“Just A Little Bit More”
by Mychael Black
“Fuck, look at that ass.”
Dylan Mackenzie’s head swam, his ass burned. He panted through the pain, sweat coating his skin. Every nerve sang, alive and driving him higher. Behind him, the Dom grunted. One of the man’s hands gripped both dildos and jiggled them. Dylan clamped down on the urge to come right then.
The Dom kept touching, playing, talking. Sometimes Dylan heard, sometimes the words faded in favor of the euphoric high. Dylan balled his hands into fists and rocked. The Dom groaned and a split second later, hot spunk splashed onto Dylan’s upturned ass, dribbled off the dildos buried in his hole, then dripped onto the table beneath him.
“Now, boy,” the Dom ordered.
Teeth clenching hard on the bit in his mouth, Dylan hissed and shook, his own orgasm so fucking strong it left him weak and trembling. His arms gave out and he landed on the leather table. The Dom hummed approval. The man eased each dildo out, leaving Dylan devastatingly empty. Then Dylan’s hands were unlocked and the bit unbuckled.
Dylan licked his lips and stopped short of actually whimpering when the Dom wiped the come, sweat, and lube off his ass.
“Damn shame you don’t want anything long-term,” the Dom said. “Fucking hot, boy.” He patted Dylan’s asscheek. “Easy now,” he said as he helped Dylan up and off the table, catching Dylan beneath the arms. “Let’s sit and rest.”
Dylan let the man lead him to the soft leather couch nearby, and then he just sort of collapsed down onto it. It took him several seconds to gather his wits enough to speak.
“Th-thank you, Sir,” he panted.
The Dom — whose name Dylan had never even learned — smiled. “One day, you’re going to make a Master very happy.”
Dylan doubted that, but he didn’t say so. He kept this part of his life under tight lock and key. “Thank you, Sir.”
The Dom handed him a small cup of water. “Rest up and we’ll head back out onto the floor.”
Dylan nodded and sipped his water. The club just beyond the door waited, promising yet more exquisite pain and pleasure at the hands of countless Doms. It was an exclusive place, with an extensive background check just to be a sub. Doms had it a lot harder to prove they could do what they did safely. Dylan had joined a year ago, and he’d yet to experience all of the Doms.
When he felt like he could move and function again, he followed the nameless Dom out of the room. Lights flashing everywhere, strobes and spotlights — set the leather and vinyl and latex clothing shimmering. The dance floor was a sea of black and skin, bodies grinding and rubbing together, men and women and everyone in between.
Dylan waved goodbye to the Dom he’d spent the past hour with and ventured toward the bar. He sat down on one of the stools, albeit very gently. The bartender — Dave — snickered and slid him an ice-cold bottled water.
Dave nodded. “Anytime, man. Have fun?”
“Oh, yeah.” Dylan chugged back nearly half the bottle.
“Gonna join the charity auction tonight?”
Dylan set the bottle down and took a deep, calming breath. “Yep. Who else is up for sale?”
“Let’s see…” Dave peered around Dylan. “Timmy, Jace, Kalia, Jacob, Fran, and Bryce.”
Tough competition. Dylan grinned and polished off his water. “Now we just need the Doms.”
Dave winked. “Top dollar for each and every one of you. The charity will be swimming in funds when we’re done.”
Dylan couldn’t agree more. Each year, the auction benefitted another GLBT charity, though they weren’t told just where exactly the money came from. Dylan figured it was best to keep quiet the fact that the donations stemmed from a slave auction. He tossed his bottle in the nearby recycling bin behind the counter, then twisted around on his stool. Auction time was nearing, which meant he had to hold off on anything else.
Max Castille handed the doorman his membership card. He hadn’t been here in, God, forever — a couple years at least — but he kept his membership current. Hell, he hadn’t done anything in the scene since then, and he figured tonight’s charity auction was a good way to jump back into it.
“Good evening, Master Castille,” the doorman said, handing the card back. “Enjoy your evening.”
The doorman opened the door for him and Max stepped into one of his favorite places. People were heading off the dance floor, gearing up for the auction. Max headed for the bar.
