41. Boston

CHAPTER 41

BOSTON

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

I'd been at the farm for two days with a crisis at work delaying Ford's arrival. He'd called me after lunch on Friday, a little frantic and a lot upset about the holdup, promising that he was going to be on the road before eight at the latest. Normally, I didn't mind his absence at the farm. After we closed on the property, we'd hired out help to run things during the week, but I spent as many weekends there as I could. It was a good balance, giving Ford time to spend with his friends and me time to do my own thing too. Things with Kale were far better than they had been, but neither Ford nor I wanted to test the tentative truce that had settled between the three of us. We'd gone out on double dates with my brother and his boyfriend, but we were careful to not flaunt things. I hoped one day Kale would be fully accepting, but it was okay for now.

"I think that's the last of it," Shawn said, shoving another cardboard box of lettuce into the back of a rented cargo van. He wiped his dusty hands on the front of his jeans and then folded his arms in front of his chest, surveying the amount of food we'd managed to get packed up for him in such a short amount of time. He'd only arrived after breakfast and we'd been hard at work ever since.

"Hopefully you won't hit too much traffic on the way back down," I said.

"There's always traffic."

"I know." I tilted my head back and sucked in a deep breath of the smog-free farm air.

"Are you sure you don't want to make the permanent move here?" he asked, giving me a reasonable amount of side-eye.

A more permanent relocation to the farm was something Ford and I talked about often, but the answer was always a resounding no. He loved the city and I loved him. It was perfect for me to have the best of both parts of my life within arm's reach, and much like how I let things sit with my brother, I didn't want to ruin what already worked for us.

"I'm sure," I promised.

"I'll see you next week then?"

"You know it."

I walked Shawn around to the driver's door of the van and gave him a hug before he climbed in. Gravel kicked up under his tires, but I waited until he was well on the main road before turning around and heading back inside. It was nearly dinner time, which meant I still had hours before Ford was supposed to arrive. Normally, I didn't mind being on the farm alone, but we had plans for the weekend that I'd been very much looking forward to and putting them off felt a lot like my least favorite kind of torment.

I busied myself cleaning up the kitchen and making sure the bed was made, ensuring that everything that needed to be put away was put away and everything that needed to be out was out.

Four months after my brother found out about Ford and me, I moved into Ford's brownstone. I sold my apartment and used a lot of the money from the sale to deal with getting things in order for the farm. Ford had, of course, offered to pay for the whole thing, but there was no way I was going to let him foot that bill. I appreciated that he treated money the same way as my brother, the way I never had. Neither of them ever worried if there was going to be enough, and there always was.

We'd been living together for four months and waking up with him was as magical three days ago as it had been the very first time. Ford gave me the space to explore not just his body, but my own. I'd learned more about my own likes and dislikes in the past four months than I had in the past twenty years. To say I was grateful for him was an understatement.

That was why I had planned the weekend to give him something special.

It was spring and the trees were in full bloom, the garden sprouting up all the new growth for the season. Ford had been salivating at the thought of the weather being good enough to fuck outside, and even though his arrival was delayed, the weather had held.

I was on the back porch checking the sturdiness of our latest purchase when my ears registered the familiar sound of tires on gravel. Immediately, my pulse spiked and my cock jerked against my leg. I knew it was Ford, knew it was the man I loved. I set some supplies down on the small table beside the back door and headed to the front to greet him.

He blew in the front door with his hand around the knot on his tie, yanking it loose as he kicked both of his shoes off and toed them toward the shoe rack. His hair was perfectly styled as always, but his face was almost frantic, only settling when he saw me in the doorway.

"There you are," he murmured, finishing his tie and loosening the top two buttons of his shirt. He closed the space between us and wrapped me in his arms. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"You're earlier than I expected," I assured him, tilting my head back for a kiss.

Ford crashed his mouth against mine, the strength of his tongue more of a promise than a question. He pushed me against the doorframe and reached between us to undo his belt, knuckles grazing over the quickly growing bulge between my own legs.

"I think I broke the sound barrier getting here," he whispered against my lips, kissing his way up to my ear.

"Good."

He turned his hand and cupped his hot palm around my cock, applying enough pressure that I lifted onto my toes with an embarrassingly high-pitched gasp.

"I'm so ready to have you."

My nostrils flared, and I reached down for the hem of my shirt, rucking it up and pulling it over my head. I'd spent the last hours cleaning, but I would deal with the mess we made later. Ford growled and buried his face into the crook of my neck, kissing and biting his way to my ear, and with his hands around my waist, he walked us both out to the back porch, tearing himself away from me only long enough to observe the handiwork of our latest purchase.

"This is going to be amazing," he murmured, gesturing with one long finger at the rest of my clothes. "Get those off and then get on all fours."

The purchase in question was a bed swing, which I'd initially laughed at, but Ford was insistent. It was essentially a porch swing, but instead of a bench, it held a full size mattress pad, framed with low slats on three sides. I'd decorated it with some pillows, but there was still plenty of room for spreading out in the middle.

In the last eight months, another thing that happened was I'd gotten a lot better at doing what Ford told me to do. I still pushed and poked him, but I had found an unexpected kind of comfort in submission to him that never ceased to surprise me. So I stripped out of my clothes and climbed onto the swing, sticking my ass in the air and showing him the plug I'd shoved up there earlier as a surprise.

"You're going to give a man a heart attack, sweetheart." Ford smoothed his hand from the small of my back down over the swell of my ass, finger pressing softly against the flared base of the plug.

