Healing Hark (Doms of Chicago) (24 page)

“You couldn’t before,” Hark whispered.

Diachi cupped his cheek. “I was young then. Give me a chance to prove I’m more than capable of dealing with anything you dish out.”

Seeing the sincerity in Diachi’s gaze, he finally nodded. “Okay.”

“Does that mean I’m going to get fucked now?” Bryan lifted his foot, running it up between Hark’s and Diachi’s bodies, his toes brushing over their cocks. “Because I’m horny and in desperate need of a fuck.”

Diachi sighed before shifting to face Bryan. “You know for your boldness, I should insist Sir tease you all night long.”

Bryan pouted, looking like an adorable boy trying to wiggle out of trouble. “But, Master. You have me tied up and at your mercy. What sub wouldn’t be horny?”

Hark barely suppressed his laugh. This is what had been missing from his relationship with George and Teresina. The silliness. It didn’t have to be all serious play. It was supposed to be fun as well. “You know our sub’s right, Master. Trussed up as he is, he has every expectation of being used and abused. But now the question is, which comes first?”

* * * *

“Sir…
please!
” Bryan gritted his teeth as pain and pleasure collided. He should’ve known better than to challenge his masters. But even his limited experience with ménage in the past couldn’t have prepared him for the experience of being at the mercy of two loving, but demented dominants.

“Not yet. Hold it,” Hark ordered from his position between Bryan’s spread legs. The crop in his hand had become an instrument of torment as he’d alternately used it to strike, then rub over the resulting welts it produced. The pained pleasure had him almost delirious. He needed to Sir to fuck his ass until Master ordered them both to come.

“You don’t have permission,
hana.
If you come, you
will be
punished,” Diachi’s warning wasn’t lost on him. He merely tried to squirm away as Sir flicked the crop at a spot perilously close to his scrotum. As the sting sent him higher, he arched against his bonds. But Master had done his job well. Not only was he cuffed to the bench, the crimson rope Master had used to restrain his legs after he’d failed to keep them open as Hark had lightly flogged his thighs, kept him from being accidently hurt. The fact they nearly matched the bright stripes on the inside of his thighs was beside the point.

“That’s right, try to fight it.” Hark’s hand disappeared from view, and lightning raced up his spine as the tip of the crop tapped against his rosette.

“Aw, fuck.” He clenched his fingers as it slowly breached him. The burn had him catching his breath. He almost moaned in protest when Sir withdrew it, but was distracted when a cock was suddenly pressed against his lips.

“Open. Get me wet for your Sir.”

Moaning, he lifted his head, swabbing his tongue across satiny surface of Diachi’s glans. The slightly bitter but tart taste of his master had him desperate for more. He probed the slit in search of any stray droplet he may have missed. The harsh breathing above him sent pleasure through him. He loved to drive his master wild. Tonguing the narrow slit caused even a stronger reaction than when he scored Diachi’s hips with his teeth.

“Naughty little fucking sub, trying to find more seed.” A sharp rap of the crop against the top of his thigh had him flinching. “Master said wet him. Not tease him.”

He groaned and obeyed, sucking the head into his mouth. Lashing the underside with the flat of his tongue, he drenched every inch of skin he could reach. He closed his eyes when Diachi’s hands cupped the back of his head. Allowing his master to guide him as Sir continued to land blow after blow to his willing body, he fell a little further toward sub-space. This is what he lived for. To loose himself in the release submitting gave him. It was why he protested when he found his mouth suddenly empty with Diachi crouching down next to him, his expression stern.

“Stay with us. You can let go once we’re done playing.”

“Yes, Mas —” He cried out at the sudden warmth against his asshole. Wet heat bathed his dark opening while the soft silk of Hark’s hair lightly abraded his welts. Each brush sent him one step closer. He tipped his head back as the tongue burrowed further inside. A spurt of fluid escaped and he clenched down on the fluttering appendage.

“Not yet. You can fly once we start fucking you.” Diachi wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, stalling his release.

“I…” He struggled with the words. “Oh god…please…I can’t...”

“Yes, you can.” This came from Sir as he stood. The sudden weight against his body as Hark hovered over him barely registered before Sir captured his mouth in a wet, probing kiss. A noise built in his throat as their tongues tangled together. Bryan whimpered, rocking his hips the scant inches the ropes would allow.

“Enough!” Master’s voice broke through his lust. “It’s time to fuck.”

Hark groaned, lifting off him. “Yes, Master.” He accepted the bottle of lube, flicking open the top. Bryan wanted to beg him to forgo it. He loved the burn. “Please, don’t. I can handle it.”

Sir looked toward their master. Diachi shook his head. “No. Until you’re used to his width, the lube is needed.”

Bryan whimpered, but dropped his head back to the table. “Yes, Master.”

