Tag Team (26 page)

Rig lowered himself, kissing his way down Mason’s flat belly, swiping his tongue around his navel, the head of Mason’s cock pressing against Rig’s chin, before he sat back on the bench. He shifted, spreading his legs to allow more room for his straining erection.

Mason whimpered when he lost all contact with Rig’s body and hands, but he didn’t complain, his hands sliding behind his back, falling back on his training and standing in the display position, waiting for instructions.

“What’s your safeword?” Bobby asked as he came up behind Mason and ran a hand down the sinew of his back.

The muscles in Mason’s jaw twitched as he continued to stare at Rig, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “No or stop works for me.”

Rig chuckled and shook his head. “You might not want to poke at the bear who is about to spank your ass.”

“Sorry,” Mason said and bit his lip, but the amusement didn’t fade from his eyes. Rig wondered how long he’d be able to hold that naughty glint. Knowing Bobby as well as he did, he’d bet it wouldn’t be long.

“Head on my lap, ass up,” Rig said, patting his thigh.

Mason closed his eyes, took a deep breath through his nose, let it out slowly, and then did it again, no doubt looking for the right headspace, before he opened his eyes and did as Rig instructed.

Rig ran his fingers through Mason’s hair, soothingly. “Hold on to my thigh,” he encouraged gently as his other hand settled on Mason’s back.

“Ready?” Bobby asked him.

“Yes,” Mason murmured.

Bobby ran his hand over Mason’s ass, the only warning he gave before pulling his arm back and landing the first blow. The slap was loud in the room. Mason grunted but didn’t move from position. Rig nodded at Bobby, letting him know silently that Mason had reacted appropriately, his muscles tensing with the blow but relaxing as he processed the sting.

The slap of skin against skin filled the air, along with the sounds of Mason’s grunts, moans, and whimpers. As Bobby’s blows continued and he found a quick rhythm, Mason clutched Rig’s thigh tight, his body swaying erotically as he moved with each contact of Bobby’s hand on his ass. Bobby wasn’t putting any real strength behind his arm; it was a slow build, the sheer repetition that would push Mason’s pleasure to run along the edge of pain.

“Ah God,” Mason cried out, lifting his head and panting as Bobby began to work his way down Mason’s thighs.

Rig’s cock throbbed as he took in the blissed-out look on the man’s face, red, swollen lips parted, long, dark lashes curling against his cheek. He’d always thought Mason was a beautiful man, but seeing him like this, the sounds pouring from him as his other lover heated his ass, was the most stunning thing Rig had ever witnessed.

The urge to bury himself deep in Mason’s red ass gripped Rig, and he forced himself to breathe steadily and pushed down his own desires. Mason’s need was something he could no longer ignore. He encouraged Mason’s head back down by pressing his palm against the back of his head. With his free hand he reached under Mason’s body and wrapped his fist around the slender prick.

“Yes!” Mason moaned and thrust into Rig’s hand.

“Bobby has a strong hand, doesn’t he?” Rig asked as he began to stroke Mason, finding his own rhythm.

“Ye… very… strong…,” Mason stammered between slaps. “Good.”

“Bobby’s so hard for you. He’s watching your ass turn from a pretty shade of pink to a deep red, and do you know what he’s thinking, Mason?”

“He… oh… I….” Mason tried to speak, but the words were indistinguishable, jumbling together as Rig sped his hand to the same fast pace as Bobby.

“He’s wishing he was buried deep in your ass, feeling the heat of your skin against his.”

“Yes!” Mason cried out, back arching. “Please.”

“Do you know why he knows what I’m thinking, boy?” Bobby asked him, never slowing his hand.

“Please,” Mason mewled, and Rig wasn’t sure if Mason was even hearing the question.

“Because you’re so fucking beautiful like this, he’s thinking the same thing,” Bobby told him without waiting for him to answer. “So fucking stunning when you submit. Jesus, Mason.” Bobby’s rhythm stuttered, and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “You drive me insane with how much I want you,” Bobby moaned. “How much,
we
want you,” he amended breathlessly.

