Touch to Surrender (2 page)

"Fuck yeah, Brayden," Master moans.

I groan, suddenly frantic with need. My tongue laps around Lina's hole, snaking around Master's thick cock. At the same time, my fingers dig into his knees and I move my face even closer, effectively burying myself in their arousal. I devour both of them and notice how Master slams Lina down on him faster and harder. With each slap of Mr. Moore's paddle, Lina whimpers and tenses her pussy.

I think that’s where her mind is, because she does get a thrill from a little pain.

Unlike me, she fully embraces the world Master introduced us to.

Then there's a hand at the back of my head
, pushing me against their crotches, and Master not giving me a choice makes it so much easier for me. I pretend I'm only doing it because he wants it, because he silently commands it, which triggers me to go further. For a moment, I leave Lina's sweet pussy for Master's cock, and I close my lips over the base of him, sucking on his tight skin. I taste him. I taste my lovely girl. I suck, I lick, I kiss…I go even farther down and tongue his balls.

My own ba
lls are aching, tight and drawn up, and my dick is leaking, causing the silk of my boxers to stick to it.

"Jesus Christ, pup." Master starts panting, and I redouble my efforts, des
perate to give him the same gratifying satisfaction he always gives me. "That’s enough." He stills all of us, heavy breathing the only sound in the office. Even Mr. Moore's paddle is quiet. "It's time to switch positions," he says, pulling off his T-shirt. All that remains are his leather pants pooling around his ankles. "Evangeline, I want you on your knees, and Brayden, take off your boxers and sit on my lap."

There's no room to be embarrassed, so I unceremoniously drop my boxers and let my cock slap mutedly against my lower abdomen.

While I've been on his lap before, this still feels a lot more intimate and sexual. Not only 'cause we're naked, but because we're in the middle of a scene and there're two men in front of us about to have sex. As I position myself on Master's thighs and Lina kneels before us, Mr. Moore is kneeling behind Rory who's on all fours on the other couch. Rory's dick juts out, glistening with pre-come, and the way he pushes his ass toward his Dominant makes it so fucking clear that he's more than willing. He's not afraid to beg for a cock up his ass.

The hard cock wedged between Master and me won't be begged for, because I'm too chickenshit.

"Suck Brayden's cock, kitten," Master murmurs, encouraging me to lean back and rest my head against his shoulder. He's only a couple inches taller than me, but since I'm straddling his thighs and not his groin, it's easy enough to sit back and relax. Okay, relax isn't exactly the right word. I'm turned on and wound-up, nervous and full of anticipation.

Soon, Lina tortures me with her hot, wet mouth. She licks me much like I licked her earlier, suckles the tip, and then engulfs me in slow strokes, her lips
tightening around me.

"Perfect
little subbie. Keep that up." Master praises her. "Brayden, I want you to listen to me closely now." He's lowered his voice, husky and seductive, and his hands grip my hips firmly. "Tell me what you see when you look at Donovan and Rory." He nips lightly at my shoulder, and a shudder bolts through me.

"I—I see Mr. Moore preparing Rory," I say, groaning when Lina sucks one of my shaved balls into her mouth.
"Fuck. Um—" I clear my throat "—I see Mr. Moore fingering him."

"Is what they're doing wrong?" Master asks softly.

My breath catches, my instinctual "no" on the tip of my tongue, but I have to watch myself here. How can I admit the truth when I won't embrace it for myself? I know what's right and wrong, but… There's that
but
.

"You know it's not wrong, pup." He kisses my shoulder. "
Look at them now."

I do, and Mr. Moore is leaning over Rory's slender body, kissing
up his spine and whispering something to him. Rory shivers and nods. For coming off as so cold earlier, there's something very tender in Mr. Moore's actions right now.

"You see it, don’t you?" Master runs his fingertips down my arms; the lust in his voice and the way his touch affects me almost
steal focus from Lina's mouth on my cock. Actually, it divides it—the attention. I'm so aware of both of them yet still able to watch what's going on across the low table. Thankfully, my girl has slowed down. She sucks to tease me, to keep me hard, to wet my dick, but she's making it last longer.
A lot longer
. Maybe I missed it; maybe Master ordered her to suck me this way. Either way, it's perfect.

"Are you looking at Donovan's hand?"

