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"So," Bill says, as he and Sean finish breakfast. "Are you ready for this afternoon? Still up for it?" Although he's ready to call things off if need be, Bill's aware that his question is largely routine and he doubts Sean has any second thoughts. And if Carrie-Anne had, she'd have called it off last night when we talked at the club.

"Hell, yes, Master," Sean says. He grins over his shoulder as he gets the table cleared off. The idea of having Bill watch while Carrie-Anne tops Sean has been taking up way too much of Sean's thoughts these last few days. For one thing, it'll be fun just for its own sake--Carrie-Anne's a damned good top, and he's always enjoyed bottoming for her--but then there's the thought that Bill wants to see it, and thinks Sean's worth showing off. "As long as you are, that is."

"I'm good as long as you don't suddenly decide that you want to run off with her," Bill says, a little surprised at the truth that lies underneath the joke. I never used to be jealous. But no, it's not jealousy; he can honestly say that he knows that, even with his admitted fascination with beautiful dommes, Sean won't suddenly fall for Carrie-Anne. And it's not the scene itself that has Bill doing a little bit of mental squirming; it's the idea of Sean belonging to someone else.

"Doesn't seem likely," Sean says, grinning. Bill doesn't sound worried so much as...possessive, maybe. And it sounds good on him. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"A fate worse than death," Bill says, unable to keep from smirking just a little. "Now that we've got that settled, come here." Once Sean is kneeling at his feet, Bill leans down and sinks his teeth into Sean's shoulder, intent on leaving a serious mark.

Sean laces his fingers behind his back and tilts his head to the side, groaning softly. Much as he's got a history of going a little too deep with dommes--even when he's in a contract--he's got a feeling he couldn't forget who he belonged to now if he tried.

I want to mark you permanently, Bill suddenly thinks--although somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that there's nothing sudden about this. The only thing that keeps him from blurting the thought out is the memory of Sean doing his best not to scratch the fading gecko tattoo after each removal session. Footie and the Fellowship is one thing, a contract lover is something else entirely.

It's easy enough for Sean to imagine the mark Bill's leaving, easy to picture how his skin's going to look when he's on his knees in front of someone else. Sean's always loved having bruises, and he does like it when Bill's territorial--but the fact that Bill's not inclined toward jealousy makes this feel a little different from a typical case of a master wanting to see his slave marked before he scenes with another dominant. It feels more intimate, and Sean finds himself forgetting about the upcoming scene and falling into the moment, just enjoying the feel of Bill's teeth on him.

"There," Bill murmurs against Sean's skin when he's done. He remains in position for a moment, wanting to be close to Sean like this, and, for a brief moment, he has the urge to call the whole scene off. But no, that would be foolish. He does want to see what Sean is like with a different top, and of all the people they both know and trust, Carrie-Anne is easily the safest choice. "Good boy," he says quietly when he finally pulls away.

"Thank you, Master," Sean murmurs back. He raises an eyebrow, not sure what to make of that hesitation near the end, and especially not sure whether he should ask. Hell with that; you're not questioning his judgment, you're just wondering... "May I ask what you're thinking, Master?"

Not only is Sean's question totally out of the blue, it's also unlike Sean. Bill blinks and speaks without really thinking about it. "This is the first time it's ever been...weird for me to watch someone else play with a boy of mine."

That's enough to make Sean blink and draw back a little. "Weird how?" he asks. "Do you want to call it off?"

"Weird like..." Bill pauses. "I like seeing my boys with other tops; it lets me see what I can't see when I'm in the middle of the scene. And I like Carrie-Anne; I trust her. But...it's going to be weird for me seeing you with her...because you're mine." He shakes his head, wishing he'd had a second cup of coffee. "I've always been really strict about sharing, but this...not being sure how I feel about her having you while I'm there...that's new."

Something about that makes Sean feel like grinning, and it's a hell of an effort to keep that look off his face. "Okay," he says softly. "If anything feels off to you at all, will you let us know?"

