“Yes.” Frank swallowed. “Completely.”
Brandon’s thumb ran along the top of Frank’s shoulder, but the pressure didn’t let up. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The hand lightened, and Frank regained his balance and his centre. Stefan stroked Frank’s neck. “Unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers.”
Frank furrowed his brow behind the blindfold. With the zip ties on? Oh, you fucker. It was a challenge and a half, manoeuvring something as simple as a belt buckle with such unforgiving bindings and almost no space at all between his wrists. The zipper wasn’t much better, especially with his hard dick pressing against it. Not that his erection made the zipper harder to work, but the vibration of the separating metal against sensitive flesh made him lightheaded. The occasional quiet sniff of sadistic amusement from the peanut gallery didn’t help, either.
Finally, he’d obeyed the order and rested his hands on his thighs.
Something rustled beside him. Fabric under tension, brushing, moving. Leather creaked softly, and Frank realised Stefan had lowered himself beside him. His hand rested on the back of Frank’s neck.
“You’re going to lean down and rest your weight on your forearms.” Stefan slid his hand under Frank’s wrists and guided him forwards.
He’d thought Stefan’s little game with his balance a moment ago was only to fuck with him, but now that Stefan was ordering him to move blindly, to defy all his instincts and put himself in danger of face-planting on the hard floor, he got it. Stefan nudged him farther with the hand on his neck while the other under his wrists reassured him there’d be something solid underneath him until he was able to hold himself up. His hands brushed the carpet, and he exhaled as Stefan eased him down onto his forearms.
“Now.” The sadistic amusement in Stefan’s voice was back in full force. “You’re totally mine to play with.” He trailed his finger down the centre of Frank’s spine again, all the way to his loosened belt and upraised arse. “If I wanted to yank down your trousers and fuck you, good and hard and for as long as I wanted to, I guess you’d have no choice but to sit there and take it. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes.” Most definitely a croak. He tried again. “Yes.”
Stefan chuckled. He hooked a finger under Frank’s trousers and underwear, and that first tug made Frank’s breath catch. As Stefan worked Frank’s clothes off until his arse was completely exposed, Frank’s heart pounded. He’d trusted few men in his life to put him in a position like this, and could think of only a handful who wouldn’t have made him feel vulnerable and humiliated, and not in the fun way that his submissive side enjoyed. He’d only ever tested that theory with three men.
Geoff. Mike. Andrew.
And now . . . Stefan. Brandon. Frank was, as Stefan had pointed out, helpless and at Stefan’s mercy, and that didn’t scare him at all. Which, ironically, scared him.
How far under my skin has this guy got already?
Tearing foil brought Frank out of his thoughts. There’d be time to think later. Here and now, there was only one place for his concentration, and that was on the man who was about to—he hoped—relentlessly and mercilessly fuck him right here on his office floor.
He felt a strong, warm hand on his arse, fingers digging in a little as if to test the muscle, and he almost expected a slap and a tighter grip, and hell, but he could take bruises there, he could take just about anything.
“Only thing we’re missing is a spreader bar.” Stefan sounded matter-of-fact.
Frank heard the squelch of lube and then felt Stefan moving closer, felt the air shift and the friction of cloth against the insides of his legs, the backs of his legs, rubbing against hair there, and pressure against his hole. Brandon knew how much he could take, and that he could take his cock fine after a few moments’ getting used to it.
But woe betide any man who’d take that without either preparation or experience. Stefan pushed in, the movement as inevitable as conquest, and Frank moaned against his own hands, folded on the ground underneath him. The stretch. A burn he relished, being opened, taken, and damn, but being blind made that cock feel even larger than it was.
Anybody who says size doesn’t matter has no fucking clue.
“You’re loving this,” Stefan said coldly, like he didn’t. Or at least not the same way Frank did. Like this wasn’t about sex at all, and only Frank got off on it. Maybe like Stefan was only scratching an itch, performing a necessary physical function.
“Yes.” Frank’s breath hitched when Stefan pushed all the way in.