Succession (12 page)

I draw another whine from him as I place my hands on the burning handprints I just left on his ass. I squeeze them, hard, pleased when he whimpers and starts to struggle. I can’t tell if he’s struggling to get away or to get closer, but I’m certain he’s enjoying it.

“I love leaving marks on you,” I whisper, squeezing hard before letting go.

I leave Sascha gasping, and I pour some more oil onto my fingers, rubbing around his ass, demanding entrance. I can tell he’s trying to relax, but the harder he tries, the worse it gets. I feel him tensing underneath of me. I prod more insistently; hoping his body will respond, but he tenses even more.

“Cash, please, I—”

“Sascha, I am going to fuck you,” I hiss, keeping the pressure at his ass consistent. “Because neither one of us just waited five weeks to be stopped by a case of nerves. I am going to fuck you, and it is going to feel wonderful, and you’re going to wonder why you were ever nervous to begin with.”

I present the statements as facts, because I know that logic works better than anything to cut through his fear. I’ll stop if he really wants me to, but I doubt that’s what he wants. He enjoys it when I’m possessive, demanding, and I want to make him feel good. He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t ask me to stop, either. He’s nervous, but backing out now will only postpone the nerves. Slowly, I slip one finger inside, thrilled when I feel him clench down around it. Being even a tiny bit inside of him makes my cock throb.

“Good,” I say, working my finger in and out while caressing his hip with my other hand. “I’ve thought about doing this so many times. How tight you’d be. How much I want you.”

I’m turning him on, but I’m calming him as well. We have too much history to come apart from a few weeks of separation; we’ve both worked too hard to build this trust between us. I keep talking to him as I work my fingers inside of him, stretching him carefully, reacquainting his body with mine. I’m demanding, but I take my time. Any pain I cause him tonight is going to be intentional. I tell him how much I missed him, how worried I was, how tight he is, the fantasies I had about him in prison. I doubt he hears most of it; he’s more attuned to the sound of my voice than the words that accompany it. His body finally cooperates, relaxing to the point that I can fuck his ass hard and fast with my fingers, rubbing up and down his body with the other hand.

“Turn over,” I insist, tugging on his arm until he moves. “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

He shudders as I flip him, rotating him around on my fingers. He reacts even more desperately as I position myself, slide my fingers out of his body, and replace them with the head of my cock. I wait, letting him adjust.

“Fuck me,” he begs, staring into my eyes.

I enter him slowly, savoring each moment as his tightness surrounds me. I feel his muscles tense, squeezing down on my cock as he grows more excited. I watch as he struggles not to twist or jerk and pull away like he does sometimes. He still scares easily, and he pulls away from what feels good, like it will overwhelm him.

But I am set on overwhelming Sascha. As I slide into him, I grab his cock, stroking and jerking it in the ways I knows he loves, making him cry out and clutch at my arms. I could come immediately from his reaction but I want to keep fucking him for hours, to make up for all the lost time. I need to pace myself, and from the looks of it, Sascha could use a little help with the pacing as well.

Once I’m completely inside of him, I pause, let go of his cock, let him calm down for a moment. He whines, but I can tell he needs it. I wait until he relaxes before I start to move, pumping in and out of him slowly. Sascha tries to move underneath of me, and I pin him forcefully by the shoulders, looking at him with a dangerous expression.

“Don’t move,” I order, staring into his eyes as I fuck him hard and slowly. “All you’re going to do right now is lie there and feel it.”

Sascha whimpers. With no pressure or ability to move, he’s left with nothing to do but feel it. I thrust deep, feeling his muscles clench tight around me. I go slowly for a while, letting him catch his breath, then fast, hard, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. I’m still holding him down, but he brings his hands up to clutch at my arms.

I go slow again, working in and out of him more carefully. He cries out, tries to squirm, but I push him tighter to the bed. If he really wanted to come, he could have when I was pounding him; now that I’m going slowly, he’s left begging. I love taking him to this place.