"Of course," Bill says, glad that Sean apparently understands him. Wish I did, he thinks, giving the bite a sharp nip before sitting back up again. "More coffee, boy."

* * *

It's been a long time since Carrie-Anne was this nervous about a scene. It's not so much that it's Sean--they've been perfectly comfortable with each other for quite a while now--as that it's Bill and he's more than a little intimidating. Someday I'll get over my sense of inferiority around gay tops, but not today, she thinks as she hands her keys to the valet.

After dropping off her coat, she heads toward the bar, her leather toy bag in hand, wondering how people who aren't actors get into headspace for a scene like this. As it is, it's easy enough for her to tell herself that she's a big bad femme top, more than a match for any sub, even Sean Bean.

"Ah here she is," Bill says, standing up and holding out his hand. As Carrie-Anne shakes it, he smiles a little, not sure he's ever seen her this dressed up. Although he's never been one of those gay men who know more about fashion than most women, he likes her all in black like this; combined with her carefully done make up, it makes her look cool and just a little dangerous.

Sean, for his part, is all too aware that there've been times in his life when just seeing Carrie-Anne dressed this way would have had him on the floor begging. She does look a little dangerous, like the kind of woman he's always loved crawling for, and yet that edgy sense of need isn't what he's feeling right now. Appreciation, yeah, and a hell of a lot of interest and lust--but he doesn't feel at risk of being swept away.

Carrie-Anne glances down to where Sean is kneeling at Bill's feet; he looks good in at black tee shirt and jeans, but she ignores him and chats with Bill about ordinary things--Olivia, Jason and Liam, the holidays and living in London. It's a kind of foreplay in a weird way, this tease when she's sure they'd all rather get started. It's Bill's show, however, and she leaves it up to him to move them along.

As they talk, Bill has to wonder whether Carrie-Anne's politeness is something she always had or if it comes from the fact that she's a sub as well. Regardless of the source, he appreciates it. "So," he says after he thinks they've both teased Sean long enough. "Shall we?" He glances down at Sean. "Take the lady's bag, boy."

"Of course, Master. Ma'am." Sean picks up Carrie-Anne's bag, and the heft of it immediately makes him wonder what she's got planned for him. Not too heavy, not too light, and she probably did overpack...even so, now he's thinking about it, about all the different things she could do. And he can't help noticing her opera gloves, ones that look very much like a certain pair he gave her a few years back. Same hungry slut as ever, Bean, he thinks. It's always about having someone's fist up your arse, isn't it?

"Good boy," Carrie-Anne says with a kind of careless courtesy. She turns to Bill and smiles. "I booked a nice room, although really, do they have any rooms here that aren't nice?"

"I'd say that some of the interrogation rooms don't qualify," Bill replies as they head out of the bar toward the elevators.

"I don't know about that." Carrie-Anne laughs. "I'm sure they're quite nice as interrogation rooms go."

Thinking of a scene back during their first one-week contract, Bill has to agree. "Fair enough; I don't suppose most interrogation rooms have suites attached with full bathrooms and king sized beds."

"One more reason to love the Establishment," Carrie-Anne says.

Sean grins at both of them as they get into the elevator. He has a feeling he knows the kind of interrogation room Bill's talking about, and looking back on the scene they had there, he wonders just how he managed to luck into someone who could not just see Sean through one of the roughest periods of his life, but really want to go somewhere with him afterwards.

It's one of those things that makes Sean determined to be the best slave he can for Bill, because he deserves it. And realizing that just makes him wonder whether he's starting to put Bill on a pedestal. Probably, he decides, but what the hell; at least I can already tell.

When Carrie-Anne lets them into the room, Bill smiles, amazed yet again at the way the Establishment decorators can come up with an intimidating environment without any of the clichés of leather and red lighting. This room is an elegant sitting room; with its post-modern furniture and art on the walls it speaks of money combined with good taste, and for all that she looks a little like the cliché Domme, Carrie-Anne also looks like she belongs here.

