‘t know, Russell.‖

Russell moved to the bed and sat beside Hank. He stroked Hank‘s bare chest with

his fingers. ―Relax.‖ Hank looked into Russell‘s eyes, feeling his warmth and, just

beneath that, his power. Leaning over him, Russell kissed Hank‘s forehead.

―I think you‘re going to love this, Hank. And if you don‘t, I‘ll stop. It‘s that simple. I

would never do anything to harm you.‖

He began to rub the oil into Hank‘s skin—his chest, his stomach, his thighs and

lastly, his cock and balls, stroking in smooth sweeping motions not designed to arouse

so much as cover every inch of exposed flesh. Russell‘s touch felt good, and Hank

relaxed more, closing his eyes. He felt Russell tying a bandana over his closed eyes and

beneath his head.

―I‘m going to cover your eyes with this blindfold so you can focus on the

sensations, rather than on the anticipation. I want you to surrender yourself to the

feelings. And to me. Just accept what I offer, and see where it takes you.‖

Hank nodded, licking his lips nervously. He‘d played with wax as a kid sometimes,

dipping his fingertips into the melted pools and making tiny bowls with the wax once it

had dried. But this was different.

Very different.

He was naked, tied down and completely vulnerable. Russell had smeared the oil

on his cock and balls, which must mean he planned to drop the hot wax there!

―Slow your breathing.‖ Russell pressed his hand gently but firmly on Hank‘s chest

and then moved it slowly along Hank‘s torso and groin. When he touched Hank‘s cock,

he didn‘t linger, despite Hank‘s arching his hips up in invitation. Russell continued to

stroke and lightly massage Hank‘s flesh until he relaxed again, his breath slowing.

―Ready?‖

―Yes, sir,‖ Hank said, the word forming without conscious thought.

―Good boy.‖

The first drop landed on his chest. It was hot but not unbearable. But because he

wasn‘t expecting it, he gasped. Several more drops landed in quick succession. When

the next drop hit his stomach, it burned and again he gasped, jerking hard against the

ropes that held him fast.

Russell bent over and said quietly, ―You‘re doing good. But stop resisting, stop

anticipating.‖

―I can‘t help it. I can‘t see—‖

Hank‘s words were cut off by Russell‘s fingers, which pressed lightly against his

lips. ―Shh. Focus, Hank. Don‘t talk. Experience the heat. Flow with the pain.‖ Several

drops of liquid fire landed on his thighs, moving rapidly up toward his groin.

Hank tensed, gripping the rope that held his wrists in a tight clench. When Russell

touched his balls, lightly cupping them, Hank jerked away, until he realized it was

Russell‘s hands, not the burning wax.

He felt Russell sit down on the bed beside him. ―Relax,‖ Russell murmured,

stroking Hank‘s shaft from base to tip. ―I can feel the tension you‘re holding in your

body. Let it go. Remember, I won‘t give you more than you can take. And I‘ll be there

every step of the way, guiding you through.‖ Russell stroked Hank‘s cock with one

hand, the other moving sensually over his thighs. ―I want to take you to a new place,‖

he said softly. ―To get there, you have to empty your mind and surrender your will to

mine. Give it to me, Hank. It‘s what you need.‖

Hank took a deep breath, filling his lungs and letting the air out slowly. Russell was

right. Though what was happening was scary in a way—the anticipation of hot wax

landing on his cock and balls nearly too much to handle—Hank did need it on some

level.

When they played these hot, dangerous games, Hank felt…free. That was the best

word he could think of for how it made him feel. Free of the need to prove anything. All

he had to do when Russell took him in hand like this was to
be
. To submit to what

Russell wanted. And when he did it, he was always surprised anew at the intensity of

their lovemaking during and after, and how happy and light he felt, nestled afterwards

in Russell‘s arms.

The panicked feeling receded and he nodded. ―Yes,‖ he whispered. ―I do. I need it.‖

And he did. Each time Russell took him to a new level in their D/s play, Hank felt

redeemed somehow. Given a new chance to prove himself worthy of Russell‘s

attention.

He felt Russell rise from the bed and tried not to tense as he waited for the next

drops to land. He could feel the sweat prickling along his sides and at his hairline.

When they landed on his cock in a line of fire, he cried out, ―Ah!‖

Russell‘s hand was there then, stroking away the bits of wax against the oiled skin.

His touch was incredible and Hank moaned, leaning into the hand as best he could,

given his very limited mobility. The hand was withdrawn and again the droplets of

melted wax burned the tender skin, and again Hank cried out. More drops fell, lower