Authors: Heidi Cullinan
“But they barely know me.”
“The blood tie counts for a lot. You fill in a piece missing for your brother by doing nothing at all. But you’re making connections with him now too, all on your own merit. You have a new family now.”
Does this include you?
Chenco didn’t ask. Instead he let himself slide under the pleasure of Steve’s touch before lifting his face to brush a kiss across Steve’s cheek.
Steve kissed him back, tightened his grip on Chenco’s arm and led him to his bedroom.
Technically it was their bedroom now, Chenco supposed. He slept with Steve every night, in Steve’s room not the spare room, and every night they had sex. Sometimes it was rough and wild like the first time—okay, mostly it was rough and wild, though sometimes it was simply a
hello, good to see you.
Some nights it was more. Increasingly Steve brought toys into play, gloves with wicked little spikes pricking and teasing, unbelievably soft fur gloves arousing Chenco like nothing he knew how to describe. Always,
always
Steve came inside Chenco—more consistently than pain, this was the man’s kink, Chenco realized, coming inside his lover.
It was the vulnerability again, as if Steve couldn’t quite accept he was inside of Chenco unless he was
inside
Chenco, part of him remaining behind after. A few nights he had Chenco sleep with a plug, adding a new load inside Chenco’s ass in the morning. Sometimes Chenco thought Steve would keep him cream-filled all day every day if he could.
There seemed to be a steady arc, though, heading them deeper and deeper into heavy play, and tonight, the night Chenco officially lost the trailer, Steve brought in a flogger. He only used it lightly, sliding the leather tails across Chenco’s skin.
“I’m going to use this for real on you soon,” he promised.
He didn’t yet, though. That evening was like floating on a cloud, the massage Steve had begun out on the couch resuming on the bed. It led into sex, but it was, for them, almost sweet coupling, and afterward Chenco lay sprawled boneless atop Steve’s body. “God, you have amazing hands. You should have been a masseuse.”
“I have been, at least on an amateur level.” Steve trailed a lazy hand down Chenco’s spine. “A friend had a bad bike accident a few years ago, so I bought a table and gave him regular treatments.”
It was an innocent enough statement, but the idea of Steve giving him treatments of any kind made Chenco a little hard.
Steve shifted his leg to draw Chenco closer. “We could make it part of tomorrow’s playing.” He rubbed his beard against the top of Chenco’s head. “I’d already been planning to take you into the playroom, if you were ready. We could make it the warm-up.”
Chenco nuzzled Steve’s chest. “I’m ready, Papi.”
The gentle massage slid down to Chenco’s hip, making goose bumps break out across his flesh. “I could strip you naked and give you a nice, slow, sensual massage.” He bent down to whisper in Chenco’s ear. “Then, when you were all relaxed, I’d strap you to a bench and flog you until you screamed.”
The goose bumps across Chenco’s skin turned electric as he gasped and buried his face deeper into Steve.
“Would you like that?” Steve pressed.
Chenco wasn’t sure. He wanted to try, but the idea of someone deliberately striking him—
striking
him—until he cried out in pain wasn’t yet something he associated with fun times.
The hand on his hip stilled. “Chenco?”
Taking a deep breath, Chenco placed a kiss on Steve’s erect nipple. “Yes. I would.” He ran his hand down Steve’s arm. “I think maybe I need to work up to it.”
He worried he’d wrecked the mood, but if anything, it made Steve relax, and in the end Chenco was very glad he’d asked to go slowly. Over the next few days more and more toys made it into their play—the floggers came regularly, never used very hard, but always there, a third party in the bed. They started using restraints too, at first in the bed, and then in the playroom itself. It was just a regular room, except it had several interesting tables and benches and a closet full of various BDSM implements, carefully cleaned and stowed. Steve gave Chenco a tour of them all.
Nothing was quite as delicious to Chenco as those sweet, beautiful floggers, even though he still feared them. Some of it was because he knew Steve would be using them on him, some because they really were pretty. Even when they weren’t playing, simply thinking of them made Chenco hum.
It seemed to please Steve to see how much Chenco enjoyed his toys. “You should try to swing one a few times, get a feel for what they’re like from the other end.”