Taking a careful breath, Carrie-Anne glances at Bill. "Would you like anything to drink?" When he shakes his head and moves over to settle on the couch, she glances at Sean. "May I?"

"Be my guest," Bill says with a slight gesture.

"Thank you." For the first time, Carrie-Anne turns her full attention to Sean. "Bring me the bag and then help me get out of my dress."

"Of course, Ma'am." Sean takes the bag and brings it over to Carrie-Anne, setting it at her feet--which means he gets a look at her boots, and of course that's enough to make him swallow hard. He takes a deep breath and looks back up at her dress, recognizing the style as something that unties at the waist, and probably has a similar tie inside. He loves these sorts of dresses; they're very much like unwrapping a present--only with this scene, he's on loan to her, mostly, as opposed to the other way around.

He gets both ties undone and helps slip the dress off her shoulders, going to his knees as the material sinks to the floor, so that he's kneeling at her feet as the dress comes off her completely.

While the sight of Carrie-Anne in expensive lingerie does nothing for him on a sexual level, Bill is perfectly fine with thinking that she certainly carries the look off well. He remembers a scene he saw in LA--Liam topping both Jason and Carrie-Anne--and smiles a little. I really need to compliment Liam on his excellent taste. The thought followed up by the sudden realization that in addition to being Liam's girl, Carrie-Anne is Jason's Mistress.

Sean, Bill thinks a little smugly, measures up to any Establishment trained submissive.

Carrie-Anne would agree, if she knew what Bill was thinking. "Good boy," she murmurs, petting Sean lightly on the head. She takes the dress out of his hands and smiles at him. "Now strip off and stand in the middle of the room."

"Yes, Ma'am!" Figuring that there's nothing wrong with showing off his eagerness--both in the eager-to-please and eager-for-this-scene varieties--he smiles as he gets undressed, folding his clothes neatly before crawling to the center of the room and standing up, hands behind his back, head tilted down slightly.

"I wonder if he'll be as eager once he knows what's in store for him?" Carrie-Anne laughs as she opens up her bag.

Bill, who knows roughly what Carrie-Anne has planned, grins. "Knowing how much of a pain slut he is, I'm guessing he'll be even more greedy."

"There is that," Carrie-Anne admits. "Here," she adds, walking up to Sean with a handful of zippers. "Hold these, will you?" She hands him three strands and then steps back, looking him over.

Sean takes the zippers and tries not to grin as much as he'd like to. He knows there's no way to avoid coming off as the eager slut he is, but he'd rather not look so pleased by the idea of zippers going on--and more to the point, coming off--that he gets smacked for it. At this point, though, he's hard, and he's grinning, and the fact that Carrie-Anne's standing there in gorgeous, lacy black lingerie with boots that look just made for licking is making him feel hot all over. Fuck, I'm a lucky boy.

Carrie-Anne has seen that look before and she glances at Bill, knowing that he has too. She almost laughs aloud when he winks at her, but manages to maintain her cool look as she circles Sean, considering the placement of her first zipper. It's not easy; Sean's as fit as she's ever seen him and he's not carrying an ounce of extra fat. "You've been working your boy hard," she says to Bill. "And while he looks good, it means these will hurt more once I find enough space to place them."

"Maybe next time I should let him get a little flabby first," Bill says, unable to help smiling when Carrie-Anne snorts. He watches as she pushes Sean's arms to his sides and begins to place the first zipper, running it from his elbow up the back of his arm and then down the outside of his back.

Every little biting pain builds off the last one until Sean's groaning softly, the pain building into a nice throb that's impossible to ignore. It's been a long time since he's gotten zippers put on him, but they feel familiar all the same, mundane and evil all at once. He's pleased with the compliments, too, glad he's reflecting well on Bill--not to mention that it's nice having all that damn time in the gym acknowledged and approved of. He's never going to be as enthusiastic about workouts as Bill is, but he's damn well planning to keep up.

After she's affixed the second strand on the other side of Sean's arms and back, Carrie-Anne pauses, both to let him get used to the pinching and to consider the placement of another zipper. Shaking her head a little, she puts the longer strands back in her bag and comes out with a much shorter strand made up of miniature clothespins.

