Scavengers: Collection - Books 1-4 (Zombie Gentlemen) (m/m zombie steampunk erotic romance) (31 page)

Scavengers: Eton Mess

by K.A. Merikan

James was sitting on his bed, his eyes fixed on the tall grandfather clock in the corner. He was dressed in plain black trousers, a jacket in the same color and a white shirt. Ira told him to wear something modest and come to James’ home office in an hour. He must have wanted to get some things ready for whatever he had in mind, but all this waiting was making James as fidgety as if he really were a schoolboy sitting in front of the principal’s office to receive the punishment he deserved. The tension was getting the better of him and he ended up drenched in sweat. It only made him understand how deep-rooted the memories of the spanking were. Even saying the word in his mind gave him goose bumps on his arms and back.

“Spanking,” he whispered to himself in the quiet of the room and it was enough for his cock to twitch.

The sound of the clock hitting five snatched James out of his fantasy. A shiver ran down his spine as he moved without thinking, directing his steps right to his office. He took one more deep breath before knocking on the door. For the longest moment, there was no answer and when he was close to breaking out of character and storming in, he finally heard “Come in.”

He swallowed and opened the door, both curious and excited about what Ira had come up with.

The studio was dim, with the curtains drawn over the large windows. Ira gave him the smallest smile from where he sat behind James' desk.

“Come closer.”

James couldn’t help it. He swallowed once more, already getting excited by the low, growly tone. Ira had to have been a werewolf in his past life, if such a thing existed. “You wanted to see me... sir?” He walked up to the desk. As peculiar as it was, the confidence with which Ira took over James’ own space made James feel like a boy again, apprehensive about a punishment he was about to receive. Only this time, he was getting hard thinking about it.

His lover wore conservative black attire, his fingertips stained by ink from a fountain pen he was holding.

“I did, mister Hurst.” He put the instrument back into the resin stand James kept his pens and pencils in.

“What is this about, sir?” A shiver went down James’ spine yet again when he spotted the tattoo on Ira’s wrist sticking out from underneath his sleeve.

Ira cleared his throat, leaning back in his chair and folding his fingers in his lap like men of importance often did when making decisions about someone else’s future. James got the feeling Ira experienced real-life situations like this too many times to count.

“What do you think it’s about?” he asked, giving James a hard look.

“I don’t think I know, sir--” He swallowed hard, taking in the way Ira's impressive chest looked in the suit.

“What about the cricket match on Sunday?” Ira leaned over the desk to look him in the eye, his face expressionless.

James’ heart was pumping furiously. “Oh yes, that match,” he uttered, turning his head away.

“Look at me." Ira's tone chilled him to the bone, but did nothing to ease his arousal.

James looked up. “I’m sorry, sir. It will not happen again.”

He noticed Ira take a deep breath, his shoulders rising. “You don’t look like an honest boy.”

James’ lips parted in shock. “I d-don’t?” It was all a game of theatre, but to him, it felt so intense he was actually a little offended.

“No.” Ira stood up from his seat with an unpleasant thud as the chair banged into the wall. He walked over to James, forcing him to retreat into the desk. He was more imposing than James ever remembered him to be.

“I am usually honest. I got talked into it... sir.” He looked Ira up and down, breathing in deeply. In a well-cut suit, he looked even more intimidating than in his usual clothes, like a tamed lion that could still attack you any second.

“I don’t think so.” Ira took a few strands of James’ hair and examined them, rolling the locks in his fingers. James half-expected him to smell them. “A young man with long hair like that...”

James was getting hot all over and it was getting him out of breath. His stomach shrunk at Ira’s closeness. Even inches apart, James could feel his lover’s slightly bitter smell. “Should I tie it back, sir?”

Ira grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking him close with an abrupt move. “You resemble a lady more than a man,” Ira whispered, his hot breath tickling James’ ear. “What else do you do like a lady?”

