Trapped in the Outbac

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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.

"You said you didn't trust me, but you still let me tie you down. What does that say about you? You want me to make that call?"

I groaned, imagining half a dozen strangers' cocks being fed into my throat.

"And you know I'm going to

fuck

you. Because you're going to

beg

me to fuck you. I'm going to push my fingers into your tight little fuckhole and get you lubed up and ready for my cock. Then I'm going to tease you until you're pushing back on my fingers like the horny slut we both know you are."

The bed moved again, and cool air blew across the tip of my now rock-solid, engorged and painfully sensitive, drooling cock.

"Suck me," I begged him, humping air.

He laughed. "Not a chance. Not after you came in here telling me you were only going to suck cock."

"Please!"

"I think you enjoy getting another man worked up, then denying him that hot little arse of yours. You're a fucking cocktease in Calvin Kleins. But denying your true nature is only denying yourself."

I groaned, unbelievably frustrated. "Come on!"

I felt the bed move, and then his shadow cast over me. Something wet touched my tongue. I realised he was leaking his precum into my mouth! I groaned again and reached out my tongue, hoping to catch the tip of his cock, but he kept it out of reach.

"You're a cum-hungry little slut, aren't you, Jax? I could cum into my hand and feed it to you and you'd lap it up like a dog."

I groaned loudly now, my hips thrusting against the bed as I imagined him doing that.

His voice was back by my ear again. "Tell me you're not lying there, hoping against hope I'll just flip you over and fuck you."

I moaned, so desperate, but unable to come without any kind of physical stimulation.

He made a noise in his throat, his voice moving away from my ear. "Christ you're hard." It was an observation. "I was so right about you."

His voice moved in close again. "Can you just imagine me taking your hot, wet dick into my hot, wet mouth right now?"

Yes. Yes, I really fucking could, and it was

killing

me.

He laughed softly as my hips came up off the bed again, my own precum drooling against my groin.

"You're going to be an

epic

lay when I'm done with you." He undid my hands. "Roll over. Keep your hands on the headboard."

I did as he said, thinking,

Epic? Legendary, thanks all the same.

He secured my hands again, then moved back down the bed.

He spread my legs and I shuddered as he breathed hot air against my arse. All it did was make me desperate to feel his wet tongue against my hole. This was torture.

"See, to me, it looks as if you're getting ready to take my cock," he said.

Very hard to deny at this point.

His breath ran across my arse cheeks, left to right and back again.

My head a mess of insensible horniness, I pushed my hips against the bedspread, grinding my dick against his duvet.

"Fuck Jax, I want to be in your arse so fucking badly right now!" I could hear the strain in his voice, and was glad this was doing his head in too.

I bucked as his breath hit the centreline where my twitching hole was desperate for attention.

"Get up on your knees."

Using my grip on the headboard as leverage, I scrambled onto my knees.

"That's it," he said softly. "Legs further apart. I want to get under you."

Yes, yes, yes.

I spread my legs wider, and felt the bed move as he positioned himself on his back under me.

"Hey Jax? You're leaking." His breath was against my throbbing cock again. "How badly do you want me in your mouth right now?"

Just fucking SUCK ME, you fuck!

I heard swallowing and knew he was taking my precum, and it nearly pushed me over the edge. I was pulsing and throbbing, but there was no release.

Hot breath hit me again.

"Are you going to cum for me, Jax?" he said softly. "Or have I lost this bet?"

"Not unless you touch me," I said, desperate and horny. "Come on, put me out of my misery."

He ran a finger along my length, and I nearly screamed, I needed to cum so badly.

"Oh. That's a shame. I really wanted your tongue on my arse. I guess I'll just have to settle for doing this."

He took a hold of me, pointing my shaft down towards his mouth, and then his tongue was on me. I started breathing high and fast, trying to hold off and enjoy it as long as I could, when he laughed and moved his mouth off my dick. "Time I paid up."

FUCK!

He moved out from under me and I collapsed flat on the bed. I opened my eyes, and it felt obscene to move out of that warm world of fantasy back into his bedroom. But he was back at his laptop, and now a set of 2" silver cubes, that turned out to be a pico projectors, sent blue and gold psychedelic patterns kaleidoscoping across the walls and ceiling. It was like being trapped in a fishtank, on acid.

I knew where this was going. I had no idea how things had come this far, but I did know I was about to get roundly and solidly fucked.

