Last night was the fourth night in a row that Sean served beef and Bill's beginning to wonder what the hell is going on. It's not just the meat, which Bill doesn't mind all that much seeing as he's got American tastes, but there's something going on under the surface and he's determined to find out what it is.
It's even more of a surprise when Sean starts working out a lot more seriously than he had before. While Bill assumes it's for the role, there's no denying that Sean seems to be almost competing with Bill when they're at the club. Again, Bill hasn't got a problem with that, well not exactly.
"So are you supposed to be bulking out for this role?" he asks as they head for the locker room.
"I haven't been told to, if that's what you mean," Sean says. He runs the towel over his head again, enjoying the feel of it against his still-recent buzz cut. "It just seems more realistic to me. Veteran, someone who's going to be getting into fights -- I do want to look the part." He raises his eyebrows as they stop at Bill's locker. "You don't like it?"
"Did I say that?" Bill asks his voice deceptively mild. Regardless of how he feels about Sean doing his best to outlift him, Bill's less than thrilled with Sean's sudden lack of manners.
Sean crosses his arms over his chest. "I know that tone of voice," he murmurs. "What's the matter?"
"Just wondering what's up with you," Bill asks giving Sean a look. "There's been a rather distinct lack of deference around here lately."
For all that he's cool on the outside, Bill's puzzled and a little concerned on the inside. It would be easy to dismiss this as Sean getting into the part as he did with Sharpe, but his own admission last week is weighing on his mind. Did he really think that I'm going to lighten up on him?
"Lack of--" Sean frowns at Bill, trying to figure out if he's serious or if this is the beginning of a scene. He knows that ever since he cut his hair for the new job, he's been a little rougher around the edges than usual, but surely nothing so bad it'd cause comment from Bill?
"I'm not trying to make things difficult for you," he says slowly, still not sure what to make of the way Bill opened up this conversation. "You know I'm not the type of slave who gets off on being forced down all the time." His cock begs to differ, though; right now the idea of getting forced down sounds incredible.
"And you know that I'm not the type of master who demands formal voice all the time," Bill replies. "But when was the last time you called me 'master?'" He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall, giving Sean his best "hard guy" look.
Even Sean can't deny Bill's got a point about that. Thinking back on it... he can't remember, either. "You're right... Master," he says. But for some reason, it doesn't ring as true as it should, and the look Bill's giving him is just making him want to lick Bill's lips, not drop to his knees and apologize.
All right, it's definitely the role, Bill thinks, correctly interpreting the look on Sean's face. For a moment he almost wants to smile with relief. He doesn't of course, no point in letting Sean think that he approves of Sean's attitude.
Letting his voice relax into that cop drawl he's used too many times in various movies, he moves closer to Sean, putting a hand on Sean's bare chest. "I think you need a bit of an attitude adjustment. Boy."
Sean looks from Bill's hand back to his face. He puts his arms down at his sides -- not willing to give up so much ground that his hands are behind his back yet -- and tilts his chin up slightly. "Then maybe you'd better give it to me. Master."
"Or maybe I better string you up on a cross and leave you there while I go back downstairs and have lunch," Bill says, pushing Sean back with his hand. "You don't get a say in how I deal with you, are we clear on that, boy?"
He remembers the scene he wanted to do with Sean last week and how stupid it seemed. Now he's actually a little annoyed with Sean, and, to be honest if only privately, a little annoyed with himself. I should have known this was coming. He's playing former paratrooper turned mercenary. Of course he was going to cop an attitude.
As soon as the threat of punishment comes into play -- and Sean knows it's a real threat and not just something Bill's putting out in the middle of the scene; it's exactly the kind of thing Bill would do --something in Sean jerks him upright, eyes lowering. It's not exactly the headspace he's supposed to be in, but it's a hell of a lot more submissive than he was a minute ago. He's still breathing a little heavier than usual, still more aroused by this conversation than irritated or frustrated, but it's obvious he needs to get control of himself.
"I'm sorry, Master," he says quietly. "Of course we're clear on that, Sir."
"And I think we need to be clear on some other things as well," Bill says, letting his voice go a little softer. "I think we're having some role confusion like we did in India, right?" He's not too concerned; if Sean needs to be taken down hard, Bill's more than happy to oblige as long as Sean doesn't get what he wants through misbehaving.
"Yes, Master," Sean says, suddenly annoyed with himself for letting this go on as long as he has. "Part of it's just the bloody haircut -- I always seem to get a bit more aggressive if I've got it taken down to a buzz like this."
"Oh do you?" Bill asks reaching up and rubbing Sean's head. "I'll have to remember that." He trails his hand down until it's resting on Sean's neck, right over the collar. "We're good now?" he asks, his voice a little more serious.
