Authors: Avery Cockburn
“You said you didn’t want to see it until you were inside me. Now you are.”
“Shut up.” He shoved Andrew’s face down onto the mattress.
“Aye.” Andrew clutched at the ornate bedspread, elbows splayed.
“I’m gonnae fuck you now, and I’ll do it any way I want.”
“Aye.”
“Fast, slow, hard, easy.” He let go of Andrew’s hair and took his hips in both hands. “I’m gonnae fuck you and you’re gonnae love it.”
“Aye.” His entire body quivered, sending shockwaves through Colin’s prick.
He eased in and out of Andrew as slowly as he could stand, savoring each exquisite inch. Andrew moaned through bitten lips, clearly tormented by Colin’s restraint.
“Good lad.” Colin pulled almost all the way out, then took his cock in hand and worked the tip around and around Andrew’s silky, accommodating hole. Finally he paused, waiting, waiting, waiting for Andrew’s whimper.
When it came, Colin rammed into him, sinking himself to the hilt.
“Yes!” Andrew cried. “God, yes!”
Colin thrust faster and faster, adjusting his stance—as much as he could, considering his ankles were bound by his jeans—to find the perfect angle. Andrew’s moans turned to screams, mixed with laughter.
A motion in the corner of Colin’s eye caught his attention. The mirror.
“Look.” With his left arm, he lifted Andrew up against his chest. With the other hand, Colin ripped off the mask, then seized Andrew’s chin, forcing him to look at the mirror. “Remember this, okay? Never forget how I had you. How much you loved it.”
Andrew’s heavy-lidded eyes were glazed with ecstasy. “I won’t. Not ever.” He gave a languid smile. “What’s your name again?”
Colin froze, his hand around Andrew’s neck. He was afraid to move, afraid of what this rage would drive him to do. So he simply pressed his mouth to Andrew’s ear and whispered, “I’ve got a theory about you.”
= = =
Andrew truly wanted to be a good submissive. He longed for the absolute liberation of giving himself over to another’s will.
Yet something inside him always rebelled. He inevitably ruined it, usually breaking the spell with a cutting joke. Often his lovers were cowed into handing over a portion of control, which was the last thing he was supposed to want.
Judging by Colin’s stranglehold, this time was different.
“My theory is…” Colin slid in and out of him twice, with agonizing slowness, before continuing. “I think you telt me the truth when you said you weren’t bullied at school. I think I know why you weren’t bullied.”
Andrew tried to shake his head, but Colin was holding him fast. Everything in him wanted to shout
Foosball!
—not to protect his body, but to defend his soul. Colin had found his way inside all of it, exploring and illuminating every dark, secret corner. Knowing him like no one before.
It was terrifying, and Andrew craved it.
“You weren’t bullied,” Colin said, “because
you
were the bully. You put yourself on top early on, and naebody dared take you down.” He cupped Andrew’s erection through his briefs. “Am I right?”
“No. I never—”
“Tell me the truth.” Colin’s hands clamped harder on Andrew’s cock and jaw. “Your arse goes all tight when you lie, did you know that?”
My bum is a polygraph?
Andrew would have laughed if it weren’t true. “Aye,” he choked out. “I did it. What you said.”
“That’s better.” Colin rocked his hips to worm his way deeper inside, sending spirals of pleasure unfurling through Andrew’s body. This was so fucked up, and so, so, so good. “Are you sorry?”
“Aye.”
“Liar!” Colin let go and pulled out, leaving a sudden void within Andrew. “I think you tell yourself you did what you had to do.”
Andrew pressed back, desperate to be filled. “You’re right. Please…” He would have confessed to any crime or sin to get Colin inside him again.
“Be good this time.” Colin grasped his hips and entered him. Immediately he set into the hard, fast rhythm that Andrew needed.
Thank God. Thank God, thank God, thank God.
“Tell the truth. Tell me!”
“I did it. I hurt people.” Clutching the bedcovers in his fists, Andrew gasped out the words Colin’s cock was forcing from him. “I had to. I’m not sorry.”
“And no one gave you what you deserved. Not until just now.”
Andrew hung his head, shutting his eyes against the truth.
“No. You’ll watch us.” Colin pulled him up and seized his chin again, this time prying open Andrew’s mouth with his fingers. Then he twisted his grip to make him look at the mirror. “See the wee monster you are. See me fucking you, ya wee monster.”
