Screwing the System (17 page)

He dropped the bag to the floor over by the console table. Cosmo lingered by the front door, looking somewhat uncertain.

“Do you want me to strip like last time?”

Alasdair folded his arms, trying not to break into a soppy grin at the sweetness of Cosmo’s submission. “Yes please.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t strip like last time. Instead, Cosmo visibly recovered, threw him a cheeky glance, and began to strip slowly, sensuously. Alasdair leant back against the wall and watched, admiring the sinuous movements of Cosmo’s limbs and undulating hips.

“Christ, boy, are you trying to make me come in my pants?”

“Didn’t think you were wearing any undies,” Cosmo responded. “You don’t usually.” He wriggled his hips as he slowly peeled down his jeans to reveal his tight briefs, a large wet spot making the fabric transparent at the head of his cock. “I was going to go commando too, but then this bloody plug kept banging my happy gland every time I bent over. You do realise there’s not going to be enough jizz left in my plums for me to come properly?”

“And what makes you think I’m going to let you come?”

Cosmo’s crestfallen expression was a picture. “You wouldn’t.”

No, he wouldn’t, but he didn’t want Cosmo to become complacent. “We’ll see about that. I’m sure if you behave, I’ll let you have your reward.”

“I’m feeling exceedingly good today. Look.” Cosmo picked up all his fallen clothes and carried them over to where Alasdair stood. “I’m even going to fold them, nice and slowly and carefully, even though I’d much rather be sucking your dick.” The little bastard licked his lips and flicked his gaze down to Alasdair’s groin.

Alasdair’s pulse ratcheted up a notch. He grabbed Cosmo’s wrist. “Drop them.”

Cosmo stared in surprise, but did as he was bid and his clothes fell to the floor.

“Bend over, hands on the table.”

Cosmo shot him a look that was pure mischief before complying. “Can’t even wait to get me in the bedroom today?”

“I’ve been waiting all afternoon. Waiting to get my hands on this”—he kneaded Cosmo’s buttocks, watching the base of the plug move—“and this.” He reached around to take hold of Cosmo’s cock, pleased to find it already lubricated by the copious amount Cosmo had been leaking. He took a couple of slow, lazy strokes, loving the way Cosmo’s body arched into his, bring his neck into just the right position for a gentle tug with his teeth.

“Fuck. You bastard. How am I going to explain bite marks to the rest of the band?”

“You’ll just have to tell them your boyfriend finds you irresistibly delicious.”

“My boyfriend? Yeah, my boyfriend.” Cosmo’s voice trailed off into a moan as Alasdair bit him again, not hard enough to break skin, but he’d definitely be leaving a bruise. “Never really had a proper boyfriend before. Not that lasted more than a couple of weeks, anyway.”

“You’ve got one now, and you’re all mine. Hear me? No one else gets to do this”—he thrust his hips against Cosmo’s arse—“to you.”

“No, just you.”

Cosmo’s ready agreement sent Alasdair’s heart rate soaring sky high. No, he couldn’t wait any longer. He fumbled with his belt and zip. Within seconds, his trousers had fallen to his ankles, and he rubbed his aching dick against Cosmo’s pert behind. It felt odd doing this in his work suit rather than his leathers. Whenever he’d arranged a scene with a sub before, he’d always dressed the part, but Cosmo didn’t seem to care.

“Please, fuck me now.”

“How much lube did you use?”

“About half the fucking bottle. Come on. Please.” Cosmo thrust his arse back in supplication.

“Okay. Brace yourself.” He took hold of the end of the plug and tugged. It wasn’t a particularly thick one, so he didn’t feel bad about pulling it straight out, and if Cosmo’s gurgling moan was anything to go by, he didn’t mind either.

It wasn’t until his dick was pushing into the perfect embrace of Cosmo’s slick hole that he remembered. No condom. Fuck. For a second, he considered pushing into that tight heat regardless. Cosmo wasn’t about to object, what with the way he was pleading for Alasdair’s cock, and Alasdair knew he was in the clear. But still, what kind of man would that make him? No, if he didn’t have his standards, he wouldn’t have any self-respect. “Shit. Wait a sec.”