“Good boy,” Sir whispered mere seconds before something broad pressed against his hole. At first he expected it to be fingers, but quickly realized as the pressure continued, it was his Sir. “Push out for me.”

Obeying, he relaxed. With a sudden pop, his Sir was inside of him and stretching him wide. He breathed through his nose as the slight burn morphed into pleasure. “Sir!”

“Hmmm. Tight. Fuck I’m not going to last.” Hark’s slightly pained tone had Bryan wanting to wiggle. It would be so easy to force his Sir over the edge.

“You
will not
come, Harkahome.” Diachi ordered. “Not until I say.”

“Yes, Master…argh.” His Sir caught his gaze. Bryan could feel the sudden tremor shaking Hark.

“Relax.” Diachi’s voice sounded strangled. “Let me in.”

Hark braced his weight on his forearms on either side of Bryan’s face as their Master’s forward motion pressed him deeper inside Bryan’s ass. The whole time, he kept his eyes on Bryan’s, refusing to release their connection. “God, I forgot how big he is.”

“Shit, I’ve got to move.” Diachi’s voice held no remorse, and Bryan had no time to prepare for the pleasurable onslaught as Hark bottomed out in him, his thick head pressing firmly against his prostate as Diachi fucked him.

“For the love of....” Hark dropped his head to rest against Bryan’s forehead, as the bench creaked ominously, with each thrust their master made. But as the pleasure built, Bryan could’ve cared less if the bench broke under their combined weight, just as long as they continued to fuck him. Every forward motion Diachi made pushed Hark deeper.

“Dammit.” Master’s weight suddenly joined Hark’s. Then Bryan found his wrists suddenly free. “Hang on to him,
hana.
This is going to get wild,” Diachi ordered.

“Yes, Master.” He barely got his arms around Hark’s neck when the world exploded around him. Pleasure fought with pain as he was swept up into the vortex of sensations. He knew he was babbling, pleading for something, but if asked he wouldn’t have been able to repeat what he’d begged for. All he could do is cling to Sir as he flew higher and higher. Sub-space beckoned, but his needy body kept him tethered to the here and now. He needed to fill the space between them with his cum. He needed to mark Sir, even as Hark filled him.

“Master!” The long drawn out groan from above him as Hark pleaded with their master was fuzzy, but the words Diachi spoke through gritted teeth were clear.

“Come for me, my subs.”

The command was raspy, but Bryan’s body obeyed. Pleasure detonated at the base of his spine, racing through his groin as his cock spat long strings of seed against Sir’s stomach and chest. Then he was falling into the dark, welcoming arms of sub-space. Warmth filled his ass. The cries of his lovers barely reached him as he sank deeper. They would keep him safe.

The feel of lips against his shoulder blade slowly dragged Hark out of dream
land. Blinking, the next thing he noticed was heat, then the unaccustomed soreness in his ass. Memories of his master's possession last night washed over him, causing him to groan softly. His master cuddled him closer. Which, of course, made his morning wood even harder. Brushing aside the cobwebs, he squinted at the shadows on the wall. It couldn't be much later than seven. The sun had barely risen. Why the hell were his men up already? They hadn't tumbled into bed until nearly three this morning.

"It's beautiful. What does it mean?"
Bryan's voice was canted low, but he felt every word breathed against his skin. "I mean, you can obviously read it. It's Japanese, isn't it?"

On the other side of him, Diachi sighed. "Yes it is, but it's Hark's story to tell,
hana
. Tattoos can be very personal in nature."

"Damn, you're no fun, Master."
The pout in Bryan's voice had Hark smiling against Diachi's shoulder.

"That's not what you were screaming last night, Bryan
, as Sir and I pushed you over the edge." Diachi pulled him into the curve of his body before pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Now see what you did, imp? You woke him up."

The sheets rustled behind him. "Good. We've only been up for the past hour."

"Damn energizer bunny
," Hark muttered, wrapping an arm around Diachi's waist. "Too frickin’ early to be up."

A finger traced the edges of his tattoo as Bryan's breath teased his ear. "Aw
, come on, Sir. I'm really curious. It's so beautiful. And it looks familiar."

The subtle tension of Diachi against him had
Hark sighing. He’d been hoping to avoid this conversation, even though he knew once Diachi saw it, it would be unavoidable. "It's something I got shortly before I left for basic training. It's the Japanese symbol for trust."

"Really?"
The skepticism in Bryan's voice didn't surprise him. "Are you sure? I’ve heard of horror stories where tattoo artists tell their clients the symbol means something cool like Great Spirit or warrior, and then later the person finds out it means kimchi, or something totally asinine."