“Master Castille!” Dave, the bartender, grinned and set two bottled waters on the counter. “Welcome back.”
“It’s good to be back,” Max said. He paid for the water and took a seat at the end of the bar, in good view of the stage.
Pleasure In Restraint was an anomaly in the plethora of bars in the city. Given the activities that went on within its walls, alcohol was expressly forbidden. Max couldn’t agree more. Sodas, juices, water, even coffee — but nothing alcoholic. Max twisted off the cap of one bottle and took a drink. The lights dimmed, and he got comfortable on his stool, eager to see what sort of subs tonight’s auction had to offer. He’d always had his mind on someone in particular, but he hadn’t seen Dylan in a few years. They kept in touch via emails and phone calls, but living three hours apart, mixed with their own work schedules, kept derailing any potential visits. Max also knew Dylan would never set foot in a place like this. The man was gay, but kinky? Max would’ve bet good money his best friend definitely did not swing that way. Oh, well. That’s what fantasies were for.
“Ladies and gentlemen and all folks in between,” the owner of the club announced as he walked onto the stage. “Welcome to our sixth annual charity auction!”
Applause erupted all around the room, Max adding a few claps of his own.
“Since I know you’re all here for the good stuff, let’s bring them out.” The owner stepped aside as a line of subs paraded out onto the stage. They were all hooded, their hands bound behind their backs. The women wore the skimpiest bikinis known to humankind, while the men had on pouches that barely covered their crotches. The owner started at one end and pulled off the first sub’s hood. “Meet Timmy,” he said. Then he went to the next one. “And Jace.”
He continued down the line — Kalia, Jacob, Fran, Bryce. Max had yet to find anyone who sparked his interest. “And finally, in his first auction…” The owner tugged off the last hood. Max grabbed the edge of the bar, numbness sweeping through his body. “Dylan!”
The claps, the cheers, the shouts, all faded into the background. Max stared, unable to believe his own damn eyes. Dylan Mackenzie, a man Max had known for twenty fucking years, stood on the stage, bound, visibly hard, and up for sale.
Noise slammed back into Max’s brain and he heard someone yell a price — two hundred — for Dylan. He raised his hand. “Six hundred!”
Everyone turned to him.
The owner grinned. “Going!” No one countered. “Going!”
Max gritted his teeth and stood. “One thousand!”
Gasps rippled through the club.
“Sold!” the owner shouted.
Max started for the stage and, as the crowd parted for him, that’s when he actually met Dylan’s gaze. Those baby blues widened, and Dylan went white as a sheet. At the foot of the steps, Max stopped. He crooked a finger. Dylan swallowed and took each step like it was the last. When Dylan stood before him, Max took his best friend’s arm and steered the man toward one of the back booths.
The auction kicked back into gear, but Max couldn’t care less. “Don’t move.”
He went to the bar, grabbed his waters and paid the one thousand dollars, accepting the key to Dylan’s cuffs from Dave in exchange. Then he went back to the booth where Dylan waited. A fine sheen of sweat had broken out over the man’s skin. Max sat down and gestured Dylan to do the same. He opened the second bottle and held it so Dylan could get a drink. Then he set the bottle down and stared into his friend’s eyes.
“Any other surprises I should know about?”
Max raised one eyebrow. “I paid for you. You’re mine the entire night. Is that how you answer all Doms?”
Dylan cleared his throat. “No…Sir.”
Max sat back and studied the man across from him. “Why did you never tell me?”
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
Dylan sighed. “I guess it never quite crossed my mind. It’s no secret I’m gay, but, Max, my reputation in court would never recover if anyone found out I’m a sub.”
Max figured he couldn’t argue with that logic. It still didn’t explain why Dylan hadn’t told him. “You know I would never say a word, Dylan. We’ve been best friends for two decades.”
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth,” Dylan said. “I should have known better, to be honest. I’ve known you’re a Dom for a long time.”
