Handcuffs and Lace 24 - Balls and Chain (4 page)

Cheney looked horrified as he straightened. Sam couldn’t help the exhilaration he felt in knowing that the big, sexy agent had the hots for him, badly enough that he was worried about keeping his professional distance. It had been a long time since a guy had caught Sam’s interest the way Cheney did.

Sam grinned widely. He was pleased to see Cheney’s gaze drop to his lips. “What’s the big deal, Cheney? Afraid your
gun
will misfire?”
“This line of conversation needs to stop.”
“Okay, but let me propose something first. We’re holed up in the middle of nowhere with no one expected for what could be days. How about instead of endless hours playing cards and fighting the sexual tension in this room, we cut to the chase?”
Cheney ran a hand over his buzz cut. The alarm in his eyes rivaled the undeniable interest Sam saw there. Sam had never been particularly bold, but somehow running Cheney to ground felt like the most fascinating fun he’d had in a long time. The attraction they both seemed to be feeling apparently freaked Cheney out. It was as much of an upper hand as Sam was likely to get. And damn if he didn’t want to get hands of any sort on Cheney.
“There is no chase,” Cheney countered.
“Sure. Okay. The kiss. My mouth on your cock. It’s all relative, right?”
Cheney started shaking his head and backing away. “This is a bad idea. You stay on your side of my personal space, and I’ll stay on mine.”
Sam watched him walk away. “This is gonna be fun,” he said, too low for Cheney to hear.
What better way to pass his mandatory leave of absence than to seduce the hell out of the big bad FBI agent with all his muscles? The fact that Cheney, who appeared to be incredibly competent in everything he did, got skittish around Sam made him smile. Sam couldn’t remember the last time someone had been attracted to him and hadn’t wanted to follow through. He was going to enjoy every minute of Cheney’s capitulation.

Sam wiped the back of his hand across his brow. The quaint little farm house had stopped being quaint the minute he’d realized there was no air conditioning. Man, did he miss his New York apartment. The tiny space cooled off in nothing flat. It was day three of country confinement, and Cheney had yet to break his resolve.

When Sam entered the room, Cheney was as emotionally available as a rock. Sam glanced at the clock. It was a little after ten thirty in the morning and aside from folding laundry and helping clean up, there was nothing else to do.

That’s what he told himself, anyway. The more Cheney resisted Sam’s attempts to connect with him, the more Sam wanted him. He practically felt need crawling around under his skin. It didn’t help that Cheney seemed just as dedicated to his job and country as he did to resisting Sam. It was time to throw in the towel. Cheney was unbreakable.

He picked up a shirt, but thinking about the sweat stuck fabric made him shudder. That’s how every day had ended, and he couldn’t bring himself to put it on. He refolded it and put it away. When he got to the kitchen he poured himself a glass of iced tea. It felt amazing as it tracked its chilled trail down his throat and spilled into his stomach.

Ice bumped his upper lip and nose as he tilted his head back to catch every last drop. He captured a cube in his lips, sucked it and released. A dark sound by the door caught Sam’s attention, and he turned to see Cheney frozen in place, lust etched into every line of his body.

