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Part III - Deacon does his best to win his bet with Jax.
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I expected Deacon's bedroom to be some kind of sex dungeon. In fact, it was surprisingly normal. Nice, even. He kept his place tidier than I kept my flat.
A solid-looking oak bed was set against the wall opposite the door, taking up a third of the space of the room.
The headboard and footboard were made from horizontal slats divided by vertical posts, with solid posts at all four corners. The bedcovers looked new, and the bed was neatly made up as if he'd just finished a House & Garden shoot.
It even smelled clean; the scent of freshly washed sheets, and traces of the cologne he'd sprayed on before I'd arrived.
Half a dozen monochrome framed photographs were mounted on the stone wall above the bed. Most were landscapes that had the polished look of stock photos.
Along the wall at the far end, bookshelves full of tattered paperbacks ran the full width of the room. Boxy, freestanding paper lamps stood either side of the bed, glowing gold, and a laptop sat on the nightstand with a screensaver scrawling its way across the screen.
There were no clothes on the floor, just a wicker clothes hamper in the corner, and there wasn't an empty Doritos packet in sight. How did he live like this? His tidiness was more disturbing than his fantasies about murdering his flatmate for listening to Jeff Buckley.
"Right, let's get these off."
He undid my handcuffs, and I sat on the bed and distractedly rubbed my wrists as he went to the laptop and woke it up. A grid of tiles appeared on screen, and the lights dimmed as he tapped a coloured square, leaving the paper lamps as the only light source. He tapped another tile, and a voice spoke over 80s synth chords.
"Coming up to seven o clock here, and uh, the sun's rising. I'm about to go home, and you've been listening to the late night shift. And if I'm dreaming, don't wake me tonight. Before I go, I'm about to take one more request here on Stereo Sydney."
I thought that was odd, as we weren't in Sydney.
That done, he pushed me back on the bed, and I dropped back onto my elbows while he tugged down my jeans and briefs. He kicked them to one side, then undressed, dropping his clothes into the same pile as mine.
I moved to make space for him, and he climbed onto the bed and lay down beside me. I rested my head on my forearm, and he mirrored me.
"So, how's your night going so far?" he asked.
"Good song choice," I said, as I finally recognised the Icehouse track he'd put on.
Well you gotta be crazy baby, to want a guy like me...
He laughed, and ran a hand across my chest.
"Ah, I'm not crazy. But right now, I see a guy dying to have his limits pushed with someone he trusts. Do you trust me?"
"No. You're completely mental."
He snorted. "You're still here."
"You've got my boots."
His laugh shook the bed. He put a hand to the collar around my neck and brushed his thumb over the metal lettering. "You look so hot in this. I knew you would."
I put a hand to the collar and felt the raised metal letters, spelling them out silently.
All I could think as I read the word was,
Jesus, really?
"I had this made just for you," he said, sliding a finger inside the collar, tightening it against the back of my neck. "That's what you're going to be by the time the sun comes up."
"You really enjoy fucking with me, don't you?" I said, and he gripped my hair and put his face close to mine with a grin.
"Oh, fuck yes."
He rolled on top of me and pushed me flat against the bed, speaking close to my ear.
"This has been a looong time coming."
I flinched as he moved his hand down my chest, and tried not to react as his fingertips rested against my right nipple.
Some of the more aggressive tops I'd hooked up with in the past had gotten excited when they discovered I was sensitive there, and I could tell by the grin that spread across his face, that Deacon had figured it out. He squeezed hard, his eyes on my face, watching my reaction. I cringed under his touch and his grin widened. Keeping his eyes locked to mine, he put his teeth against my left nipple and bit down.
"Fuck, Deacon, fuck! Stop doing that!"
He kept two fingers pinched tightly around my nipple as I squirmed under his weight, and said, "Oh, that's beautiful. Oh babe, we're going to have so much fun."
He kept torturing me, holding me against the bed so I couldn't twist away.
"Deacon, stop!"
He stopped, keeping me pinned against the bed with his weight.
"What's the problem?"
"It's embarrassing!"
"What is? Enjoying yourself?"
He licked my left nipple, and I threw my head back against the pillow and groaned as he bit down on it again.
He stopped torturing me and lay on top of me, his elbows braced against the bed, his hands clasped across my chest.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Please don't."
"Are you ashamed of your body?"