He sat on the bed beside me and stroked a hand through my hair.

"I fuck a

lot

of guys," he said. "But every now and then, one comes along that I know was made just for me. Do you know what I mean?"

I could hardly stand it, what was he doing? I needed to COME!

"Designed for me," he went on. "Like," he glanced up at the ceiling. "Like God looked forward in time to this moment, and said, 'I'm going to make Deacon the hottest, most obedient, but beautifully defiant little cockslut, and leave him hot and waiting until Deacon finds him'."

His hand kept moving through my hair.

I gave him a desperate, pleading look, and he smiled.

"And here you are. Three hours ago, you'd have punched me if I'd tried to restrain you. Now look at you.

You just want to get fucked

."

I started to protest, but before I got a word out, he shook his head,

Oh please

.

He ran a hand down my back and slapped my arse, then bent over me.

"But someone told you that you aren't allowed to want this. Someone told you pain was bad, even if it makes you happy. Someone told you that

you

were bad, didn't they?"

He climbed onto the bed and lay beside me so that we were face to face.

"Hi."

He touched the collar around my neck, and I wondered what would happen when the sun

did

finally come up.

He smiled, as that hypnotic music played in the background, and ripples of blue and gold flowed across the ceiling, the walls, the reflected colours painting his muscular arms and back. I didn't feel like myself anymore. I was just quietly waiting, throbbing and in pain, as if God really had put me on Earth to serve him, and I was waiting to find out how.

His cologne, it was that fucking cologne. He smelled like someone else and it was bending my brain.

"I'm going to go to town on your arse now, Jax. You want that?"

My mouth was dry, so I nodded.

"Good boy," he breathed quietly.

He kissed me, then moved down the bed, kissing and mouthing me with his teeth, until he reached my arse.

"You know," he said, taking a moment to massage my arse with his hands, "For a guy who didn't plan on getting fucked tonight, you have a surprisingly hairless arsehole."

I went hot with embarrassment, and he chuckled.

"Up on your knees."

I did as he said, and he put his arm under me, then ran his hand down my back to grip my hair, keeping my hips high, but pushing my head against the pillow.

Once I was positioned the way he wanted me, he ran his hands down my back, and then pulled my cheeks apart.

I let out one of those whimpers he loved as his tongue touched my hole. His tongue was so hot, so wet, I clenched my hole as he circled my entrance, desperate to feel something in there now.

In just a few hours, I'd gone from thinking of him as a potential fuck, to feeling completely submissive to him. He was stronger than me, far more dominant, and I just didn't have the will to fight him anymore. I didn't want to fight him anymore. The way he used my body gave me a kind of pleasure I hadn't felt in a long time.

I humped his hand, but the bastard edged me, taking away his hand every time I got too close to cumming. He'd bite me, and I'd moan, because fuck him, he was right, I did like pain—but then he'd stop, somehow able to gauge how much stimulation would bring me over the edge.

"Please! Fuck, Deacon, come on!" I felt as if I might start to cry.

He put a hand against the back of my neck and tugged on the collar.

"Calm down."

The second I felt his hand against the back of my neck, my head filled up with the mental equivalent of insulation. It weighed nothing, but it made my thoughts go quiet.

"You know," he said, "the first time I spoke to you on email, I had this vision of you panting and moaning for my cock, juuust like you are now."

He moved his hand back under me and masturbated me with the lightest touch possible, while he licked his way across my arse, leaving a wet trail of saliva.

"You like that?" he kept stroking me. "You've gone quiet."

The music flowed like dense water and his touch had me in some kind of trance. It was like riding an epic drug high, but with a distant edge of fear of what was coming.

He moved up the bed and gripped a fistful of my hair. "You want me to fuck you, Jax?"

I shuddered and he increased his grip on my hair.

"You want me inside you? I'll take it slow, I promise. I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. I'll keep it short and sweet. This time."

This time.

His hand in my hair, that music pulling me down. I was never going to say no. From the second I got in my car, I was never going to say no. If he'd let me go, I'd have gone home frustrated and horny and disappointed.

He gripped my hair hard, so hard it should have hurt—but in that moment, all I felt was a distant, heavy pleasure. He could have done anything to me. I realised that was bloody dangerous, but I also didn't care.

"I think you're ready," he said. "But I promised you I wouldn't fuck you unless you begged me. And I'm not hearing any begging."