Toys were another thing we'd brought into the bedroom. I'd worried at first, that the inclusion of toys in any way would be a bruise to the ego, but the only thing they did was ramp up the pleasure for both of us…and sometimes the pain too. I was by no means a masochist, but I had grown to love a good spanking over Ford's lap when the mood struck. That wasn't the norm for us, though. The dynamic between us was soft most of the time, demonstrated more with words and actions than physical displays of pain and pleasure.

Ford still loved to make me come until I cried, though.

I didn't hate that.

"Check the table, Sir," I said, pressing my cheek against the cushion and facing the table where I'd set out a bottle of lube, a set of leather cuffs, and a spreader bar.

"Oh." Ford's words were breathy and low. "Is this you asking for what you need, sweetheart? You need to be spread out and fucked?"

Just the thought of it was enough to make my cock leak precum.

"I need you," I rasped, dropping a more noticeable arch into my back.

Ford was still dressed, tie loose around his neck and belt undone around his waist. He had the button and zipper of his fly down, the thick bulge of his cock filling the gap. He was quick to get the cuffs around my wrists, latching them onto the clips I'd discreetly hidden beneath the mess of pillows. The size of the swing meant that my arms were spread wide, my chest and face pressed down and putting my ass on better display. There was a moment when Ford stepped back to observe me, but I couldn't see him because of my own position. I swallowed nervously, always wondering what he thought when he looked at me, if he ever felt regret.

Before I could entertain any more of those thoughts, he fastened cuffs around my ankles, then latched the spreader bar between them on the longest setting. The stretch burned the muscles in my legs, and the warm spring air swirled around my erection.

"You're a fucking dream," Ford murmured. Clothes hit the wooden porch, and he yanked the spreader bar toward the edge of the cushion. "You're my fucking dream."

"I love you," I whispered. "I love this."

Ford hummed, giving the plug in my ass a tentative pull. "I love both of those things too. "

Behind me, I heard the sound of the lube bottle opening, and then Ford groaning as he slicked his cock with an overhand pull of his fist.

"You look so pretty with this toy in your hole," he said, swirling a lube-slick finger around my rim. "I wish I could fit my cock right next to it, stretch you out even more."

A shiver raced up my spine and the most indecent whimper tumbled out of my mouth. Ford huffed out an amused and almost evil-sounding laugh before he twisted the plug once more and pulled it all the way out of me.

My body didn't even have time to register the absence because, with one smooth glide of his hips, Ford's cock was seated fully inside of me, his balls burning hot against mine. I shouted out his name, the switch from the immoveable plastic of the toy to the hard press of his erection the best thing I'd ever felt in my life.

When it came to sex for the two of us, I preferred to top. There was something that felt right about being over Ford, watching my cock disappear into his body and wringing pleasure out of him, but I didn't hate to bottom. It had become my preference when I was more in the submissive mindset with him, but I topped him sometimes then too. It depended on our moods, and I loved the versatility of the act while maintaining the steadiness of our roles outside the bedroom.

"Fuck, Boston."

I loved when he called me by my name. Ford so heavily favored calling me sweetheart when he was in the mood—and I loved that so much—it was like he forgot himself sometimes and the only thing he could remember was my name, the way I made him feel.

"I need you," I whined, something about the arch of my back and the burn in my legs making me absolutely mad for him. The chains clanked against the wood slats of the swing as I tried to adjust to a position that didn't make a cold sweat break out against the small of my back, but with the cuffs and the spreader bar, there was nowhere for me to go.

"I've got you," he promised, pulling back and easing back in.

With every thrust of his hips, the swing glided in time, the sensation of floating on the clouds a very real thing. I closed my eyes, content to lose myself to the pleasure Ford offered me. In the distance, birds chirped and the sun sank below the horizon, and I'd never been happier in my entire life.

Ford climbed onto the swing behind me, setting it off on a far more noticeable range of motion, driven by every snap of his hips. He reached around my front, leaning down and pressing his chest against my back and taking my cock into his hand. I was hard and hot, his touch almost too much to handle.

"Give me what I want, sweetheart," he whispered the demand into my ear.

His voice was the only thing grounding me, as from the moment he put himself inside of me, I'd absolutely lost all sense of space and time. I didn't know anything except the heat of his body, the touch of his skin, and the promises he made with every pump of his cock.

His hand was heaven on my shaft, and the sensation of being helpless to his touch was like a drug. As he asked, my body delivered, and cum spurted out of my dick, painting hot stripes against the swing and the tight hold of his fingers. I cried out, yanking against the cuffs, against the spreader, against his cock deep inside of me .

"Just like that," he groaned, pace turning frenetic. "You know how I need it, don't you?"

With his fingers still wrapped tight around my throbbing dick, Ford went still behind me, spilling into my ass as he came. My muscles clamped down on him, and I cursed under my breath as he kept up the slow and punishing drag of his fist up and down my cock.

"Ford," I whined, the pleasure of his hand balancing on that line that was ready to slide right into pain.

"I want another one," he groaned in my ear.

His cock was still hard inside of me, his cum sticky and hot as it leaked out of my ass and slid down my thighs and my balls. I didn't think I had another orgasm in me, but that wouldn't have been the first time. Like always, Ford found what he wanted from me and he took it. And tied down beneath him, I was more than happy to give it to him.

Over and over again, for the rest of our lives.