It made a man wish he had more tea to drink. After three days of trying every trick in the book to get Cheney to look at him, it had taken letting his guard down to make Cheney slip.
“Want some?” Sam asked, trying hard to keep the innuendo out of the question.
He picked up the pitcher and poured himself another drink. He took a second glass from the shelf and filled it for Cheney. Cheney cautiously walked over. Sam lifted his glass, too conscious of his earlier abandon and Cheney’s reaction, to drink freely.
Cheney took the offered glass. Sam walked toward the screen door, looking out into the back yard. Sam’s bravado had flagged. He knew the man was interested in him, but the job was important to both of them. The longer Cheney kept his head around Sam’s juvenile attempts to attract him, the less Sam was sure he could convince him to take a chance.
Besides, it was a hit to his ego. It wasn’t like he considered himself a great catch or anything, but he was a gay man, living with another gay man, and they happened to be attracted to each other. It seemed like a no brainer. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Cheney was thinking with the appropriate head.
It embarrassed Sam a little that he’d made a game out of it. Sure, it was partly denial of the circumstances and the death threats, but it was also partly for comfort. He
needed
to be held. He needed to know that the sexy hunk of an agent didn’t just want to protect him for the paycheck, but because he actually
liked
Sam. That Sam was worth protecting for reasons not having anything to do with the job.
God, he sounded like a love-sick kid. Psychologists had a name for someone who fell in love with their abductor. Did they have one for someone who fell for their protector? Not that love is what Sam felt. Not this soon. That kind of thing happened in movies and books, but not in real life. Not when death was on the table. Not when the guy you wished would strip you naked and take you hard did a fantastic impression of a bronze statue.
Sam folded an arm across his chest. He hadn’t heard Cheney leave, but the man was silent, and there’d been no conversation, so Sam assumed he had. He lifted the cool glass to his cheek, then pressed the condensation covered exterior to his jaw. He tilted his head, sliding the glass down to his neck. The cold wet trail offered some relief as a breeze touched over it.
Sam closed his eyes, sighing. His skin stung with heat. He faced the back of the house and cooler fingers of air caressed his bare chest. At his back, a trickle of sweat, or condensation, tickled his spine. It was like he had a furnace behind him.
He took a long draw of cold tea, sputtering when warm lips grazed the side of his neck, replacing condensation with quick flicks of tongue. Sam inhaled sharply, riveted to his spot. He feared he only imagined Cheney’s mouth on him. His knees were jelly. His hand shook as he gripped his glass, the cool liquid completely forgotten for the heated trace of lips and tongue on his skin.
Cheney murmured, his breath making a mockery of the hot summer sun’s scorching insult on the land. The terrain of Sam’s body, however, craved more. Sam had tried every persuasive move in his power to train Cheney’s attention on him. He’d only succeeded when he quit trying. Now Sam stood unsteady and uncertain. How did he keep it? If he moved, would Cheney stop?
A hot callused palm slid up Sam’s left arm. Cool air and hot touch made him shiver. Sam’s senses rioted. What would it feel like to have that roughened palm caress his cock?