"Yes, Master," Sean whispers. He bends his head down so he can rub his cheek against Bill's fingers. "Can I prove it to you, Master?"
Moving his hand to the back of Sean's neck, Bill grips it hard. "Oh trust me boy, I'm going to give you ample opportunity to prove how good you can be." He grabs Sean's collar and pulls him in closer. "And I'm going to prove that I know you're mine." He leans in, kisses Sean hard and fast and brutal, and then backs away, reaching for Sean's upper arms.
That's all the warning Sean is going to get; Bill shoves him hard against the nearest locker and growls. "Mine, and don't you fucking forget it."
Sean's grinning again, but this time it's not a grin with attitude --he's just happy as hell hearing Bill growl. He has been needing something like this, needing to be pushed into the walls, forced down, and God knows Bill asserting his dominance is always incredibly arousing.
"Yes, Master," Sean says. He flattens his palms back against the lockers, licking his lips. "Please, Master, God, yes, your slut wants you to fuck him, please."
"Whore," Bill growls, slapping Sean hard across the face. "You'd fucking bend over and spread for anyone who knocked you around." He backhands Sean and then grabs for one of Sean's rings, twisting it hard.
Sean's hands curl into fists as he tilts his head back and cries out, gasping as the pain hits. "Your--" he pants, "your-- whore... Master." This is just what he's been needing. All he can think now is thank God Bill's strong enough to take him down this way; he's probably never going to stop feeling grateful to Bill for being all the things he is.
"Oh are you?" Bill asks, twisting the ring again. He tugs down on it sharply. "Why don't you get down on your knees and show me just how much of a whore you are?"
"Christ!" Sean can't help the curse; God, when Bill wants to hurt him, Sean can feel it to his bones. He gets on his knees and locks his wrists at the small of his back, leaning forward so he can rub his face against Bill's sweatpants. Bill smells musky and strong, like good clean workout sweat, and Sean could nuzzle into that for hours.
Reaching down, Bill smacks Sean on the side of the head. "Get on with it, slut," he snaps. It's actually almost cute to see Sean nuzzling him like that, but that can wait until later.
"Yes, Master," Sean says, immediately stretching up so he can get Bill's drawstring untied. Sweatpants are actually far easier to deal with than jeans -- another advantage of being here at the club's gym -- and so within a few moments, Sean's got them down to his thighs. That leaves his jock strap, which Sean gets his mouth on fast, licking up and down Bill's cock and fitting his mouth over the head so he can suck hard.
Well this is pretty much every gay man's fantasy, Bill thinks, looking down at Sean. "That's right...aren't you just Daddy's good little bitch?" Unable to get a grip on Sean's hair, he settles for cradling Sean's head in his hands.
These days, hearing the occasional "Daddy" out of Bill just isn't that surprising anymore, and Sean nods, face rubbing against Bill's cock. "Please," he murmurs, "want to be good for you, Master."
"Then quit screwing around," Bill snaps, "and fucking get on with it."
Sean pulls the jock strap down, being careful with the elastic, and swallows Bill's cock down almost all at once. He groans out loud, sliding his tongue up and down the length of it, taking Bill down as deep as he can.
"That's it, boy," Bill says keeping his grip on Sean's head as he thrusts forward. "You're such a slut for cock, you just love it when I ram it down your throat."
Sean can't voice his agreement like this, but he can suck like a pro and groan when he's got enough air to do it. His left hand tightens on his right wrist as he keeps sucking, legs spread apart to keep his balance. Christ, but Bill tastes so damned good.
After more than half a year, Bill has a pretty good idea of what Sean can take and how much air he needs and he knows as he continues to fuck Sean's mouth hard that he's pushing it. But then that's one of the things that makes owning Sean so damn good; Sean loves being pushed as much as Bill loves pushing him.
One thing that's so great about being pushed is the sense that there's new territory out there, that no matter how many years of experience either one of them might have, there's still something to discover when the two of them are together. And maybe that's what makes Sean seem so eager to please now, doing his best to force down his gag reflex and just take it, leave himself open and willing for his Master -- or maybe it's the fact that no one he's been with has ever been so willing to be hard on him when he needs it, rough when he's aching to be used this way. Bill's been right there from day one, taking everything Sean's been offering. And doing a damned good job of it, Sean thinks, knowing he'll be hoarse for hours by the time this is all over.
"Mine," Bill growls down at Sean. He can feel Sean relaxing into it--yet another thing that makes Sean so good is the way that hard use seems to almost calm him down at times. "Mine," he says again and then grins suddenly as he gets an idea.
