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Disciplinary Action is a standalone novel.
- Riches to Rags
He'll go down for his permanent record.
Leopold Gideon spent his childhood as the poor kid in a rich school until he met an older man who took him under his wing and into his bed, teaching him to not only survive but thrive among the elite and to never submit to anybody…except him. For fifteen years, Gideon had everything, but then tragedy strikes, leaving him alone once again.
Callum Whyte was raised with every conceivable luxury but one: loving parents. When his father is indicted for federal crimes and his assets frozen, Cal has to learn to survive with nothing. When a friend offers him money to spend the night with a hot older man, Cal has no choice but to say yes or literally risk going without medication he needs to stay alive.
One night with Gideon leaves Cal’s head spinning and his body longing for something he never thought he’d want: discipline. Too bad Gideon never plays with the same boy twice, not even ones who beg as sweetly as Cal.
Just when Cal thinks all hope is lost, he discovers Gideon is the new headmaster for his school, leading him to devise a plan to get what he wants by blackmailing the older man into spending the next six weeks with him. But Cal is about to learn it doesn’t pay to blackmail someone who doles out his punishments.
Will this battle of wills end in a ceasefire or heartbreak?
LOOK INSIDE: CHAPTER ONE
LOOK INSIDE: CHAPTER ONE
“You sure you want to do this, man? Once you walk in that door, there’s no going back.”
Callum Whyte licked his lower lip but refused to meet his friend’s gaze. Outside, a storm raged, fogging the windows until it felt as if he and Bastian were locked in a protective bubble, the soothing white noise of the rain and the purr of the engine a balm for Cal’s frayed nerves.
“Yeah, I have to do this. I don’t have a choice.” It wasn’t a lie. “Besides, you said he’s cute, right?” When Bastian didn’t answer, he flicked his gaze towards him. “Right?”
Bastian nodded, the top half of his face shrouded in the shadows of the car’s interior but his mouth illuminated by the glow of the streetlight just outside. “Yeah, he’s smoking hot but, like, in a George Clooney kinda way. Like, guys who have this kind of money are never our age.” Seeming to remember who he was talking to, he corrected himself. “Well, in the real world outside of Roosevelt Academy.”
Cal had spent most of his life living with money that would have afforded him not only an apartment in the building just outside but the entire building itself had he wanted it. Bastian, however, hadn’t grown up in privilege. They were friends by accident, thrown together by circumstance and proximity. Now they were the same, thanks to his father. “Even if he’s ninety, I have to do this. Just tell me what I need to know.”
Bastian nodded. “Like I said, he’s particular. His name is Gideon, but you will refer to him only as Daddy unless he says otherwise. He will punish you. Usually, it’s spanking.” Usually? The thought sent a strange arch of electricity through his bloodstream, but he didn’t interrupt. “He uses the traffic light system. Green is good, yellow means you need a break, and red means everything stops. He will ask you, and you’ll repeat it just like that. Don’t fake your responses to him. If you’re into it, great. If you’re not, that’s fine too, but if you moan like a porn star and like you’re putting on a show, he’ll end the whole thing.”
It seemed strange that a guy hiring a prostitute would be mad if they faked enjoyment, but what did Cal know? Admittedly, he had limited experience with this sort of thing. It wasn’t like he’d ever wanted for money before, and his sexual encounters were the typical drunken fumbling of most nineteen-year-olds. He’d done nothing like this before, especially with an older man. A shiver ran over him. He had to do this. He didn’t have a choice.
Cal could tell Bastian was nervous about recommending him for the job. He wanted to reassure him that he wouldn’t embarrass him, but he was almost positive if he tried to talk his voice would shake.
“He will want you to stay afterwards. He’s real big on that. He’ll use you hard. He’s big, in every sense of the word. But afterward, he will want to take care of you. It’s part of the package, and he’s a high roller, so you’re going to let him. Honestly, you’ll need it, anyway. Don’t fight him. Don’t try to leave as soon as it’s over. He’ll tell you when he’s done. He’s paid Hillary for the whole night. Any cash he gives you is a tip, and it’s yours to spend. Once you leave, call Hillary so she knows you’re okay. That’s non-negotiable. She’s really protective of us, and she doesn’t like worrying.”
