For a man who seemed to have acquired all his knowledge about submission from internet porn and one night spent surrounded by dominants who couldn’t find their arses with both hands and a flashlight, it was a very nicely made offering. Smith stopped in front of him, making sure he was close enough for the other man to see where he was.
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He watched Nate take a deep breath. He swallowed several times but stayed silent, waiting for an order. Smith walked across to the chair in the corner of the room and sat down.
“Come here.”
Nate glanced in his direction. For a fraction of a second he hesitated. Then he slowly took his hands from behind his back and crawled across to Smith’s feet. Smith left him without an order for a few seconds, wondering if he already knew enough to present himself the same way as he had before.
One more hesitation and Nate leant forward as if to press a kiss to Smith’s shoe.
“No.”
Nate’s eyes flickered towards him, but he didn’t meet his gaze.
“This isn’t one of those internet porn flicks you’ve been studying. A real master doesn’t need a submissive to kiss his feet in order to feel dominant.”
Nate nodded his understanding. He sat back on his heels then rocked forward again.
He looked to the floor all around Smith’s chair. A few more seconds passed. Nate put his hands behind his back and presented himself in exactly the same way he had when Smith walked into the room.
Smith reached forward and stroked his hair. “That’s good.”
Nate’s gaze lifted to his shoulder, but it dropped away without ever making it quite as far as his eyes.
“This is your rest position,” Smith informed him. “Whenever you don’t know what you should be doing, you kneel in this position and wait for an order.”
Smith saw some of Nate’s tension drain away, as the security of knowing exactly what was expected of him, started to envelop him. His tongue flickered out and moistened his lips.
“Yes, sir,” he hazarded.
Smith stared down at him—so new, so eager, and with such a wonderful instinct for submission.
“You understand what I’m offering you,” he checked. “One night where you’ll belong to me.”
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One night, he reminded himself. Just long enough to show the guy what he should be looking for, just to make sure Nate didn’t end up thinking the men in that bar had been true dominants. One night where he could sleep easy in his bed knowing Nate was safe with him.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your safe word is Release. That’s what you need to say if you want to stop, understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Nate’s tongue moistened his lips again.
Such a waste, when there were so many other things that could be done with that tongue…
Smith put his hand in front of the younger man’s mouth and held it there. Nate stared at it for a moment. Lips brushed against his skin. When he didn’t correct him, Nate seemed to understand that was permission to keep going. He pressed another kiss to the back of his hand.
Taking his hand away for a moment, Smith tapped gently him under the chin with the back of his fingers. “Head back so I can see you properly.” He put his hand back to his lips.
Nate’s eyes flashed up to his, full of a dozen emotions Smith couldn’t put a name to.
Heat rushed to his cheeks, but as he studied him, Smith became sure that came from not knowing if he was doing the right thing rather than embarrassment over what he was actually doing.
Smith moved his hand a little until Nate’s lips and tongue trailed over the back of his fingers. A few seconds later he moved his hand again, until the tip of his finger rested against Nate’s full bottom lip.
The younger man’s tongue flickered out to taste. A few seconds later, he pressed a kiss against the digit. For the briefest moment, his lips encased the tip. He sucked a breath across Smith’s finger and leaned his head forward the merest fraction. The topmost joint of his finger slipped into a warm wet mouth. Pale pick lips wrapped neatly around it.
Any hint of lingering exhaustion evaporated from Smith’s mind as ninety-nine percent of his brain function was diverted to remembering every fantasy he’d ever had of Nate on his knees with his lips wrapped around his cock. Smith took a slow breath.
Novice submissive. He reminded himself. Guy-on-guy virgin. He had Nate safe and close. A blow job would be a nice addition to that, but the whole night couldn’t revolve GAY FOR PAY
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around the fact he wanted to come. The fact that he wanted to be the first man, the first master, Nate tasted wasn’t important right then. He wasn’t one of the men in that bar. A true master knew better than to think with his cock.
