Drawing Closer (19 page)

restraints; these are far better for the job than my ties." He lifted up a tangle of long strips. "The cuffs can be snapped together, or I can use these to attach them to the bed."

Gray moaned. "God, Charles…"

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Charles held out his hand. "Give it to me and stand up."

He stood, too, and fastened the wrist cuffs on Gray, feeling the shiver racing over Gray as he

adjusted them. Then he kneeled down and added the ankle cuffs, giving a gentle smack to the

eager bob of Gray's cock as he straightened. "You're going to be waiting a long time to come," he warned Gray.

"You get off on that, don't you?"

"I most certainly do." Charles gave him a slow smile. "You're welcome to beg, but not to

complain."

"And you get off on me begging."

"I'd say you were astonishingly insightful if it wasn't blindingly obvious that I do."

"I love that you don't mind admitting it."

Charles felt something close to panic. "I don't mind admitting it to you, but--"

"No, it's cool, I get it," Gray assured him. "Really. Don't worry about it. Between you and me.

All of it. Well, not the part where we're together, right?"

Charles kissed him, feeling Gray's mouth press against his with a sweetness he didn't usually

associate with Gray. "Not that, no."

Drawing Closer - 122

"Charles--" Even though the wrist cuffs weren't linked, Gray kept his hands beside him, but he swayed as close to Charles as he could, so that Charles felt the heat trembling off Gray's body.

"This is me starting to beg. Do it. Please?"

And the panic just wasn't going away.

Charles put Gray on the bed, spread out, hands and ankles tethered to the corners of the bed,

working on autopilot, making sure that Gray was comfortable, with no strain, no pain. Done

right, Gray should be comfortable enough to sleep like this, in theory at least. Charles put a

pillow under Gray's hips and took a moment to admire the view. Gray's back… even more than

the rounded firmness of his arse, Charles loved Gray's back. Without letting himself think about

it, he picked up the crop and ran the tip of it down Gray's spine, pleased when Gray groaned, a

note of yearning deepening the sound.

"No words," he warned Gray. "Unless you need your safe word, of course. But sounds like

that…. Make as many of those as you like."

Gray's fingers and toes curled hard, reflexively, when the crop trailed over his backside, but he

kept quiet, a small defiance that had Charles feeling a spark of amusement and irritation, a conflict

easily resolved as it would be simple enough to bring Gray to the point where he couldn't help

but make all kinds of soft, plaintive, ecstatic whimpers. In fact, until they were involuntary, as

far as Charles was concerned, they didn't count.

He could do a lot with the crop that didn't involve striking Gray, and for a while he did, using it

as an extension of his hand and fingers and cock; lifting the heavy fall of Gray's hair away from

his neck; using it to rub insinuatingly along the damp, heated flesh behind Gray's balls.

They both got him noise and he was starting to relax, his own arousal simmering, sinking into a

place where he felt in control of the situation.

Then Gray moved, a sharp, petulant shrug that effectively doused the small, bright light of

Charles' contentment.

Folding his lips together and reminding himself that Gray was still new to this, he carried on

tracing random patterns on Gray's back, but Gray was tense and tight now, all the progress

they'd made lost.

"What is it?" He tried to keep his voice low and even, but it was difficult not to snap.

"This is nice, Charles, but can we move it along a little?"

Charles gaped down at the bound figure, feeling a stunned outrage that was, he thought, not out

of proportion at all. What the fuck did Gray think he was doing? "What?"

Drawing Closer - 123

Gray twisted his head around and gave Charles an impatient look. "Hit me with it. I want to feel

it."

Pushy, cheeky -- Charles brought the crop up high and brought it whistling down, splitting the

air in a high whine, taking an entirely reprehensible and vindictive satisfaction in Gray's startled

cry and flinch. The crop bit down deeply into the yielding softness of the quilt, sending up a puff

of dust, the motes drifting, caught in the lamplight.

"Fuck!"

