Brick and Mortar (Student Bodies #4) (3 page)

Wrapping his arms around himself, Cannon huddled into his black parka. His mind tumbled and spun with everything that happened in the last two hours. In truth, it felt more like days had passed since he’d tumbled out of bed and gone for a run this morning. If he didn’t think he’d get strange looks from other students milling about campus, he’d put the gag back on now.

The thought crossed his mind to head to the library and get started on the new set of blueprints, but Turner’s request for him to go home and rest sent him off toward the dorms. Adding to the decision was his stinging ass. He didn’t know how long he’d be able to sit comfortably.

His ass wasn’t the only thing stinging, his pride had taken a beating as well. It was his fault. He had willfully disregarded Turner’s parameters for the assignment and he deserved to get a failing grade. If he’d only been a big enough man to admit that to Turner, he wouldn’t be in this mess, his head spinning and his ass aching.

Keying himself into his dorm, he was hit by a blast of hot air in the lobby of the building. He’d been so deep in his head he hadn’t noticed how bitter the temperatures were outside. His dorm room was exactly as he left it earlier in the day, but it felt different somehow. Shrugging out of his parka, he reached into his pocket for the purple and black striped silk tie Turner had given him. The urge to tie it on was so strong, but first things first. He needed a shower to wash off the day and warm up.

Adjusting the water to warm so it wouldn’t burn his cold skin, Cannon climbed into the shower. Exhaustion hit like a ton of bricks as he stood under the spray. It had been a long three days with Ryder’s bachelor party, the wedding and his epic meltdown today. Even his overactive cock had gotten the message and hadn’t risen to the occasion when he visualized Turner in his mind.

Speaking of Turner, how was he ever going to face him again after what happened in his office? He’d acted like a five-year-old who couldn’t have a cookie and Turner had spanked him like the bad boy he was. He didn’t want to be Turner’s bad boy. He wanted so badly to be a good boy.

He was losing his mind. Unable to sit still, Turner was pacing through his kitchen. He thought he’d stepped over the line gagging Cannon yesterday but now he could add spanking a student to his growing list of offenses. It would take the ethics board half an hour just to read all of the infractions he’d racked up in the last twenty-four hours alone.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat, he hadn’t bothered to cook. If worse came to worse, he could always make a peanut butter sandwich.

How would he ever explain his behavior if Cannon went to the Dean of Architecture about him? Would he say he snapped? That Cannon deserved it?
And he had…

Turner’s cock jerked, waking up with a vengeance. It had been a long time since he’d last spanked a submissive boy. Bryce was the last one and he would just take it, with a prim, “Thank you, sir.” At the end, it had gotten so there was no pleasure in disciplining Bryce and he stopped doing it altogether. Bryce had been an eager sub when they first got together, but that waned after Turner proposed.

Moaning when his right hand slipped down to palm his erection through his black dress pants, his mind spun back to what it felt like to spank Cannon’s perfect ass. His brat’s tears spoke volumes through his stoic silence. He knew he was in the wrong and he was sorry. Only a few strokes away from exploding in his pants like a teenager, the ding of an incoming text message stopped his hand cold.

“Fuck. My. Life.” Turner grabbed his phone and pressed the home button to bring the screen to life. Blinking in disbelief, he saw the message was from Cannon and included a picture.

His curiosity getting the best of him, he keyed his access code and pulled up Cannon’s message, gasping when the picture came into focus. Cannon was lying in bed on his left side, the covers pulled up to his bare chest, the knot of Turner’s makeshift gag between his teeth. The message read, “Good night, sir.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Typing with one finger, Turner responded with, “Good boy.”

Cannon’s cheeky message and gagged selfie was the last contact Turner had with him. As noon on Wednesday got closer and closer the butterflies in his stomach started to riot. Turner was nauseous one moment and ready to jump out of his skin the next. Cannon seemed okay with what happened on Monday, but a lot could have happen in thirty-six hours to change his mind.

Walking into the lecture hall, Cannon was sitting in his usual seat. Instead of laughing and talking with classmates, he was facing forward, with his notebook out, his lips sealed, but smiling.

Turner gave a tentative smile back before bringing the class to order.

Sitting still for the fifty minute class almost killed him. When Turner mercifully set them free, one minute late, he wanted to run laps around the lecture hall. Somehow he managed to stay in his seat until he and Turner were the only people left in the room.

“Mr. Sommers, how can I help?”

Now that he was standing here with Turner, he’d forgotten all of the cute well-planned things he wanted to say. Bouncing his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet, he cleared his throat.