Yours, Sean thinks, trying to look up at Bill. If there's anything better than being claimed this way, he hasn't found it yet.
Between the incredible we heat of Sean's mouth and the obvious devotion in his eyes, it only takes another moment or so before Bill's ready to come. Holding Sean's head still, he groans loudly and thrusts into Sean's mouth, coming hard.
Swallowing, Sean can actually feel the tension leaking out of his body. It feels so damned good to be on his knees like this that he can't imagine how he ever let himself get to the point where he needed to be put down. He'll probably remember as soon as he gets a look at himself in a mirror again, but they're both prepared for it now; it won't be this difficult again.
Barely giving himself enough time to get his breath back, Bill pulled back, tugging his pants and jock back on. "Come on," he said sharply, leaning down to yank Sean to his feet.
Sean comes up with a grunt, a little startled by the rapid change in position. It's only just now occurring to him that Bill might want to do more than just get off, and the idea has his cock half-desperate for release. Please, Master...
Without saying anything, Bill leads Sean into one of the massage rooms. "Strip off, boy, he says, looking down at his own hands. "And get up on the table on your knees and elbows." He turns away from Sean and starts looking through the nice basket of supplies sitting on a near by counter. God I love this place, he thinks, locating what he was hoping to find.
Openly curious now, Sean climbs up onto the table and then turns his head to look at Bill, trying to see just what he's doing. He's eager enough for anything at this point, surprised and grateful that Bill isn't finished with him yet.
There's a low foot stool in the room; Bill assumes that it's there so that short girls can still give massages, or maybe so short girls can fuck guys bent over the table. He pushes it over to the table; while he's hardly short, with Sean up on his knees and elbows, there's a bit of a reach involved.
"Guess," he says, putting down the tub of thick lube, "what I'm going to do to remind you that you belong to me?"
"Master," Sean whispers, and he has to clear his throat, he's so hoarse, "is Master going to fist his slave?" Please? he's thinking, suddenly hot all over and aching for it.
"Clever boy," Bill says with a slight grin. "One of the best ways I know to remind you just who you belong to." He leans in and bites one of Sean's ass cheeks, staying long enough to leave a serious mark.
Sean groans at that; he can almost feel the bruise settling into his skin. It's all in his head, he knows, but then he does know what it's like when Bill's trying to mark him, and it's always like this: hard, painful, and arousing as hell.
"Better brace yourself," Bill says when he's finally done with the mark. He lubes up a couple of fingers and shoves them into Sean hard, his other hand gripping Sean's hip tightly.
"Oh!" Sean gasps, hands clenching into fists as he shoves back. "Christ -- yes -- Master, please, please!" He'll never know how Bill does this to him -- how Bill can make him go from growling to desperate with just the right touches and the right words -- but it feels so good giving in that he doesn't want to analyze it. He just wants to be here, on his hands and knees, knowing full well what he's about to take.
"Good boy," Bill says, pushing another finger into Sean. He twists his fingers, knowing that Sean can take this and a hell of a lot more. "You're mine, aren't you?"
"Always," Sean pants. "Always yours, Master." He feels like a whore, opening up this way, wanting everything this much, and at the same time, he feels safe. Right now, it's the ideal combination, and he rocks his hips back, trying to get more.
"Greedy slut," Bill says with a laugh. He lets Sean fuck himself for a moment before he pulls back and adds more lube. Then it's three fingers and a moment later, four. "Tell me how much you want this, how much you need it."
"Need to... be yours," Sean pants, groaning as he feels himself stretching wide. It doesn't matter how many times they've done this; it's still incredibly intense having Bill work his hand into Sean's body. "Please, Master..." Being more specific makes Sean feel even more desperate for it, and he forces the words out, panting: "Need your hand... up my arse... please, Master, let your slave have your hand, please!"
Bill's got all the time in the world here and while he knows Sean could take it if he rushed it and just shoved it, it's a lot more entertaining to drag the whole process out. He's not particularly gentle about it; he likes the way that Sean groans as Bill's fingers corkscrew into him.
It almost feels like a tease, the way Bill's building up to it, but Sean knows better. Having to wait is just going to make everything feel better in the long run; at the moment, though, all he can think of is that this is something only Bill does to him. Nobody but his Master. It's one hell of a rush, knowing this is just for the two of them.
As he finally tucks his thumb into his palm and starts pushing his whole hand into Sean, Bill's thinking much the same thing. "Mine," he says as Sean's body opens up and takes Bill's hand in. "Mine."
"Yours," Sean groans, sounding a great deal more hoarse than he usually does. That last push past Sean's body's resistance feels every bit as mental as it does physical; all his need to be fought down is gone. He's been claimed, and he can feel it all the way through him.