“S… Rig,” Mason cried out. “I can’t…. I’m… I need to come.” Mason begged, the sound sending a jolt of heat straight to Rig’s cock, causing it to throb painfully.

The cock in his hand pulsed, precum oozing from the small slit, slicking the way for Rig’s hand. It wouldn’t matter if they gave him permission or not, Mason was going to come; he was beyond the point of turning back. Rig lifted his eyes, and as soon as his gaze met his partner’s, Bobby’s movement’s stopped, his hand resting against Mason’s abused flesh, fingers digging in, “Come for us, boy.”

Rig pulled one last time on Mason’s cock, and Mason exploded, heat fountaining over Rig’s fist. Rig had to grit his teeth to fight to keep his own release at bay as Mason cried out disjointed words and Bobby and Rig’s names as he jerked and twitched until the last drop of seed spilled from his body and he collapsed against Rig. Bobby grabbed Mason’s hip at the last second, easing him down as his legs gave out. On his knees, head buried in Rig’s lap, Mason struggled to catch his breath. Rig threaded his fingers in Mason’s hair, making soothing sounds as Bobby went to his knees behind Mason and pressed his lips to Mason’s lower back, kissing and murmuring his own gentle words against Mason’s flesh as Mason basked in his release.

After a few moments, Mason’s breath began to return to normal, and Rig leaned over, still petting Mason’s silky strands, and pressed a kiss to the top of Bobby’s head. They’d taken out another obstacle, and a few more dark clouds that had been surrounding them since they’d met Mason cleared. Rig stared lovingly down at Mason, his slack features a testament to his sedation as he soared with his rediscovery of the joy in submission. The expression on Bobby’s face was nearly as peaceful as he rested his cheek against Mason’s back. Maybe they would all find exactly what they needed.

Chapter 24

A
BSENTLY
rubbing at his red and stinging backside, Mason stared at the pot of water on the stove, waiting for it to start to boil so he could add the oats. It felt good to start each day with Bobby’s or Rig’s—sometimes both—hands on his ass. Long after they left their shared bed, Mason could feel the warmth of them as he started his morning routine as if they were still touching him. The constant reminder went a long way in calming Mason’s soul. Imagining the Doms near him couldn’t do what their hands could; with each movement, he could feel the heat of their hands, their power, their care.

He’d never had such a strong reaction to a spanking as he had the first time Bobby had delivered the blows, Mason’s head in Rig’s lap, his strong fingers carding through Mason’s hair, his other hand pressed against his back. A shiver ripped through Mason as he remembered it. It was as if this uneasy feeling inside him just burst out of him, the apprehension, nervousness, fear, all of it draining from him with each pulse of his release.

In the last couple of weeks, each morning began the same. He woke wrapped in a jumble of strong arms and legs, soft sleepy kisses, and murmured good mornings. Sometimes there was sex, sometimes just rubbing off on each other or blow jobs or simple touches and hugs, but the spankings were the one constant Mason craved most. He could feel them, even when he was standing alone in a kitchen, stomach growling, waiting for water to boil.

Mason glared at the pot and tapped his foot impatiently.

“You do know a watched pot never boils?”

“Oh crap!” Mason jumped and turned to find Rig leaning against the wall, smiling. Mason returned the smile and put a hand over his speeding heart. “You startled me.”

“Sorry. How’s your bum?” he asked knowingly.

“Warm.”

Rig pushed off the wall, looking Mason up and down as he stalked toward him. “Want me to rub it for you?” he asked as he stepped up and wrapped an arm around Mason’s waist and pulled him close.

“Yes, s….” The word stuck in Mason’s throat. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get it out.

Three little letters and he simply couldn’t push them past his fucking lips. He’d come to terms with how he felt about Bobby and Rig and easily gave them control over his body, but something was holding him back from truly letting go. Fear? Guilt? Doubt? He wasn’t sure. Whatever the reason, it was right fucking there, like this fluttering light zipping across the sky. It could be tracked, but it moved too quickly to focus on it long enough to see what the source of the light was. Frustration ate at him, and he huffed. “Yes please,” he finally murmured, and pressed his face to Rig’s chest.

