24. Ford

CHAPTER 24

FORD

Time began to pass in a blur of late nights and early mornings, with Boston's body pressed against mine until the sunrise. After I tied him to his bed for the first time, Boston wasn't scared to ask to try new things, whether it was a blindfold or a different type of restraint. One night, I'd looked up from my knees, his cock stretching my mouth wide, only to find his head thrown back in pleasure and his fingertips twisting his nipples away from his chest as he shot down my throat.

Being intimate with Boston was more play than I'd ever had, but more than that…being with Boston was fun . Guiding him through the explorations of his sexuality, while also dabbling in the kinds of kink I enjoyed, had led to some of the most fulfilling sex of my life. Unfortunately, it only solidified my feelings for him, which I was still determined to keep to myself.

One thing at a time, and all that.

I woke up two weeks later on Saturday with his mouth wet and hot against the back of my neck, his cock hard between my ass cheeks. He rutted against me, one arm wrapped over my chest and the other braced against my hip. Closing my eyes, I leaned back into him with a quiet sigh, enjoying the way he moved against me.

"Is there something you need, sweetheart?" I asked softly, my voice still rough with sleep.

His fingers flexed around my hip and he went still.

"Did you not realize you were humping me like a lovesick teenager?" I asked next, rolling over to face him. I slotted one of my legs between his and hauled him closer.

Boston's eyes were half-closed, his entire face sleepy as he shook his head and gave me a soft smile.

"Even in my sleep," he murmured, lashes fluttering as his eyes fell closed.

I brushed the tips of our noses together and smiled against his lips, licking my way into his mouth. He groaned, trying to pull away from me for only a second before giving up and letting me inside. He'd complained once about not wanting me to taste his morning breath, which I told him was absurd. For as much time as he spent with his face buried in my armpit, a sour mouth was the least of my concerns.

Reaching down between us, I curled my fist around both of our erections and gave a slow and loose stroke from root to tip. He shivered and arched his back, pushing his chest against mine and opening his mouth wider for me.

"I love when you submit," I whispered, tracing the shape of his lips with my tongue. I dragged my way across his teeth and deeper into his mouth, hand still working our cocks with all the lazy tenderness the morning deserved.

"I love submitting to you," he said back, breath skipping out of his mouth and against my cheek. "I…"

"What else?" I leaned back enough for us both to slow down and breathe. My hand continued to work our shafts with a torturously slow pace. "There was something else you were going to say."

An unanticipated flare of hope exploded in the center of my chest, my brain assuring me that Boston was ready to confess his love to me. My grip faltered, and I tightened my squeeze around the base of our cocks before going still. I didn't want to miss whatever came next, especially if it was him.

With an agonizing slowness, Boston blinked his eyes open, squinting until he was able to bring me into focus. I smiled at him and pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

"I want to submit more ," he said.

Of all the things I'd expected, that was the last of them. "What do you mean?"

Boston groaned and rolled onto his back, effectively taking his cock away from mine and out of my hand. I turned so I could keep an eye on him, bending my arm at the elbow and propping myself up on my hand to stare down at him while he tried to find the words.

"My brother thinks I'm some naive little child, but I know about The Black Door." Boston dragged the tip of his tongue back and forth against his canine tooth while he squinted up at my ceiling. The sheets pooled low around his hips, the long stretch of his chest and torso looking like a slab of gold in the early morning sunlight.

"What do you think you know about it?"

"It's a kink club."

"It is," I confirmed.

"You go there," he said.

"Often."

Boston licked his lips and angled his head toward me. "Still?"

"No," I answered.

"It's something you like," he said carefully.

"You're something I like."

Boston groaned, rolling away from me entirely and flinging his legs off the side of the bed. He bent over, back bowed as he rested his elbows on his knees. I shifted my way toward what had become his side of the bed, resting my cheek against the top of his back in the space between his shoulder blades.

"What are you asking me, Boston?" I kissed him at the place on his neck where his hairline faded away. "You know I can't take you there."

"Why not?"

"Everyone knows us." I wrapped an arm around his front. "Me, and your brother, and Brooks, and Alex…Beamer."

"They don't know me."

"You think I'll be able to get away with taking someone new there with me and have it not get back to him?" I asked.

"From what I remember, Ford, that wouldn't be terribly out of character for you."

The barb ached, lodged firmly between my ribs, and I was careful when I untangled myself from Boston's hunched over body.

"I need coffee for this," I told him, climbing out of bed and grabbing my discarded pajama pants from the floor. "Come to the kitchen when you're ready to talk and not argue."

I left him alone in my bedroom, his stare steadily focused at his feet, which served him right. We both knew we were in over our heads with whatever we were doing together, and he had to know what he was implying with the unspoken ask. Taking Boston to The Black Door would threaten the foundation we'd started to build behind closed doors. I didn't want to keep our relationship a secret forever, but I wanted us both to feel a little steadier with each other before we faced what it meant to tell his brother about us.

It was muscle memory to put the coffee on, and I stared at the empty carafe while I waited for the brew to start percolating its way down. Boston had yet to make his appearance, and the longer he waited, the more I convinced myself that taking him to The Black Door was a terrible idea. Letting him submit in general was already risky enough. The way my blood burned when he called me Sir was life-threatening on its own. I was already halfway through my first cup of coffee by the time I heard the shuffle of his feet behind me. His drink was already turning cold, but I'd made a decision in his absence.