Rolling free of Diachi, Hark left the bed.
Reaching for his robe, he slipped it on then wrapped the belt around his waist. "I assure you it most definitely means trust. Now I need coffee, since you insist we need to get up." Slipping from the room, he headed toward the kitchen. He scrubbed his hands over his face, as he leaned against the counter and waited for the coffee to brew. Soon the fragrant smell of the bitter brew teased his nose. As it continued to drip into the carafe, he pulled out cups. Then he went to the fridge. He was just reaching for the bagels when he felt a presence behind him.

“You want fruit?”
He glanced over, expecting it to be Bryan, but instead found it was his Master wearing nothing but a pair of drawstring pajama bottoms riding low on his hips.

Dark eyes studied him. "
No. I want to know why you did it."

For a second,
Hark thought about pretending to not understand the question, or even shrugging it off, but the need to be honest with his master rode him hard. "Because, in the end, you trusted me enough to let me go."

Diachi glared at him. "Bu
llshit. It has nothing to do with trust. You wanted to mark your body, even after I forbid you to do it. Why? Was it a way of getting back at me?”

"No, it wasn’t
." He turned back to the fridge and pulled out a tub of cream cheese. “We were no longer together, and I wanted something to remind me of you.”

"
So you had my last name permanently branded to your flesh? Do you realize how stupid your actions were? Or how I’d react when I saw it at the club? I’ll tell you how. It sealed your fate. There was no way I’d ever let you go. There was a fucking reason I didn’t want you to do it."

Hark sighed.
“Which you never explained to me.” He set the cream cheese on the counter next to the bagels as the coffee pot made a hissing noise. “And, no, at this late date, it really doesn’t matter, does it? I got the ink to cover the empty place our parting left. You’re damned lucky I didn’t have it tattooed over my heart. At least with a shirt or vest on, it’s not visible to the entire world.”

Hark gasped in surprise when he found himself suddenly slammed up against the wall by Diachi. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten how fast the man could be, it was he never expected his master to use his speed or strength against him.

“Damn you,” Diachi growled, his fists wrapped around the lapels of Hark’s robe. The dark desire in his eyes should’ve scared Hark, but oddly enough it aroused him. He hadn’t seen such a look since the day he’d walked away from Diachi. “You’ve now tied us together in a way I won’t ever be able to walk away from.”

Understanding dawned on Hark. The mark meant permanency to Diachi. It was a stronger symbol, even more than a collar. A tattoo never went away. A collar could be taken off, a submissive freed, but the dark ink on his back claimed he was Diachi’s for all those to see. “Good.”

“Good?” Diachi stared at him, his expression a cross between bewilderment and horror.

Covering his master’s hands with his own, he bent his knees and lowered himself, until he was at eye level with the shorter man. “Yeah, because I barely survived our parting the last time. You pushed for this…” He waved his hand around him. “You wanted to bring me home. You’ve embraced both sides of me, and have shared your gift with me.” He rubbed his thumb across Diachi’s lower lip. “And don’t think for a moment I’ll let either of you go willingly. I’ll lie, cheat, and steal to keep what we have safe – including tattooing “property of Diachi” on my ass if that’s what it takes.”

Diachi tipped his head into Hark’s palm. “But why?”

“Because if you send me away again, there’ll be nothing left of me. I’ll be no more than dust in the wind.” Releasing his master, he pulled back. “Now, I’m hungry.”

* * * *

Two hours later, Bryan sat in his office trying not to think about what he’d overheard. With his fingers under the crisp collar of his dress shirt, he toyed with the small soldered lock attached to the leather gracing his throat. He couldn’t get Master’s words out of his head. Part of him was worried about the fact that Diachi saw the tattoo gracing Hark’s shoulder as the ultimate form of submission, and an irrevocable symbol. While the other half of his brain tried to reassure himself Diachi would’ve never gone to such lengths if he didn’t want their relationship to last.

“Are you okay, little one?” Sitting in his usual chair in the corner of the room, Hark glanced up from the laptop resting on his legs. The steady almost silent clack of keys should’ve been a welcome distraction, but instead each muted ping put him further on edge.

“Not really.” Bryan slowly stood and paced over to the window. He stared out over the lake and tried to reassure himself that his relationship with Diachi wasn’t changing for the worse. But this morning, he’d heard something he’d never heard in Diachi’s voice before. Possessiveness.

“Was I too rough last night?” Hark’s hands settled over his shoulders as the man pressed his front to Bryan’s back.

He shook his head, the scent of Hark’s cologne tempting him. More than anything he wanted to turn and embrace his Sir. For the first time in a long time, he felt vulnerable and uncertain of his place in his relationship with his master.

“Then what has you in a funk this morning? You shut down on our way to work. If it’s the issue with the attack and the sabotage, we’ll have it —”

“Excuse me, Bryan?” Sharonda’s voice came from the doorway.

Bryan drew a huge sigh of relief, as Hark stepped back. “What is it, Shar?”