After a while, I speed up again, my thrusts rocking Sascha and the bed underneath us. I feel him break out in a sweat and he starts to squirm. I meet his efforts by pinning him harder, leaning over him, and kissing him brutally. With everything I’m doing to him, he still struggles to kiss me back, but I won’t have it. I bring one arm down across his collarbone, not quite choking him, but holding him exactly where I want him. He complies, letting me take him with his tongue just like I’m taking him with my cock. Exactly how I want him.

My arms start to shake from the pressure and I slow down again, leaning back. I can see the outlines of bruises forming on his shoulders and around his neck. They highlight his beauty.

Still inside of Sascha, I lean back, pulling him with me. Holding him close, I roll onto my back, pulling him on top of me. Sascha gasps as I slide deeper inside of him.

“Ride me,” I order, taking his cock into my hand. “Ride me hard, and don’t stop until I tell you to.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, rocking slowly on my cock. It feels so good, and I know he’s got to be getting sore. He keeps moving slowly until I become impatient, thrusting my hips up at him, jabbing into him and making him cry out.

“I said ride me, Sascha, not shiver on top of me,” I challenge. Sascha takes the bait.

He rides me, harder and harder. I can see his legs shaking as he does. He clenches his teeth, trying to focus as he works himself on top of me. I tighten my grip on his cock and start working it with renewed vigor, pleased when he cries out again.

“Jesus, Cash,” he moans, bouncing up and down on top of me. “Please, I want to come.”

I agree, smiling at him. “Another minute, and then you can come.”

Sascha moans. I love making him wait, making him beg. Every second that I make him hold off, his ecstasy seems to multiply. I don’t watch a clock, but I do watch his body, and when he’s started to plead and beg incoherently, I smile at him and give my order.

“Come for me, but keep going.” I try to keep my voice quiet, but the demand comes through and the way he shudders lets me know Sascha is perfectly aware of it. “Come, then ride me until I finish.”

Sascha whimpers. He knows this game very well. I overstimulate him, then keep fucking him, enjoying the way he suffers for me. It turns him on as well, and he comes a moment later, gripping tight around my cock and thrusting into my hands. He slows for a moment and I know he’s desperate to wind down and relax, but that’s not part of our game. I thrust into his ass, sharply, roughly, reminding him that we’re not finished.

He gasps, and I reluctantly let go of his cock, trailing the line of come between us. I love touching him, but it’s too much right now. I give him this reprieve, and he works my cock with his ass, tightening his muscles with precision. I reach my hands around, clutching at the spots where I left handprints on his ass earlier. He tenses with the pain and I jerk him down on my cock, holding him there.

Sascha stops moving, but I feel myself coming inside of him just seconds later. I’ve claimed him again, and I dig my fingers into his skin, reveling in the feeling. After a few seconds, I lift Sascha by his hips, pulling him off my cock, smiling as he lets out a deep breath. I pull him forward to lie on my chest, shaking and panting.

God, I missed him.

Chapter 11
Introductions

Cash and I stay like wrapped up in each other for what seems like forever, pressed together, damp and dirty and so blissfully happy. I close my eyes and listen to his heartbeat, strong and familiar. I missed that sound, just like I missed the pattern of his breath, the way he trails his hand across my back and over my head in just that way that reminds me again how deeply I belong to him.

There are other matters to attend to, though, and I smile at Cash, getting up out of bed and shocking myself when I catch sight of the bruises on my chest and shoulders. I can only imagine that my neck looks the same, and a quick peek back at my ass indicates that his handprints are going to stay a while as well.

“I may have gotten a bit carried away,” Cash admits, standing next to me and kissing lightly along the bruises on my chest.

“I loved it and so did you,” I point out, shuddering as he touches me. Every inch of my body seems intent on responding to him.

“We should go see how your friend is doing.” He pauses, giving me a curious look. “What is your relationship with him?”

I blush. “Sy kind of claimed me as his own… kept me safe, kept the others away from me, provided me some protection against the guards. We kept it as simple as possible, but there was a sort of sexual thing to it.”

Cash just waits. I start to grow nervous, wondering what his response will be when he hears everything I’ve done.

“It was what I had to do to stay safe,” I remind him.

“I know.”

Cash goes quiet for a few more minutes while he cleans up and puts some clothes on. I busy myself with dressing myself and putting the sheets and blankets back on the bed properly, unable to look at him. After what seems like forever, he comes to me and turns me to face him.

