Rough [02] - Roughhousing (20 page)

"I'm not leaving here without you.” The voice was deadly calm and certain. So calm that James jerked up his head to stare at Bram to make sure it was Bram that had spoken.

"Aren't you listening?” He was dumbfounded by Bram's persistence. “I'm not good for you or anyone else! Christ, even my own parents can't love me! Can't you get it through your thick head? I'm fucked up!"

Bram abruptly stood up and stalked over to James. “You think I don't know why you like making love the way you do? Why you like someone to take control in the bedroom, tie you up and hold you down? Press you into the mattress and pound you through the goddamn floor? Well, I do know and so do you!” He grabbed James by the shoulders and pulled him to stand at arm's length. James didn't resist him.

Voice low and forceful, Bram breathed down on James, his words like a hammer striking blows to the walls around James’ heart. “I know deep inside of you there is tiny voice that says if you pretend you're forced to enjoy it, you can tell yourself you aren't letting your family down. There's still a little boy inside you that can say, ‘But dad, mom, it wasn't entirely my fault!’ I know that!"

James felt sick. The corner of his mouth that was bruised ached and the healing cut burned. He closed his eyes. He wanted to curl up into a ball, but Bram wouldn't let him. He kept hammering away with his words. Bram shook him until he looked up again, then Bram peeled away a few of his own layers.

"Just like I know that there's a voice inside of me that says if I hold on tight enough and long enough and keep
total
control of things, I won't lose another person I love. It's stupid and adolescent and wrong, but it's there.” He flexed his hands, fingers digging into James’ flesh, then rubbing over the bruises.

"We both have issues from our past that make us do stupid things, but you know what, Jamie? It's okay. It's okay because we understand each other.” Bram let James go and he stepped back, but kept his gaze locked on James’ face. “And if
you
need me to hold you down and love you hard, I can do it. No matter why. I'm your man, baby. Because
I
need to feel you under me when I love you hard. We're made for each other."

Standing perfectly still, James suddenly felt exhausted and drained. He wanted to put everything on hold and come back to it in the morning. Avoidance was his best tactic. But Bram wasn't letting go. Bram towered over James and gave him that lopsided smile that melted his heart every time he saw it. James’ stomach flipped and tears welled in his eyes again.

"No one's perfect, Jamie. We're just lucky enough that we found the person who has the flaw that makes the other one perfect for them. And I'm not giving that up without a fight."

"I don't want to fight any more.” James wiped the excess moisture from his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face. Exhaustion made his words seem calmer, but his mind and heart were still in a panic. “But I'm not sure I can do this, Bram. I'll mess it up. I know it."

Bram stepped nearer. James had to fight down the urge to lean into him. An unreadable expression came over Bram's face that made James stand his ground.

"You know, I've been handling this whole thing with you wrong.” Bram walked his fingers down the front of James’ shirt. When his hands reached the shirt's bottom edge, he held on and fingered the hem. James watched, confused, as his lover's odd expression melted away, replaced by a distinctly predatory stare full of possessive lust.

"Wrong?” James could barely choke out the word. He took a step, backing away toward the front door. Bram followed, keeping a hold of James by his wrinkled, white shirttails.

"Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “All wrong.” Bram yanked on the shirt, tearing it open in one smooth motion, heedless of the buttons flying all over the room.

James barely had time to gape at the abused dress shirt before it was forcibly tugged down his shoulders and off his arms. He watched, amazed, as his blue striped silk tie was crushed and then stuffed partially into one of Bram's front pockets.

"What the hell are you doing? That was a great shirt! And an expensive tie!” Flustered and off balance, James could only stand, mouth open, eyelids blinking in disbelief as Bram grabbed one hand then the other, efficiently tying his wrists together with the sleeves of the shirt.

"I'll buy you a new one.” Bram tugged on his handiwork, making sure the knots would hold. “Along with some nice, fur-lined cuffs, I think."

"
What?
"

Bram winked, then shoved James away, letting him stumble the two steps backward until his bare shoulders hit the front door. Bram followed and pinned James to the wooden surface. He grabbed the body of the shirt he'd left hanging between James’ tied wrists and forced it above James’ head. Once he had James’ arms fully extended, he wrapped a beefy arm around James’ squirming waist and lifted a few inches, enabling him to hook the bunched shirt over the long, square-tipped, brass coat hook at the very top of the door.