"This," she says, dropping to her knees in front of Sean, "might hurt just a little."

"I think the lady has a talent for understatement," Bill says, unable to help the wince that crosses his face as he watches Carrie-Anne place the zipper on Sean's foreskin. He's impressed, both with her understanding that Sean can take a lot of pain, and with the fact that she's not at all afraid to get on her knees when she's topping.

It'd be pointless to try to keep the pain off his face, so Sean doesn't even try. He's sweating a little by the time she's done, blinking a few times to make sure his eyes don't cross. "Jesus," he pants, "thank you, Ma'am."

Standing up and brushing her hands together, Carrie-Anne smiles at Sean. "That's a start, boy, but you do know how to properly thank a lady, don't you?" She's fairly sure he can guess, but just in case, she looks down at her feet and then back up at him.

The direction's reassuring, even though there's a part of Sean wondering how he's going to move without sending clothespins flying. It's not the pain that worries him--he'll be hurting a lot more when they get to the point where he's having them twisted or tweaked or ripped off wholesale--it's the presentation. He wants to look good while he does this.

Slow seems like the best bet, so he's very, very careful as he lowers himself to his knees. Between gravity and motion, some of those pins are swinging by the time he's on the ground, and he's sweating even more, but he ends up on hands and knees without losing any of them, and he lowers himself to his forearms and kisses the toe of her right boot. "Thank you, Ma'am," he says softly.

Somehow, the careful way Sean moves is one of the hottest things Bill's ever seen, and suddenly it doesn't matter that his boy is on his knees for someone else--and a woman at that. What is important is that Sean is in pain, that he's hurting and enjoying it, and that's exactly what Bill wanted to see in this scene. He leans back on the sofa and reaches down to adjust his cock.

Catching Bill's movement out of the corner of her eye, Carrie-Anne has to hide her sigh of relief. While the most important thing is to make sure the scene is good for Sean, she's been understandably nervous about performing in front of Bill. Now she can relax and really get into it, and she smiles a little as she raises one foot to rest it gently on Sean's head. "Good boy, but I want more."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sean says with enthusiasm, and he starts licking in earnest. He's nice and thorough, wanting to draw this out as long as he can. The leather tastes good and feels even better, and the way his skin's throbbing under all those clothespins is giving him a rhythm, something with medium-long swipes of his tongue that's neither too slow nor too fast.

"Not bad," Carrie-Anne says, sounding a little bored. She winks at Bill, who is looking smug. She's gotten used to seeing that look on him and she resists the urge to laugh just a little. You are so fucking gone on him, she thinks. I'd say it was cute, only I'd never ever get to play with Sean again.

Turning her attention back to Sean, she notices that he's done with the lower part of her boot, and she changes position a little, sliding the toe of her boot across his cheek as she moves her foot off his head. "Other foot now, boy," she says.

Sean's just as eager for the second boot, and between the pain and the taste of leather, he can't imagine being more hard or more aroused. The best thing about scening with Carrie-Anne, though, is that he knows she'll push him for more. This is good, but it's only going to get better, and he groans softly as he flicks his tongue out over her instep.

By the time Sean's done with her second boot, Carrie-Anne's doing her best not to squirm. "Kneel up, hands to your sides, and get this underwear off me," she snaps. "And then I think you can guess what I want you to beg for."

Bill can guess as well, and he has to admit that he's curious. While it's only logical that Sean would be as good at going down on a woman as he is on a man, Bill simply can't understand the appeal. But Sean can, and this is obviously a treat for him, so just go with it.

Kneeling up the way Carrie-Anne's ordered him to is another exercise in careful movement and positioning, and the clothespins on his foreskin give Sean a painful reminder of their presence as their weight drags his hard-on down towards the floor. But he's up far enough to reach her panties, now, and starts slowly working them down her legs. It's nothing like dragging boxers off a man, where a body full of mostly straight lines makes the job easy; it takes moving from one side to the other, easing the fabric down over her hips and thighs and calves, and when he's finally gotten them to the floor he's panting with the effort--each motion, especially as he ends up close to the ground, tugs at all those clothespins and reminds him that he's hurting for her.