"Don't you ever,
ever
, give me orders at a time like this," Charles said through his teeth.

"If you weren't shit-scared of doing what I want, I wouldn't have to," Gray snarled back. "Well?

Are you going to--?"

The crop hit Gray for the first time as Charles tossed it onto his back. "No."

Gray buried his face in the pillow, his shoulders rising and falling as he took some unsteady

breaths. "Okay. Fuck you. Roses. Fucking roses."

Charles nodded, even though Gray couldn't see him, and reached for the ankle cuff nearest to him.

Gray kicked out, his heel striking Charles' finger and bending it back, making him exclaim.

"Sorry."

It might have been sincere; Charles didn't care. He reached for the crop and picked it up, his

fingers tightening around it.

Easiest thing in the world to bring it down across Gray's skin, leaving a burning, biting slash of

pain. Gray might even thank him for it, not knowing it would be a sign that Charles had failed

him about as completely as was possible.

Easy.

Not as easy as putting it tidily in Gray's overnight bag before releasing Gray from his cuffs. That

took no effort at all.

And when Gray had gone, slamming out of the house, his shirt untucked, his eyes flat and angry,

remembering that it'd been an easy choice to make was all that comforted Charles.

Drawing Closer - 124

Gray had once gone hiking with Carl. Three miles away from their tents, on a swelteringly hot

July day, Gray had drained the water bottle he'd been taking gulps from at increasingly frequent

intervals and then found out that Carl, dumbass that he was, Carl who was supposed to be

carrying the water, while Gray was packing the food, had left it behind. Something about taking it

out to check if he had a spare T-shirt at the bottom of his pack and then forgetting to put it back

in.

Whatever.

They'd turned around, which had been sensible, and gotten lost, which wasn't. Five hours. Five

hours to get back to camp and now, six years later, Gray had forgotten most of his emotions. The

panic when a rustle in the bushes to their left turned out to be a snake, four foot long, sinuously,

sleepily crossing their path, the sick wrench of disappointment when each clearing they stumbled

into was the wrong one, and the pain, sharp, raw and constant, of a blistered heel.

They'd all been erased, smudged by each retelling of the story, played for laughs, Carl laughing

loudest of all as Gray mimicked Carl's expression when a squirrel ran down the tree he was

peeing on, startling him so much that he jumped back, still peeing, and fell over his own feet.

But even now he could remember how it'd felt to be thirsty and not have water. To picture those

bottles of water, waiting, cool enough that when he drank them he'd feel it in the pit of his

stomach, water to be gulped in a long, continuous swallow. Or, since Carl had probably left them

out on the open, sun-warmed and tepid, but that had ceased to matter.

He'd craved, obsessed, thought about nothing else, in the last few hours of the hike.

And he felt like that right now, lying in bed, on the morning after he'd slammed out of Charles'

house, the need to kick stuff and swear loudly having given way overnight to an intense, knee-

weakening need to see Charles and finish what they'd started.

He'd never, in his whole life, been as turned on as he had last night. Never. Charles had gotten him

fucking
cuffs
, serious, heavy-duty cuffs, dammit, and what he'd been doing with that crop…

Gray shuddered, squirming as his cock hardened for about the twentieth fucking time since he'd

woken up. Hell, from what he'd been dreaming about, and the tangled mess of the sheets, it'd been

doing it when he was sleeping, too.

Drawing Closer - 125

And he'd fucked it up, being impatient, just like always. Gray had never had a Christmas present

off his parents that he hadn't tracked down, no matter where they'd hidden them, shaken, guessed

at. He hadn't always been right, and once they'd figured out what he was doing they'd started

wrapping everything inside a box, which was just cheating, but he'd had to
know
.

He'd been the one to leave, pissed off enough that he hadn't dared start to discuss it with Charles

because he was scared of what he would've said -- he'd had that much sense at least -- but, really,

Charles should've kicked him out on his ungrateful ass.