Turner watched silently chewing on his bottom lip.

“Ah, sir,” Cannon murmured. “I-I… Do you have some time this afternoon to, uh, meet with me?”

“As luck would have it, I’m free now. Let’s go up to my office.”

“Thank you, sir.” Cannon was sweating bullets. He wished Turner said he was free in ten minutes so he could run to the men’s room and take a whore bath with the rough, brown paper towels the janitor supplied. They would scrape off the first layer of skin, but at least he wouldn’t stink.

“After you.” Turner held the door open at the front of the classroom.

Even after his epic meltdown on Monday, Turner was still being a perfect gentleman. Cannon kept his silence, walking a step behind Turner with his hands down by his sides. He was going to need a run around the quad to burn off all this restless energy.

Turning the key in the lock, Turner pushed open his office door. “Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Sommers.” Flipping on the light, Turner took his seat behind his glass and metal drafting table.

“T-thank you, sir.” It was a different experience sitting in the cozy leather chair in front of his desk, rather than standing as he’d done on Monday.

“I asked to meet with you for two reasons,” Cannon began, managing not to stammer.

Turner nodded, steepling his long fingers together.

“I wanted to apologize for my childish behavior on Monday. I was out of line and rude. You had every right to fail me on the blueprint assignment.” Cannon paused, digging into his backpack and pulling out the new set of drawings he’d created yesterday. “Even if this new set is perfect, sir, I still deserve to fail, although I thank you for the opportunity to redo the assignment.” Cannon set the new set of plans in front of Turner and settled back into his chair.

Turner saw what just happened and he still didn’t believe it. Cannon was humble and sincere in his apology and in saying he deserved to fail the assignment. He had no doubt the new set of blueprints sitting before him were flawless. Cannon was the best student he had in the five years he’d held this position. He was so good, Turner had considered offering him a position in his firm, if the brat could ever shut up and show a little reserve. “I appreciate the apology, Mr. Sommers. I’m glad you took some time to reflect on what happened earlier this week.”

“Thank you, sir, for helping me to realize I was wrong.”

It hadn’t escaped Turner’s attention that Cannon hadn’t once fidgeted or even shifted in his seat during class. The same was true now. His posture was so straight it looked like he had a stick shoved up his ass. A faint blush rose up his collar before blooming over his face. Shifting in his seat to ease the pressure of his zipper against his erection, Turner cleared his throat. “You said there were two reasons you wanted to see me?”

“Uh, yeah. I wanted to talk to you about Monday, about what happened here in your office.”

Well, shit.
He knew Monday would come back around to take a chunk out of his ass. “What about Monday?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you for spanking me, sir. I deserved it. And, thank you for caring enough about me to discipline me.”

Turner was having a stroke. It explained why everything was topsy-turvy, why Cannon suddenly had manners and humility and why the brat was here
thanking
him for providing discipline. “You’re welcome.” He had been so upset with Cannon’s over-the-top behavior on Monday, he was either going to choke or spank him. All things being equal, he figured spanking was the safer route to go.

Leaning forward in his chair, Cannon pulled out a folded sheet of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. “When Ryder and Brock started seeing each other, they worked from a temporary Master/slave contract.”

Turner remembered the story well. All of Brock’s friends, himself included, knew he was crazy about Ryder and a temporary contract would never be enough to satisfy him. They’d all been right and Brock had almost lost his boy over it.

“I’m listening.” Only God knew why. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going. He thought the worst thing that could happen was Cannon going to the Dean about his behavior. He’d been wrong.

Cannon unfolded the paper, taking a deep breath. “Using their temporary contract as a guide, I reworked it.”

“Reworked for what purpose?” He knew damn well for what purpose. Cold sweat trickled down his spine, soaking into his lime green boxer briefs.

“Well, um, for our purposes if you’re amenable, sir,” Cannon said with a smile.

He fucking knew it. Cannon wanted to explore his kink and chose Turner as his personal jungle gym. “As flattering as that sounds, Mr. Sommers-”

“Wait! Don’t say no yet.” Cannon’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, sir. I’m sorry. Will you hear me out and maybe read my contract?”

Biting his cheek to keep from smiling, he tasted his own blood. If nothing else, he had to give Cannon an A for effort and bravery. “Continue, Mr. Sommers.”

“Thank you, sir,” Cannon said smiling from ear to ear. “I’ve been gagged twice by you and twice by myself over the last few days. All four times, the gag calmed me and my racing mind down. Can you explain why?”