Cheney traced the back center of Sam’s neck with his tongue. Sam swayed unsteadily. His back touched firm chest. Undressed firm chest. Evidently like everything else he did, Cheney undressed silently too. Oh yeah, because making the point of removing any of his clothing before coming to Sam could only mean one thing. That’s what it meant, right? If he turned, Cheney wouldn’t stop. God, Sam really hoped he was right.
He started to turn. Cheney stopped him.
Jude
stopped him. Would he mind if Sam called him Jude? Would it presume too much intimacy? But the kissing, dear Lord, it had to continue.
Sam tilted his head to the side presenting Cheney with more space to work his magic. When Jude didn’t move away, Sam leaned back fully, letting the other man support his smaller weight. Jude’s hands slid around Sam’s middle, gently stroking his chest and abdomen. It was ticklish and not nearly low enough to keep Sam happy for long. He wanted Jude’s hands
everywhere
.
Sam muttered his protest at the near strokes that did more to tease than satisfy. Maybe that was the point. Maybe Jude was giving him some of his own medicine. Jude’s lips clamped on Sam’s ear, sucking it hard against his tongue. Sam’s protest became a guttural moan. Jude chuckled low and deep, setting off the quivering butterflies at Sam’s middle.
Long tanned fingers plucked at Sam’s nipple and any thought of waiting Jude out fled. Sam squirmed until he’d wriggled his way to facing Jude. Then lifting his chin he caught Jude’s lips in a firm kiss, sucking his bottom lip and lightly scraping it with his teeth.
Jude yelped, leaping away. Sam stared at him in confusion until Jude laughingly grabbed Sam’s glass of tea and quickly put it on the nearby kitchen table.
“I don’t mind ice play, but a warning is generally preferred,” Jude explained. Sam grinned. “C’mon, you know you wanted it.”
Jude’s expression turned serious, shifting smoothly. “I want
you
.”
The breath whooshed out of Sam’s lungs. “Well, thank God for small miracles.” “This never happened,” Jude told him.
Sam ran his hands up Jude’s sides, enjoying the warm rises and dips of flesh over ribs and muscle. They’d deal with that statement later. Right now, he wanted more of this, however much Jude was going to offer.
Jude reached between them, tugged on Sam’s belt briefly tightening it before the whole thing loosened. Their eyes met. Jude’s lips were slightly parted, and Sam discovered that his sexface looked a helluva lot like his pissed-face. Which was kind of a turn on all by itself. With that expression, Sam didn’t know if he was about to get fucked or spanked, and it got his pulse racing with the myriad possibilities. If he was lucky, maybe there’d be a little of both, all the while Jude glaring down at him like he was a bad, bad boy. God, yes.
Sam felt the undeniable flip of a thumb over his button closure and the waistband relaxed. Jude’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. They looked at each other, which was ridiculous since all Sam wanted to do was press his lips to every inch of Jude’s beautiful body. But Jude was slightly taller and unless he tipped his head down, Sam would look a little pathetic stretching his lips up, or worse, climbing him to claim lip-lock pay-dirt. So he waited for cues from Jude instead.
Jude’s pissed looked turned slightly amused. It was that same heady glare, but now it had attitude, like he was pissed and enjoying every minute of it. Sam’s cock, already at attention, strained in his jeans to see just how much Jude liked it.
“Well?” Sam prompted. “You wimping out or gonna see this thing through?”
Jude tugged. Sam’s belt slid free. Sam was spun around and Jude belted his wrists behind him. That’s not what Sam had in mind.
“What the fuck, Jude?”
“I wondered when you’d stop calling me Cheney. Two kisses and a blowjob is apparently your price for familiarity.”
The belt tightened, pinching the softer skin of Sam’s wrists.

