Cal slapped his arse. “Is that an attitude I hear, sir?”
“N-no. It’s not. I swear.”
“Good.” Cal leaned down and picked up the condom. He dragged it across the felt, letting the foil hiss over the fabric, and James’s eyes followed it as Cal drew lazy figure eights in front of his face. Cal slid his other hand over James’s arse and down between his legs. James winced, closing his eyes as Cal teased his probably very uncomfortable balls.
“What do you think, sir?” He squeezed just enough to hopefully screw with James’s ability to concentrate. “Should I fuck you like this? Bent over the table with your cock and balls all tied up?”
James whimpered again. His brow furrowed, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
“Someone’s forgetting the rules,” Cal taunted. “Answer me.”
“I . . .” James swept his tongue across his lips. “Fuck, I can’t think.”
“Hmm.” Cal looked at Nick. “Was that the answer to my question?”
Nick shook his head slowly. “No, I don’t think that’s the answer we were looking for.”
James swore under his breath.
Cal squeezed James’s balls hard enough to make him swear a little louder this time. Then he grinned. “Sounds like someone is getting fucked over the other side of the table.”
“Please.”
Cal hesitated at the plea, but James didn’t seem in any real distress. And they had safewords, after all.
He patted James’s arse and stepped away. “Move.”
James straightened a bit, shoulders up as if he expected to be hit, then a bit more. After his extended time bent over and possibly a bit of disorientation—half arousal and half distraction from his balls—Cal wasn’t going to rush James, though he stayed close enough to remind him of the order.
When James stood, he looked supremely fuckable in his flustered, dishevelled state. His hair was all over the place, face flushed and sweaty, pupils blown. He looked at Cal with that wide-eyed expression he had during sex, and Cal was tempted to take off the sunglasses, but he didn’t. He needed them for his own protection, his own mask and reassurance.
I’m not going to fail you this time.
“Move.” Cal crossed his arms in front of his chest, hands on his biceps.
James shook his head a little as if dazed, then half turned. With his trousers pooled around his ankles, all he managed was a shuffle. Those small, careful movements shifted the weights dangling from his balls, and the tightness around his eyes and lips betrayed the discomfort, probably pain. Well, Cal couldn’t have handled it, but as Nick had explained, pain became something entirely different when a masochist like James was turned on.
Cal walked slowly at James’s side, ready to step in if James fell, keeping his own jaw tight at the expression of pain and the harsh breaths. A couple times, it looked as if James couldn’t go on, but he gathered himself every time.
When he’d rounded the second corner, he was sweaty and shaking, but his determination to follow the order made Cal’s chest swell with pride.
“Down.”
James looked back into his face for a long moment. Something almost cracked in Cal—compassion, and something deeper, too vast to be expressed. Thank God, James bent over and took the same position he’d held on the other side. He winced when the weights shifted again, but obeyed.
“Good, sir.” Cal stroked James’s hair, and the man relaxed, almost melting against the table. “Legs further apart.”
James could only spread his legs so far with his trousers still around his ankles, but Cal enjoyed watching him try. And he did try, pushing his feet as far apart as he could.
“Good. Now stay just like that.”
Nick was still on the other side of the table, and he slid the condom and lube closer to James’s face. James gulped. When Cal picked up the condom, James closed his eyes, but he didn’t make any comments, whispered or otherwise.
Cal set both the lube and the unopened condom on James’s back. Then he stepped behind him and undid his trousers. He pushed them over his hips, boxers and all, and when they landed at his feet with a quiet thud, James sucked in a hiss of breath.
Across the table from them, the overhead light casting an interesting glow on his face, Nick grinned. He was visibly hard, a thick ridge pressing against the front of his leather trousers just above the edge of the table. Cal had a feeling that Spencer wouldn’t know what hit him later this evening.
Cal peeled off one glove and dropped it on the felt. James squirmed, making the weights and chains jingle again. The second glove landed beside his face, and James closed his eyes and exhaled.