"Oh fuck," Bill groans. He can never believe this moment; it's not so much the physical fact of it--although God knows that's pretty amazing--as it is the emotional vulnerability that Sean shows him here. And now that he's finally admitted that thing that they both knew about, he realizes that he's just as vulnerable, just as open as Sean is.
He supposes he should be thinking about how he's missed this all these years, but he can't, because this is now and it's Sean and all that matters is this connection they've created.
"Master," Sean pants. "God. Master. Yes." He's panting out the words, not at all sure he can string them together into something that means anything, but needing to let Bill know how much he wants this, how much he needs it. It's amazing, feeling this owned, and every time's better than the last.
"Gonna see how much you can take for me," Bill says, pushing his fist further inside Sean. He already knows that Sean can take a lot, already knows that Sean always wants as much as Bill can give him. "Good boy," he murmurs as he watches his wrist disappear.
From the sound of that, Sean doesn't think Bill's going to mind in the least if he gets greedy. "More... Master... please," he begs, locking his arms and looking back over his shoulder for a minute. He can't see much, and he can't keep his head turned for long, but it's long enough to see the expression of concentration on Bill's face. "Please!"
"You want more?" Bill asks, pressing forward slowly. "I'll always give you more," he says. "Give you as much as you can take and then some." It's why I love you, he thinks, but then realizes that no, that's only part of why he loves Sean.
It's not as if Sean hasn't been fisted hard and deep like this before -- hell, early on, Bill got his arm into Sean up to the elbow -- but this time Bill's talking him through it, and the feel of it is different. Not any easier on him, definitely not that, but like it's all part of something bigger than the moment.
Right now, though, it's hard to concentrate on anything but the moment and Bill's hand stretching him open. "Please... Master...!"
"Good boy," Bill says, resting his other hand on Sean's lower back. "You're taking it so fucking well." He twists his arm a little, just enough to give Sean some added sensation. "That's it...all you need to do is open up and feel it."
Sean tilts his head back and groans, mouth going wide as his eyes close. Open up and feel it is one of the easiest orders he's had to follow in a while; he's not sure there's anything out there in the world but Bill.
Bill can feel it as Sean relaxes and opens up even more. Taking a deep breath, he starts fucking Sean a little harder, pulling out a bit and then going in further with each thrust. "That's it...that's right..." And he's breathless now, as caught up in the feeling of this as Sean is.
This goes above and beyond arousal; Sean's so high on sensation he's just about flying. He's aware of his body, aware most of all of what Bill's doing to his body, but it doesn't feel like Bill's tearing him apart -- instead, he's pretty sure this is part of what holds him together when he most needs it. Master. Yours. Yes. Thank you... God!
"Whenever you can," Bill says. He's deep into Sean now--almost up to the elbow--but he doesn't stop fucking Sean with careful, steady thrusts. Somewhere in the back of his head, he's thinking that they'll stay here in the club tonight so that Sean doesn't have to worry about taking care of Bill for the next day or so.
"Come when you can," he says again, his hand still stroking Sean's back.
It all builds up from the base of Sean's spine, maybe even deeper than that. For a few seconds before he comes, he's breathing hard and reaching for it, and then it hits, orgasm taking him over and making him scream out loud, shaking his body until he can't come anymore, until his arms and legs are weak -- though, thank God, not shaky just yet. It's not until he starts coming back to himself that he realizes just how much he managed to take for Bill, and that Bill's going to have to get his fist and forearm back out again before Sean can safely collapse.
"Breathe and hang in there," Bill says. Although he knows Sean probably wants to just collapse, Bill's slow and careful as he pulls out; the last thing he wants to do is hurt Sean in any way. "That's it...that's right...just another moment...."
Finally, he's got his arm out of Sean, and he's guiding Sean down to rest on the table. "Good boy," he murmurs, grabbing for a towel. "My boy."
"Yours," Sean mumbles, but he's face-down on the table now, flat on his belly, and it comes out more like a muffled grunt. Still, he's grateful for how much comfort he can draw from Bill now that it's over; he knows Bill isn't going anywhere, not in the immediate sense and not ini the long-term sense, either.
Once Bill's got both himself and Sean cleaned up a little, he crouches down next to the table and strokes Sean's hair. "God, you're fucking amazing. I'll never get over it...the way you go so far under when I do that." He pauses and then can't help continuing. "I don't ever want to get over it."
Sean rubs up against Bill's hand, half-purring as Bill pets him. "Don't have to get over it," he murmurs. "We're not going anywhere."
"I know I'm not," Bill says, suddenly serious. "Not without you."