As Andrew stared at the brutal reflection, at his helpless, nearly naked body arched against Colin’s black shirt, at the way Colin’s rage jutted his jaw and curled his lips, he felt something deep in his soul take flight.
Andrew’s vision blurred with tears of terror and joy.
This is what surrender feels like.
His lips closed on Colin’s fingers. He sucked and tongued, feeling Colin grow even harder until he was a steel rod, reaching up, tearing Andrew apart, body and soul.
“Does this make it okay?” Colin wrapped both arms around Andrew’s torso and lifted him off the bench. “You let me do this to you and we’re even now? It makes us equal?” Colin’s voice pulsed with pain. “We’ll never be equals, your sort and mine, not outside this room. You’ll see to it, won’t you?”
Helpless in Colin’s grasp, Andrew couldn’t answer. Pressure built inside as the silk of his jock brief shifted against his cock, as Colin filled him from behind, using him, abusing him, taking every tight, wet inch he needed.
“Answer me.” Colin pounded harder, jackhammering now. “Answer me!”
“I can’t, I’m coming!” Andrew felt the surge fill his underwear, coating him with warmth and wetness.
“Fuck. God, I can feel it. Fuck!” Colin’s arms went viper-tight around him, cutting off Andrew’s breath and sending his delirium higher and higher until it seemed his eyes would burst.
This is what it’s like to die of pleasure. Oh yes, bring it on.
Groaning, Colin ground into him, hips rolling and pitching. In the mirror, Andrew watched their bodies jerk and spasm as one.
With shuddering breath, Colin finally loosened his grip enough to set Andrew down on the bench. Andrew gulped the air that had been denied him, his head swimming and limbs buzzing. He expected to be shoved away now, discarded with disgust.
But Colin stayed, holding him, forehead pressed to the back of his shoulder even as he slowly withdrew from Andrew’s body. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”
“No worries,” Andrew said, trying to convince himself as much as Colin. “All part of the game.”
“It wasn’t.” Colin’s voice quaked. “It was more than that.”
“Even so.” Andrew wiped his eyes, then shifted away, turning to sit on the foot of the bed. “Considering our history and our—well, our differences—you and I were destined for a hate fuck sooner or later.” He drew his toes up the outside of Colin’s thigh. “At least now it’s out of the way.”
Colin stared at him, face mottled with exertion and emotion. “You don’t want me to leave?”
Leave?
What was wrong with this lad that he expected rejection at every turn?
Andrew steeled his face to keep the wave of sympathy from reaching his eyes. “The night’s young yet.” He jerked his chin the way he did when he expected to be obeyed. “Now take off your clothes and come to bed.”
A
NDREW
LAY
ALONE
under the cool white sheet, his head on one of the lush down pillows. It was impossible to chase his racing thoughts, distorted as they were with the lingering haze of pleasure.
He’d never felt so raw. Not so much physically—though his knees would surely have scrapes and bruises (that bench wasn’t as soft as it appeared). It wasn’t the brutal way Colin had touched him that stripped him bare. It was the truth of his words.
From his earliest days at Fettes Prep, Andrew had watched older gay lads get bullied into misery and isolation, or forced to the margins of school life. So he’d started young, seizing power, making others afraid of him. A preemptive strike against the bullies by becoming one himself. It was eat or be eaten, and he refused to be prey.
How many of his boarding-school mates had cowered in their rooms, slicing their arms like Colin, after Andrew had crushed them with a catty insult or a strategic snub? How many secret scars bore Andrew’s name?
“Fancy a wee swally?” Colin asked as he strode from the bathroom to the desk.
“Wine would be grand.” Andrew rolled onto his side so he could admire Colin’s figure, naked now but for the black supportive brace on his left knee. Being blindfolded had been a massive turn-on for Andrew—as was discovering Colin had been so eager to fuck him, he’d done it fully clothed—but there was much to be said for sight and skin.
Like most footballers, Colin had a lean, sinuous body, built for speed and strength rather than show. Unlike most footballers, his upper body was remarkably strapping. Perhaps the rehab on his knee had given him time and energy to lift weights.
As Colin gripped the Riesling bottle to remove the cork, every muscle in his arms, shoulders, and chest flexed at once. Andrew sighed, fingertips tingling.