"Thank you--Ma'am," Sean manages, breathing hard. "Please, Ma'am, let me serve you with my mouth again--let me use my mouth on your pussy and please you, Ma'am, please!"

For a moment, Carrie-Anne is tempted to look over at Bill, not only to gauge his reaction, but to ask for permission. Nonsense, she tells herself firmly. This was all worked out in advance; he knows what I'm going to do.

Backing up a little, she sits down in a armchair and drapes one leg over the side. "Do you think you deserve this?"

"I...hope so, Ma'am," Sean says, taking a deep breath and letting it out softly. "And if not, I'd be grateful for the chance to do whatever it takes to deserve it."

"Oh, good boy," Carrie-Anne says. "Come over here, then, and let's see what you can do." She knows, of course, just what Sean can do; he's almost as oral as Liam, and she's a little too eager to feel his mouth. I really should make him wait for it, but fuck it; he's doing such a nice job of hurting here. He deserves something.

It doesn't take long to crawl between her legs, thank goodness; he only has to deal with so much movement. Her pose has him dying to just dive in, start by working his tongue into her and getting himself soaking wet from her, but the direct approach works far better on men than on women, so he's easy at first, breathing in deep to take in the scent of her and then licking slowly at her inner thighs.

If that were me, he'd have my dick halfway down his throat by now, Bill thinks. It hits him now; not only does Sean like women, he knows them well enough to be able to give one what she wants. To be sure, Carrie-Anne's someone Sean's been having sex with for years, but still, Bill has no doubt that, if Sean were subbing to a women he'd never met before, he'd be able to read her cues as well as he read Bill's the first time.

When...if, we make this a long term thing, I'll need to make sure he can have women in his life.

Reaching down, Carrie-Anne runs her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp with her fingernails before she tightens her grip. "That's a good boy," she murmurs, lightly dragging the nails of her other hand over his shoulders, not digging in. Not yet, at least.

Even just the scratch is pleasant, and the encouragement gives Sean the direction he needs to move in a little deeper. He slides his tongue between her folds, moaning as he feels how slick she is--God, but she tastes good.

"Ohhh," Carrie-Anne moans, digging her fingernails into his shoulder a little. "Harder," she demands, tilting her hips up. Sean knows she's not made of glass, but she appreciates that he's being respectful. Fuck that; I want to get off and then really get in and start hurting him.

Sean responds immediately, licking faster, slipping his tongue lower so he can drive it inside her, thrusting and giving it to her as hard and as deep as he can. It's been a long time since he's gotten a chance to use his mouth on a woman this way--or maybe more accurately, have a woman use his mouth like this--and he wants to make sure she's getting everything she wants out of him.

Gasping loudly, Carrie-Anne tightens her grip on Sean, fingernails digging into his shoulder and scalp. "That's it," she growls, rocking her hips up. "Oh fuck...that's it..." As close as she already is, it doesn't take long before she cries out and comes, pushing Sean away almost immediately after. "Good boy," she says, petting him weakly.

Sean licks his lips and grins up at her. "Thank you, Ma'am," he says. He can't help wondering what Bill's making of all this, and he supposes it can't be half as good for Bill as it is for him, but hopefully his master's still enjoying the show.

Carrie-Anne's wondering much the same thing, and she glances over at Bill quickly. He looks composed and even a little interested and, really, that's more than she expected. Giving him a quick smile, she turns her attention back to Sean, bending down to kiss him hard.

Not sure what to make of Carrie-Anne's little smile, Bill shifts a little on the sofa. He's more involved in this scene than he expected to bem and while Carrie-Anne's a good top, he knows it's more about the fact that Sean is present. I really need to stop fucking around and figure out what that means.