A madam with a heart of gold. Cal fought the nervous giggle that threatened to bubble out of him. Instead, he gave a stilted nod. He could do this. He’d been in pain before. He’d never had anybody whip or spank him, but he’d broken his finger during lacrosse and he’d broken his leg skiing in Vail with his dad when he was thirteen. Bastian had promised the guy wasn’t a monster, just kinky. Cal could handle kinky.
He turned in his seat, thrusting his shoulders back and lifting his head. “How do I look?”
Bastian pushed Cal’s chocolate brown hair back off his face, narrowing his gaze. “Good. You’re kind of little. I think he’ll like that.”
“Wow. You don’t have to be a dick.”
“Shut up. You know what I mean. You have that heroin chic, chiseled cheekbones and lanky build look. He’ll like that he can manhandle you. It’s a compliment, asshole.”
He’d have to take Bastian’s word for it. “And you’re sure this dude’s not a serial killer or something?”
“He’s Hillary’s most loyal client. The problem is, he never uses the same boy twice. She’s constantly having to scout new talent for him. He’s not a bad guy, just…damaged. Hillary thinks he lost somebody. We get a lot of those types. Widowers, divorced dudes. He’s just another lonely guy with money.”
“Got it,” Cal lied. He didn’t imagine there were a lot of hot, rich guys that bought their dates verses just picking one out of a group of willing males or females. For as long as Cal could remember, his father had always had beautiful women dying to be the next Mrs. Whyte, but his father had a short attention span…with everyone in his life.
“When you get to the front desk, just say ‘Gideon’s expecting me’ and act like you belong.” Cal was reaching for the door when Bastian stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Do yourself a favor. Don’t kiss him. I know it sounds cliché, but it’s just better that way. This will be intense enough without…that.”
Cal frowned but nodded. “I’ll see you back at the apartment.”
He made it past the doorman and desk clerk without incident. Cal was lucky, he supposed—he still looked like he had money. His black pants and crisp white button-down shirt were expensive and tailored to hug his form. Without his jacket and tie, there was no sign this was a school uniform. It was only once he stood outside the door to the stranger’s apartment that the weight of what he was about to do hit him. This is what his life had come to…anonymous kinky sex for money. He shook off the thought and rang the doorbell before self-pity could sink its claws in any deeper.
The door swung open, and Cal froze. Bastian had lied. This man—Gideon—wasn’t hot. He was fucking Clark Kent, tall and tan, with a square jaw, black wavy hair, and a five o’clock shadow. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. Creases formed in the corners of his stunning eyes, a bright, clear turquoise blue even behind the lenses of black-framed glasses. Cal couldn’t seem to find his voice. He just stood, gaping at the man in his oatmeal colored cashmere sweater and form fitting dress pants. Cal’s gaze dropped to the floor. The man was barefoot. It made the whole thing seem more intimate somehow.
Cal’s heart raced as he crossed the entrance. The space was cavernous. An L shaped open loft with gleaming wooden floors and a wall of windows that seemed to lead to a balcony outside. Cal wasn’t certain because, like the car, the windows had fogged over, leaving what lay on the other side a mystery. His gaze swung from one space to the next, desperate for any place to look but at the man standing in front of him.
A kitchen with pale wood cabinets and high end stainless steel appliances dominated one wall, and a living space with a brown leather sofa and two olive green chairs took up the space closest to the balcony, but Cal’s eyes locked on the enormous king-size bed framed against the exposed brick wall. There was no headboard, only a large mirror.
Gideon closed the door behind Cal and gestured for him to walk farther into the room. “I trust Hillary explained how this works?”
“Y-Yes,” he mumbled, his cheeks flaming as the man’s brows lifted. “Yes, Daddy,” he added, hating how awkward he sounded.
“You don’t have to call me that just yet. You may call me Gideon until we begin. What should I call you?”