"Christ, Bram!” James gasped and kicked at the floor, trying to gain enough leverage to pull himself off the hook. His feet barely touched the ground. He found he had to relax and let his weight dangle from the hook in order to keep any kind of balance or control of his own movements. Naked from the waist up, he felt exposed and vulnerable, trapped and helpless. And he was hard, painfully hard.

The front of his dress pants tented. The cloth strained against his cock, its fully erect shaft outlined nicely by the thin fabric and the clinging cotton of his briefs.

A solid weight pressed him into the door. Bram's hot breath scorched his neck as the man rubbed beard stubble over it. James’ hips involuntarily jerked at the heavy contact, grinding against the thick tree trunk of muscle that was Bram's meaty thigh. The pressure against his cock increased until it went just beyond pleasurable to uncomfortable. Bram's voice was harsh and low in his ear.

"I've tried to show you that you could enjoy tender just as much as rough. That you
deserved
to have tenderness, too. But I forgot one thing."

"What's that?” James ground out between his teeth.

"You don't just need it rough. You
like
it rough.” Bram ran his hands over James’ skin, pinching and kneading the flesh hard. “Gonna give you exactly what you like, baby. Right here, right now."

"Bram, you can't!” James struggled against Bram's body, but his lover didn't give an inch. “We can't! The hall is full of people. They'll hear us. Macy's probably got her ear plastered to the outside of the door now!” He gave Bram a pleading look, his voice dropping low and urgent. “The police are on the way. They'll be knocking on my door!"

Gripping James’ ass with both hands, Bram jerked James closer and rubbed his thigh over the growing bulge at James’ groin. “Don't care. Let ‘em listen. I'm doing you right and doing you now, so accept it, baby.” He slid his jaw over James’ flushed cheek and bumped their chins together before whispering, “There's no escape. Give it up, Jamie. I'm gonna love you hard."

Lifting his weight up, Bram grabbed Jamie's’ hips and spun him around, face first into the door. The fabric twisted and tightened, but the brass hook held. James gave a fleeting thought to what the over-sized hook had been originally put there for, then dug his fingers into the restraining sleeves as he felt Bram's arms wrap around him to rub his naked belly.

Stretched out long and lean, balancing on the balls of his feet, James squirmed away from the light touch. He unintentionally backed right into Bram's solid, unyielding chest. Twisting his face to one side, he strained to see behind him, but his own arms blocked the view. He finally tossed his head back, arched his spine, and caught a glimpse of Bram from the corner of his eye.

The feral, decidedly Neanderthal expression on Bram's face made him swallow hard and lick his suddenly dry lips. He recognized the look as the same one Bram had worn that first night when they went out into the alley. Only this time, it was magnified tenfold. James’ breath caught in his throat. His cock jerked, drawing his balls up more tightly between his tense thighs.

"I want to be able to see you.” His neck ached with the hard angle required to see behind him. James finally let his head fall back into a comfortable position, unable to hold Bram's intense stare any longer without fearing he would come in his pants.

"Nope. You ‘see’ too much.” Bram's words were hot against his neck. The man's lips mouthed through his curls and then breathed into his ear. “Even things that aren't there. Like problems that haven't even happened yet, or that aren't likely to happen.” The swish of silk sliding against silk filled the air, exotic and unnaturally loud compared to Bram's low, sultry whispers. “I'm going to give you a break from all that, baby. Just let you feel things for a change."

A flash of dark and light blue stripes appeared before James’ eyes and the room went black. A tremor rippled through him. “Jesus, Bram! What's happening?"

A soft band of fabric pressed over his eyes, sealing out every ray of bright daylight in the apartment. It pulled tight. James winced when strands of his hair were tugged and twisted at the back of his head as it was secured in place.

"Blindfold. Now you can't see those problems anymore. All you can do is feel.” James’ belly quivered as Bram's warm, rough hands groped at his belt and unzipped his trousers. The pants hung from his hips, held in place by Bram's groin pressed to his ass, the thick weight of his lover's full and ready cock jammed into the crease of his ass cheeks.

