Cock and Balls (Handcuffs and Lace) by Mia Watts (10 page)

Monty looked down at the younger man. His wide gray eyes looked up at him trustingly. His lips were parted, and the pulse point in the hollow of his neck raced steadily. His hair slipped off his forehead. Monty traced his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

“I want it to hurt,” Hank explained.

Monty narrowed his eyes, looking for whatever Hank wasn’t telling him. “Why?”

“I want you inside me,” Hank said, his voice gravelly.

Monty laced his fingers with Hank’s and pressed them to the mattress beside Hank’s head. He settled against the younger man, stretching their bodies together until there was no denying that Monty possessed every inch of Hank’s attention from head to toe.

“You want it to hurt so that you don’t connect sex with me as anything more than need,” Monty deduced.

Hank blushed. “My kinks are my own.”

“Not when they involve me. You want me to hurt you so that you remember pain instead of something more personal.”

Monty shifted, lining his cock alongside Hank’s. He tilted his hips to let them rub together. He smiled when Hank hissed.

“Hank,” he whispered. “I’m not going to give you the option. It’ll be raw, but you’re gonna feel good, baby. I’m not letting you throw your memory of this into the same dungeon as all the others.”

Fear flickered in Hank’s eyes, but he didn’t protest, and Monty had to believe that part of him wanted that kind of dominance. In that case, dominance was what he’d give him. He started with a slow kiss for the simple reason that Hank didn’t like them. Now that he knew why, Monty planned on pushing him to his limits, partly because Hank needed it, partly because Monty needed Hank to feel something for him beyond lust.

He released the other man’s hands and slipped his hands under Hank’s shoulders to cup the back of his gorgeous blond head. Monty covered Hank’s mouth with feathery kisses, flickering touches that moved over every soft millimeter. He learned the other man’s mouth, the way it moved, parted. He tested the fullness of the upper lip with a flick to the upper center. Hank moaned, but Monty didn’t relent when the younger man tried to increase the pressure. There was a sweetness at the corners of Hank’s lips, so he teased those too.

Hank reached around Monty, his hands dragging down his spine and stroking his ass. He squeezed. Monty thrust reflexively, and Hank gasped. Monty took advantage and deepened the kiss with exploratory tastes. He dragged his hands down and around to touch the pliant, smooth chest beneath him. Hank’s tight little nipples pushed up just as demanding as the man. When he passed over them, he discovered another little pleasure. Hank’s nipples were extremely sensitive.

He took his time thumbing over them, scraping his nails along the nubs until the younger man writhed and pleaded for him to fucking hurry up. Monty moved from Hank’s mouth to his jaw, following the line to his neck and enjoying every texture along the way. He suckled a spot to the side where the neck corded. Hank bucked up and dug his nails into Monty’s ass.

“Monty, if this is a challenge, you win. I call
Uncle
.”

Monty nearly lost himself when Hank parted his legs and wrapped them around Monty’s waist. The contact was so intimate, so hot with his body open and Monty’s balls falling against the other man’s parted ass and scrotum. He swore viciously.

He sucked hard on Hank’s shoulder. Hank turned his face into Monty’s neck, and that gorgeous mouth closed on a sweet spot that had Monty turning hot and cold. Pre-cum leaked into the condom.

“C’mon, show me what the full Monty is capable of,” he teased. “Pound my ass. Take it hard, and make me come all over you.”

It would have been a turn off if Monty didn’t have the image burned into his brain already. He wanted that. Most of all, he wanted Hank shouting as he came. At the moment, Monty was more worried about coming before his partner. All the squirming and harsh demands had his blood in a steady lusty simmer.

He’d wanted to take things slower, but he knew he’d blow his load if he didn’t get inside Hank fast. He reached between them and positioned himself at Hank’s opening. He leveled a look on the other man.

“Knock, knock,” he murmured.

Hank grinned smugly. “About damn time.”

If he’d had an ounce of control, he’d hold off and make the kid wait a little longer. Unfortunately, the sexy little shit had him by the balls. He nipped Hank’s collarbone as he pushed in. Hank groaned and panted. Monty thought he might explode as heat gloved his cock in a perfect embrace. Goosebumps raced up his spine to nest around his shoulders as he moved in and out of Hank’s tight body.

