16. Epsilon

CHAPTER 16

Epsilon

K yle's hand shot out to slam the door so hard – and so close to his face – that Epsilon might have flinched if he'd not spent a lifetime hiding and pretending.

"I told you that I wasn't done with you, Master, " Kyle whispered into Epsilon's nape, his warm breath stirring the fine hairs on the back of his neck as he reminded him of the words he'd quietly tossed at him when he'd arrived. Epsilon's dick stirred the same way it had the first time he'd heard them, but he stifled his moan.

Because his body might have believed that it was a promise to do filthy, debasing things to him, but his head rationalised that Kyle just wanted to talk. He knew the man had to be fed up with the inadvertent mixed messages Epsilon was putting out every time he succumbed to the temptation of Kyle's sweet smile and perfect lips, and was going to demand answers from him that he couldn't give.

"No," he muttered, refusing to turn around because he was too much of a coward to meet Kyle's accusing gaze. "I don't want-"

"Then use your fucking safe word, sweetheart," Kyle hissed in his ear, unexpectedly pressing his body up against him from behind. There was an insistent hardness nudging at Epsilon's ass, despite the layers of clothing between them. "If you want to leave, prove it."

Trapped, hard, and ever so willing, all Epsilon could do was shake his head. And then even that was denied to him as Kyle settled a firm hand on the back of his neck to press his face to the door.

His lips brushed the wood as he spoke.

"Not going...anywhere."

A truth that was likely hard to believe, considering how he'd fled from him in the showers, yet Kyle hummed, pleased, and let go of his neck. Searching fingers slid down his back and around his waist, Kyle's hips pulling back just long enough for him to unclasp Epsilon's belt and dip under the waistband of his suit trousers. They were unceremoniously yanked down, boxer shorts included, and Epsilon hissed out a sharp breath of relief as Kyle freed his aching length from the confines of the fabric.

And then the man soured such a favour by thrusting his hips back into him. Epsilon's dick was crushed ruthlessly against the hard surface of the door and he whimpered, earning a soft and satisfied chuckle from the Dominant behind.

All Epsilon could do was take it as Kyle ground himself against him, the pain and pleasure swirling together in an intoxicating combination. He adored the self-assured way the other man took hold of him; not with arrogance, but confidence. Sir knew how to take care of him.

This, Epsilon could handle.

Sex was easy, and sex with Kyle was always a thousand times better than anyone else. As long as they didn't have to bring words into it, or feelings ...

He tensed, wondering if Kyle intended to use the power dynamics of their scene to order him to kiss him again, or insist he explain why he'd pulled away before. It would put Epsilon in an uncomfortable position, torn between his earnest desire to obey and submit to the man...and revealing the secrets Kyle could never be allowed to know.

But of course, no such command came, because Kyle was somehow, impossibly , able to separate emotion from kink. Epsilon had never seen him use his dominance to satisfy himself other than physically; he'd never punished someone from frustration, had never hurt them in anger. He was a fucking unicorn of a man, and no one deserved him.

Least of all Akira.

Not Akira. Epsilon, damn it, but it was hard to retain that professional distance when Kyle was so close to him like this, not fucking him but just taking pleasure from the way they were pressed together. Would it be so bad, to let go and allow himself to be…himself?

"I'm sorry," Akira whispered.

Kyle instantly went still against him.

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I wish I could explain, but please know it's not…" Akira swallowed, unable to finish what should have been such a simple, if clichéd, sentence.

It's not you, it's me.

"You're not going to explain shit," Kyle growled into his ear, and relief rushed through him. "What you will do is put your hands behind your back and keep them there while I find something to restrain you with. I want you helpless when I fuck you."

Stars.

"Any injuries?" Kyle asked before he went any further, a Dominant always so aware of the weight of his responsibility.

"Just those you left on me, Sir."

Akira couldn't help but feel smug about that. To have the chance to play again with Kyle so soon that the marks hadn't faded from his body from the last time was a fucking thrilling feeling.

But there was one thing he wanted to do differently this time around.

"One moment," Akira pleaded, and Kyle must have heard the change in his tone, for he didn't stop him from pulling his runepad from his pocket and entering a command. Akira looked meaningfully up at the closest camera and Kyle's head turned to track his gaze, curious, just as the red light on it vanished.

The hitch in Kyle's breath was matched only by the way his fingers tightened on Akira's hip, clearly excited at the prospect of getting to play unwatched.

Such a simple act felt...immense. It wasn't just a matter of securing some privacy; by disabling the cameras, he was taking them outside of what the House represented. All of their previous scenes together had been within the confines of work – however loosely defined by Akira's far-too-flexible excuses – and as arguably nothing more than boss and employee.

This was something else. It was exciting and terrifying all at once, and Akira immediately regretted the act despite the way it made his heart sing. Or because of it, for he was well used to denying what his heart wanted, and indulging it like this felt…

The chance to turn the cameras back on and restore necessary common sense was lost to him when Kyle knocked the runepad from Akira's hands and yanked his arms behind his back, forcing them up into a painfully contorted position as he shoved him back against the door.