“Nothing, sir!” His eyes darted up to meet Ira's. His heart pounded in his chest as if he really was in danger. Ira snorted.

“We will see about that.” He roughly pushed him onto the desk, tickling James’ skin with his warm breath.

“Sir, it will never happen again!” James repeated, as he slowly placed his palms on the wooden desktop. His bulging erection felt uncomfortable within the confines of James' trousers and all he wanted now was for Ira to rip them off and fuck him over the desk. Ira was born to dominate men, he was sure of it. It felt almost selfish to claim him for his own pleasure, but he wasn't sorry. Not one bit.

“No? Why should I believe a boy like you?” Ira spooned him from behind, the stiff length of his prick teasing the tops of James’ buttocks.

James let out a high-pitched whimper surprised with the touch. “I come from a good family,” he said with conviction, looking at the dark curtains. He couldn’t believe a game like this could evoke such visceral reactions. But there he was, sweating, panting and even a little afraid.

“Many perverts come from good families,” Ira hissed straight into his ear before drawing back and leaving him cold. “Lower your trousers.”

James was dizzy with emotion. He had to fight the urge to follow his lover with his hips and grind his ass against his crotch. He wanted to say something but his voice was stuck in his throat. Taking a huge gulp of air instead, he unbuckled his trousers with shaking hands.

“All the way down, Hurst.” Ira sounded as breathless as James was.

It was as if his lover was taking him somewhere deeper. Places James didn't even know existed in him. With one more deep breath, he pushed his trousers down and let them drop to his ankles. He shivered at the sensation of cold air brushing across his butt cheeks.

Ira remained silent, but somehow James could feel his gaze trailing down his buttocks and thighs. The barest of touches, but it was there, gently pinching all nerve endings in James' bare skin at once. Being exposed in this way made him feel improper to the bone, like a boy servicing others for privileges.

James yelped helplessly when Ira's large hand closed over his prick, tugging on it, as it were some kind of tool.

“You call this, this,” he punctuated each word with a stronger squeeze, “something a good boy would do?”

“I’m sorry, sir! I can’t help it,” James whimpered, closing his eyes. Blood was rushing through him like waves of molten lava.

“Did you let the other team fuck you to have them forfeit that game?” asked Ira matter-of-factly, letting go of James’ cock.

“No, sir! I would never...!” James was breathing heavily by now, pressing his thighs close together.

“Spread them.” Ira wasn’t touching James, but his body heat radiated strong enough for James to feel it on his skin.

“Sir...” He hesitated, his face already scorching hot. Instead of answering, Ira roughly forced James’ thighs apart, too impatient to wait.

“Let me see if you are tellin’ the truth!”

James’ lips parted in shock as he had a flash of what was bound to happen, and he barely managed to keep breathing. “I am!”

“I doubt that, Hurst. Your prick is as stiff as one of a dog in heat.” Ira dropped his jacket to the desktop by James’ side, and it slid to the floor with a soft thud.

James was panting, too embarrassed to talk. Following his instinct, he bent over to pick up the garment and put it back on the desk. His face was aflame with desire for Ira to touch him and soon, his wish was granted.

“Don’t you dare move." Ira growled at James, cupping his buttock and kneading it as if it were a ball of dough.

“I’m sorry! I just wanted to... help,” he muttered weakly, tensing up his buttocks. His breath caught in his throat when he felt Ira was spreading the cheeks as wide as he could. His hole twitched.

“This? You are showing me this?” he heard from behind.

James’ face was now so hot that all he wanted was to hold his cheeks against the cold wood. “I never meant to show...”

“And you’ve been here for how long?”

“Seven years, sir,” James uttered, still shocked by being spread open. It felt as if the air... got in.

“And when did they fuck you the first time? Orientation week?” Ira’s voice came out as a lustful growl. “That hole looks like you’ve been mounted by a dozen stallions.”

“I haven’t! I swear!” James couldn’t take it and pressed his hot forehead to the desk. His cock was pulsing as if it was about to burst with come.