“Did he tell you he was working with a crime organization?”

I’m startled, but not really surprised. “Yes. He told me. He protected me for a reason. His master is part of a street gang, the 27th Street Gang, and they’re trying to impress a larger group. This group, they’re interested in you. I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t know if we were safe at the detention facility.”

“The Argova family,” Cash supplies. “I met with one of them. The set me up with the lawyer who facilitated my release. They’ve made it very clear that they want to start a ‘relationship’ with me.”

I nod. It matches what Sy told me. “Sy didn’t tell them anything,” I insist. I can tell Cash doesn’t believe me, but he’s not saying I’m lying, either. It’s Sy that he doubts, the unknown slave who has ties to multiple criminal organizations. I understand his suspicions.

“Did he fuck you?”

It’s not an accusation. He’s asking honestly, and his face is blank. He may as well be asking whether they let us play table tennis. But it’s the calm that worries me.

“No,” I assure him, keeping as much conviction in my voice as humanly possible. “Never. He could have, but he didn’t.”

Do I tell him more? Do I tell him what we did do, how he pretended to fuck me, how he denied himself over and over again? Do I tell him how he got me off when he needed to, how I gave him head when I needed to, but only to put on a show? Do I tell him how Sy offered to get me off, to let me fuck him to get even?

Do I tell my master how I felt like I would be betraying him by taking Sy up on his offer?

“Good,” Cash answers, kissing me lightly.

The questions and answers are avoided for a little longer.

“Let’s go eat,” he suggests, playfully poking at my stomach. “You’re far too thin. I’ll order food. The kitchen will need to be thoroughly cleaned, but go get us some drinks while we wait.”

“Yes, master,” I answer playfully. We get dressed and I head to the kitchen, leaving Cash to find a working tablet to order food from. I survey the damage; the kitchen has been as worked over as thoroughly as the rest of the house, food tossed from the pantry without care. Even the frozen food has been searched through, although most of the cold content seems to have been tossed back inside, however carelessly.

I pull a few sodas from the fridge, covering my nose at the smell of whatever is fermenting in there. A quiet cough catches my attention and I turn, expecting to see Cash.

Sy is standing there, looking stiff and uncomfortable, wearing the clothes Cash and I bought while we were out.

“The master asked me to help with whatever you needed,” he says, quiet.

I realize I’ve never seen him in anything other than the detention facility jumpsuit. He’s shaved more closely, trimmed his hair, even. I wonder if he heard the ruckus Cash and I made with our fucking, and what he thought of it, or if he thought of it at all.

“He ordered food for me,” Sy mentions, surprised. “I saw the order screen—I think he spent more money on dinner for me than my last master spent feeding me the whole time he owned me.”

I smile, because I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be a joke. “He’ll do that,” I agree. “He has plenty of funds to cover it. He’s generous, and he’s nice. Well, for the most part. I mean, he’s nice to me. I think he’ll probably be nice to you. He can be strict, but not mean about it, and once you get to know him… he comes off kind of cold, but you’ll see, when he warms up, he’s really a good guy. I think you’ll be happy here, at least, you’ll be all right….”

I’m babbling and I can’t stop. Bringing him home seemed to be the best idea, but now that he’s here, I wonder if I assumed too much, if I interfered where I wasn’t welcome. “Sy, I’m sorry if I went too far, but I didn’t want to leave you there.”

He smiles at me. “It’s okay, Sascha,” he says, ever calm. “I was surprised. Thank you.”

I relax, glad that he doesn’t hate me.

“I never thought that when I helped a pretty boy, he’d be my ticket to the good life,” he muses. “I just wanted to see you safe.”

“I did too.” At the detention facility, he protected me. Now that the tables are turned, I want to do my part.

“He hurts you,” Sy says quietly, looking at the bruises that I realize are visible around the collar of my shirt. He looks distressed, and I can tell that he’s itching to protect me, to intervene, but he can’t, not here.

“It’s not like that,” I rush to correct him. Before he gets the wrong idea, before he gives me that look when Cash is watching. “It’s just love bites. I told him he could.”