The throaty, now almost foreign sounding voice, rumbled in his ear again. “Feel me touching you. Giving you what you need. Giving you that bit of rough you like so much."

James’ tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, blocking any protest that might have slipped out. Every limb vibrated with a mix of tension and lust.

He'd never been blindfolded before. The smell of dust and Bram's aftershave dominated his senses. His hearing became more acute. When he rested his forehead against the wooden door, James could hear the muffled shouts and occasional thump from the apartment of the battling couple next door. He could even distinguish the rustle of fabric and the scuff of heels as Macy paced outside his door.

All at once, the warm weight of Bram's reassuring presence left his back. Both his pants and cotton boxers were yanked down to his ankles. The room air, cold and damp, wafted over his skin, soothing the burn of small scratches Bram's nails had left behind over the firm swell of his ass.

James shivered, not so much from the temperature, but from the uncertainty of what his lover would do next. Even though he knew Bram, trusted the man, James felt as unnerved and anxious as he had in the dark, unfamiliar alley, pressed up against a gritty brick wall.

Sandpaper hands gripped his ass, kneading and spreading his cheeks. A blast of scalding breath traveled down the open crease of his butt as Bram nuzzled the delicate strip of hidden flesh. His fine facial stubble prickled over the entire area surrounding James’ hole.

"Fuck! Bastard."

James gasped and flinched away, but his hips were taken in a bruising hold and yanked back into place. Thrown off balance and disoriented, he fumbled for a tighter grip on the shirt around his wrists, legs kicking to find something to give him a more secure stance. Mid-kick, Bram released his ass.

His shoes came off without even being untied. He heard them thump as they landed on the floor somewhere to his left. He couldn't resist the impulse to turn his head and follow the sound, desperate for more input to offset the lack of sight.

He heard Bram give a tiny grunt as his feet lifted up off the floor, knees bent and his bare ass sitting on the fluid, muscular angle of what he realized after a time was Bram's broad shoulder. Not high enough to allow him to disentangle the shirt from the hook, but far enough that his pants, boxers and socks could easily be removed,

James was too shocked to react. By the time he had recovered, the last of his clothing was missing and his impromptu seat had disappeared. His feet were back under him, still barely touching the floor, but now the gritty, worn nap of the carpeting brushed the soles of his feet. The swish of fabric drew his attention. In his mind, he clearly saw his clothing tossed aside and puddled on the floor near his feet.

Left completely alone, untouched, James was floating in a dark void. Cool air caressed all of his skin now. The sudden silence thundered in his ears. James couldn't suppress the series of shivers that covered him in gooseflesh. He shook so hard his full cock bobbed and shimmied, the tip rapping against the front door. With a whimpered groan, he immediately shifted back, irrationally panicked someone out in hallway would hear the sound and know what caused it.

Being blind was unnerving. Being blind and restrained was scary, nauseating, stressful, and seriously damn thrilling. James’ skin tingled, the fine hairs of his legs standing on end, waiting, yearning for more contact.

"Where ... where are you?"

When no answer came, he strained his hearing to locate his lover. He was abruptly overwhelmed by the tiny sounds in the apartment he had never noticed before. The hum of the refrigerator, the ping of the running furnace as air blew out the vents like the roar of a tornado to James’ now abnormally acute hearing.

"We can't do this now. Really, we can't!"

"Can and will."

He jumped when an unexpected hand suddenly groped his groin, the touch rough and rapid. Bram palmed his cock and tugged at his sac, mauling him, but the coarse caress made James’ balls ache and his cock offer up a splash of pre-come.

For the first time ever, James could feel the fluid bead on the tip of his shaft. Then as suddenly as it appeared, the hand was gone and he was left hanging, literally, legs spread, skin on fire, and erection eager for more. Even his ass spasmed. The desire to have Bram deep inside of him despite the tense circumstances jumped up several notches.

Silence descended around James again. He cocked his head to one side trying to capture whatever sound the room had to offer him. The light pad of what he thought were footsteps scuffed in an irregular beat, far away and indistinct.