Bound and Determined (16 page)

“I feel good,” he said. “Really relaxed. Like I didn't even know I was tense

until I could feel what the opposite was like. Does that make sense?” Owen

nodded, so he went on. “I mean, I'm still, you know, hard, so I guess I'm not

totally
relaxed. But I think what I liked was when my brain shut off and I was

just focusing on my body and how it felt, waiting for the next jolt without

thinking about it. It was kind of like instinct took over or something. That was

when I lost track of the counting, though—I went too far away, I guess. Too

much into my body.”

“That's not necessarily a bad thing,” Owen said thoughtfully. “Not at all.

I'll always be counting, so to speak, watching to see how you're handling it.

You'll learn to control losing control in time—and I know that sounds

paradoxical, but you'll see what I mean.”

Sterling sipped at the Coke, taking it slower now. He was still euphoric,

but Owen this close to him, sitting beside him on the bed, one hand hot and

reddened, was making it impossible to forget about coming. He wanted that

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hand, the one that had spanked him, wrapped tight and merciless around his

dick, wanted to come, shuddering, his ass tormented by the sheets as he

writhed on them, spunk mixing in with the ripe musk of sweat and lust that

filled the room.

“You want to come, don't you?” Owen said, a murmur, a whisper. He took

the bottle from Sterling's unresisting hand and set it down on the tray and

then pushed at Sterling's shoulder and rolled him to his back, with Sterling

feeling weightless, as if he was floating in seawater. “Beg me for permission,

Sterling. Make me feel how much you need it, want it.” He leaned over and

kissed Sterling's parted lips, hard and sweet, like candy, the kiss over too soon.

“Beg for mercy and see if I have any where you're concerned, and let me tell

you now that I don't have much. You look so damn good suffering, your cock

hard and wet, waiting for me to lick it, bite it, suck it—and I'll do all that in

time, with you tied up, helpless, so you can't move, can't get deeper in my

mouth, can't beg because I'll gag you—can't do anything but let me play with

you…but that's not going to happen for such a long time, and you need it now,

don't you? Tell me, Sterling; what do you need?”

“You,” Sterling whispered, because when it came right down to it that was

the most basic of truths. With his ass hot and sore and his cock hard against

his belly, of course he wanted to come, especially after days of waiting, but if he

had to choose between Owen's touch—hand, mouth, tongue, it didn't matter—

and coming, he'd choose Owen. “Want you to touch me. If I can come, that's

better, but it's not what I really want.” He shifted his hips pleadingly, using his

body to speak for him but knowing that wouldn't be enough.

Owen wanted him to beg.

“Please. Please touch me, Owen. I've been wanting it for so long, wanting

you.” This was more difficult than he'd thought it would be, the words thick

over his tongue, almost choking him. He didn't beg, refused to. He'd have gone

to work for minimum wage with nothing more than a high school education—

private school though it had been—rather than ask his father to pay for his

college education. And this, being allowed to come, was a much smaller thing,

something he could have gone much longer without, surely. Sterling found

himself with tears in his eyes again, but now they were tears of shame at how

low he'd sunk. If he begged and Owen still said no… “Please, Owen. I need to

come. Need to come for you, need to show you. I want you to see.”

There was nothing more intimate than having someone watch you come,

but Sterling
wanted
it. Wanted Owen's eyes on him, Owen's hand stroking his

dick. He was so close just thinking about it.

“I need it. Need you to let me. Need—please, Owen. Please.”

“You're struggling so much with this, aren't you?” Owen said, still in that

cool murmur. “You can't understand why you need all this so much, just that

you do. Like air, like water.” He put his right hand on Sterling's chest and drew

it down slowly until it was so close to where Sterling needed it that Sterling

only had to move an inch up the bed to get it, but he didn't. “And you don't let

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65

that part of you that wants to fight me win. You won't let it.” Owen's hand

moved to cup Sterling's face, cradling his cheek. “Come for me, then. Use your

hands. I want to see you work yourself; I want to see you come, here, lying on

my bed.”

Sterling made a muffled sound, desperate now that he'd been given

permission, and got one hand around his cock and the other cupping his balls.

It hardly took any time at all—three clumsy strokes and he was coming in long,

powerful waves that robbed him of breath, aware of Owen's palm against his

jaw as his release shook him like a rag doll, heedless of anything but Owen's

touch grounding him, Owen's face watching him.

It was the strongest orgasm he could remember; it left him gasping, heart

beating staccato in his chest and the rest of him utterly boneless, a thought

which made him laugh a little, helplessly, at its appropriateness. Not

completely appropriate, though, because he was still hard, and even as he lay

there his cock gave another lazy pulse.

“Thank you.” It was just a whisper, but he thought that the look that must

have been on his face probably made up for it. He wanted to put his arms

around Owen and be held, to use Owen's shoulder as a pillow and spend the

night, but he had no idea if that was in the cards. He was such a novice. He

didn't know how any of this worked.

Owen sighed, a long, heartfelt exhalation, and put his hand where

Sterling's had been, a loose clasp that could've gotten Sterling back to full

hardness again without Owen needing to do more than that. He spread his legs

a little, not caring how blatant the invitation was, and Owen smiled, the cage of

his hand opening. “You're welcome.”