A glance down confirmed to Smith’s satisfaction that the younger man was starting to enjoy his first foray into submission. Despite his nerves, his cock was starting to swell and stiffen very nicely for his master. Smith smiled at that as he did his best to push his own frustration aside.
Nate began to suck gently around his finger. His tongue rubbed against his skin as he fought to work out what would please him. Then a frown gathered between Nate’s pale eyebrows. Smith saw the moment when he decided there was no way he could do anything this far out of his experience without making a fool of himself.
Smith rested the fingertips of his other hand against Nate’s cheek. “Stay.”
Nate met his eyes. His retreat stopped.
Taking his fingers away from Nate’s cheek, Smith held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your hand. Keep the other one behind your back.”
Nate offered him his right hand. His skin was cold. His fingers trembled slightly within Smith’s grasp. Smith held it a little tighter, letting the other man feel his strength and protection wrap around him a little more firmly.
“There’s no magic formula,” he explained. “Just keep your teeth covered and try to do whatever you’d want the guy to do if your positions were reversed.”
He took the tip of Nate’s finger between his lips. The younger man’s eyes opened very wide—impossibly sky blue, and oh so very shocked. Smith didn’t give him anything complicated to try and copy. A little bit of suction to create a nice snug vacuum. A few swirls of his tongue against the cold little fingertip.
Nate whimpered, seeming to forget he had something in his own mouth. As Smith flicked his tongue against the tip of his finger, Nate’s teeth scraped against his skin—not hard, but definitely more than was desirable.
Smith took Nate’s finger from his mouth. For a few messy moments, Nate’s freed hand fluttered around, not sure where it should be or what it should be doing. Eventually it found its way back behind Nate’s back. Not perfect, Smith decided, but certainly acceptable given his level of experience and training.
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But he hadn’t corrected his grip on Smith’s finger. He could still feel the teeth against his skin.
“Teeth covered,” he reminded him.
Nate pulled away, letting Smith’s finger slip from between his lips altogether. “I’m sorry, I—” he cut himself off.
“If you can’t take correction, you’re not going to enjoy submission for very long,”
Smith observed, not unkindly, but not about to hide the truth.
Nate didn’t turn back to him.
“Good dominants don’t act like toddlers, Nate.” He repeated the same thing in his head. Just because he wanted something, that didn’t mean he could demand it. “Cold things,” he told himself. Think of cold things and if nothing else works, just imagine how easily someone as fragile as Nate seemed to be could be broken by a bad dominant.
The younger man frowned.
“Do you really think I’m going to throw a temper tantrum the first time I have to repeat an instruction?”
Nate swallowed. “I…” He looked back to Smith’s finger. Very cautiously, he took it back into his mouth, carefully keeping his teeth covered.
“Better,” Smith said, and he stroked his cheek in quiet praise. Nate looked up at him, so eager for the snippet of reassurance. Smith stroked his cheek again before he forced himself to take both his hands away and lean back in his chair.
Nate hesitated. “I don’t know what I did wrong, sir.”
Smith smiled at the simple fact he felt safe enough to admit that. “It’s not a punishment,” he explained. “I want your lips free to answer some questions.”
Nate nodded.
Smith stared at him for a little while, wondering how much Nate really understood about the world he’d tried to sneak into that night. “How long have you thought about this for?”
“Ever since—” Nate swallowed rapidly as he closed his eyes.
“Nate?”
“I don’t want to lie to you, sir.”
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Smith raised an eyebrow at the idea he’d ever accept anything less than the complete truth from him.
“I promised, sir,” Nate reminded him.
Oh, yes. “You promised not to be gay,” Smith recalled, cursing Lockwood elder under his breath.
“I made promises about what I can
say
, sir.”
Smith studied him carefully, wondering just what Lockwood had been playing at, pulling that sort of promise from his son. Nate didn’t act the way Smith would expect him to if his father had turned out to be some homophobic bigot. There was something in him though, something that needed to be healed.
Taking a deep breath, Smith pushed aside the idea that he had more than one night to work with Nate. He had a few hours—a few hours in which he couldn’t expect Nate to tell the truth. A glance down the younger man’s body proved he was still enthusiastic about the scene.
