Chapter 13
Clay
“Clay,” Beck says my name with frustration and snaps his fingers in my face.
“Sorry, what?” I blink away my muddled thoughts and try to focus on whatever Beck is trying to talk to me about.
I still can’t believe last night happened. I’ve imagined Max’s lips and body a thousand times, but god that was so much better than I ever thought it could be. I fully expected a total straight guy freak out afterward or this morning at the least. Somehow, he seems okay with everything. More than okay. He seems eager to go another round tonight.
My body flares to life remembering his words this morning. I’ve been watching some videos—bondage videos—and I’d like to try. I shift, hoping my growing erection isn’t too noticeable in my yoga pants. There’s a pipedream if I’ve ever heard one.
“Clay, what the hell is up with you this morning?” Beck asks, putting his hands on his hips and squinting at me.
Shit, I wasn’t listening again.
I bite down on my bottom lip as I try to decide if Max would be okay with me telling Beck what happened. Then again, Beck is my best friend, so Max should expect that I’d tell him.
“Something happened last night with Max.”
“What?” Beck gasps, a look of delight creeping over his face. “Oh my god, tell me everything right this second.”
“Dude, I’m not telling you everything,” I laugh as a giddy lightness fills me.
“Holy shit, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“I’ll tell you this much; the man knows how to kiss. And, this morning he made a point of saying he wants to spend time together tonight.”
“Oh. My. God!” Beck squeals and starts to jump up and down. I laugh at my best friend’s enthusiasm until he forces me to jump up and down with him and then do a little dance.
When we finally calm down, I force myself to voice what’s nagging at the back of my mind. “I’m sure this is a phase or an experiment, though. I don’t want to get overly excited when it won’t last. I’m going to enjoy it while I can and then move on with dignity when Max remembers he’s not gay.”
Beck rolls his eyes at me.
“That boy has been in love with you for years.”
“No, he’s not,” I argue, shielding my heart from the hope Beck’s words threaten to instill there.
◆◆◆
When I get home from work, I half expect Max to have finally realized what happened last night and have a delayed freak out. I wouldn’t blame him. If I woke up one day and realized I fooled around with a woman, I’d be a little weirded out. Not that there’s anything wrong with women, it’s just not within the framework of how I see myself. Even if Max is just now discovering he’s bi, it can take a lot of adjusting to realize you aren’t the same person you always saw yourself as.
I step through the door and find Max waiting for me on the couch with a smile.
“Hey, how was your day?” he asks.
“Kind of stressful,” I admit. “I’m trying to figure out what classes to offer for the spring, and it takes a lot of guesswork and projections to figure out what will likely bring in the most students.”
“I guess I’ll have to help you relax,” Max suggests with heat in his voice that gets my dick instantly hard.
Okay, so not freaking out apparently.
“Where are your manners?” I tease. “At least buy me dinner first.”
“That’s fair,” Max agrees. “Where do you want to go?”
I shrug. “I’m not picky, you can decide.”
“I know seafood is out,” Max notes my distaste of fish, and I smile.
I’ve had men think they’re going to get in my pants showing their Dom side, starting with telling me what I’m going to order at a restaurant. That’s a quick deal breaker. But, Max knows me well enough that I’d let him order for me. In fact, it might be a little hot coming from Max.
“I’ll go get changed real quick and then we can go out.”
Max nods, and I pause for a second wondering if I should clarify whether this is a date or not. He didn’t say it was a date. But it is a meal prior to sex, which in my book is a date. I decide to keep it casual since Max is wearing jeans and a t-shirt.
After I pull on some clothes and make sure my hair looks okay, I head back out to find Max waiting for me with one of his spare motorcycle jackets and helmet.
“What’s that for?” I eye the accoutrements with suspicion.
“No arguing; I’m taking you on my bike.” His tone is firm and sexy as hell, but I’m still unsure about the idea of riding on a motorcycle. “You trust me?”