He cleaned Sterling's stomach with the damp washcloth and then wiped

his hands and tossed it back onto the tray, narrowly missing the small bowl of

water. “It's not that late, but you have an early class tomorrow; I want you to

get plenty of sleep. If I think that this—any of it—is affecting your work, it's

going to stop.” He hesitated, his gaze on Sterling, whose face must have

reflected some of the hurt he felt at the abrupt change from intimate to

brusque. “Does that make you feel as if I'm pulling back after getting close? It

isn't like that. It's just more of what we just did, expressed another way. Don't

look so crushed.” Owen nudged Sterling's leg with his knee. “Move over.”

Sterling shifted across the bed and gave Owen enough room to lie beside

him. He wasn't sure what Owen wanted him to do—and he
really
wished that

Owen was naked too—but Owen reached for him and drew him closer, turning

so that they lay side by side, their arms around each other.

It was…nice. Sterling was comfortable, and he wasn't hard anymore

(which was a relief), and he was
tired
. He couldn't really let himself relax all the

way, though, because he didn't want to fall half asleep only to be roused and

sent on his way. His dorm room with its white walls and too-thin mattress

seemed a world away, and he preferred this one.

“Can I—stay here? Spend the night, I mean?” he asked.

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“I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Owen said dubiously. “You've got that

nine o'clock class, and you'd need to get up early. I can't exactly give you a ride

to your dorm.” As he said it, his arm tightened around Sterling's shoulder,

sending a different message, but a moment later, he pulled away. “It's not a

good idea,” he repeated.

Begging had worked before—maybe it would work now. “Please?” Sterling

said. “I'll be good and get up early and walk back to campus. It's not
that
far.”

It was, actually, but he could do it. It'd be worth it for a chance to sleep in

Owen's bed.

“Why do you want to?” Owen asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. “This

isn't—we're not dating, you know. You wanted me to help you—train you—and

I agreed, but we barely know each other beyond that.” He pushed Sterling's

hair back where it fell over his forehead, the gesture automatic, proprietary.

“Or do you think you'll be able to persuade me to do more than sleep with

you?”

Maybe they weren't dating, but Sterling knew, deep down, that he wanted

them to be. This wasn't just training to him—it had already become something

much more, and if it took a while for Owen to realize that too, well, he'd just be

patient until that happened.

He was pretty sure that mentioning it now wouldn't go over very well,

though.

“I'd do anything for you,” he said. “If you don't want…that, that's okay,

but I'd suck you off however you wanted, or you could rub yourself off on me,

or…whatever. Or not. I still want to stay. I feel…I don't know, like myself here.

With you.” He searched Owen's eyes, hoping for the answer he wanted but

resigned to quit here if he didn't get it.

“My first sub, Michael, used to sleep with me,” Owen said, which came out

of nowhere as far as Sterling was concerned and left him dealing with yet

another sharp pang of envy for Michael. “And I suppose over the years others

have from time to time, but mostly they just…go home afterward, or the

session takes place somewhere like the club.” He shrugged. “Stay if you want

to, but don't make me have to explain the definition of no sex in the middle of

the night, please.”

“Okay,” Sterling said. “Thank you. I won't. I'd rather sleep here with you

and not have sex than go back to the dorm and not have sex alone.” He grinned

a little bit. “Besides, I already know my roommate snores. You might not.”

“And you might,” Owen said with a tug at a lock of Sterling's hair, not

hard enough to hurt. “In which case, remind me to show you where the spare

room is.”

Sterling's grin widened; then he yawned. He was
so
tired—he felt like he

could sleep for twenty-four hours at least. “I don't snore, and any of the guys

I've slept with would tell you I don't kick in my sleep, either. Don't worry.”

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67

Owen got up and stripped down to his boxer shorts—putting his clothes in

the laundry hamper, Sterling noted, because apparently he was a neat freak—

and went away to the bathroom to do whatever before coming back and getting

into bed again.

Carefully, Sterling hitched himself a little closer to Owen, who was warm

and smelled good, and closed his eyes, sure that he was going to get the best

night's sleep ever. “Good night,” he said.

“Good night,” Owen said and patted his hair.

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Chapter Six

Sterling woke in a mood that Owen couldn't help but feel was a little on

the smug side. No wonder, since he'd gotten his way again. They'd both woken

during the night, Owen roused from an uneasy dream when Sterling had

switched on the light in the bathroom off the bedroom. He would have pointed

out that the bathroom had a door that closed, but when Sterling had come

back to bed, he clearly hadn't been awake enough to be capable of talking,

falling asleep again within moments.

Owen had lain beside him for a while, his cock a resentful ache. Denial

was one thing, but this was killing him. He could take care of himself, and he

would, but it was going to be a long four months. It didn't matter; that was one

stipulation he refused to break, bend, or change. Sterling needed to learn that

there were limits, rules. Needed to submit to them as willingly as he submitted

to Owen's hands and mouth on him.

As he lay wakeful in the dim room, he thought ahead to the morning.

They'd both need to wake early to shower and eat; Sterling wasn't the only one

with a class at the start of the day. Owen liked those classes; it let him see who

was serious enough about the subject to put in an appearance, and once the

students had woken up, the discussion was usually lively.

They'd both be in a rush, but that didn't mean that Owen couldn't indulge

himself just a little…

He allowed Sterling to take the first shower and dug out a spare

toothbrush for him to use. He had a battery-operated one, but his dentist

always handed him a complimentary one after each checkup, and it was easier