“By that you mean it weren’t stallions?” Ira’s thumb rubbing against his hole was a shock to James’ body.

He instantly backed off his hips to the desk. “I do not do such things, sir! I can cut my hair if that is the thing!”

“No, you’re not. I want to know the names of the boys who fucked that hole!” Ira hissed, rubbing his bulging crotch against James’ hip.

“Robin, Ashford and Whittle!” he burst out the names of boys he would have wished fucked him back at school. “It will never happen again!” Ira’s touch was too much to bear. He was shaking all over.

“Oh, I won’t believe you, unless you learn your lesson!” Ira grunted, letting go of James’ ass and leaving it strangely numb from the rough handling. He strolled to the other side of the room.

James quickly turned his head to see what was happening. “I promise, sir.”

“Silence, Hurst! You are most perverted!” Ira gave him a twisted smile, moving back to the desk with a bundle of thick rope in his hand.

Those words screwed James' lips shut, his attention focusing on the rope, as he stood motionless, bent over the desk and half naked. For the longest moment, Ira’s ragged breaths were all he heard and it drove him to the edge of madness, but he didn't dare disobey.

He almost cried in relief when his lover took hold of one of his hands, tying the rope around James’ wrist. Ira then moved to the side of the desk and pulled on the rope, disappearing from James' sight as he scooted down. Judging from the slight tugging on the rope, Ira was securing the other end to something.

“Did they fuck you one after another?”

“Please don’t say that,” James whimpered, discreetly grinding his throbbing cock against the desk. The mere thought of what was going to happen made his hole twitch in anticipation.

“Why?” Ira got back to his feet only to immobilize James’ second wrist in the same way as the first one. “Ya prefer them one at a time?”

“It was not planned." James let his fantasy run wild, as he gently pulled at the rope to see how strong it was. He couldn’t move his upper limbs by an inch without climbing onto the desk.

Ira’s hoarse tone was making James’ skin crawl. “They must had been ready several times after watching their dirty friends fuck that hole.”

By now James was desperately gasping for air. Sleeping with many men was never something he wanted to actually try, but he did fantasize about it, but teasing Ira about it was exciting. Would he be jealous? “It just... happened.”

“How many spills did you take?” Ira’s breath had become shallow and quick. He threw a rope over James’ back, then walked to the other side of the desk and scooted down once again.

“Six. They wanted it to be even, sir." James allowed himself a little smile now that Ira couldn't see his face. He shouldn't be happy about such dirty play, but he couldn't stop his excitement. Ira knew him so well.

“If I could see it with my own eyes, the consequences would be severe for each time!” Ira concluded in all seriousness, walking back to his place behind James, only to pick up the rope from the floor and use it to tie it around James' waist. Strapped to the desktop, James was now at his lover's mercy. It made his knees weak.

“So it will not be severe, sir?” James knew that question would wind Ira up. He drew in a sharp breath, as his partner’s body aligned with his own, the hard bulge rubbing against James’ sensitive ass through the fabric of Ira’s trousers.

“You, I will treat with appropriate severity!”

James gasped, backing out with his hips but there was no way he could avoid the touch.

“You need to be punished, Hurst!” Ira moved away, only to appear on the other side of the desk, holding a large cricket paddle. The sight pressed a little whimper straight from James’ gut. “Kiss it.”

“...Sir?” James blinked. “Why just me?”

Ira’s eyes lit up at that question. “Because,” he groaned, pressing the cool wood of the paddle against James’ lips. It was smooth and smelled of varnish, the aroma sending James' arousal up the hill. His insides stirred with realization of what was about to happen.

“You can pretend it’s a large cock.” Ira's voice was raspy, his eyes intense as if they could see straight through James' soul.

“I shall definitely not!” James pouted, keeping his cheek on the desk.

“Why is that?” Ira laughed, licking his lips. “It seems to me you’re fond of them.”