Tough Love (30 page)

Chenco knew this, and he agreed in theory, but… “It’s not shame. It’s…” He wet his lip. “It feels dangerous.”

Steve stroked Chenco’s arm again, this time the touch a long, sensual caress with his thumb. “Do you trust me, Chenco, to keep you safe?”

Was it bad Chenco had to think about it? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Steve, it was…Chenco didn’t know what it was. Fear, maybe. Old, deep, nameless fear attached to something but long since tethered, snarling nastily in the darkness of his soul. Fear of being exposed and injured. Fear of not stepping onto the stage deliberately in Caramela’s armor but dragged out unexpectedly into a harsh glare in the middle of jeering laughter. It made Chenco’s breath catch, his erection wane, his heartbeat quicken.

“Chenco?” Steve’s strong, sure voice cut through the fog like a lighthouse. “Do you want me to pull over so we can talk?”

No, Chenco didn’t. “Keep—” His voice broke, and he swallowed. “Please keep moving. It’s…something about the road. Everything moving. Makes it okay.”

“I understand.”

Steve let the silence expand between them now, and Chenco stared into the sunset, off to the northwest. The soft colors moved Chenco, soothed him. Eventually, he spoke.

“Nothing ever happened to me.” His voice was soft, and it seemed to come from far away. “I don’t have a story like Gordy’s. Nobody ever hurt me. I never thought about playing until you.”

“It’s not a contest. You don’t have to have been hurt in your body to be wounded. Sometimes all they have to do is ignore you.”

The tears pricking Chenco’s eyes shocked him, and he blinked them back with a terror. Once they were beaten down, he said, “They didn’t know they were ignoring me. I wouldn’t let them see. Not my family, not Cooper, not my friends. Not Booker.” This time the tears got him in his solar plexus, and it was tough to sit upright. He made himself do it anyway, his eyes trained on the distant horizon. “You saw me, though. In the alley. You looked at me and you saw me. I was hiding, but I couldn’t hide from you.”

He swallowed several times, letting those words echo inside of his head. They echoed for a long, long time.

When he finally emerged from his strange meditation, the sun was almost gone. Dust colored the sky with rich, blood-red hues.

I want to bleed for him,
Chenco thought, but he didn’t say. Not here. Not yet.

He heard stirring from behind the curtain, the soft murmurs of Mitch and Sam waking. In his half-trance, he felt their connection, and it made him ache.
I want that.
The yearning was a whisper in his head.
I want to feel that connected to Steve, not just about sex but about life. I don’t have any right to it, but I want it so badly I could sob right here in this seat, if I let myself feel.

The problem was, he couldn’t seem to stop feeling tonight. He shut his eyes.

“They can hear you take me,” he said, very quietly, “but I can’t bear to let them hear me cry.”

“Don’t push yourself for me. Not out of fear. Don’t you ever, ever yield to me in fear.”

Chenco wanted to deny this, but he made himself examine his reactions anyway, just in case. He shut his eyes, drew a deep breath as he felt inside himself, then shook his head. “Not fear. More…more like I want to beat fear. I want to show you I’m strong. To show me I’m strong. Them too.”

“All right,” Steve said.

Doubt crept in. As Steve pulled the truck over at a rest stop, Chenco hastily did himself up and left the cab, wrapping his arms around his body in the evening chill, dark voices whispering in his ears.

He’s never going to give you what Mitch gave Sam. He thinks you’re going to get tired of him. He thinks seventeen years age difference is too many for anything more than fun and games. He might be right.

Chenco didn’t want him to be right. He wanted his papi to wrap him up and steal him away. To make all his dreams come true and keep him safe. He shouldn’t want this, shouldn’t be dependent on anyone else. It was too dangerous. But he couldn’t stop wanting that and more.

Chenco didn’t just want Steve to see him. He wanted Steve to see him—and keep him.

It was wrong to ask for this. Wrong to fixate on someone, to decide they were the one. Steve was right, they could play together, maybe for years, and then Chenco could find someone his age, or closer to his age, someone who hadn’t been fighting a war when he’d been entering kindergarten. It was smart. It was logical and safe.

It made Chenco want to rend his hair.