I blinked up at the ceiling.
"Heroin
chic
," I said, leaning on the hard 'k' at the end.
He shrugged. "Yeah, okay, you're not built—but you're hot. You know you are. I wouldn't have dragged you all the way out here if you weren't."
"To fuck with me. I'm flattered."
"Nooo. Well, a bit." He gave me a shit-eating grin. "But mostly to have some fun. Push some boundaries. Have a laugh. Isn't that what you wanted? Isn't that why you came? We've talked for weeks, this hasn't come out of the blue. You told me you wanted this."
"To be tied to a table and have the crap scared out of me? Yeah, I don't recall telling you I had a serial killer fetish."
"Okay, maybe not in so many words. But fear, pain, it gets you off. Or, it would, if you let yourself go."
"Mmhmm. Plus ten perception."
"Plus ten sarcasm."
I snorted.
His eyes lit up. "Hey, you ready to lose that bet?"
Ah yes, the bet.
"You honestly think you can make me come without touching me?"
"Yep. And I can't wait to feel your tongue on my arsehole after I do."
"You've got a real way with words, you know that?"
He sat back on his heels. "You love it."
Fuck, I did love it, and it scared the crap out of me. The idea of being 'forced' to lick his arse, while he gloated and fucked my tongue made me so hard. Fuck. What was wrong with me? I'd never gone this far before. Not with someone I hardly knew.
"You ready, Jax?"
I couldn't really lose. It was time to admit that to myself. And besides, there was no way in hell he could make me come without touching me.
I put my hands behind my head and gave him a smirk. "Go on then, you cocky prick. Do your worst."
He ran a finger down the centre of my chest. "Close your eyes."
I shook my head and he laughed.
"Come on Jax, I'm trying to do the impossible here."
I rolled my eyes. "Fine."
The bed creaked as he got up and went to his laptop and put on some psy-chill.
"Keep your eyes closed."
The room went dark as he switched off the bedside lamps.
"Put your arms above your head. I'm going to cuff you to the headboard so you don't try and back out of our deal."
The bed moved as he got up to fetch restraints.
My pulse sped up as I gripped the horizontal slats with both hands, and he put leather cuffs on me and secured my wrists to the headboard.
"Beautiful," He breathed. His voice made my gut clench with anticipation. "Look at you, doing what you're told."
I wished he wouldn't keep reminding me.
His voice went low and dangerous. "Understand this, mate. Your body's mine until I'm done with it."
Oh, holy God.
He got back on the bed, and I got a crawling between my shoulder blades as he just lay there, staring at me.
He said nothing for a while, and I got more and more uncomfortable wondering what he was going to do to me.
When he spoke, his voice was deep and incredibly fucking sexy.
"You're going to come for me, Jax."
I twitched as he leaned over me and breathed hot air across one nipple. I tried to squirm away from him, still sensitive from him tormenting me.
"Come on, not that!"
"Sssh." He pressed two fingers against my mouth, and I resisted the urge to suck on them. "You made the right choice, deciding to become my bitch-boy. I have mates who're gonna love playing with you."
Okay, that was a shot of adrenaline I didn't need. But Christ, if he kept using that voice on me, he could do anything he wanted.
I tightened my grip on the wooden cross-bars until the wood dug into my hands.
"I want to play with you. Just a little bit. And you want me to—don't you, Jax?"
If I hadn't already been so fucking hard, I suspected I'd get an erection just from the way he said my name.
His breath hit my chest as he carried on shit-talking me.
"When we're done here, maybe I'll make a call. Aaron and Lawrence would
love
to help you practice taking it deep."
Lawrence? Larry. The guy he shared the cottage with. And his brother, Aaron? Fuck. Well, I guessed they weren't dead then.
He carried on talking, raising the hair on my arms.
"Those little noises you make when you take a guy into your throat? They're gonna love those." He put his mouth next to my ear. "And those little whimpers you make when you're scared."
I realised I was whimpering now, and shut the fuck up, embarrassed.
He shifted further down the bed, and then I felt his breath tickle the sparse hair on my stomach.
The music throbbed on, and so did my cock, thinking of him inviting a bunch of strangers to fuck me while I was tied to his bed. I so badly wanted to slide my cock into something. It didn't matter what. A mouth, a hand, a vagina, a tight arse. But not being touched was torture.
His voice rose over the dark beat of the music.