That question breaks down my defenses, and my shoulders sag in defeat. “Of course, I do, you big dope.”
Max smiles like a little kid, and I laugh and shake my head at him.
He offers me the jacket and helmet and then leads me outside.
Max swings his leg over his beast of a bike and then crooks his finger at me.
“Get on, petal.”
I take a deep breath and then square my shoulders before clumsily clamoring onto the back of the bike. I press my body flush against Max’s back and wrap my arms tightly around his midsection. Okay, maybe I can see some of the appeal here.
The bike roars to life beneath us, and the vibrations between my thighs make me gasp. Yeah, I’m totally getting this now.
We jolt forward, and I squeeze Max harder, closing my eyes and praying he doesn’t get us killed.
Max
I chuckle to myself as I bring the bike to a stop at the bar and grill I decided to take Clay to, and his grip around my waist doesn’t ease immediately. There’s no better first date move than a motorcycle ride. Not that Clay and I are on a date. Or maybe we are. I’m not entirely sure, and I don’t think I’m ready to think all that hard about it.
For now, all I want is to take my best friend out to dinner and then go home and see about exploring whatever this unexpected spark is between us.
“We’re here,” I inform Clay with amusement.
He peeks an eye open and loosens his grip a fraction. “We didn’t die?”
I scoff and pull my helmet off. “That would be a pretty dumb move on my part to get us killed before I’ve had my way with you.”
“Good point,” Clay agrees before removing his own helmet and stumbling off the bike. I catch him before he can faceplant.
Once he’s steady on his feet again, I’m reluctant to let him go. But one glance around tells me it’s a busy Thursday night downtown, and I’m not ready to be seen in public feeling up my very male roommate.
Clay seems to understand, taking one step back and giving me a reassuring smile.
We head into the restaurant with my heart thundering in my ears. I’m not sure why I’m nervous. It’s not like Clay and I haven’t hung out like this thousands of times. This is different though. This time, I know what his lips taste like and what he sounds like when he comes apart. This time, there’s a possibility of taking him home to strip him naked and lick all his soft skin. This time, he’s so much more than my bro.
Once we’re seated, we manage to fall into normal conversation about work and Gigi. It’s nothing more than a night out with my best friend—the person who knows me better than anyone in the world. Except with every shy glance and bump of our knees under the table, I know it’s so much more than that. I need it to be so much more than that.
After dinner, I take the long way home, enjoying the feel of Clay clinging to me far too much to give it up quickly.
As we ride through the city, I wonder what it would be like to date a man. What would my brothers and my dad think? What would Gigi think? She loves Clay; I’m sure it wouldn’t faze her. Hell, as far as I know she already assumes that Clay and I are together. It’s not like a kid can tell the difference anyway.
By the time we pull into our driveway, Clay is finally relaxing a bit on the back of the bike. I bet I’ll be able to lure him out again, now that he’s seen that it’s not as scary as he imagined. There are hundreds of places I could drive us just to feel the wind on our skin and his arms around my middle.
Once we’re inside, I follow Clay to the kitchen where he pulls out a couple of drinks, and we sit down at the table.
“Thanks for dinner,” he says as he taps his fingers along the neck of the beer bottle.
“My pleasure,” I assure him. “You know I like spending time with you.”
Clay nods and fidgets and shifts in his seat before standing up and grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter.
He’s wound so tight he looks like he’s about to snap. Something surges inside me, demanding that I take care of him. I can calm all the anxiety inside of him, at least for as long as I can keep him bound and focusing only on pleasure.
I swallow around the lump in my throat. This is a step up from some kissing and grinding. Am I ready?
Clay turns and faces me. When our eyes meet, a spike of longing jolts me, and it’s all I can do not to take him here on the kitchen floor.
I stand and close the distance between us in two long strides.
Clay’s breath catches as I place my hand under his chin and tilt his face upward. I run my thumb along the rough stubble on his jaw, and we both shudder.