I want to stay with the one who found me when no one knew to look. It’s the only thing I want.

Chenco could never let him know.

Steve laid him out on blankets on the floor, folding him in half as promised, securing his hands and ankles together and fastening them to bolts on either side of the captains chairs in front. The curtain hung down, but Chenco could see underneath it. They’d be so close. They’d hear every sound he made.

Except no sooner did he think this but Steve squeezed his jaw open and forced a thick ball inside and fastened it at the back of Chenco’s neck.

Chenco swallowed around the gag, his tongue playing helplessly behind it, beneath it, around it. He stared up at Steve, who looked down at him in wicked pleasure. Chenco felt himself go slack in mind as well as body, his ass and cock exposed, his belly, his heart.

Steve pressed a hanky into Chenco’s hand. “This is your safe word.”

Just like the time after the big flogging, with the penis gag. Chenco nodded. He gripped the hanky tight in his hand, hoping he didn’t have to let it go.

Steve tortured him slowly. He teased Chenco’s nipples, his abdomen, his cock. He fondled his balls, edging close to but not quite giving Chenco the aggression he wanted. He drifted soft fingers over Chenco’s groin, his hole, maddening Chenco until he grunted behind the gag and thrust up desperately against Steve’s too-gentle hands.

The door to the truck opened, and Mitch climbed inside.

Hot, terrible embarrassment flooded Chenco as he watched his brother settle into his seat—he clutched the hanky tight.

Steve sucked on Chenco’s belly, and he moaned, shocked, delighted, and it was loud enough there was no question Mitch heard. Sam’s voice, soft and questioning, floated over him, and then Sam gasped too. Chenco watched under the curtain as Mitch hauled Sam onto his lap and began to undress his husband.

Steve thrust a slick pair of fingers into Chenco’s hole as Sam tipped his head back to let Mitch attach himself to his chest. Chenco moaned.

When he felt a hot mouth on the inside of his thigh, biting and sucking, Chenco looked down, groaning at the image of Steve feasting on his splayed apex. Something thick moved inside Chenco’s ass, metal and bulbous and unyielding, and he clenched around it, crying against the gag as Steve sucked on his balls. If he’d had a voice, he’d have been begging for a bit of burn, a bite of pain.
Pinch me. Rake me. Mark me.

Steve only teased him, thrusting something deeper and deeper inside Chenco. Whimpering, Chenco tried to squirm, as if he could wiggle his way into something more, but Steve wouldn’t relent.

In the front of the cab, Sam cried out, and something squished. Chenco peered under the curtain—he shivered as he saw Sam, naked from the waist down, facing the windshield and splayed grotesquely over the wheel, knees on the door and the dash as Mitch idly shoved two fingers into Sam’s swollen, slutty hole.

Chenco’s eyes rolled shut, and he humped mindlessly against whatever Steve had in his ass.

He gave himself over to the wickedness of it all, to being tied down on the floor of a semi, spread naked and wide while Steve shoved shit in his ass and Mitch finger-fucked his husband over the steering wheel. Chenco felt a connection to Sam, thought about how they were both being used, objects of their masters’ sexual whim, and he shivered.

A sharp slap made him jerk, but he felt no pain—the sound came again, this time with a whimper, and he peered under the curtain to see the red imprint of Mitch’s hand on Sam’s ass—an ass speared now on three insistently fucking fingers.

This time Chenco growled, the sound coming from the very base of his throat.

The next crack came on his own skin—his left butt cheek, sharp and delicious. He purred and tried to lift his ass higher, displaying it for Steve, making it a target. His reward was a sharp, stinging blow on whatever was in his hole. Then another. Then another. Then a stinging bite, a pinch that didn’t end against the inside of his thigh—he cried out at the gag, and then another sting came, and another, and another. He looked down to see small plastic clamps lining the inside of his leg. He met Steve’s gaze, and Steve grinned, so dark it was terrifying. He held up another clamp.

He lowered it to Chenco’s balls.