I am. His fingers wrap around Rory's hard cock, firmly stroking him while dropping kisses along his back. Rory keeps begging, his Master, Sire, whatever, reducing him to a pleading addict.

"Watch, Brayden."

I bite back a groan, feeling Master's fingers caressing my hipbones. My eyes shift to Mr. Moore's dick, so close to Rory's ass, sliding between spread cheeks, all lubed up and wet.

"You know I want to do that to you, too," he whispers in my ear.

"Fuck," I whimper, instinctively bucking my hips. My throbbing cock slides deeper into Lina's mouth, but that sweet little cocksucker is so experienced by now that she just keeps sucking me down. "
Master
…" I'm dizzy with lust, burrowing myself deeper into his arms. I squirm against his own erection, and I don’t think I've ever wanted it so much.

"That’s right, baby." Master keeps whispering, his fingers seductively stroking my skin closer to my crotch. "I'm your Master
, aren’t I? And there's nothing I want more than to keep you, to own you, to use your body, to make you come…"

The next thing I hear is Rory's cry as Mr. Moore rams his cock up his ass. Tendern
ess gets replaced by raw, animalistic desire. It's hard fucking. Both loving it. Both in their zones. One receiving, one delivering.

At the same time, Lina starts sucking me harder, faster.

I hold my breath, all of it becoming overwhelming.

"You want to come, little puppy?" Master scrapes his teeth along my shoulder, and I nod frantically.
Please, please, please
. "Then beg me. Beg Master to let you come."

"Please!" I beg shamelessly, feeling the beginning of an orgasm tingling down my spine. "Please, please, Master. I want to come—I
need
to come." Completely out of control, I start to fuck Lina's mouth roughly, chasing a climax I haven't been granted yet. "M-Master—" I tilt my head, gasping, and press my nose in the crook of his neck. He smells delicious—soap, his aftershave, invisible beads of perspiration that make his skin slightly damp. "
God
." I groan.

Shame washes over
me because he turns me into a begging slave, but it's the kind of shame that, for unknown reasons, turns me on. I'm embarrassed, too, and I feel two feet high. I can only hope Master accepts it. Accepts
me
.

"Come,
baby." It's the same whisper: intimate, soft, raspy, and it's my undoing. "Fill Evangeline's mouth."

The heat of the orgasm burns
through me, the rolling waves of ecstasy causing me to go rigid in Master's arms. As my cock pulses out streams of come into my girlfriend's mouth, I flush all over and feel a sheen of sweat being pressed out through my skin. With my surrender to the climax, I also grow clingy. I don’t even notice holding on to Master until he's slowly loosening my grip on him. He's whispering stuff to me, but I can't hear it, still not down from my high.

"…that’s a good boy,"
I eventually hear him uttering as my muscles unclench. I melt into his body and try to get my rapid breathing under control, but I'm not ready yet. "Just relax, pup. I've got you." I shudder violently, a vulnerable mess, but manage to take comfort from his words. A big part of me urges myself to back the fuck off and run away, though this time I won't escape so quickly.

As the last little shiver from the release makes its way through me, an unsettling sense of displeasure sets up camp in my gut like a fucking boulder. A rock is too small. This is bigger. More hurtful. But for once—
for-fucking-once
—it's not because I'm greedily taking the pleasure Master, a man, is giving me.

It's because I'm not sure I've really earned it.

"How about I take care of Evangeline now, huh?" He places a final lingering kiss on my shoulder, then quietly tells me to sit down next to him. Shifting off his lap, I accidentally brush against his thick erection, which reminds me of the fact that he feels he can't come to me for help with it.
I've
made sure he feels that way. "As much as I love having you watch me—" Master grabs my jaw and looks me deep in the eye "—you're going to watch Donovan and Rory while I fuck Evangeline's tight ass." I gulp. "Watch them closely. Am I making myself clear, sub?"

I nod slowly, trapped in his piercing gaze. "Y
-yes, Master."

He nods back, just once, then ushers Lina off the floor and a few feet away from the seating area. Allowing myself just one more look at them, I see that there's a camera set up on a tripod in the corner, and Master walks over to it to switch it on.
For Lina
. At least I think so. Because she loves to watch like the little voyeur she is, and she's requested videos.