Jude almost didn’t know what to do with Sam. He’d never met a man who could so easily turn his best intentions into a haze of lust. But that’s what Sam did to him. Any time Sam touched him, all he could think about was how fast he could get Sam naked and on his back. Belting his wrists had seemed the only sane idea at the time. Anything, so long as he could slow down long enough to think clearly.

He tugged the belt, leading Sam away from the door and toward the side of the house where Jude’s room was. Pushing him ahead, he had the perfect opportunity to watch the way Sam’s body moved.

He was muscled in a leanly athletic way. Half dressed, it was even more apparent. Sam was hard all over, not an inch of softness about him, but he carried his athleticism like a swimmer. Watching that lithe walk, the oblique muscles flexing above his waistband on each step, the way the button in his jeans seemed to sway low across his flat abdomen, just about did Jude in.

Sam stumbled ahead of him. “You aren’t going to buy me flowers first?” “That would be acknowledging that something’s happening here,” Jude said. “Right. We can’t have that.” Sam’s fingers stretched behind him, grazing Jude’s crotch. Jude grunted, but he extended the distance between them, carefully pushing Sam ahead.

The man was a cock-tease without trying.
Sam drinking tea had been a perfect example. When had something as mundane as
drinking become sexy? But he’d thrown his head back, closed his eyes, and swallowed, his throat
working over the cool fluid. A single drop had fallen and splashed on his chest. That had be the
moment Jude knew he was lost. And the best part had been that Sam had no idea Jude was
watching. There’d been nothing contrived about the moment. Nothing deliberately entrapping. When he’d gone to the door, the light perfectly outlined his form. The cold glass on his
neck had Jude’s feet moving before he’d even consciously acknowledged the urge to move. He’d
wanted to touch, to feel, to taste.
Sam hadn’t stopped him. Sam had touched back, instead.
Jude nudged him into the room.
Sam stopped walking, bracing himself with his feet at shoulder width apart. One foot
slightly in front of the other, kept him from budging with the next gently nudge from Jude. “I’m
all for role play, but you want to explain the belt around my wrists and the studious attempt at
not
talking?”
“Not really.”
“Humor me.”
Jude caught his upper arms and pulled Sam back against his chest. This time when Sam
held Jude’s cock, Jude didn’t move away. He flexed against the awkward hold. Jude wrapped his
arms around Sam, stroking over his chest like he had in the kitchen but with firmer contact. He
pressed his palms flat to Sam’s belly and arrowed his hands downward. There was no button
closure to stop his progress and the zipper put up little resistance.
Sam’s head fell back on Jude’s shoulder. Jude’s fingers found the hip flexors and gently
massaged either side of Sam’s cock. Sam rocked forward. Jude tipped his head to the side and
nipped the man’s neck. He quickly soothed the spot with a flick of his tongue and was
encouraged when Sam shuddered with pleasure.
Jude slipped one hand lower, cupping Sam’s balls as he took a long slow sweep of his
cock with the other.
Sam swore softly.
“Let’s keep your hands restrained for a while, shall we?” Jude murmured. Sam didn’t offer up any protest. Jude walked him to the bed. He’d have to remember to
thank James for the condoms and lube. He should have known James wasn’t joking about the
grocery delivery.
Jude pulled his hands out of Sam’s jeans and bent him over the bed. He reached for the
condoms and lube in the drawer.
“Geez, you came prepared?” Sam grumbled.
“Not exactly.” Jude yanked Sam’s pants down and undid his own pants to roll on a
condom, before he picked up the lube.
Jude studied Sam’s tight, slim ass. He slapped it roughly, squeezing a cheek. “I’ll feed
you my cock later. Lots of great protein in that.”
Sam laughed, albeit reluctantly. Jude tried to ignore how his rough behavior must look.
Jude probably seemed cold and purely about sex. That was fine. That was better than the
alternative, which was he didn’t think he could have Sam’s hands on him and keep his heart out
of fucking. Jude had pretty well convinced himself that screwing Sam would cure him of his
temporary in-Sam-nity.
Even if it made Jude look like a dick in the process.
Sam’s rounded, pale ass beckoned. Sam spread his legs further apart, showing off the
bare pink testicles below his puckered hole. He was hard, despite the jackassery that Jude
showed. He didn’t deserve this kind of treatment.
Jude smoothed his hand over the muscled curve, his fingers glided to the place where ass
met thigh. Then reaching forward, he cupped the sweet, full balls, unbelievably smooth and soft
in his palm. Sam moaned, his ass flexed. Jude applied the gel and worked his fingers in and out
of the grasping hole.
On each outward slide, Jude popped the sensitive muscle ring, teasing it and stretching it.
Judging from the way Sam squirmed, he liked the play. Sam pushed his hips back into Jude’s
working fingers, effectively working his balls against Jude’s palm simultaneously. Sam might
have his hands bound together, but he knew how to move for his greatest satisfaction. Jude leaned down and nipped Sam’s ass. Sam stiffened but moaned when Jude then
planted wet sucking kisses to the same spot. Sam reached bound hands toward Jude’s groin but
Jude held himself back. First he wanted—no, he needed—to take Sam’s balls in his mouth. They
were perfect, pretty, and plump like ripe fruit. This fruit would tremble from its branch just as