He tore himself away somehow, even though his body pleaded for Cosmo’s, and headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“We need a condom.”

“Do we? Fuck, yeah, okay, in my jeans. Just there.”

Cosmo pointed, and Alasdair almost tripped over his own feet getting there. He located the foil square and seconds later was rolling the latex down his erection. Yes, better this way. There was no way he’d have lasted without that barrier between them, and he wanted to make it good for Cosmo too.

No, scratch that. He wanted to make it mind-blowing for Cosmo. He wanted to fuck him insane and leave him a gibbering wreck.

He lined up and pushed in firmly. Cosmo gasped and squirmed, doing something clever with his muscles that squeezed Alasdair and dragged him inside.

“Please,” Cosmo begged, his voice husky like he’d just chain smoked a dozen of those disgusting rollies he liked. “I need to come.”

“Not yet you don’t.”

“I bloody well do.”

Alasdair slapped Cosmo’s flank, enjoying the resultant ripple that massaged his cock. “We’ll go at my pace, boy. You have a problem with that?”

Cosmo grumbled something incoherent, but he stopped trying to get things going when Alasdair grabbed hold of his hips.

He went painfully slowly, pulling out almost all the way so that Cosmo’s hole stretched wide around his crown. Cosmo whimpered every time, starting to curse him for being a “right toppy git”, but Alasdair maintained his glacial rhythm, adding a slow grind every time he bottomed out.

It wasn’t until beads of sweat began running down Cosmo’s back that he picked up his pace, making sure he bumped the prostate with every thrust. The noises Cosmo made. Listening to him was the sweetest torture ever. Alasdair wanted to fuck him so hard and deep Cosmo would be able to taste him, Alasdair’s cock flavouring his every gasp and cry. But he held back with every last lick of self-control, held back until he heard begging. Until Cosmo’s thighs trembled so violently Alasdair was sure it was only his dick holding the lad upright.

“Please, I’ve gotta, please-please-please.”

Alasdair saw Cosmo reaching for his dick and grabbed that errant hand. He pinned both Cosmo’s hands to the table.

“Arrgh. You bastard. Not fair.” Cosmo glared back over his shoulder, and Alasdair leant in to take his lips in a possessive, hungry kiss.

Now Alasdair let loose, hammering into Cosmo so hard the table rattled and his balls churned. Everything was Cosmo. His throaty cries and his scalding body wrapping themselves around Alasdair until there was nothing else but him.

“Come,” he gasped, even as his seed rushed out of him. Cosmo yelled and convulsed, every jerk of Alasdair’s hips followed by a splatter of come on the floorboards. Alasdair buried his face in Cosmo’s neck as the aftershocks quaked through him, threatening to topple them both.

Cosmo moved first, twitching his hands beneath Alasdair’s.

“C’mon, shift. I’m getting pins and needles.”

Alasdair moved grudgingly.

Cosmo stretched and yawned before wrapping his arms around Alasdair’s neck. “Can’t believe you got me to shoot without anything touching my dick. That was fucking awesome.”

“You’ve never done that before?”

“Never. Didn’t think it was really possible.”

“You just needed to find someone who knew how to fuck you properly.”

“Yeah, looks like I found him, didn’t I?”

Cosmo’s kiss was sweeter than honey.

It was at breakfast the next morning that Cosmo dropped the question that had clearly been bothering him for some time. “So, if you don’t have a home dungeon, does that mean you’ll want to take me out to a club sometime?”

“A club?”

“Yeah, you know. An S&M club. You do go to one sometimes, right?”

“No. I used to go to one when I was younger, but not in years.”

“Seriously? How do you meet up with guys who want to do this, then?”

“The Internet is a wonderful thing.” Alasdair bit into his toast and watched Cosmo furrow his brow.

“Huh.”

“You sound disappointed again.”

“No, not really. Just…surprised. You’re not like the Tops I read about online. Thought you might want to drag me off to a club and parade me round in front of everyone. Make me wear a collar, that sort of shit.”

“Not my style.”