Clay’s lips part, and his body sways toward me. A surge of lust hits me in the pit of my stomach and steals my breath.
“I want you so badly,” I whisper almost in wonder.
I’ve never felt this way toward anyone before.
“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Clay suggests breathlessly.
I nod and then bend forward to brush my lips against his. Clay clutches the front of my shirt and melts against me. I take the opportunity to stoop down and grasp the back of his thighs, hoisting him up against me with ease.
Clay laughs and tightens his grip around my neck.
“I’m not going to drop you, petal,” I assure him.
“Why are you calling me that?”
“Petal? Like flower petal,” I explain with a pointed glance at his wildflower tattoos covering his arms.
A mixture of confusion and soft hope pass through his eyes before he kisses me again.
I manage to make it to his bedroom without breaking the kiss or bumping into any walls along the way. I lower Clay to his bed, reluctant to let him out of my arms.
I gaze down at Clay, trembling and panting already before I’ve even touched him.
“Is this what you want?” I check, running the back of my hand along his cheek.
“Yes,” Clay answers instantly. “I want it so much I’m not sure I even have enough words to tell you.”
I chuckle. “That’s okay, just relax and let me take care of you.”
Clay whimpers and nods.
My own hands are unsteady as I strip Clay’s shirt over his head and then work on his pants.
I know Clay said he doesn’t like to be submissive, but he seems more than content to lay panting as I strip him bare before me.
“Can you put your arms above your head for me?” I ask gently, conscious of the fact that Clay told me the other men he tried to play with were too dominating. I don’t need to dominate him; I just need to bring him pleasure.
Clay shivers a little and slowly lifts his arms over his head.
I take a deep breath and hope I’m able to bind him the way he likes. My eyes roam over his body, spread out and trembling for me. There’s no denying all his hard lines and dark body hair are in sharp contrast to what I’ve always considered arousing. But my cock is hard, pulsing in the confines of my jeans. All I want to do is lick and touch every inch of him. I want him gasping and writhing under my caress. I want to see what his face looks like when he comes again.
“Don’t move,” I request before turning and heading to Clay’s closet to grab the ropes I discovered there the other day.
I revel again at the soft bindings against my calloused hands.
“I read online that I should have safety scissors, just in case. Do you have any?”
“Top drawer of my nightstand.” Clay points and I open the drawer to find a pair of sturdy scissors beside condoms and lube. I set the scissors on top of the stand so they’ll be easily accessible if needed.
I return to where Clay is splayed out on the bed and tease the rope against his skin. He shudders as goosebumps erupt all over his skin, and he arches toward me.
Clay lets out a quiet whimper as I start to twine the soft rope around his biceps, trying to gauge the right amount of slack to leave to ensure he’s comfortable but properly restrained. I want to do this right for him. I don’t know why it’s so important to me, but I don’t want him left feeling disappointed.
I force my fingers to stay steady as I work the rope up his arms, nimbly weaving it around each arm in a simple design.
I saw so many pictures of mind blowing artwork created in the binding, but I’ll have to work up to that level. This is just a crisscross to lock his arms together, and then I loop the rope through the slats on the headboard and secure them.
Once he’s in place, I glance at his face, to make sure he’s not showing pain from being bound too tightly. On the contrary, his expression is somewhere between bliss and utter relaxation. The usual furrow in his brow is smooth, and his jaw is slack.
Pride rushes through me. I’m already giving Clay what he needs, and it’s only going to get better.
Once I’m satisfied that his hands are secure, I go back for two of the remaining lengths of rope and then bind each of his legs to the baseboard, spread wide so I’ll be able to kneel between his legs.
Clay’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his eyes closed, and his cheeks are beautifully flushed. I’ve never seen anything sexier in my life, and I haven’t even touched him yet. If there was any doubt that Clay gets off on the binding itself, that’s gone now. I’ll have to remember next time to spend more time on the binding process to build his pleasure higher. And there’s no question, there will be a next time.