"Get on your knees, Boston," I said, not even turning to face him.

He exhaled softly, and I listened to his pajamas rustle as he went to his knees.

"Ass on your heels," I said, my morning erection quickly returning. "Palms hands up on your thighs."

I gave him time to adjust before turning.

I should have given myself time to prepare, had I understood the magnitude of what I'd asked and how it would change me far more than it would change him. Boston was in a pair of navy sleep pants and nothing else besides his glasses. His face was still relaxed from sleep, hair mussed from all the places I'd yanked and tugged on it the night before. From his place on the floor, he gazed up at me through the fan of his lashes, fingers spread and relaxed against the tops of his legs, just like I'd commanded.

"I don't need to take you to a club for you to see what it's like to submit," I finally managed to say, rinsing the tension out of my throat with a drink of coffee.

"It's different, though, isn't it?" he asked.

"Sir."

Boston's jaw worked, a flash of movement just below his ear. "It's different though, isn't it, Sir?" he repeated.

"Very."

"I want to see it, Sir."

I blinked slowly, dropping my chin against my chest because it hurt to look at him. I wanted him so fucking much. Maybe Kale had always known his brother was perfect for me, long before either of us had even begun to seriously entertain the idea. Maybe that was why he'd been so insistent that I didn't flirt or tease the way I always liked to do.

"Why?" I asked. "Why do you want to see it? What do you think you're missing?"

His fingers flexed, the slightest curl before straightening back out, ready to receive.

"I want to know that part of you," he said softly, dropping his stare to a spot on the floor between us. "Those parts of us."

"I don't feel like anything is missing," I told him honestly. "You have the most important parts of me, Boston."

My soul.

My heart.

He angled his head back and to the side, somehow looking up and down at me at the same time. "It's not all about you…Sir. "

I scoffed at the audacity, my cock leaking against my pajamas from how hard his attitude made me. I crossed my legs at the ankle and raised my mug for another drink.

"Do explain," I prompted.

He lifted his hands from his thighs and curled his fingers around the waistband of his pajama pants, shoving them down behind his balls. They were heavy and lifted, his cock hard and swollen, a bead of precum leaking out of the tip.

"I like it too," he said quietly, almost like he was ashamed of it. "I don't understand it the way you do, but I want to. I'm trying to."

I had to close my eyes, rub the bridge of my nose, but it was too late. The visual of Boston on his knees with his thick erection jutting toward the ceiling was emblazoned on my brain for the rest of my life. The earnest and desperate look on his face, the way he was chasing after completion and understanding without any fear was one of the sexiest things I'd ever seen in my life.

Boston faced himself head on, whether it was his quest to understand his attraction to men…his attraction to me , or now his sudden interest in why his cock got hard while his knees got bruised. His bravery was commendable, if not stupid. His bold need to understand himself was going to be the end of us both.

In a way, it was my fault.

I'd danced around the basics for long enough to give him a taste and now he was here, on his knees in my kitchen with an erection he didn't know what to do with. I'd brought this curse on myself, but I didn't want to do anything besides damn us both and indulge him.

For so many years, I'd used the guise of kink to keep people at arm's length. I craved the impersonality of submission because it meant I didn't have to hear men whisper my name when they came. It was always Sir, sometimes Master. I could get them off, get myself off, and keep a tight grip on the privacy and control that meant so much to me.

I knew, of course, that submissive partners held most of the control in many scenarios, but as a once-off at The Black Door, it wasn't that simple. People searched out partners there to fulfill base needs, and that exchange only came into play when there was more established trust and long-term understanding. It was what Boston and I were quickly working toward, and my nights with him were also changing my understanding of my own kinks, my own fetishes.

I'd always been about pleasure, chasing the most for myself and for my partners. Pleasure to the point of pain until it wrapped back around again to pleasure. I'd made people come so many times they lost count of the orgasms, until men were shooting blanks into the palm of their hand. But it had been simple, basic. Pleasure was orgasm after orgasm after orgasm. It was straightforward and easy for all of us. We knew what to expect.

When it came to Boston, I had already come up with at least a dozen new ways to chase that same kind of end for us both. Whether it was letting him kneel for me on a Saturday morning in my kitchen while I drank my coffee or me getting on my back for him so he could see what it was like to fuck a man for the first time. My new kink, it seemed, was giving Boston anything and everything he asked for.

With a tired sigh, I set my coffee down on the counter next to his untouched mug and crooked a finger for him to come closer. He didn't stand. He didn't hesitate, instead falling forward onto his hands and crawling across my kitchen to close the space between us. When he reached me, Boston nuzzled my leg like a cat, and I knew I'd never tell him no for the rest of our time together.

"You really want to go to The Black Door?" I asked, gesturing for him to stand.

He rubbed his body against mine as he straightened to his full height, eyes glinting with trouble. He'd always had me wrapped around his finger, from the very first time he touched me and he knew it. I slid my arms around him and pressed our foreheads together, ready to kiss him as soon as he opened his mouth.

"Yes, Sir."