Chenco flushed with excitement at the idea. “Really? I can do that?”
“Of course you can. Here. I’ll show you how to hit with them too.”
It was a fun game all in itself, being taught how to wield a flogger. It wasn’t, it turned out, as easy as hauling one’s arm back and whacking. Steve instructed him how to use the proper muscles, how to pace himself, how to control the weight of the falls. They practiced at a padded support beam in the playroom, but Steve explained how it would feel against real flesh too, and eventually he had Chenco slap himself on his thigh. A few times Steve had him strike his own leg too, and Steve’s jean-clad ass.
The idea of striking Steve sent a wicked thrill through Chenco, but it also made him self-conscious. “That doesn’t hurt?”
“Oh, a little. But these are love taps. Not like the real thing yet.”
Chenco had thought there was plenty of sting in the blows Steve had given him, and some of his test slaps had been quite uncomfortable. “How hard is the real thing?”
In answer, Steve had picked up a flogger, hauled back his arm and whaled on the post with enough force to make it shudder.
Dropping the implement in his own hand, Chenco stepped back, eyes wide. That had been
intense
. Was this how Steve would hit him?
Of course it was. It was what he’d asked to see.
It was
awfully
intense.
Steve’s hand came to rest on Chenco’s shoulder, making him jump. “You okay, baby?”
Chenco didn’t trust himself to speak, so he waited a minute. “That would
hurt
.”
“That’s the point.”
It was, wasn’t it? Jesus, suddenly it all seemed so serious.
They hadn’t done anything more during the session, which made Chenco feel like a failure. He sulked all through work that night. When he got home at eleven, Sam was in Steve’s room, waiting for him.
“Hey.” He smiled nervously. “So, um, this is awkward, but I’ve been sent to talk to you about the flogging thing.”
“Steve sent you?” Jesus, how badly had he messed this up?
“No—not Steve. Randy.” Sam gave a helpless shrug. “He might be talking shit, but he says he’s been watching you, and he thinks you’re nervous. He says he’d just scare you more, but he thought I should talk to you. So here I am, talking.”
Sam didn’t look like someone who wanted to talk. “You don’t have to do this.”
Now Sam looked annoyed. “So Randy’s full of shit? God, I’m gonna kill him.”
“Well…no, he’s not full of shit, not on this score. But you still don’t have to do this.”
“Oh?” Sam brightened. “Don’t worry about it. God, he was right? Damn. He’ll be smug as fuck. Okay.” He rubbed his hands together. “What do you want to talk about? What are you nervous about?”
Chenco sat across from Sam. “I don’t know. He showed me how hard he was going to hit me, and it freaked me out.”
“Yeah, I get it.” Sam tucked his feet underneath his body as he sat on the bed. “I don’t go for implements so much. I’d rather have a paddle than a flogger, but honestly, mostly I prefer a guy’s hand.”
“Hand?”
“Yeah. Spanking. It’s…kind of my thing. I like hands because you can feel the guy working you. I can tell if it’s Mitch or Randy or Ethan even when I’m blindfolded—” Sam cut himself off, his whole
body
blushing now. “Oh God. I hadn’t meant to tell you about that.”
Chenco had kind of figured there was something going on with Randy and Sam, the way the guy was always after Sam’s ass, but he hadn’t known all four of them were into each other. He didn’t want to make Sam feel awkward, though, especially when he was being so open to ease Chenco. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not judging here.”
“Yeah, well…I don’t want you to think I’m some kind of whore. Well—I am, I guess. But not a
bad
whore.” He rolled his eyes at himself and cleared his throat. “Anyway. I don’t think you need to be scared, not unless you’re going to be dumb and not tell Steve if you don’t like something.”
Here they were, at the heart of it all. “What if he wants to do something and I don’t?”
“Then you don’t.” Sam’s tone brooked no argument. “I get what you’re afraid of, but trust me, you don’t screw around here. He’d be a whole lot more upset with you if you let him do something you didn’t want than if you told him no. Here’s the thing it took me awhile to truly understand—letting him do something to you isn’t proving you care for him. He wants to share this with you, not force it on you. And maybe there are some things you don’t want to try today but do in the future.”