I climb onto the bed and kneel between his spread legs. I place one of my rough hands on his throat, not applying pressure, simply feeling his pulse against my palm.
My other hand roams over Clay’s chest. I pinch one of his peaked nipples between my thumb and forefinger, and he gasps, writhing under my touch, and his pulse jackhammers. I give the same treatment to the other and watch as his hard cock flexes, and a drop of pre-cum drips onto his abs.
My own cock throbs at the sight.
I drag my hand off his throat, slowly down his body, and then wrap it around his cock. I’ve never touched a dick that wasn’t my own, and it feels the same yet oddly different. It’s scorching hot in my fist, and the skin is as smooth as the silky ropes around Clay’s arms and legs. I can feel his blood pulsing in the thick veins that wrap around his length, and I can imagine the aching pleasure of each pulse.
I give a slow, experimental tug from base to tip, and Clay’s head falls back with a deep moan. His hips twitch, but thanks to the bindings, he can’t move much more than that. He squirms against the ropes and then moans again.
My own underwear is growing sticky with pre-cum as I stroke Clay and continue to play with and pinch his nipples one and then the other in equal measure.
I pull my hand off his chest long enough to unzip my pants and shove them—along with my underwear—down my thighs.
I cover Clay’s body with mine and line my cock up against his. I let out a gasping moan at the sensation. I wrap my hand around both our cocks and thrust against his.
“Oh Jesus,” I groan.
I cover his mouth with mine and hump into my tight fist, against Clay’s cock.
“Max, oh fuck, oh god.”
Clay’s cries spur me on, jerking us faster and kissing him deeper until I feel him grow even stiffer against me. Then he lets out a strangled moan, and his cock pulses in my fist. I keep stroking him through his orgasm, his cum coating my fist and my own cock.
My balls draw up, and I bite down on Clay’s bottom lip as my own pleasure thunders through me.
My cum spurts all over Clay’s stomach and chest as he twitches with aftershocks. I pump myself until my balls are empty and I have thoroughly marked Clay.
When I’m spent, I collapse beside him.
It takes a few minutes for my breathing to return to normal, and when it does, I notice Clay squirming a bit, still bound to the frame.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” I hurry to untie him.
Once he’s released, he rolls onto his side, facing me with the most content expression I’ve ever seen him wear.
“You look so beautiful like this. You’re practically glowing.”
“Mm,” Clay hums and smiles. “My ex, Jake, he always said I was like Christmas lights; I get so tied up in knots, I need to be unraveled so I can shine.”
“That’s cheesy but kind of beautiful,” I chuckle, laying down beside Clay and pulling him into my arms.
He tenses for a second before relaxing into my arms.
“Did I do everything right?” I ask, feeling suddenly insecure.
“It was perfect,” Clay sighs and nuzzles closer, pressing his nose and then his lips to the base of my throat.
Maybe it should feel strange holding a man in my arms, but it certainly doesn’t feel any stranger than kissing and jerking him off.
“Are you okay with everything?” Clay checks.
“Yeah,” I assure him. “Better than I ever would’ve expected, actually. This feels...right.”
Clay is quiet for much longer than I expect, and I start to wonder if he’s fallen asleep, when he finally speaks again.
“This is what you need right now, and it’s what I need, too. Let’s leave it at that.”
I open my mouth to protest, but when I look down, there’s a pleading in his eyes that stops me in my tracks.
“You are not a phase, or an experiment, or whatever else you’re thinking right now.” Clay gives me a sad smile and then tucks his face back against my chest. “By the way, I’m going to borrow one of your ropes to practice with, so I can learn to do it right for you.”
“You’re already doing it right, love.”
“I can do it better. I want to practice some knots and get used to the feel, so I can learn more complicated patterns.”
“You’re perfect,” Clay sighs, and I kiss the top of his head.
I’m not perfect, but I want to be for Clay.