But as I was
instructed earlier, I drag my eyes back to the couple on the couch across from me.

Truth be told, I'm not really feeling it anymore. Yeah, it's hot as hell to watch the two men fucking—or rather, one man fucking the other—and I already know why Master wants me to watch: to understand that there's nothing wrong. Which I already know. But it hasn't been about understanding for a long time. Understanding, if anything, was the first
thing that came to me. Then came acceptance. I
know
there's nothing wrong with bisexuality and homosexuality. It's actually not about others at all. It's entirely a personal issue. In my twenty-six years, my father's ways and lessons have been so ingrained in me that it's close to impossible to let them go.

I want to, though. I feel like I'm close to exploding with how badly I want to go my own way.
I just need to make that final decision to completely surrender.

Even an idiot would see I'm not happy. After all, I'm sitting on a couch, sexually satisfied for the moment, with two hot couples screwing like animals. I should be like a pig in shit, right? I sh
ould soak it all up, enjoy the sex show, and think I'm pretty fucking blessed. Instead I'm wallowing in self-pity, ashamed I can't be the submissive Master deserves, and it's all because of my goddamn daddy issues.

I shake my head, disgusted with my own internal whining, and refocus on Mr. Moore fucking Rory from behind.

Chapter 3

When we come home—er, I mean, when we get to Mark's apartment, it's the middle of the night, and we're all both tired and hungry.

One of my favorite things about Mark's place—though it applies generally to our relationship—is that we fairly easy go from Master and subs to…well, I'd call us more than friends. For lack of a fitting term, I'll go with that. Maybe it's not a minute switch, but it does happen smoothly through Mark's aftercare. For which we can probably thank Lina. She's so easygoing that any spell we're under fades away when she cracks a joke or something. Anyway, right now, it's not Evangeline or "kitten," our Master's sub, who's flitting about in the kitchen while Mark and I sit at the kitchen table; it's just…Lina. Following Mark's gaze and seeing him watching her fondly, I don’t think the word "friend" fits in his own estimation, either.

Instead of feeling threatened, I'm hopeful. Hopeful that we'll all turn into something more one day. If only I can get over my fucking problems. And Christ, no pun intended
there
.

Soon, there's a variety of food on the table, and Lina sits down with a satisfied smile and tells us to dig in. There's reheated pizza, some leftover Chinese food, a plate of cold cuts and cheese, a small contain
er of minestrone soup, and rolls that Lina said were stale before, but after a round in a frying pan with some butter and garlic, they're fucking delicious.

Lina and I aren’t made
of money, and while I'm creative enough to make our salaries last in certain ways, my girlfriend's creativity lies in the kitchen. She can make a feast from very little.

"Damn, these are good, sweetheart," Mark mumbles around a
soup-soaked roll. "I thought I didn’t have shit in my fridge. Gonna go grocery shopping tomorrow." He takes a sip from his OJ and smiles. "But you didn’t have any problems, did you?"

Lina grins impishly and soaks up the praise. "It's a gift. Now, eat." She scrunches her nose. "You're lookin' a little skinny."

Mark coughs a laugh and turns his disbelieving eyes to me. "What the fuck? When did she get bossy?"

I snort and chuckle, reaching for a slice of pizza. "That’s just when it comes to food. No matter how much you eat, she'll call everyone skinny. Her mom and grandmother are worse." Lina's dad may be French, but her mother
's side is from Georgia. Her entire family is beyond welcoming, and the Lacroix house always smells of delicious food, regardless if it's from a French recipe or some good ol' Southern cooking.

"Mmhmm, and they want to meet you." Lina nudges Mark. "My mom is crazy curious."

That’s no lie. While I've been stuck with an uptight family with too many rules and restrictions, Lina's family doesn’t appear to have
any
. So long as everyone's happy and fed.

"Is that a fact?" Mark looks both intrigued and surprised. "How much do you
really tell your family, Evangeline?"

"Everything," Lina answers matter-of-factly. "Well, my dad's ears are a bit more delicate—" she bats her lashes and smiles too sweetly "—but my mom and
my nana know everything." She waves that off as if it's nothing. "Besides, Nana's a perv. Oh, and she's protective of Brayden, but if you just calm her ass down, you'll be in her good graces, too." She finishes with a firm nod.