“I’ll just have half a glass, as I’ve got training session tomorrow and I’ve already drunk a lot today.” Colin returned to the bed with the bottle and a pair of glasses. “Does it need to breathe first?”
“No, that’s only red wine, which I didn’t dare request, what with these pristine white sheets.” He pulled back the covers for Colin.
“Because I’m a clumsy oaf?”
“Because
I’m
a clumsy oaf when I get excited.” He ran his palm over the sheet. “And you excite me.”
Colin rolled his eyes—a fair response to Andrew’s trite remark—then poured the wine. “Does anyone know we’re here?”
“Why, you planning to murder me?” Andrew regretted the joke at the sight of Colin’s chagrin. “Sorry. I don’t actually think you’d hurt me.”
You’re one of a handful of people who wouldn’t, given the chance.
“Only my bodyguard knows where I am and whom I’m with.”
“Won’t he tell your dad?”
“Reggie works for me, not my father, so no.” Andrew took the glass of wine Colin offered. “He’s the one who left the drinks. He inspected the room before we arrived, too.”
“Wow.” Colin propped a pillow against the mahogany headboard, then sat against it, tugging the sheet up to his waist seemingly as an afterthought. “Didn’t realize you were so important.”
“I’m not important, just…”
Endangered.
“I’ve got my share of haters. Reggie’s taught me how to protect myself, especially online. He got me to quit Snapchat, which is just dreadful for privacy. Same with Facebook, which I don’t miss at all. It’s too reciprocal.”
“Too interactive, you mean? You’d rather just put your thoughts out there on Twitter to be worshiped by the masses?”
“I reply to loads of tweets.” Andrew stretched out on his side, relishing the return to their playful banter. “It’s time-consuming, but it’s my job.”
“Your job as what?”
“Being Lord Andrew.”
Colin laughed out loud. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Never, if I can help it.” Andrew sipped his wine and smiled up at Colin to show he was well aware of his own pretension.
“So how many Twitter mentions do you—sorry, how many Twitter mentions does
Lord Andrew
get in a day?”
“Depends on my activity. On a slow day, perhaps two hundred.”
Colin gaped at him. “Pish.”
“It’s true. I’ll prove it.” He rolled over to grab his phone from the bedside table, then opened his Twitter app. “If you reply to any of them on my behalf, I’ll have you drawn and quartered.”
“Aye, right.” Colin took the phone and started scrolling. “Och, people pure love you.”
“They don’t love me, they love Lord An—”
“This American lass wants to marry you. Then her mate, who’s a guy, is like, ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ There’s quite the rammy over which of them you belong to.” He laughed as he scrolled further, but then his smile vanished. “Fuck’s sake, what’s this?”
Here we go.
“Give it to me.”
“No.” He shifted out of Andrew’s reach. “This bawbag says—oh my God, he says you should have your cock dipped in acid until it falls off in pieces. Which should then be fed to you.”
Andrew closed his eyes, wishing his feelings could be as vigilantly guarded as his life. “I need to screen-grab it and send to Reggie, in case this bastard’s not just talking.” He reached for the phone.
“I’ll do it, so you don’t have to see this.” Colin pressed the buttons to take a shot of the screen. “I’ll block the fucking bully while I’m at it.”
“It’s more harassment than bullying.” Andrew switched his wine glass to his left hand, then tugged the sheet up past his waist. He hated the thought of being anyone’s victim. “It’s only bullying if it affects me, and I don’t let it.”
“You’ve got your own security detail. Sounds like an effect to me.”
“There’s a difference between prudence and paranoia.”
“What is this shite?” Colin’s hands were trembling now. “Why are all these people—” He tapped the screen. “Oh.” He lowered the phone and looked at Andrew. “You called independence supporters a bunch of whingeing weans?”
“Not all of you. I was specifically referring to the people at the Yes rally in Fife.”
“It was a prick tweet. But you don’t deserve this.” Colin turned back to the phone. “Can’t believe all these people with Yes badges on their profile pics, calling you a ‘faggot’ and a ‘bufty.’ I’d no idea there was such homophobia in the movement.”
“It’s not homophobia. The cybernats hate me for supporting the Union, not for fancying men. My gayness is just a cudgel to beat me with. If I were fat or short or ugly, they’d use that.” Andrew snatched back his phone, which he plugged into its charger on his bedside table. He was irritated to be discussing the referendum in bed, but needed to make one last important point. “This is the face of the Yes movement I see every day.”