Shit. He could understand that.
And it wasn’t like Caleb had been a slut. If he was the first guy Caleb had been with—and he knew Kent was strict about test results—then sure, he could fuck him bare.
Caleb could never—would never—know it was him.
But he’d know.
At least he could always know and treasure the memory.
“All right, boy. But that means taking more from me first.”
“Yes, Sir. Please?”
God help him, the guy even wiggled his ass at him.
Hmm.
Boyd laid out his implements then started slow, bare-handed spanking, to gauge his tolerance.
It didn’t take long to work him up from there, stroking Caleb’s cock as he used paddles and crops and canes on him, making Caleb cry in pain even as he eagerly fucked his rigid, dripping cock into Boyd’s fist.
When it came time to fuck him, he moved Caleb to the bed and put him on his back, using his fingers and lots of lube and long, gentle kisses as he stretched him with one, then two, and finally three fingers. Only when he was sure he wouldn’t hurt him, he lubed his cock and took his time slowly breaching Caleb’s ass, loving the soft, sweet, needy gasps the man made.
Sitting up, he reached between them and stroked Caleb’s cock in time with his thrusts, determined to hold back this first time—
Oh, shit.
Yeah, he was planning on spending the night.
And fucking him all night.
Because, what the hell, if he was damned already, best to go all the way, right?
Right.
He timed it perfectly. Caleb’s ass squeezed Boyd’s cock as he started coming, and Boyd was able to finish with him, filling him, marking him.
His.
But he couldn’t be. Not really.
Not like this.
Maybe if Caleb worked in another department, sure.
But…
Not like this.
Especially not after taking him like this and knowing who he was.
But he would make the most of this night, because it’d probably be the last perfection he would know for a long time.
* * * *
It was well into the night when they finally fell asleep in the guest bedroom after Sir had blindfolded him again. Even with the door closed, Caleb could hear Kent fucking in the master bedroom, and someone’s pleasured moans as that monster of a cock filled him.
All night, in the background, he’d heard the sounds of moans and fucking from various parts of the house, and Sir had told him it was Kent and the three guys.
Holy crap.
He didn’t even know how that thing could fit inside a guy, much less how a guy could enjoy it.
But maybe…
No. He didn’t really want to have Kent fuck him. What he really wanted was to meet the guy next weekend who Kent promised him would knock his socks off.
Even had blue eyes.
The guy’s a genius.
Tonight had done so much toward helping him. He now knew he could finally work through his unrequited lust over Boyd and make himself look elsewhere. Find a guy who he could actually have.
Boyd was gorgeous and had hardened Caleb’s cock the first time he met him for the interview before he was hired.
But Boyd was his boss. And probably straight.
No way would he fuck up his job. He’d escaped his family’s reach—finally—and could build a life for himself without religious whackadoodles trying to fix him up with women he had absolutely zero interest in, or make him “repent” every time he turned around.
People who would hate him just because of who he loved.
People who supposedly “loved” him, but if they knew his secret, they were the people who would also in the same breath tell him how disgusting he was and that he was damned and going to hell.
No more.
He would be happy, find his happiness, make it.
Do it.
And with a job and friends, he’d figure it out somehow.
Even if it could never be with Boyd.
Chapter Ten
The weekend had been…amazing.
Except for the heaping order of guilt Boyd carried in his soul over it. He left on Sunday morning, using “work” as an excuse after blindfolding Caleb again and giving him one last, gentle, tender kiss good-bye.
The last kiss he’d ever be able to share with the man.
And the days following had been hell on Boyd. Every time he saw Caleb wince, he remembered the marks he’d put there. He knew what the curve of his ass looked like.
How he sounded when he came.
How he looked when he came.
How he tasted.
He’d filled Caleb’s ass with his cum several times, as well as his mouth.
Friday morning, Boyd called Kent before he left for work.
“Hey, man! Ready for tomorrow?”
Sick at heart, Boyd couldn’t lie to him. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to cancel tomorrow.”
“What? Why?”
“Because he fucking works for me, Kent. I know who he is. He’s Caleb Prevost, and Caleb works for me. He’s one of my goddamned planners—I’m his fucking boss. I just hired the guy a couple of months ago. I could lose my damn job over this.”
“Shit.” Not a trace of humor remained in Kent’s tone. “Wow. Man, I…wow.”
“Yeah, wow. Fuck me, I’ve been lusting over the guy ever since I hired him, and dammit, I didn’t realize it was him until I took his blindfold off.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to get out of there Sunday morning before he realized it was me.”
And he’d spent the week struggling with the decision to cancel. Part of him demanded that he had to, that this was the right thing.
It still broke his heart.
“But…you fucked him. Spent the whole night with him.”
“Yeah. Because I knew I’d already crossed a line, but it can never happen again.”
“He really doesn’t know it was you? Are you sure?”
“No, he doesn’t know it was me. And he can never know. I…” He wanted to cry. This, on top of Ella disappearing into the ether, and Larry, it was like the hat trick of heartache. “I appreciate you trying.”