“Have you ever told Mitch no?”
Sam hesitated. “Mitch seems to read my mind. Randy, I tell no to at least once a week. It’s kind of who we are. Mitch wants to protect me, and so does Randy, but Randy likes to challenge me.” He bit his lip. “Is it…is this okay how we’re talking about how I sleep with more guys than just your brother? He’s down with it, I swear.”
“It’s very okay.” Chenco smiled to show he meant it, but he didn’t wait long to go back to questioning Sam. “Have you ever been flogged? You said you didn’t like it, but…have you been?”
“Oh yeah. I’m better at doing it than I am taking it, though I’ve only ever done Randy.” He shifted his feet around on the bed. “You want to know how it feels. Obviously it hurts, but a lot of things do. I would say flogging hurts a lot like a spanking, but spankings have a different kind of force, plus there’s so much about shame with a spanking—which is why I enjoy it. Flogging is about enduring. I never cared for it because I feel too disconnected. Randy loves it. He loves to be whaled on, and he loves to whale back. He says he wants the challenge of it, like he’s duking it out with the pain.”
Chenco considered this. “I think what I’m most nervous about is Steve wants to do it until I break down. I can’t duke it out. He’s going to make me lose.”
“Oh, Randy usually ends up swearing and screaming and sobbing by the end. He says it’s an emotional enema.” Sam shrugged. “I don’t play that fiddle. I like to float into subspace and hang out, let myself be a slut and nobody can look down on me for it. In fact, they tend to tell me I’m beautiful for doing it. There’s not a lot to let go of there.”
No, Sam wouldn’t have a lot to let go of, period. He’d heard Mitch call Sam Sunshine, and he didn’t have to ask why.
“Anyway.” Sam slid to the edge of the bed. “That’s about it. Don’t do something you don’t want to. If you’re not ready, say so. Steve hasn’t dated in forever as far as I understand, so you’re special. He’ll wait for you. What he won’t do is put up with someone who won’t tell him the truth about when they’re ready.”
“I think I am ready.” Chenco rubbed his arms as he leaned against the wall by the door. “I mean, we’ve done plenty. But I can tell he’s been holding back. At this point I’m scared, but I want to take it to the next level. If it’s too far, I have to try it to find out.”
“Then tell him so.”
Chenco promised he would.
Chenco didn’t say anything right away because he wanted to be sure. It wasn’t until a week before the South Padre show, while he and Steve sat out on the patio. Steve commented on how tense he looked, how he thought Chenco needed a release. That was when Chenco realized an emotional enema was exactly what he wanted.
He turned to Steve, looked him in the eye. “When we play tonight, could we…would you flog me? For real?”
Steve’s eyes lit with delight, but his reply was measured. “You mean you want me to flog you until you break down, until you cry?”
“Yes.” Chenco was nervous, but he didn’t falter. “It’s what I want. In fact, I think it might be what I need right now.”
Smiling, Steve brushed a kiss across Chenco’s forehead. “You’ll tell me when it’s too much.” It wasn’t a question.
Chenco nodded.
Taking Chenco by the hand, Steve led him through the main floor and down the hall to the master bedroom suite. The hacienda wasn’t some modern remake but the real deal, full of nooks and hallways and chunky add-ons. It had a second floor, but not much of one—it seemed to have been where the children were stowed back in the day. Now it was full of guests, Sam and Mitch in one room, Ethan and Randy in another, Crabtree at the end of the hall.
Steve’s bedroom was on the main floor, past the great room and kitchen and dining room, down its own hallway and spilling out behind the garage. It was a suite, not just one room—Steve’s bed was in the first space and the room beyond it was the playroom. The playroom, however, could also be accessed from the garage.
Tonight Steve led Chenco through to the playroom, but he didn’t order him to his knees. “We’ll start with a full massage, on the table and everything, like I told you about.” At a cabinet, he picked up a jar of oil and offered it to Chenco, indicating he should sniff. The oil smelled faintly of eucalyptus or spearmint. Maybe both.