Smart brat, giving him a mystery to solve.
He couldn’t help smiling over Cannon wearing the gag last night too. “No, I don’t know why. I know some submissives experience a Zen-like calm when they’re tied up in certain bondage positions, but I’ve never heard of that happening with a gag.”

“So I’m submissive?”

“Do you want to be?” He wasn’t going to fall into that trap again, getting involved with a man playing at being submissive just to make him happy.

“I want to be who I am. If I’m a sub, I want to explore and embrace it with a man I trust.”

It was his turn to feel humbled. After all that happened between them, Cannon trusted him. “Tell me about the contract.”

Cannon cleared his throat nervously. “It states that I vow to serve you honestly, willingly and happily.”

In the years he’d spent with Bryce, he’d never heard him say anything close to this. “Is that all it says?” he asked, curiously.

“Brock and Ryder agreed to a list of things they were willing to do together. Ryder has more experience than me, so I just made a list of things I’d be willing to try with you.” He handed the contract across the desk to Turner.

Turner was impressed. It was obvious Cannon had done his homework. He’d listed ball gags and hoods along with impact tools, such as a paddle and a flogger. What surprised him was Cannon listing quiet time and eye contact restrictions, not every submissive enjoyed those things. “And if I wanted to add things to this list?”

“I would like the time to research them and discuss them with you before giving you an answer.”

Who was this mature young man and what had he done with Cannon Sommers? “I’m proud of you for doing such a thorough job researching and creating this contract.”

“Thank you, sir.” A pretty blush stained his cheeks.

“I’m going to take a page out of your book and ask for some time to think about this.” Turner’s reason for saying this was two-fold. First, it was exactly what he planned to do, but more importantly, he wanted to see how Cannon would respond.

“Thank you, sir.” Cannon smiled happily.

“Did you bring your gag like a good boy?” Turner stood up from his desk and walked around to where Cannon was sitting.

“Yes, it’s in my pocket.” Cannon stood up and fished it out of the inside pocket of his parka.

“Give it here.” His cock was so hard it could cut through glass. This was dangerous. This was a bad idea. His aching dick disagreed, egging him on. He took the neatly folded gag from Cannon and unfolded it. “Open, brat,” Turner whispered, placing the knot of his tie between Cannon’s teeth. “Good boy,” Turner praised, stroking his thumb over Cannon’s cheek. He watched while Cannon’s ever-changing eyes darkened. “Does being gagged turn you on?”

Cannon shrugged and reached forward to tap his hand twice against Turner’s heart.

“Oh, you like it when
I
gag you?” Turner’s cock jerked in his pants. Taking one step closer to Cannon, his erection brushed against Cannon’s hip.

Cannon moaned around the gag.

“That’s right, brat. Gagging you turns me on too.” Reaching out a hand, Turner palmed Cannon’s cock. He could see the outline of it through his jeans and rubbed his hand harder against the bulge. His nimble fingers unbuttoned his pants and pulled down the zipper.

Cannon moaned around gag, eyes rolling back.

“Hush and concentrate on my hand.”

Cannon nodded and tapped Turner’s heart again.

Their eyes locked, Turner snaked his hand into Cannon’s black boxers and pulled his heated flesh out of the waistband. “Look at this,” he whispered, stroking up to the damp tip of Cannon’s cock. “So gorgeous, gagged and obeying me,” Turner whispered, increasing the pace of his hand. “Half the time I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you.”

Cannon’s eyes went wide with excitement.

“Don’t worry, brat,” Turner winked, licking out at the pulse point in Cannon’s neck. He could feel Cannon’s heart fluttering like hummingbird wings against his tongue. “Feels good, huh?” Turner whispered, humping his erection against Cannon’s leg.

Cannon nodded sharply, need obvious in his eyes.

“Since your perpetually-running motor-mouth is gagged, you can’t ask for permission to come…”

Cannon raised his right hand to cup the side of Turner’s face, rubbing his thumb against Turner’s full bottom lip.

“Fuck me,” Turner gasped, his cock jerking and starting to erupt in his pants. Cannon wasn’t far behind, pulsing in Turner’s hand. Blast after blast of come coated the inside of his boxers while he watched Cannon’s cock spew all over his hand.

Pulling away from Cannon after the last tremor passed through the brat’s body, he turned back to his desk, reaching for a tissue. “I’ll think about your request,” he mumbled, not bothering to turn around to watch Cannon’s reaction.

“Thank you, sir.” Cannon said softly.

Turner heard the zipper of Cannon’s jeans slide up and the sound of the brat picking up his things from the floor. When the door clicked behind him, Turner licked out at Cannon’s cream, still hot in his hand.