“But…but I thought you liked him.”
“I was practically in love with him when I realized who he was. He’s…he’s perfect. You were absolutely right about that. He’s fucking perfect for me.”
“Except for the job thing.”
“I can’t lose my job, Kent. In a few more years, I can draw a pension. If he worked in a different department, sure. But he’s probably gonna hate me as it is if he ever finds out who I am and that I fucked him even after I realized it, which is why he cannot find out who I am. You can’t tell him.”
“But he’s damn sure in love with Sir. How the hell am I supposed to break this to him?”
“I don’t care. Tell him I had an emergency or something. I…I don’t know. I’m sorry, but he cannot know who I am. If you want to take me off the party list, I understand.”
“No…fuck. I’ll make sure you two aren’t at the same one. Goddammit. I thought this would be perfect for both of you.”
“It is…was. Listen, I need to get to work.”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
“Not nearly as sorry as I am.”
As Boyd drove to work, he struggled not to cry.
There can’t be a heaven or a god. If there was, they wouldn’t be so damned indifferent to the people getting fucked sideways.
* * * *
Friday morning, Caleb sat in his car in the parking lot at work and struggled not to cry as he talked to Kent.
“If the guy can’t meet with me tomorrow, what about Sir?”
“He…he’s busy, kid. Sorry.”
“I’m available Sunday.”
Kent sighed. “He can’t see you again, kid. I’m really sorry.”
“B
ut what did I do wrong?”
“Nothing, kid. You did nothing wrong. It’s him.”
Fuck.
Here he’d wanted a way to get over Boyd, and now he’d fallen for another guy, who he didn’t even know his name or what the hell he looked like except for his blue eyes, and his heart was breaking all over again.
I’m an idiot.
“You okay, kid?”
“What are you doing tomorrow?” Caleb quietly asked.
“What?”
“You. Do you have plans? Or is there a party?”
“Why?”
He took a deep breath. “I want to meet the monster.”
“Um…don’t make a rash—”
“I mean it, Kent. You said you wouldn’t mind fucking me. So…I want you to fuck me. I want to spend the whole night getting broke in. Ruin me.”
He harshly laughed. “You can’t take me, kid.”
“You said enough patience and lube and persistence, and anyone can take you.”
“Look—”
“Unless you don’t want me, either.”
Sure, it was a cheap shot, but he was done being slammed around by life’s storms.
Time for me to make my own goddamned waves.
“You’re serious?”
“I am.”
Kent went quiet for a moment. “Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll see you at four o’clock tomorrow at my place.” His tone changed, dropped, hardened.
Dom-ish. “Prepare to spend the night and most of Sunday. You’re gonna do what I say, and you’re gonna probably hate me by the end of the weekend. I’m gonna ruin that tight little boycunt, and you’re probably gonna wish you hadn’t asked for it when I’m finished with you.”
“The triplets didn’t seem to hate you. From what I heard, they were begging you for as much as they could take.”
He sighed. “Yeah, but they’re experienced sluts with loose asses, and they’re also not satisfied with anyone else now, either. And I ain’t available for you for anything other than the occasional fuck on my terms and times. That something you can live with?”
“Yeah,” Caleb said. “I can live with it.”
At least it’d feel like someone wanted him the way he was.
* * * *
Boyd was apparently a masochist, because he asked Caleb—who looked heartbroken, so he figured Kent must have told him the bad news—to have lunch with him.
Once they were seated and had their orders, Boyd asked, “What’s wrong? You look kind of down.”
“Nothing. Plans I had fell through. I made other plans, though, so it’ll work out.” Caleb looked…grimly determined.
Boyd bit back the urge to ask him what the hell plans he’d made, and who the fuck he’d made them with, but he stopped himself.
Barely. I gave up the right to know. “Sorry.”
Caleb shrugged, but didn’t look at Boyd. “How about you? Any kids to do stuff with?”
Boyd’s emotions shifted gears so fast it almost stripped his mental transmission. “Yeah, that’s…wow. That’s a heavy topic.”
Caleb looked up, those green eyes gutting Boyd. “What’s wrong?”
He sighed. “This is between us.” He told him about Ella, leaving out the parts about the kinky stuff and about him being gay, and truncating that part of the story to Ella found him on Facebook, befriended him in a group, and then dropped the whammy on him before disappearing.
It was actually an easier subject to talk about and a way to keep his mind off how morose Caleb looked.
And the fact that Boyd not only knew why he looked like that, but that he was the cause of it.
“I…I’m sorry.” Caleb’s gaze dropped to his food. “Guess we’ll both never get what we want,” he quietly said.
Boyd didn’t try to decipher that statement. The rest of his work day sucked balls, and it got worse when he arrived home and Kent called him shortly after.
“What, dude?”
“So, listen. I talked to Caleb today.”
“I figured, because at lunch he seemed miserable.”
Kent’s tone turned wary. “You had lunch with him?”
“Yeah. Apparently I’m a fucking emotional masochist. And no, before you go there, I didn’t talk to him about what happened last weekend. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know I’m gay. He still has no clue it was me.”