Chenco cried out, bucked, thrashed—then screamed behind his gag and clutched the hanky so hard he feared he might turn it to dust as Steve put the clip in place, the pain white-hot and so wonderful he tripped, briefly, right out of his head. He rode the wave of a second clamp, and then a third, and then he lost count. He heard the sounds of sloppy, raunchy sex behind the curtain, slaps of flesh and the thick squish of Mitch playing in Sam’s ass, Sam making incoherent, desperate pleas. Chenco heard, but he couldn’t look, too lost in his own bliss.

The plug inside him came out, leaving him empty and clenching, but soon something else went in—something cold and thicker yet, and so long it made Chenco grunt and lift as Steve drove it home. It felt obscene and frightening.

Steve tugged on Chenco’s nipple clips—when had those happened?—and made a soft sound of approval, clearly admiring his own work.

Then he fumbled at the opening of Chenco’s ass, and whatever was inside him began to hum.

Chenco grunted and bore down, but Steve fumbled and the thing vibrated more, rubbing raw along Chenco’s prostate. It made noise—Chenco could hear it buzzing, beating inside him, and he fucked back, lewd and mindless, without shame.

Tears ran down his cheeks.

He was crying—sometimes he had to take sharp breaths in through his nose around a sob. He felt more clips attaching to his body, pain on top of pain, and he fucked himself on the beast inside him, riding it, riding the pain, sobbing. He was so far gone right now he’d let Steve line up greasy, ugly truckers to watch him be played. Chenco was so out of control, but he was safe. Steve would never, ever hurt him, and Chenco knew this in his soul. He loved this, what Steve did to him. While what was happening to Sam was hot, it wasn’t what Chenco wanted. He wanted the pain only Steve could give him.

He’d let Steve fuck him anywhere, any way, so long as he gave him this. So long as he stayed.

When Steve pulled him up by the hair, as the light from the lot sliced over his face, illuminating it, Chenco looked up at him and let it all show.
You, you forever, please, please.
He let it all shine.

Steve stared down at him, struck dumb.

Chenco’s body hummed, the dildo inside him still mindlessly gnawing at his prostate and his bowels, and somehow the humility of it made it all the more perfect.
I will never run out of ways to be vulnerable for you, and I’ll never grow tired.
If the gag wasn’t in his mouth, he’d have said the words out loud.

Something moved like a ghost over Steve’s face, something profound that seemed to reverberate to his center. His free hand stroked Chenco’s face, trailing lube and musk.

He caught the edge of the gag and pulled it down.

Tears still flowing, Chenco looked up at him, lost in his high. “Steve,” he whispered, ready to confess. But suddenly words were stupid, worthless. “Please,” he begged. “Please.”

Steve cupped Chenco’s jaw so tightly it hurt.

He bent down to Chenco’s face, his eyes wide and burning.

He sealed their lips together.

Chenco gasped and opened, inviting him in. Steve took him, plunging deep, gagging him with his tongue. He pressed his heavy body over Chenco’s, frotting through his jeans, rubbing the zipper and the button along Chenco’s naked cock. He sheared the clips off of Chenco’s body, swallowing his cries of pain as they released. He undid his pants and thrust his dick against Chenco’s own.

He pulled out the dildo, leaving it humming and rumbling beside Chenco’s ass, borrowed some of its lube and speared Chenco in one deep thrust.

The cry almost escaped, but not quite—Steve caught it and swallowed it whole. When his thrusts made Chenco’s eyes water, he clamped a hand over Chenco’s mouth and licked the salt away.

He made Chenco come, then took his time in finishing, riding Chenco long and slow and deep, pushing the tears out of him from the inside. He filled him, coating Chenco’s passage then pushing the plug back in before untying Chenco and gathering Chenco’s slack body to his own.

“You’re
mine
.”

“
Si, Papi,
” Chenco whispered, arching, wedging the plug deeper. “All yours.”

They slept there on the floor—eventually the truck began to roll, but they stayed there on the sheets, in the narrow space where they couldn’t even spread their legs, Chenco pressed naked to Steve’s body. At one point Sam stepped over them to use the bathroom, and when he came out, Steve made Sam stand there as he pushed his cock back into Chenco and filled him again. Chenco watched Sam the whole time, dazed, lost to his pleasure. Sam didn’t look too far behind.