Mark's mouth curves
into a slow grin. "Sounds like a nice family."

Yeah, and I suppose he can relate. I've learned about Mark's parents' lifestyle as well as his brothers' rebelling their way out of said lifestyle. It's kind of funny, although not in a ha-ha way,
that whereas Mark's parents would probably go well with Lina's family, his brothers would go along with mine.

With Christmas just around the corner, I'm content to know I won't be spending the holidays out in my parents' fancy mansion. Instead I'll be force-fed
at Lina's house, and it's a pleasant feeling. In fact, it's where I've spent Christmas and many other holidays since I met my girl. The only contact I have with my folks is through the phone calls my mother makes sporadically, or the times my father's assistant contacts me to tell me on his behalf I should get a grip and return to my family and become a real man.

After some comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from
our appreciative humming at the food, Mark announces it's best we catch some sleep. A lot of playing, an hour-long round of aftercare and discussion about the scene, and then freshening up in Mr. Ford's private bathroom before coming here, means it's not even the middle of the night anymore, but close to morning instead.

We have the entire weekend at Mark's place now, a time Lina and I look forward to every week, and we're eager to go to bed because we know our Master's got plans for us tomorrow up on his rooftop terrace.
Thank God he's got heaters up there
. But before that, I think he will scene with me alone, 'cause Lina has a job interview down at the wharf that she couldn’t reschedule. A couple wants a tutor for their twin boys once a week, and they own a restaurant down by the bay.

As usual, we fall asleep in Mark's massive bed, Lina wedged between us and limbs tangled together under the sheets. We sleep naked, our bodies still temporarily sated from tonight's activities.

*

The next morning, Evangeline wakes us up too early just to kiss us goodbye. She whispers something in Mark's ear, which makes him rumble a sleepy chuckle, and then she walks over to my side of the bed, dressed and ready to go, and murmurs
that she loves me and supports me, no matter what. With a glint in her eye, she whispers, "Make our day,
mon ange
. I
know
you're ready for the leap."

Rubbing my eyes, I frown and yawn, wondering what she's talking about. But instead of clarifying, she grins and blows me a kiss.

"I'll see you for lunch," is the last thing I hear her say before I promptly fall back to sleep again.

*

When I wake up again, my head is on a solid chest and a muscular arm is wrapped around my shoulders. My leg, I notice, is draped over Mark's thigh.
Oh, Jesus Christ
. This is what I'm supposed to rebel against. I'm not supposed to like this—want it, crave it, fucking
yearn
…

Feeling a twinge of panic, I carefully move away
from his warmth. As I always do. Mark shifts and turns, his breathing even and calm, and we end up on our sides. Close, but not touching. Face-to-face, chest-to-chest, and…other parts.
Fuck
.

Willing my semi-hard dick to calm the fuck down isn't going to happen.
So, I scoot down slightly, hoping to keep my morning wood away from his. Having seen Mark in action and woken up near him before, I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one who's hard. 'Cause it feels like he's always in the mood.

W
ith my face to his collarbone instead, I hope it eliminates the risk of us, um, touching. And shit, I'm really overthinking this. But I can't help it. Around him, I tend to overanalyze everything.

Right now, there's the familiar
voice in my head—my father's—and it tells me that a small scoot is too little. I should get out of bed and start my day. Or simply just get away from Mark.

Yet…I stay. Close enough to feel
his breaths on the top of my head. Close enough to feel his body warmth. Close enough to—
oh, shit
. Holding my breath, I lie stock-still as Mark's arm comes down over my middle. He shifts once more, and then we're definitely touching. More than his arm around me. With my head tucked under his chin and his impressive body pressed against mine, I should panic further. I should run for the fucking hills.

There are plenty of them here in San Fran
.

But I don’t run. I'm tired of running.

I almost jump out of my skin when I hear his gruff, sleepy voice. "Why does it feel like I'm in bed with a robot?"

Maybe because I'm as rigid as one?

"Sorry," I mumble, swallowing hard. Fuck, I'm nervous. My heart is pounding too fast, and I'm painfully aware that my cock is brushing against his. Hopefully, he won't notice, but…who am I kidding? Mark always notices. He notices everything. He knows too well I'm struggling with my attraction for him, so why I even bother to hide it—since I fail, anyway—is beyond me.