He moaned, turning his face into the pillow, and burrowing in until he couldn't hear anything but

the sound of his breath and the beat of blood in his ears. White noise to drown out the voice

chanting 'Stupid' in his head, because he really, really, fucking was.

The bed vibrated from a kick and he rolled over, face damp and flushed, ready to rip Carl a new

one.

Charles. Fully dressed, down to a rain-spattered overcoat, his brown hair a shade darker because

it was wet, too.

Charles, giving him a quizzical, considering look that made Gray's body tingle, top to bottom,

because Charles wouldn't be looking at him like that if he'd come over to tell Gray it was over.

No, he'd be looking sad, if he was, had to be looking sad for that, and he wasn't, he was looking--

"I believe you left without something last night."

Mild, cool voice. The chanting began again, but it was more of a chorus of, 'Fuck, yes, he's still

interested,' now.

"I did?"

"You spoke without permission, remember? And I said that I would deal with it later."

Gray swallowed dryly. "Yeah. I remember. Charles--"

"Be quiet." Charles waited until Gray had given him a jerky nod and then carried on, the words slow and deliberate. "I very much dislike leaving something like this to the next day. It gets

confusing. I'm afraid you'll have to be prepared for a certain amount of… interest on your debt to

have accrued."

That meant hard. That meant Charles wasn't going to stop until one slap, just one, before Gray

was about to use his safe word. Charles always seemed to know. That meant Gray was going to

come if he kept thinking about it.

Charles took hold of the quilt and pulled it off Gray in one tug, the cooler air making goose

Drawing Closer - 126

bumps rise on Gray's skin. He'd slept naked, usually did, and he was glad of it now. Meant

Charles could see what state he was in, how his cock was rock-solid and ready.

"You weren't about to start without me, were you?"

Did that count as a question? Gray hesitated and got a small nod which let his words tumble out,

fervent and rushed. "I didn't want to when I got back last night; too angry, and I haven't -- I didn't want to until -- God, Charles, I'm dying here. I'm sorry, I'm so--"

"That will do."

Even in the half-light of the bedroom, he could see some of the tension he hadn't known was there

until it went leave Charles, as if Charles hadn't been sure what kind of a reception he'd get. Which

was stupid, because Charles had to know -- oh. For the first time since this had started, Gray

stopped feeling as if the need was mostly on his side, because Charles looked relieved, weight off

his shoulders sort of deal.

On impulse, Gray rose to his knees, hands behind his back, letting his body speak for him.

Yours. Waiting. Anything. Yours.

It was how he felt, right then, and between one breath and the next he was feeling that shift of his

world, until he was kneeling in a state of pure readiness without impatience; just where Charles

had been trying to get him to go last night, but Gray hadn't been ready.

And, remembering the sick, solid sound the crop had made as it had hit the bed, maybe he hadn't

been as ready for that as he'd thought he was, either.

Charles kissed him with a bite at the end that left Gray's lip stinging and pulled Gray across his

knee without bothering to take off his coat, the soaked material hell to lie on, wet and clammy

and cold.

Didn't matter. Not when his -- what was Charles calling it? Disobedient, cheeky, aggravating --

ass was burning up, sizzling spanks raining down, crisp beats of a soundtrack to a lecture.

Charles didn't usually talk much when he was spanking Gray, but he was talking today. Gray let

the words soak in to be studied later; Charles was right, about all of it, and Gray owed him an

apology, yes, he did, but right now, right now -- oh, God, it hurt.

And the only words he wanted to say when Charles had finished were 'Thank you'.

Drawing Closer - 127

Charles bit his lip and tried hard not to let his voice reflect his annoyance. "You're sure you can't come over?"

"Charles…" Gray sounded distant, distracted. "I'm so close to nailing this. I break now and lose it and I don't know what I'd do, but it wouldn't be pretty."

"Fine." Charles cleared his throat. "I'll just--"

"I'll call you, okay. Soon. Love you."

The click in his ear was as hard to accept as a blow would have been. Giving way to temper,