readily. Jude’s mouth watered.
He got down on his knees behind the other man. Then firmly holding the globes of Sam’s
bottom open, Jude nosed in deep. He dragged his tongue along the central seam of Sam’s
testicles. Sam squirmed backward.
“Geez, Jude,” Sam stuttered over the words.
Jude curled his tongue out, capturing the pink orbs and drew them into his mouth. He
suckled gently, stroking each interior gland with great care. Sam smelled like earth and ocean
and the heady musk of testosterone.
Sam’s legs trembled, and he swore under his breath. “Goddamn it, Jude.” Jude hummed around the wicked smile he got from driving the other man a little bit
crazy. He dragged his nails lightly up the back of Sam’s thighs. He didn’t miss the intense red
blush of Sam’s shaft, or the increasing sharpness of Sam’s aroma. Jude tested his theory and was
pleased to find pre-cum leaking from Sam’s tip.
He smoothed it over the head and was rewarded with a choked whimper. Jude chuckled,
slowly pulling off the mouthful of tender flesh to nip the inside of both Sam’s thighs. There
wasn’t a part of the man that Jude didn’t want to taste. When had he become so orally fixated? Jude stood. He slapped Sam’s ass, striking it with a solid smack. Sam sucked in his
breath sharply and made a sound of protest, but that was the only complaint. The rest of his body
practically quivered with need. Experimentally, Jude slapped his other cheek too. He’d never
struck another man in sex play before. He kind of liked the building tension between them, and
Sam seemed to hiss with a combination of indignation and pleasure. Jude doubted Sam had ever
been struck like this before either. They seemed to be processing it together.
Jude stroked the pinkened cheeks then struck them several more times until Sam cried
out.
“Fucking take me already,” Sam gasped.
Jude soothed the abused flesh. It was dark and dusky like Sam’s balls. Jude liked the look
on him. Sam moaned, pushing into the gentle caress.
“Jude. Please, I need—more.”
Jude positioned himself behind the slightly smaller man, pushing his cock in until the rim
snagged just inside Sam’s tight anus. “Hard and fast, or slow and sweet?” he asked, his voice
sounding rough with his own hunger.
Sam bucked slamming his hips backward onto Jude’s cock. Jude didn’t even try to hold
back the groan that ripped from his throat as lust seized him. He clamped his hands on Sam’s
hips, hanging on as they both adjusted. Sam to the invasion of cock in his tight ass, Jude to the
insane heat that enveloped him and swallowed his dick whole.
Cold sweat broke out on Jude’s brow. How had fucking Sam been a good idea again? His
mind snapped shut hearing Sam’s soft pants and concentrated on the careful control Jude took to
keep his lust in check.
“Take my cock,” Sam pleaded.
Jude wrapped a hand around the silken length. He’d bet Sam’s dick looked as pretty as
the rest of him. Jude may as well give up now. Part of him already knew he’d never find another
man as perfect as this one. Physically, he was a perfect specimen. He was everything Jude liked
and more. Emotionally, he wasn’t a push over, which was something Jude respected. He liked
that Sam questioned him, challenged him, taunted him, hell he even liked that Sam complained
about him. Little fucker.
Jude swept his fist up Sam’s cock, thumbed the wet tip, then returned to the base of his
shaft. Sam couldn’t help but move. Jude pulled part of the way out of Sam’s furnace heat. He sank back in, closing his eyes on the sensation. Pleasure coiled about the base of his spine, folding in on itself as he continued to jack Sam off while taking him from behind. He pulled in
rhythm with his flexing hips, mimicking the motion fluidly.
Sam suddenly thrusted back. It jarred Jude, causing him to miss a stroke, but Sam didn’t
seem to mind. He pushed into Jude’s thrusts, making their balls swing and bounce. Jude’s eyes
rolled up, his mouth fell open as he pounded Sam’s ass with everything he had. “Harder,” Sam insisted.
“Hard as I can.”
Sam’s useless hands clawed at Jude’s abdomen as though he could somehow pull Jude to
him at a faster pace than he already took. But Sam needed something, and Jude wanted to give it
to him. Jude gripped Sam’s hip tighter, his fingers pinching around the hip bone. He released
Sam’s cock. Pulling out, Jude swatted the ass he’d rather be buried in, cracking the flat of his
hand against the satiny skin.
Sam cried out, braced himself for another. Jude didn’t disappoint him. He liked the sting
against his hand. He liked better the rosy glow of his lover’s bottom. He spanked him again and
again. Sam sobbed desperately, wordlessly. His body grew more and more taut, yet he held
himself for whatever Jude would give him.
Jude sank to his knees a second time, laving his tongue over Sam’s heated flesh. Soothing
it as the moisture cooled. Jude liked the heat on his tongue, and he repeated the slow, sucking
bath. He took hold of Sam’s shaft and pumped him.
Sam shivered, his fingers twisting into Jude’s hair where they could reach, tugging him.
Jude scraped his teeth on him and blew over it. Sam’s strangled cry became a shout as he madly
fucked Jude’s fist. Jets of cum spilled from Sam’s cock. Jude milked him dry, rose behind him
and slammed his cock into Sam’s ass. Jude held him upright by the hips as he pounded into him,
slaking his lust. He wasn’t going to think about why Sam had such a strong effect on him. Sam
was just a guy. Just a fuck. Just something to pass the time.
Except even as he thought it, he knew it was all a lie.