Sean offers up his mouth all over again, moaning softly at the feel of Carrie-Anne's lips on his. For all the times he's promised rights to his mouth to his top at the time, this is the sort of thing he'd hate to give up permanently, and he's glad Bill's not the type to ask for that. Christ, she's just amazing. I'm so damned lucky.

"So what do you say, boy?" Carrie-Anne asks once she pulls back from the kiss. Reaching out very carefully with the toe of her boot, she nudges one of the clothespins attached to his foreskin. "You ready to have these off?"

"Oh, Christ," Sean blurts out, wincing but heartfelt. "Please, Ma'am, yes, if Ma'am's ready to take them off me, then Christ, yes, please."

"I like the way he begs," Carrie-Anne says to Bill. "What do you think; has he earned a good fucking while I take them off?"

Given that a good fucking was always part of the plan, although not quite the way that Carrie-Anne had originally proposed, Bill nods. "Yeah, I think he's been good enough."

"It's your lucky day, boy," Carrie-Anne says, getting out of the chair. "Get up on your hands and knees on the coffee table facing your master," she adds as she heads toward her toy bag. "I want him to see your face for this."

Sean swallows and makes his way to the coffee table--just a little longer, just hold out a little longer for both of them--and climbs up, facing Bill. "Master," he murmurs. This is turning out to be one hell of a scene, and having those pins come off as he's being fucked--wait. Facing Master while I'm getting fucked? Oh...!

Bill can't help laughing at the look on Sean's face. "You're being very good for her," he says. "I'm impressed, boy." This close up, each little grimace and wince Sean makes as he moves is obvious and Bill can't wait to see Sean's face as Carrie-Anne fucks him.

"Not sure a boy like this needs much prep," Carrie-Anne says, moving around to stand behind Sean. She's pulled her harness on and snapped in a generously-sized dildo and now she slicks it with lube. "Or any, really. Right, boy?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Sean says with enthusiasm, before realizing that could be taken one of two ways. "I mean--bloody hell--please, Ma'am, please fuck me, please!"

Carrie-Anne can't help laughing at the way Sean is tripping all over his words. "It's okay; I know what you want. It's what you always want, slut." As she lines up the dildo and begins to press it inside Sean, she looks at her hands and remembers Bill's reaction to her suggestion that she fist Sean.

"No," he'd said flatly. "I'm the only one who does that." She smiles now, watching as Bill stares at Sean's face intently. So. In. Love.

Oblivious to everything except Bill's eyes and the insistent press of silicone into his body, Sean's not thinking about love or the kinds of limits Bill's going to ask for now or in the future--he's just here and now, with both of them, trying to be good for Carrie-Anne and trying to make the whole scene as good as it can be for Bill. "Please," Sean pants, "Ma'am, please--please!"

It should be wrong to hear Sean beg someone else for...well, for anything, but it's actually fucking hot. Bill glances up at Carrie-Anne, finding it odd to see a look of careful concentration on her face. But, of course, she can't feel it at all and he feels sorry for her for a moment before he gestures toward Sean. "May I?"

"Of course," Carrie-Anne replies, wondering what Bill has in mind. Like I'm gonna say no, regardless, she thinks, but she's relieved when all he does is grab a handful of Sean's hair and tug at it.

"You like this, don't you, boy?" Bill snarls. "Like getting fucked."

Any contact with Bill is welcome right now, even the pain from that tug, and Sean nods against it. "Yes, Master--God, yes, Master!"

After fucking Sean steadily for another couple of moments, Carrie-Anne leans forward and, winking at Bill, takes hold of the string at the end of the zipper on Sean's right side. "This will hurt a bit," she says with a big smile before yanking hard.

Sean can't even get out a real word; he just cries out, body clenching, fingers trying to hook into the table. His eyes close, but only for a moment--then he's looking back up at Bill. "Thank you," he pants, "Ma'am--thank you, Master."

This is why Bill wanted to do this scene, this right here. Seeing Sean hurting like this while Bill was in a position to simply watch was perfect. "You look so fucking good when you hurt," he said, leaning in and nuzzling Sean's cheek with his own. "Sound so good too."