Max let his gaze sweep over the muscled body across from him. He knew Dylan’s body almost as well as his own, even though they hadn’t seen each other physically in years. Pale blond hair, spiked a bit on top; eyes as blue as the sky; acres of muscles covered with the slightest hint of a tan. Max had often wondered what Dylan would be like in bed, but he’d never — ever — thought he’d see his friend bound and ready for whatever Max had in mind.
“You realize I fully intend to take advantage of this.”
Dylan shifted a little, gaze slipping away from Max’s. “I know.”
Max reached out and none-too-gently gripped Dylan’s chin, forcing the man to look directly at him. “You have ten minutes to tell me your hard limits and your safe word.”
“No blood, no scat, no watersports, no underage, no animals,” Dylan rattled off. “And my safe word is ‘bailiff’.”
“Any questions for me?” Max asked, still holding onto Dylan’s chin.
“I know the rules state that all play resulting from an auction must take place at a location of the sub’s choosing,” Dylan said. “We’ve known each other for twenty years. I trust you. Why don’t we take this to your place?”
Max knew exactly where this was going. He released Dylan and tugged the man up when he stood. “Do whatever you need to do and get your things.” He held up the key to the cuffs. “I’ll be waiting at the door.”
Dylan turned, and Max unlocked the cuffs. He handed them, and the key, to Dylan. Dylan dropped the key and cuffs off at the bar, then headed into the dressing room where the lockers were. Max blew out a slow breath. He’d come in here to get back into the scene. Never in a million years did he think he’d be doing that with Dylan Mackenzie.
Dylan braced himself on the sink and tried not to pass out. Getting up on a stage had been harrowing enough. But Max? Dylan couldn’t believe that Max was here. He couldn’t believe the man had paid a thousand bucks. And he sure as fuck couldn’t believe he was going home with his best friend. Not to watch a movie, not to get a drink. No. He was going to Max’s and giving up all control to a man he’d fantasized about but never thought he’d get his hands on.
It felt fucking surreal.
Dylan glanced up into the mirror to see Dave behind him. “Yeah, just… rattled.”
“Not regretting your buyer, are you?”
Dylan laughed and shook his head. “Quite the contrary.” At Dave’s perplexed expression, Dylan elaborated. “Max Castille has been my best friend for twenty years.”
Dave’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow.” He patted Dylan on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
Dave went into the back where the urinals were, and Dylan finally managed to stand upright without swaying. He hefted his duffel bag over one shoulder and gave himself a final once-over in the mirror. He’d changed back into his jeans and black T-shirt, though he’d left the pouch on.
Back out in the club, he spotted Max waiting near the front door, huge arms crossed. The man’s black leather pants hugged every fucking inch of thick legs, and the white T-shirt looked like it had been painted onto Max’s broad shoulders and chest. Max hadn’t cut his hair in a while, and the black thickness brushed his collar. Eyes the color of forest grass cut straight through Dylan’s soul. Dylan had no choice but to admit that the lust he had dealt with over the years had morphed into something far stronger. Max also intimidated the hell out of him without even trying, and Dylan regularly faced hard-assed judges — none of whom held a candle to the stern look Max gave him now.
“Ready?” Max asked when Dylan neared.
Max turned and walked out the door, Dylan following behind. Tonight had the potential to be absolutely amazing… or the worst disaster of Dylan’s life.
Once in Max’s car, Dylan took a deep breath. He’d never been this nervous with any Dom. Max started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.
“I still live in the same house,” Max said. “It’ll take about twenty minutes. Any specific kinks?”
Dylan squirmed the tiniest bit, his ass still a little tender from his scene before the auction. Telling a Dom what he liked had never been an issue before, but telling Max was a whole different ballgame. “Ass stuffing,” he said finally.
Max hummed what sounded like approval. Actually, it resembled a growl more than a hum — a low, almost possessive growl. Dylan sat on his hands, his cock already hard as stone.
“Permission to speak freely,” Max said. He glanced at Dylan before turning his attention back to the road. “Questions for me?”
“Most Doms have a particular specialty. What’s yours?”
Max smirked. “Edging.”