“Oh, God. Faster.”

“No,” Monty countered roughly.

Hank blinked and stared up at him. Monty never missed his stride as he hooked one of Hank’s legs over his arm and tilted his hips to rub across Hank’s prostate. Hank made choking sounds, trying to squirm away from the concentrated onslaught of Monty’s seduction. Monty could see Hank trying to shut him out, trying to resist the pleasure Monty relentlessly sought as he looked for the pain Monty could only presume he wanted instead.

Well, Monty wasn’t going to let that happen. With a sharp thrust, he pinned the man’s hips to the mattress, grabbed Hank’s hands and pushed them over his head. He directed them to take hold of the wooden rim at the top of the mattress.

Monty climbed to his knees, spreading his legs wide to push the other man open, Monty then lifted Hank’s hips to rest higher as though Monty were serving his cock into the platter of Hank’s pelvis. He wrapped his hand around Hank’s cock.

“Fucking gorgeous sight,” Monty murmured. “I can see all of you. Every last inch of your body taking my cock.”

He flattened his hand on Hank’s abdomen and rubbed gently. “Your muscles tighten every time I sink into you.” He stroked his fingers against the sweet dusky hairless sack that trembled too.

Hank started to reach for him.

“Hold the head rail.” He waited until Hank complied before he started moving again.

Hank’s back arched. His thighs quivered. “Oh, God. I’m gonna come.”

“Watch it happen, Hank. Watch it hit me.”

He kept the pace slow and steady even though he knew the other man wanted him to quicken. He wouldn’t let Hank hide from what was happening here. He wouldn’t let this be brushed aside when Hank had finished with him.

Monty swept his thumb over and around Hank’s cockhead. He dipped into the slit at the top and nudged the nerves just under the crown.

Hank watched his weeping cock and the darker, roughened hand that wrapped around it. His hips lifted up at an angle. His legs parted around the muscled, sleek torso of a sex god. Monty’s broad shoulders were all for him. His flexing belly and compacted moves were for the sole benefit of fucking his ass and making him come.

It was heady, drugging, toxic. Crystal blue eyes under black brows stared him down. Perfect, chiseled lips parted on silken demands he automatically obeyed.

“So sexy,” Monty murmured with praise that heated Hank’s blood. “Can’t wait to get those balls on my tongue.”

“Fuck!” The mental image is all it took. Hank shot, spilling jets of cum on Monty’s upper chest. Monty continued to stroke him down. Then, grabbing Hank’s hips, he pounded into him. Hank watched in fascination at the fluidity of Monty’s body taking him. Pain had become pleasure long since, but his ass stung with the renewed vigor of Monty’s thrusts.

Hank’s gaze locked on his, watched as it intensified and his pupils dilated. Monty’s lips parted on a groan.

“Fuck me, Monty,” he whispered. Hank locked his elbows and pushed his ass into him, enjoying the sensation of being stretched, owned, possessed until a fine thrill raced through him at the constant abuse his prostate took.

Monty shouted, pulsed inside him as his fingers bit into Hank’s flesh. God, the man was magnificent when he came. All tight and glistening muscles in the Alabama heat. His face had been total concentration directed at Hank. He’d never experienced anything like it. Had never had anyone fuck him so perfectly.

Words filtered back to him now that the haze of orgasm began to clear. The praise, the touches that he hadn’t been able to ignore, the way his body had laid open for taking—both erotic and terrifying. Hank felt sick.

Monty slid from Hank’s body. He got up to discard the condom. Hank raced to pull on his clothes, his hands shaking.

Monty came back with a severe frown. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re done. I’m getting dressed. Actually, I think I’ll go for a swim.”

“I thought you were worried about gators.”

Hank thought gators would be preferable to what he was feeling right now. He could handle that kind of tangible pain. He could handle the loss of a limb. He might not recover from this thing that Monty was doing to him. Whatever it was—because he wouldn’t look at it too closely, he decided.

“We aren’t done,” Monty countered.

“Yeah, we are,” Hank argued tossing his clothes aside again. “We fucked. It was good. Don’t get all hung up on me, okay? You just aren’t my type.”

Monty glowered. Hank could practically see the steam building.

“Hey,” Hank offered. “Maybe we can do it again while we’re here. You never know.”