Mason moaned wantonly as Rig’s large hand cupped his ass and squeezed gently. There hadn’t been any hot and steamy action or even a warm, wet mouth to get him off this morning, and Mason’s body responded immediately to Rig’s nearness. He pressed his face farther into Rig’s chest, taking in his scent, his heat. Why could he give the man, both men, his body so easily, yet one small word be so difficult?

Rig tipped Mason’s head back and kissed him until he was breathless and his brain short-circuited. Distracted by the burn in his ass and the even more intense fire lapping at his groin, he’d worry about the why of it later.

“Mason,” Rig murmured against his lips.

“Hmm?”

“Your water is boiling,” Rig said as he pushed Mason away.

Mason stared up at him for a moment, laughter gleaming in Rig’s eyes. “You’re mean,” he finally said with a pout and stomped back over to the stove.

“Aww, don’t be mad,” Rig cooed. “I was just trying to distract you from watching the pot.”

“Thank you,” Mason grumbled and poured oats into the pot. “Why don’t you go see if Bobby needs any of your
help
?”

“No can do,” Rig said easily and took a seat at the bar. “Bobby’s already riled up, and while I may be mean, I’m not
that
mean.”

“Why is he riled?” Mason asked, concerned.

“He hates going to the doctor.”

“Oh, shit! That’s right.” Mason started to snigger.

Rig nodded. “His yearly alien abduction fun begins.”

Mason burst out laughing just as Bobby sauntered into the room. The slight scowl on his face only heightened Mason’s amusement, and he grabbed his belly and laughed harder.

“Yuck it up, you two,” Bobby snarled and whopped Rig on the back of the head as he passed. “And you.” He pointed a finger at Mason. Bobby huffed out an aggrieved sigh. “I already beat your ass.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Rig asked, still chuckling.

“And allow you to witness my…” Bobby’s hand flopped side to side as he searched for a word, finally settling on “…unpleasantness. No! Vincent is picking me up. He knows better than to say a word, unlike some people.” He huffed and gave Rig a pointed glare.

“Oh baby, I’ve not only witnessed your
unpleasantness
,” Rig said with a snort, “but have been the one doing the anal probing.”

Bobby glared at both Mason and Rig and then threw up his hands and stomped out the back door grumbling, “You never went as deep as a fucking colonoscopy.”

Mason and Rig hooted, laughing until tears rolled down their faces.

“You think he’ll be okay?” Mason asked, wiping a hand across his damp cheeks.

“He’ll be fine, and thanks to you I’m sure Doc is going to be happy with his weight loss.”

“Thanks to me?” Mason scowled. “I don’t think worrying a man into losing twenty pounds is a healthy thing, Rig.” Mason turned back to the stove and grabbed the pot of oats, then set it on a cooling pad.

“It’s not just the worry. Okay, it started out that way, but it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Mason asked warily as he scooped up two bowls of oatmeal and brought them to the island bar.

“I was really worried about him after he sold the club,” Rig said as he added butter, sugar, and cream to his oats. “It’s why I forced him to go to Florida. He would have spent his days sitting around the club or here at home, grumbling and eating and groaning. He loved that place, and I knew it would drive him nuts.”

“So why did he sell it?” he asked, adding just a little cream to his oats and stirring them.

“Blake drives a hard bargain.” Rig shrugged. “Plus, I think Bobby knew it was time. The place was outdated, and he just didn’t have the heart to change it. The last time any new fixtures were added to the place, Stephen had picked them out and….” Rig lowered his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, it was time to let it go.”

“I’m sorry.” Mason wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Rig smiled sadly, than waved his hand. “It worked out. The club is in damn good hands, it’s been given new life and so has Bobby, thanks to you.”

“I don’t know what—”

“Mason,” Rig interrupted and laid a hand on Mason’s forearm. “I haven’t seen Bobby this happy in years, and I haven’t seen his belly, or mine, this flat in the same amount of time. It’s not just that he has a new purpose in caring for you. He wants to be better for you.”