Trial and error wasn’t ideal, but without the truth, there was no other option.
“Undo my belt. Keep your hands where they are.”
Nate glanced at the older man and then closed his eyes to savour the simple fact Smith seemed willing to keep him around in spite of his promise. The truth bubbled inside him, but he couldn’t let it out.
He couldn’t tell the older man how many times he’d imagined how it would feel to kneel before another man and take a hard shaft between his lips. He couldn’t admit how often he’d wished he’d have the chance to taste another man on his tongue. He couldn’t confess that over the months since he’d met Smith the man in those fantasies had never been anyone but him…
Nate opened his eyes. Smith’s belt stared back at him. He hesitated for a moment, trying to work out how he could do as Smith asked without moving his hands.
Leaning forward, he tried to catch the leather between his lips, but it was impossible to gain a purchase on it. His teeth bit into the sensitive lining of his mouth as he tried to force lips and leather to cooperate. The belt stayed firmly where it was. His breath caught as he realised he was completely incapable of doing the one simple thing Smith asked of him.
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“Use your teeth.”
Nate looked up.
Smith stroked his hair back from his face. “You’re good for remembering, but leather’s a lot tougher than skin. You can use your teeth for this.”
Nate nodded. Teeth made everything so much easier. He managed to slowly wrangle the belt out of the buckle. It was a stupid little thing, but he felt so much relief when he’d done it.
“Keep going,” Smith prompted. “Hands stay where they are.”
Nate cautiously mouthed the button at the top of his fly. Smith shifted in his chair, leaning back more comfortably against the soft cushions, stretching long legs out on either side of Nate.
Swallowing his nerves, Nate ran his lips and tongue over the material again, trying to work out how to unfasten it. Smith watched him without comment as he managed to catch the right piece of the material between his teeth and tug at it.
His forehead brushed back and forth over his shirt. His chin nudged at his crotch rubbing against the older man’s shaft through the fabric. Nate hesitated, not sure if he was supposed to apologise for that or not. A little bit of nuzzling let him find the tag attached to the zip. He caught it between his lips. Smith put his hand on the back of his head.
“Just your teeth, or you’ll catch your lips in the zip.”
“Sorry, sir.”
Smith tucked his knuckles under his chin and made him look up. “Apologies are for when you do something wrong. Needing instruction isn’t wrong.”
Nate hesitated, not sure if he was allowed to apologise for apologising. “I’ll remember, sir?” he offered.
Smith nodded his approval. Nate smiled at the sheer joy of knowing he’d guessed the right thing to do as he went back to his task, carefully pulling the zipper down, keeping his lips out of the way of the metal teeth.
When he got it all the way down, he took a deep breath, relishing his success before he leaned back in and nuzzled at the other man’s crotch, trying to work out how to free him from the material. Rubbing his face against the fabric allowed him to spread the trousers open as much as possible. The boxers were more stubborn.
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Burrowing with his face, he could worm his way through the gap at the front and brush his lips against the base of Smith’s cock, where the short dark curls grew around it, but that was all he could do. He whimpered his frustration as he tried to kiss the other man’s cock only to find the material had sprung back in front of his mouth.
Smith’s hand settled on the back of his head again. Nate looked up, but the older man’s expression was unreadable. His hand felt good there though, warm and strong, just resting against his hair for no apparent reason other than Smith wanted to touch him. Nate went back to his futile attempts to please him. His face brushed against Smith’s cock. It was almost completely hard now, tenting the material.
Nate rubbed his cheek against the shaft through the fabric. Wondering if it meant Smith was pleased with his efforts or if he would have reacted the same to anyone.
The older man let him kiss and nuzzle him through the fabric for a while. As much as the frustration built inside him at his inability to do as the other man said, Nate couldn’t push aside the sheer pleasure coursing through his veins at being where he was—pleasure at Smith wanting him where he was, just because he wanted him there, and not because he was looking for some sort of payment for services rendered.