"Stay like that, pet," Kyle murmured, his lips grazing the back of his neck and then pulling away. "I do so enjoy watching you suffer for me."

Akira didn't answer, but he did lock his fingers around his wrists to keep them in place, setting his jaw against the growing ache in his muscles as the minutes ticked by. Kyle seemed to take an eternity to find what he was looking for behind him, and despite Akira having used that same tactic more than once himself it didn't lessen the anticipation, nor the thrill, when Kyle finally returned to nestle his body back against Akira's. The smooth leather of his trousers slid seductively across Akira's bare ass in tantalising promise of what was to come.

"I thought about handcuffs," whispered Kyle. "But I know how good you are at picking those, and I don't want you having the luxury of escape."

His solution became evident a moment later when the cold hardness of a plastic zip-tie bit into Akira's wrists, securing them at his back and rendering him as helpless as Kyle had promised. No longer needing to maintain any kind of pretence for the cameras beyond the occasional submission he showed his staff during training, Akira whined and ground back against his Sir, so turned on it was painful.

"I know," purred Kyle, sounding as though he actually did, and then he steered him over to one end of the sofa. Akira glanced over his shoulder, staring unashamedly, as Kyle undid his own belt and began to stroke himself to readiness. "You want to be used, don't you, pet?"

Fuck yes, he did.

He also wanted to be forced down across the arm of the sofa, bent over and spread while Kyle prepared both of them to the absolute minimum he could get away with.

He wanted Kyle to sink inside of him without warning, giving him no time to adjust before brutally railing him from behind with hard, urgent thrusts that showed no regard for Akira other than using him as a willing cocksleeve.

He wanted Kyle to ignore the way he cried out and writhed beneath him, to tell him that he deserved all of it like the eager cumslut he was, and to slam his hand down on Akira's shoulders to keep him in that vulnerable, splayed position.

And Kyle did all of that, and more.

The other man was delivering most of it before the desire for those things had even registered with Akira, and by the stars, it was perfect. He met every single one of Akira's kinks – the ones he actually had, not the ones he pretended to enjoy for the benefit of clients or while training his staff – and it struck Akira again how observant the man must be to have recognised his preferences.

"I've been watching you for five years, sweetheart," Kyle said huskily, evidently thinking along the same lines. "You think I don't know how to make you feel good? You think I don't notice what you merely tolerate, and what makes you whine and beg like a bitch in heat?"

Talking like that, for one.

Insistently hitting Akira's prostate with that splendid piercing of his, for another.

By the stars.

How could he have denied himself this for so long? Kyle was perfection. There had been Reasons, right? Something to do with…

"Stop thinking, Epsilon," Kyle ordered from above him, exertion roughening his voice. But his pace didn't falter for a moment, continuing to pound into him with the kind of mind-blowing force and determination that made Akira dizzy. The kind that said I'm not stopping until you pass out .

"Not even then," promised Sir, and Akira blearily realised he'd spoken his thoughts out loud. "I'll keep screwing you until you come back to me, sweetheart."

The idea of Kyle fucking his unconscious body made Akira groan. It was an unexpected fantasy but an extremely arousing one, and he half hoped it would come true even as he fought to remain present so he wouldn't miss a single moment of this pleasurable, rough-as-all-hell bliss.

His insides felt wrecked. His wrists had gone numb. He didn't think he was breathing properly. And-

Epsilon's body jerked as Kyle shifted positions to push his cock deeper...and then he felt something else force its way inside him, stretching his hole even wider.

"Hush," Kyle murmured into his hair. "Take it. Take it all, pet."

He would. He was.

Akira nodded and whimpered, lost to the haze of what was happening.

With one of Kyle's fingers joining his dick in fucking Epsilon's ass, he knew neither of them would last for long. But when Kyle came with a shout, his other hand clutching Akira tight enough to leave bruises on his already welted hips, the bastard stopped moving just before Akira could finish. He moaned out his frustration, only to have his thigh slapped, hard.

Then Kyle withdrew and Akira almost wept at the feeling of desolation and emptiness.

"Don't move. I'm still not done with you."

The words flooded his heart with joy.

"You get yourself off or let any of my cum spill out of you, and I'll find that paddle and use it on body parts you really won't enjoy," Sir warned as he moved away, arousal still thick in his voice despite having achieved his own release. Akira, on the edge and wild with need, clenched his ass and ground his forehead into the faux-leather sofa to stop himself from doing the same with his cock. Kyle hadn't needed to threaten him to secure his compliance: he would be good for him even if he'd asked nicely, but Akira couldn't deny the thrill he felt at being pushed around and abused.