"When are you going to relax around me, Br
ayden?" he whispers. His hand gently rubs my back; it's a touch of comfort, because that’s what he does. He's always there to comfort and support. "I can touch you during a scene, but…" But that’s different. He doesn’t often touch me intimately, even though his hands on me always feel scorching and sensual. "I know you want it." His soft, sleep-laced voice sends tremors down my spine.

I give a quick shake of my head in denial, bu
t my words have run out, and despite my weak attempt at rejecting what I want, my body betrays me. All the time. The dreams I have, the fantasies running through my head…

It's wrong, it's wrong, it's wrong.

Dad's voice.

I hate him.

"Look at me, Brayden."

Forget it. No way. I can't—I…I obey.

Warily, I lift my head and peer up at him. As always, there's no judgment in his eyes. There's patience, plenty of it.

Does he know how fucking attractive he is? Does he know that, aside from Lina, he's the one I can't stop thinking about?

I bet he does.

"Such a stubborn little sub," he murmurs and cups my cheek.

It heats up in response and I try to duck my head again, but he doesn’t allow it. While staring at me intently, practically searing his way into my fucking soul with those deep blue eyes, he shifts a few inches closer to me. A challenge appears in his gaze, quiet determination, and…something else.

I suck in a quick breath, feeling his coc
k pressing against my own.

I
mmediately, shame floods me. I've been told too many times that this is wrong and perverse.

"You know, I could just
fucking kill your father."

I stutter a breath, wondering if I have any secrets left. While I haven't told Mark about my family, it seems he already knows just by
observing my behavior and being aware of my father's name.

"Wh-what?" I croak.

"It's fairly obvious that he's told you a bunch of horseshit," he replies bluntly.

If I wasn’t so wound-up and
ready to break, perhaps I'd laugh at his words. Instead I just offer a vague shrug, not wanting to confirm anything, and I'm granted the permission to lower my head. Staring at his broad chest again, I focus on getting control of my breathing. Nothing seems to work. My mind tells me to get the hell away, yet the rest of me…

Indecision is a heartless bitch. Confliction is a goddamn cunt.
Vulnerability is a fucking hag.

Lina would make this easy for me. She's been the barrier between Mark and me, and she has the patience of a saint—kinda like Mark, I guess. I'm lucky to have her. God knows I couldn’t love her more. Or maybe I could. After all, I find myself falling for that woman
more every day. But right now, she's not where she's supposed to be. She's not here. Which leaves nothing between my body and Mark's. Not even underwear or the sheets. We're both using the same covers. Both touching.

Her not being here reminds me of something else, too. Whenever we spend the weekend at Mark's place, he has us servicing him in the mornings. It's extremely erotic to see Mark using Lina, and it's strangely satisfying, too. I can't even begin to explain it, but like I said, she's not here now. So, who is
going to service Mark?

You're reaching.

I know, but it would be easier if I didn’t have the choice. If Mark commanded me to—to…to do something, I would. I think. Yeah, because it wouldn’t be my decision. It would be his. Just like last night in Mr. Ford's office.

Mark won't do that, though. I can tell. This is one thing he wants from me—
of my own choosing. I have to take that first step; he won't do it. Problem is, I won't either.

You sure about that?

I bite down on my lip, a crease appearing on my forehead, and I stare at the hard planes of his naked chest. Lina's had her mouth all over it. Her hands, her thighs, her sweet pussy.

T
he only thing I envy is that I don’t have the same closeness with him—that intimacy.

Hesitantly, before I can chicken out, I place my hand on his bicep. Other than a small twitch of his muscles, there's no reaction.
Not until a minute or so later when he softly brushes his hand along my spine. Again, it's to comfort me, reassure me, and it works to an extent. He lulls me into a relaxed state—at least to the point where my chest is no longer heaving with each shallow breath. Another few minutes later, he pauses and rests his hand on my lower back. It's casual, if not for two fingers being so close to the crack of my ass.

It's arousing and new and thrilling and scary as hell.

In the end, I succumb. My muscles unclench, and I even burrow close enough to drop my forehead to his collarbone. Dad's voice screams furiously, but Mark's protectiveness helps to keep it out. I guess he makes me feel—I don’t know, accepted? Regardless, it's impossible to stay away any longer.