“You don’t want the community of other people like yourself?”

“It’s useful sometimes, but I know a few other Tops I respect, and if I want to learn something from them, we just meet up in our own homes. I prefer being in my own space. For me, it’s more thrilling to have a scene somewhere you wouldn’t expect it, like the gym or the kitchen.”

Cosmo scrunched up his forehead and ate a few forkfuls of baked beans. “You know what? I reckon that actually makes you even more of a filthy pervert.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” They shared a grin, and for a short moment, Alasdair let himself imagine Cosmo having a future here. Of them grinning over breakfast ten years from now.

“Right.” Cosmo pushed back his chair, which squeaked on the flagstones. “I’m having a fag break.”

“But we’re just about to go for a run.”

“Right, so I need to get one in now, don’t I?”

“You could just go without. You managed last night.”

“Yeah, but that was because you fucked me unconscious. Come on, you promised, you weren’t going to make me give it up. Trust me, you wouldn’t like me without nicotine in my bloodstream. I’m a right moody bastard.”

“I’d like you even then.” It was God’s honest truth, but Cosmo just pulled a
yeah, right
face and headed out to the back door, yanking out his tobacco packet as he walked.

Infuriating brat.

Later, once Alasdair had gone to work, Cosmo took a walk around the house. He’d had a quick tour of the outbuildings earlier, with Alasdair keen to show off his collection of vintage motorbikes filling the double garage, but that was now locked and out of bounds. Inside, though, was a different matter. Alasdair had given him free run of the house, and told him he could take one of the spare bedrooms as his own space, if he wanted to. There were three of them, the fourth having been commandeered as Alasdair’s gym. They were nice enough rooms, all done out in dark wood, white walls and natural bed linens, with stuff like old maps and antique mirrors hanging on the walls. Seemed pretty plain and simple for someone who had as much dosh as Alasdair, but the man had claimed it was “colonial style”—whatever that was—when Cosmo said as much.

Yeah, the bedrooms were all right, but Cosmo preferred the den downstairs. A huge leather corner sofa took pride of place, and the sunshine striped the colourful rug. There were more bookshelves in there, but unlike the study, these were packed with modern paperbacks, DVDs and CDs. It appeared Alasdair had a thing for thrillers, both in book and film form. Some of them looked a bit highbrow, but it was definitely better than the arty-farty weirdness Cosmo had been half expecting. He pulled out a couple of films he liked the look of, putting them on the coffee table for them to watch later, if Alasdair was in the mood.

But the best thing of all about the den was it was where Alasdair’s guitar lived. Cosmo tuned her up reverently and looked around, a slow smile growing on his face. What the fuck would his nan say if she could see him here now? Cosmo Rawlins, sitting in a bloody mansion, playing a guitar that cost more than he could make in a year of full-time busking.

He shook his head and began picking out the tune of “Life in Waiting”. It lent itself just as well to an acoustic treatment than a four piece band. Better, perhaps. On his own, the wistful melancholy came through much clearer. Although when he began to sing the verse about waiting in vain for his life to go somewhere, he couldn’t help but wonder if shacking up with Alasdair had made his lyrics a lie.

“Ooh, that’s a pretty tune.”

Cosmo started, almost dropping the guitar. A girl stood at the open doorway, smiling in at him. No, not a girl, he realised as she stepped into the room. A woman, but a woman with the pixyish features of Down’s syndrome. She held a feathery pom-pom in one hand, and for one bizarre moment, Cosmo thought she was about to dance. Then it resolved itself into a feather duster, and her reason for being there popped into his head. Of course. Alasdair had told him his cleaner would be coming round at some point in the morning.

“My name’s Sadie,” she said. “And you’re Cosmic.”

“Cosmo,” he corrected before noticing her mischievous grin. “I’ll be Cosmic for you if you like, Sadie.”

She bounced over and flumped herself down on the sofa next to him. “Do you know any One Direction songs? They’re my favourite. Niall’s really sexy.” She pointed to a spot on her chest, and Cosmo realised she was wearing a promotional T-shirt of the god-awful boy band.