He left the cabin before Monty said anything. Eyes bored into his back, and Hank barely resisted the urge to run. He had to get away. Monty scared the shit out of him. Fucking him wasn’t just an exercise in extreme pleasure. It demanded that Hank think, see and feel way the hell too much, and that shit wasn’t going to happen. No, sir.

* * * *

Monty gave himself five minutes to calm down, during which time he watched his charge from the front porch. Hank picked his way over the shoreline boulders, teetering nakedly one to the next as he hopped toward the water line. Monty ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Getting through to Hank was harder than he’d anticipated. Once he’d set his mind to accepting the advances of the president’s son, he’d hoped to crack the polished veneer. That hadn’t happened. Instead, Hank seemed even harder to reach on a personal level.

The message he’d picked up that afternoon from the Secret Service contact had been vague. Just an overnight envelope carrying a phone number and a single sentence:
Call at 3 p.m. in two days
.

The way Monty figured it, he had two days to break the Hank-code because they’d either get word to continue on at the cabin, or come home. Either way, Monty wanted to make the most of their time alone. He could pretend that it was all about uncovering Hank’s demons so he could return to Washington with a less destructive attitude, but he’d be lying. It might have started off like that, with an eye toward fun, but the more time he spent with the man, the more complex he seemed, the more wounded.

Deciding he’d waited long enough, Monty shucked the boxers he’d temporarily donned and picked up a condom. If sex was the only language Hank would listen to, then he’d make sure they were speaking the same language.

His cock stirred, and Monty reached down to touch himself—a cock-check of sorts to acknowledge that all his parts were in full working order. He set his sights on the wet, naked man just yards from him and headed toward him. As he drew nearer, he admired the play of light and water on Hank’s pampered body, appreciated the pale glow of his ass cheeks as he stood.

Monty reached him easily, slipped an arm around Hank’s waist and turned the younger man into his arms.

“I told you we weren’t finished,” Monty murmured as he stole a long, deep kiss.

At first Hank didn’t react, yet the longer they kissed the more receptive Hank became until his arms circled Monty’s shoulders. Hank moaned, rubbing his hips against Monty’s raging cock.

When Hank pulled back, he was breathless. “Patriotic duty to keep the president’s son satisfied?”

“Fucking you wasn’t in my contract,” Monty informed him.

“I’ll be sure you get a medal for this, then. Something with the Obelisk on it, I’m thinking. Long, hard and straight just like the dick that pierced my ass. Looks like you’re up for round two.”

Monty held up the condom he’d brought with him.

“I’m flattered, but I believe I told you we were done.”

“And I disagreed.”

Hank laughed. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Get over yourself.”

“It would be so much easier to get over myself, if you weren’t always trying to pin me down with your penis,” Hank countered.

Monty growled and took Hank’s mouth in another searing kiss. Hank’s tongue swept past Monty’s lips, taking control, stealing Monty’s will to slow down. Monty’s stomach plummeted, and he couldn’t resist the urge to grind on the other man. He lost his mind as Hank’s tongue worked the same magic he’d used on Monty’s cock. When Hank finished, he sucked Monty’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“I think I have a say in this.” Hank’s voice sounded as unsteady as Monty felt.

Monty was beginning to wonder if either of them had a say anymore. He tried to shake some of the brain-fog. “You’re all about control aren’t you?”

“Look who’s talking,” Hank scoffed.

Monty smiled. “Touché.”

“And he speaks French too, ladies and gentlemen. Did you pick that up in Paris with my dad?” Hank started to pull away.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Monty dragged him back. “You don’t get to throw a bunch of misguided hate at me when I get a little too close.”

“You seem to think very highly of your bedroom talents if you think fucking makes us close.”

“I don’t have to think fucking makes us close. I know it does because you use sex to either pull away or shut me up when the topic of conversation get uncomfortable,” Monty noted.

“
You
use sex to psycho-babble about my motives,” Hank countered.

“Maybe I want to know the man I’m screwing.”

“Maybe I have no interest in letting you know me.” Hank forced a bright smile. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re a sexy secret agent whose dick I intend to make good use of while I’m in exile. Once we’re back to D.C., we go our separate ways and every time I see you at my dad’s side, I’ll think of exactly how good a lay you are. The end.”