Dylan groaned and sank a little lower into the seat. Max’s chuckle was as sexy as the man’s growl. They rode in silence for a bit, Dylan’s thoughts in a thousand directions.
“Any more questions?”
Just one, Dylan thought, though he wasn’t sure if he should ask. He’d never been so damn nervous around Max.
“Earth to Dylan.”
“What happens after tonight?” Dylan asked as he stared out the window.
The car turned onto a familiar road and, a moment later, into an equally familiar driveway. Max shut the car off and twisted in the seat. A hand gripped Dylan’s chin and turned his head to face Max.
“That depends,” Max said.
Max closed the distance between them, but he didn’t kiss Dylan. Instead, he whispered, “On how well you take orders… from me.”
Dylan’s heart struggled to stay put in his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. Every inhale drew Max in with it, the faintest hint of coffee ever so intoxicating.
“When you step through my door, everything changes,” Max said. “I won’t lie to you about that.”
“I know,” Dylan whispered.
“You have one last chance to call this off, Dylan. Are you willing to submit to me: yes or no?”
Dylan really thought about it. If they did this, if he went through Max’s door, nothing between them would ever be the same again. Max waited patiently for his answer. Dylan realized, as he stared into those green eyes, that there was only one response.
Max released him and got out. Dylan had hoped for a kiss, but he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t doubt he’d get one. It was just a question of when. He got out of the car and followed Max to the front door. When Max opened it and stood aside, Dylan took a deep, steadying breath. This was it. Taking that first step across Max’s threshold made Dylan’s knees a bit weak, but he did his best not to show it. The door shut behind him and Max took his duffel bag.
Max led him down the hall to the basement door. Dylan had never been downstairs — the door had always been locked. Now he knew why. Max unlocked the door and started down the sanded wooden steps. Dylan followed and when Max flipped a light switch, Dylan blinked at the sight before him.
White cabinets over a black countertop lined two walls. Hooks near the ceiling protruded from another wall. A leather-covered table jutted from the fourth wall. Small hooks lined the sides and Dylan thought he spied stirrups at the end. Max set the duffel bag on the floor and unlocked one of the lower cabinets.
“Strip. Your clothes stay locked up until we’re done.”
Dylan did as told, shucking his jeans, boots, and T-shirt. At Max’s nod, he took off the pouch, too. His cock pointed straight out, the head already slick with precome. He had no clue whether Max liked guys smooth or hairy. He’d shaved before the auction, but if Max wanted him with hair, he’d gladly grow it back out. He put his clothes and boots in the open cabinet, then Max shut it.
“Stand still,” Max ordered. The man walked around Dylan, gaze moving over every inch of Dylan’s body like a heavy-handed caress. Then one of those large hands pressed Dylan’s back, bending him forward. “Over. Hands on your knees.”
Dylan closed his eyes, unable to stop the tremors rolling through his body. Max’s hand ghosted along his spine, disappeared, then returned a moment later. Dylan nearly bit his tongue when Max spread his ass cheeks. Heat flushed over his skin, his breath stuttering. Two slick fingers stroked his asshole, then pushed in deep.
“Oh, God…” Dylan gasped. He dug his fingers into his knees in an effort to remain in position.
Max pressed deeper, twisting, spreading. Dylan’s head swam as those thick fingers worked him open. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Dylan groaned and nodded.
“I want to hear you,” Max said. He withdrew and then re-entered, three fingers this time. Dylan moaned, ass deliciously sore but hungry. “Like that?” Max scissored his fingers and Dylan hissed. Then Max pulled his fingers out completely. “On the table, on your back.”
Legs feeling more like jelly than actual limbs, Dylan somehow managed to make it to the table. He lay back on it, entire body beginning to shake. Max took something out of a cabinet, then joined him. The shaking only got worse when Max placed Dylan’s legs into the stirrups. Straps went around his calves, and then his legs were spread so wide the muscles in his thighs burned. Max grabbed his hips and tugged him down until Dylan’s ass nearly hung off the table edge.
“Time to test your control.”