Kent sighed. “Here’s the deal—kid’s coming over tomorrow, four sharp. He asked me to fuck him. Demanded to meet the monster.”
Boyd’s heart painfully hammered in his chest. “What?”
“Yeah. So…you got a problem with that?”
Boyd didn’t know what to say. “I guess it’s not my call to make, is it,” he finally managed.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Kent didn’t speak for a long moment. “Hmph. Okay, then. So by five o’clock, I expect the monster to be meeting that sweet little ass. You sure you don’t have a problem with that?”
“I…I’m sure.” Boyd thought he was going to throw up.
“We’re friends. You tell me no, and I’ll call him back and cancel. No hard feelings on my end. I’d rather tell him no than lose you as a friend. But he sounded pretty damned heartbroken that not only was he not going to get to meet the great guy I’ve been talking up, but also that Sir was never going to play with him again. He seemed to think it was something wrong with him. When he asked me to fuck him, practically begged me, I felt so damned sorry for him, I said yes.”
More guilt.
“Sorry.” Boyd sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t have the right to tell you not to,” he softly said. “I can’t have him, no matter how badly I want him. I don’t want to stand in his way.”
“All right, then. You change your mind, you know the deadline to call and tell me to stop. And I will.”
“Yeah.” He forced himself to breathe. “Have fun. He’s a great guy.”
“He could be your guy.”
“No, he can’t.” He felt his throat trying to tighten up and prevent the words from being given voice.
No, Caleb could never be his, even if it broke Boyd’s heart to let him go.
“Suit yourself.”
Chapter Eleven
Kent’s words rang in Boyd’s ears. He didn’t sleep all night, lying there tossing and turning and thinking about his night with Caleb contrasted to how sad he’d seemed at lunch.
Saturday morning, he found himself starting to call Kent several times, just to end the call.
He can’t be mine.
As the afternoon ticked on and four o’clock came and went, Boyd found himself jumping into his car and racing toward east Venice, punching in his gate code to let himself into Kent’s.
It was five after five by the time he parked next to Caleb’s car and ran up the front walk.
Kent had left the front door unlocked.
Boyd threw it open. From the direction of the back bedroom, he heard loud music playing, the house-techno-to-fuck-to that Kent loved. Boyd slammed the front door shut behind him, running down the hall to the back bedroom, which stood open. Aiming for the doorway, he skidded as he raced through it, the soles of his loafers sliding on the tile.
Kent stood there, smirking at him, arms crossed over his chest.
Fully dressed.
Sonofabitch.
On the bed lay Caleb, naked, blindfolded and restrained faceup, spread-eagle.
Kent had laid out lube, gloves, various butt plugs and toys…
Including one dildo nearly the girth of his monster.
Except…Kent wasn’t naked.
If Kent was playing, he was always naked. He didn’t like to get spooge or lube or anything else on his clothes.
In fact, he was dressed nicely, all the way to his expensive loafers—impeccably pressed slacks, short-sleeved button-up dress shirt.
Fancy watch on one hand, and a ring and bracelet on the other.
Like he was heading out. Not like he was about to start fis
ting a guy to prepare him for the monster.
Most times he’d seen Kent wearing clothes at home—if he was even wearing clothes at home—it’d usually been just shorts, rarely even a shirt. Easily removable.
Boyd’s pulse pounded, trying to absorb what he was seeing, trying to process—
Trying not to hope this wasn’t what he thought it was.
Still smirking, Kent walked over to him and patted him on the shoulder. He leaned in close and whispered so low there was no way Caleb could hear him over the music.
“Took you fucking long enough. I could only stall for so long before I would have had to fake a goddamned headache and send him home disappointed, and that would have reeeally sucked for my goddamned image and his ego. I have dinner reservations at a restaurant over on the island at six, asshole, and you almost made me late for my date.”
Kent squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll lock you guys in, and we won’t interrupt you when we come home. You can spend the night in the guest room. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen—you know where everything is. There’s plenty of groceries in the fridge. Use the grill, whatever, just clean up after yourselves.”
He slapped Boyd on the back, hard. “Claim your boy for fuck’s sake, dumbass. He’s already in love with you. He’s in love with Boyd. Until he played with Sir last weekend and fell hard for him. I talked to him when he got here. You’re the guy he was trying to get over. You, Boyd. He’s had a hardon for you ever since he started working for you.
“He doesn’t want me, or anyone else. He wants to try to figure out how to stop being in love with you. Well, both of you, because now he thinks Sir doesn’t want him, and he thinks you, you stupid asshole, will never notice him at work, much less want him.”
Boyd stood there, speechless, unable to form a coherent thought as he processed Kent’s words.
“And no, I didn’t tell him who Sir really was, or that Sir was the guy I was going to introduce him to today before you canceled. That’s for you to do. The job shit will work if you make it work,” Kent continued. “Stop being a terrified pussy and Dom up, for fuck’s sake. Life is too fucking short, and you two are perfect for each other. You’re already in love with each other, and have been. Fucking do something about it already.”