Well, I'm feeling just a little superfluous, Carrie-Anne thinks, but she's more amused than upset, having expected something like that. She waits a moment longer and then, breathing in deeply in anticipation, pulls off the zipper on the other side.

It's enough to make Sean come very close to screaming, and although he doesn't struggle for a better grip on the table this time, he does have to take a couple of deep breaths after the zipper's gone. "Feels so good, Master," he pants to Bill. "Hurts like hell, Ma'am, thank you," he says, louder, to Carrie-Anne.

Bill glances up at Carrie-Anne then, aware that he's not been paying much attention to her. She's smilingm though, and he takes a moment to appreciate the way it's obvious that she's good at this, that, whether or not she feels much, she's fucking Sean much like a guy would. And then she beckons to him.

The idea had come to her as soon as Bill started nuzzling Sean and Carrie-Anne's glad that she's never had any problems with improvising mid-scene. "Why don't you take over here?" she says. "If you sit back on the floor, you can have him in your lap when that last zipper comes off."

Right now that sounds like the best idea Bill's ever heard, and he nods to her before settling back on his heels, watching as Carrie-Anne pulls out and helps Sean off the table.

It's harder to move than it has been all scene--Sean's legs are shaking a little--but it's worth it to get turned around and know he's going to have Bill's cock in him. And he already knows he's going to scream bloody murder when the last zipper gets dragged off his foreskin; this way Bill's going to get to feel that scream.

It's a perfect idea, and he gives Carrie-Anne a grateful little grin as the two of them get him into position.

"Good boy," Bill murmurs. sighing as Sean settles down on his cock. "Such a hot fuck." He thrusts up into Sean a couple of times and groans; while he'd known he was pretty worked up by the scene, he hadn't quite realized how close he was.

"I'm going to hurt you, boy. I'm going to reach around and pull that zipper off and you're going to scream for me and come. Got it?"

"Yes, Master," Sean pants, dropping his hands to his sides and leaning against Bill's chest. "Please, Master, want it so much, please let me come for you, please hurt me, Master, please!"

Oh fuck, now that's pretty, Carrie-Anne thinks, watching them together. Well, maybe not pretty, but damn, they look good together.

Totally unaware of her attention, Bill slams up into Sean as hard as he can and reaches around, finding the string at the end of the zipper. He gives Sean a second longer to brace himself and then tugs sharply, feeling the zipper slowly leave Sean's skin.

It hurts every bit as much as Sean's been expecting it to, and he does scream. But it's just the pain Sean needs to push him over the edge, and he comes as the last clothespin comes off, gasping as his cock jerks and his ass tightens up hard.

Both the scream and the way Sean goes tight around him are more than enough for Bill, and he bites almost blindly at Sean's should as he comes. Mine! My boy! he thinks as he clings to Sean after.

Moving quickly and as quietly as her heels allow, Carrie-Anne ducks into the bathroom, coming out with a couple of warm damp towels and a bottle of cold water. She sets them down within reach of Sean and then steps back.

"You're my good boy," Bill says, holding Sean close. "Love hearing you scream for me."

Sean manages a low rumble, almost a purr, as he more or less collapses into Bill's arms. He's fuzzy-headed and he's got that high that comes from knowing full well he's done a good job in this scene, so it makes all the sense in the world to respond with, "Love you, too, Master."

"Mmm..." Bill murmurs against Sean's neck. Somewhere behind him he's aware of movement, but by the time he can turn around to look, Carrie-Anne is slipping out the door, leaving her bag and most of her clothing behind. We'll have to talk to Liam and Jason, Bill thinks absently. See what nice extravagant gift we can pick up for her.

Mostly, however, he's concerned with Sean. "You need to stay here? There's a bedroom if you're up for moving. If not, I'm good." His arms go tight around Sean. More than good, really.

"Can we stay here a bit?" Sean mumbles. It's not that he couldn't move; it's that he doesn't see any reason to. I've got everything I need right here.

-end-