Dylan swallowed, nervous as hell. He prided himself on his control, but this wasn’t some Dom who paid the club for an hour of his time. This was Max, standing between his legs, slicking up a long, thick dildo. The head rubbed over his hole and Dylan willed himself to relax.
“Eyes open,” Max ordered just when Dylan started to shut his eyes.
The head pressed into him, the burn exquisite, the pain singing through his nerves. Dylan forced himself to stare into Max’s eyes while the man worked the toy into his asshole, inch by torturous inch. Dylan swore the thing was as big around as a grown man’s wrist. It pushed deep, filling him until he didn’t think any more would fit.
“That’s it,” Max murmured.
Dylan grabbed the sides of the table as Max fed more of the long dildo into his body. His thighs trembled and, fuck, his cock ached. He couldn’t breathe for fear he’d lose control completely. Max never looked away as the dildo moved deeper and deeper. By the time it stopped, Dylan was panting and sweat covered his skin. His heart thundered so loud, he figured the fucking neighbors heard it.
If Max so much as a laid a fingertip on him, Dylan knew damn well he’d come. He almost expected it. But no. Max began pulling out the dildo, just as slow as before. Every ridge, every ripple, rolled along the inside of Dylan’s ass, then back out his hole. Dylan bit his tongue. He wanted to scream for Max to move faster, to give him more, to fuck him hard. But Max kept up the agonizing, slow pace until only the head of the dildo remained inside.
“Good boy,” Max said with a slight smile. “I do believe you’re ready for more.”
Dylan wasn’t sure he could handle more. Not like this. He was so fucking close to coming, his balls felt tight, like they weighed a ton between his legs. Max pulled out the dildo and set it aside. Dylan took the chance to get his breath back. He watched as Max got something else out of a nearby cabinet. His eyes widened when he saw the width — easily as thick as a man’s forearm.
“Ever had anything like this?”
Dylan nodded slowly. “But it’s been a while, Sir.”
Max grinned the slightest bit and slicked the huge dildo. Dylan licked his lips, unable to look away from the glide of that hand up and down the rubber length. He wondered if Max ever fisted anyone.
“Push out,” Max said as he began pressing the dildo’s head against Dylan’s tender hole.
The head breeched Dylan’s body and he arched, eyes rolling back. “Fuck!” He panted as Max kept sliding the dildo in. “Oh, my God. Sir… oh, fuck…”
Dylan shook, ass clamping tight as he fought himself back from the edge. Max twisted the dildo and Dylan nearly screamed. His ass left the table and the motion drove the dildo deep inside him. Lights exploded behind his eyelids and Dylan convulsed, bucking and writhing as spunk shot over his belly with lightning speed.
Max finally eased the dildo out. Dylan whimpered, partly from the loss and partly from the incredible tenderness in his ass. Instead of unlocking his legs, though, Max walked up to Dylan’s head. Dylan opened his eyes and found himself staring at a beautifully uncut cock. He sucked Max in, moaning around the girth. Max grunted, one hand threading through Dylan’s short, spiky hair and gripping it tight.
“That’s it, boy,” Max rumbled. “Suck it. Yeah…”
Dylan groaned and bobbed his head as best he could. Max did something, and the table lowered. Then Max crawled over Dylan’s chest, straddling him. Dylan opened back up, sucking for all he was worth. Max held onto his head, fucked his lips with quick, hard thrusts.
“Dylan…” Max threw his head back and growled low.
Dylan swallowed a mouthful of sticky, hot semen as he watched his best friend’s expression morph into one of intense pleasure. When Max pulled out, Dylan licked his lips. Max scooted down, right over Dylan’s crotch, and leaned down to kiss him.
For twenty years, Dylan had fantasized about this. He’d dreamed about Max’s touch, Max’s kisses. No amount of dreams or fantasies came close to the real thing. Max’s tongue swept through Dylan’s mouth, claiming, devouring. When the kiss ended, Max stared down at him and smiled.
“Stay the night.”
Dylan nodded, then gave Max a smile of his own. “Yes, Sir.”
© 2013 Mychael Black