“You asked me to let you know when everyone arrived. Your uncle and Easton are waiting in Conference Room A. And Mr. Larson and Mr. Levough from Larson Securities have arrived along with Mr. Tierney. Marius just called to let me know they’ll be up shortly.”

“Thank you, Shar. Please let everyone know I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He forced a smile until she left. Then his smile fell. “I’ll be so glad when this is over. Perhaps I need to take some time off. Go someplace warm and sunny.” He walked back to his desk, and gathered up the file folders on it. “Shall we?”

Hark frowned. “Something’s going on with you, little one, and don’t think for a moment I won’t figure it out.”

The determination in his Sir’s voice nearly sent him into a panic. “Later. Let’s get this over with.”

Hark tipped Bryan’s face up to his. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

Then Hark pressed a kiss against his lips, effectively cutting off any protest Bryan might have had.

* * * *

“Thank you for all coming,” Bryan addressed the people at the long conference table. On his left, Corbin and Easton sat stiffly. Both looked uncomfortable. On the right, Jude and Jackson were relaxed as they pulled out several file folders from a sleek attaché case they’d brought with them. It seemed weird to see either of the men in khaki’s and polo shirts. He was used to seeing them in leather and little else. At the opposite end of the table, Hark and Marius were sitting with their heads together, while Kieffer Tierney leaned against the wall.

“Okay, you got us all here. What’s so damned important you felt the need to pull everyone into the office like kids?” Corbin drummed his fingers on the table.

“Excuse me, but didn’t you tell me the last time we discussed this, I needed to either figure out who was behind it all, or drop the Wheaton-Free line?”

His uncle harrumphed. “Well, let’s get on with it.”

“Indeed.” He nodded toward Hark. “After the attack on my assistant, I asked Hark to look into the incident. He tells me he has news to report. Mr. Akula?”

Hark nodded. “Thank you. I’ll make this brief. After the attack, I studied the security tapes of the morning we found Ms. Williams on the floor.”

Next to him, Sharonda shifted in her chair. Bryan patted her knee in an effort to comfort her.

“And?” Kieffer stirred from his position by the wall.

“And, the fact remains, unless Casper the Ghost did the attacking, Ms. Sharonda deliberately hurt herself.” Reaching into the manila folder in front of him, he tugged out several papers.

Hurt built inside of Bryan. Had his Sir lied to him? “But…you told me my uncle or Easton were the only ones spotted outside my office.”

“Indeed they were. But they never went into your office. They passed by it. Easton because he was coming down from his apartment, and Corbin…” Hark focused his attention on the older man. “Would you like to explain why you were in the hall that day?”

Corbin frowned. “Sharonda called me and told me Bryan wished to speak to me. When I got there she…” He shifted uncomfortably. “She wanted to resume our former relationship. I refused.”

Bryan removed his hand. “You didn’t mention you’d spoken with my uncle that morning. Nor did the footage record your meeting.” A sinking feeling built in the pit of his stomach.

She fidgeted. “I don’t know why it didn’t.”

“I do.” Jackson stood and tossed a folder in front of Bryan. “The recording was on a loop. It was spliced together from several previous tapes – very poorly in fact.”

Kieffer pushed away from the wall. “There’s no possible way for you tell that. The security feed is digitalized.”

Jackson arched an eye brow at him. “Of course I can. Unlike certain investigators in this room, the ink on my license is more than dry, and I’ve spent nearly fifteen years doing recon.”

Jude smiled. “In other words, he knows his shit. Things like digital markers and spoofed IP addresses. So if he says the video feed is fake, it’s fake. And since it was loaded off a proxy server owned by Tierney Investigations, then I say you have a slimy investigator who’s playing for the opposite team.”

“You can’t fucking prove it.” Kieffer glared at them. “In fact, I’m going to sue your asses.” Then he stormed out of the conference room. Marius keyed the mic on his shoulder. “Front desk? Detain Mr. Tierney for hacking our security system. Then call the police.”

There was a burst of static. “Copy that.”

Bryan squeezed his nose. “Dammit. If that wasn’t the correct feed, we have no concrete evidence on who attacked Sharonda.”

Hark sighed, his gaze cool. “Yes, we do. I have statements from Sharonda’s surgeon. They state the only way her injuries could’ve occurred is if they were self-inflicted.”

Next to him, Sharonda sputtered. “You honestly think I broke my collarbone myself, then managed to knock myself unconscious? I’m talented, but not that talented.”

“Talent has nothing to do with it.” He held up a manila folder. “In here, I have sworn testimony from the specialist you used for your operation. He states due to the angle and depth of the break, the only way it could’ve occurred was if you bent at the waist then threw yourself against something hard and about waist high.” His eyes narrowed. “Like the granite counter of Bryan’s wet bar. Earlier this morning, I dusted for fingerprints on the underside of the bar. Imagine my surprise when I found both a right and a left thumbprint belonging to you.”