"Look at this shamelessly gaping hole of yours. I think it needs to be filled, don't you?" Sir asked, a note of wicked mischief in his tone as he played idly with his rim, and that was all the notice Akira received before some kind of plug slid home. His muscles tried to flex around it but it was fucking huge , larger than Kyle and stretching him…fuck, still stretching him, rubbing relentlessly against his prostate as Kyle heaved him upright by his bound – and now quite sore – wrists.

"That's staying in until I remove it. Which won't be until tonight," Kyle told him, and Akira's mouth went dry at the thought. Over half a day of wearing it, of having Kyle's mark of ownership on him: while working, when he went home to...

"And that prohibition on coming stands as well," added Kyle sharply, perhaps noticing how Akira had begun to squirm. "For today, I own you. That means that ass of mine will be kept busy," – he nudged the end of the plug, making Akira hiss – "while that sexy cock of mine will not ."

"I...I can't..."

Akira's breaths were coming in pants now. He was so turned on that Kyle's words on their own might be enough to tip him over the edge, and he didn't want to disappoint his Sir, not like this. Not with something that should be so easy.

He found himself spun around. Gentle fingers brushed his hair from his face and tilted his chin up.

Kyle looked almost sympathetic as he raked those beautiful blue eyes over Akira's face, but he showed no sign of capitulating.

Good. Akira craved this with every fibre of his being. He felt like he was finally being satisfied in a way no other man or woman had ever achieved before, despite his long career of being fucked and used and pleasured.

"Would you like me to cage you?" his Dom asked softly.

Akira couldn't stop the whimper that erupted at those words, at how Sir knew how hard this would be for him and was offering to help.

He'd endured a lot worse than an anal plug and a day of forced chastity without blowing his load like a virgin, but the knowledge that it was Kyle who had put it there, Kyle whose cum it had locked up inside him, Kyle who was setting the rules....fuck, he was going to-

"Please," he choked out, lust spiking up his spine, and he caught Kyle's predatory smile.

He always did love it when Akira begged. And there was something so exciting about seeing a man who was gentle and sweet in life, as Kyle was, act so cruel in the bedroom.

"Very well, pet. Down on your knees." Sir spoke without doubt or caution, knowing unequivocally that he would obey.

Panting, Akira sank to the floor and watched his Dominant fish something shiny out of the toy drawers. Kyle cocked his head, considering him, and then toed Akira's knees further apart until his ass rested on the ground.

The plug bumped against his prostate, making his extremely full dick twitch.

Kyle looked down at it and raised an unimpressed, entirely terrifying, eyebrow. Then he nudged Akira's cock with his shoe, smearing pre-cum over the fake leather. "You're making such a mess, sweetheart. You've got five seconds to get rid of that inconvenient erection, or I will."

For a moment, Akira foolishly imagined that how Sir might do that was to let him come…and then his senses returned and he realised there would be no such relief.

So Akira tried. Normally it wasn't a problem to artificially spark life into or out of his cock, depending on what he made himself think about, but tonight...

"By the fucking stars!" he cursed, doubling over as Kyle tsked upon the expiry of the five seconds and deliberately trod on his dick with the toe of his boot, sending waves of pain through Akira's groin. More pain than he usually enjoyed in scenes like this, and it deflated his prick instantly.

The Dominant's gaze gleamed in satisfaction and a tinge of sadism, and Akira began to question his certainty that Kyle never played based on emotion. Because hurting him and locking him up were certainly apt punishments for a man who had teased him with a kiss and then inexplicably fled. Meeting frustration with frustration.

"Done," Kyle murmured a few moments later, kissing Akira's forehead and straightening up. "Look at you, all caged and sitting pretty for me."

Akira blinked, coming back to himself. His poor, abused cock was now encased in bars of silvery metal, with a tiny padlock at the base. Just the sight of it tried to coax life to his trapped length before the solid cage put a stop to that, triggering the vicious cycle of pain and arousal.

Fuck, he loved being at this man's mercy.

"I'll see you tomorrow night, then," Kyle said casually. "Bye, Master."

Akira frowned. He was kneeling on the floor; caged, plugged, and bound, with his trousers tangled around his ankles. Kyle had to be talking nonsense.

He wasn't.

He was moving towards the door with intent, and Akira's heart sputtered at the realisation he was going to be left here like this. He strained against the zip-tie that held his wrists tight behind his back.

"Kyle," he began, trying for stern and don't fuck with me , but the happy, beaming grin tossed back over Kyle's shoulder stole the breath from Akira's lungs and the words from his throat.

He could absolutely leave him here. Anything he wanted. Akira would stay like this all week if he asked him to.

Kyle held up a folded pocketknife, another of the room's toys, and then placed it on top of the cabinet that was nearly as tall as he was. Akira stared up at it and the challenge it represented.

Sir left the room with nothing more than a playful wink and an amused laugh.

Akira eyed the closed door, and then the turned off camera, before turning his attention to his tied wrists and getting to work.