Bastian had told Cal to choose a moniker, a name for his clients with no ties to his real life, but now he floundered. “I—”
“Is this your first time?” Gideon asked, his gaze pinning him in place.
“I’m not a virgin,” he promised.
The man smirked, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he leaned against the back of the sofa. “Is this your first time doing this for money?”
“Am I that obvious?” Cal asked.
“You just seem nervous.”
That was an understatement. He wanted to kick himself. He couldn’t afford to botch this. “They gave me a lot of rules. I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
It wasn’t a lie. Cal hated disappointing people. He prided himself on being likeable. Agreeable. The good son. The good friend.
“I believe you.”
Cal gave a timid smile as relief flooded him. But it was short-lived. Gideon closed the distance between them, tipping Cal’s chin up, forcing him to meet his gaze. “If you’re having doubts, say so. It’s alright. This is a lot for somebody new. You can walk out the door right now, and I’ll never tell Hillary you left. It’ll be our little secret.”
“Why would you do that?” Cal asked before he could stop himself.
“Because playing with unwilling participants isn’t what I’m after. You don’t look like most of Hillary’s boys. I don’t want you doing something you regret out of…desperation.”
Was this guy serious? He’d let Cal walk out, just leave and keep money he hadn’t earned? It sounded too good to be true, but one look at the man’s face and Cal knew he wasn’t lying. Gideon was giving him permission to go. He’d be able to afford food and his meds without having to sacrifice his dignity. But he couldn’t seem to will his feet to move. “I want to stay. But…I don’t…I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m probably going to mess up.”
The way Gideon looked at him just then warmed Cal’s entire body, his cock hardening as Gideon murmured, “Oh, I certainly hope so.”
Gideon removed his glasses and sweater, leaving him in a white oxford shirt and tailored pants that hugged his thick thighs. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscular forearms. “How do you address me?” he asked, all trace of affability leaving him in an instant.
“Daddy,” Cal managed, breathless.
“What do you say if you need me to pause?”
“And if you want me to stop altogether?”
“Good boy,” Gideon purred, stroking Cal’s cheek with his free hand. “You’re a natural.”
Cal tipped his face into the caress, his heart tripping at the praise. Everything felt heavy like each word, each gesture carried weight. He couldn’t explain this sudden pull, this need to please the stranger standing before him, but it meant everything. He wanted to be his good boy.
“I won’t stop unless you give me those words. Do you have any hard limits?”
“Hard limits?” he parroted, not understanding the question.
He gave a patient smile. “Things you just won’t allow? Things you don’t like and don’t want me to do to you.”
Cal’s cock twitched at Gideon’s words. He would do things to Cal. Did he have hard limits? Things he wouldn’t let this stranger do to him? He had no frame of reference other than porn. “I… No gross bodily fluids, I guess. I’m not into, like, golden showers or anything like that. And condoms. You have to wear one,” he finished, blushing once more.
“Of course. Is that it?”
No kissing. Bastian’s voice bounced around in his head, the volume increasing each time he uttered the words. No kissing. No kissing. No kissing. Cal nodded. “Yes.” Idiot.
“Yes, what?” Gideon asked, his voice a low rumble.
Once more, the man caressed his cheek. “You’re going to do so well.” Cal closed his eyes, tipping his face against his hand, hungry for his touch. The man gave a sound of approval. “So responsive. Hillary outdid herself with you.”
As far as compliments went, it was a strange one, but butterflies took flight in his belly.
“Let’s begin. Take off your clothes,” Gideon demanded. “Everything.”
Cal’s mouth was a desert at Gideon’s words. His hands shook as he undid the buttons of his shirt, unable to tear his eyes from Gideon who unbuckled his own belt, pulling it free and wrapping it around his hand.
Cal removed his clothes with no finesse, letting each piece fall until he was naked and trembling before Gideon, fighting the urge to hide his obvious arousal. Cal had never felt so…vulnerable.
“You’re beautiful,” Gideon stated almost as if he could feel Cal’s trepidation. “Turn around for me.”
Cal did as Gideon asked, grateful the man couldn’t see him blush at the compliment. Cal knew he wasn’t ugly—though he was small, he was fit from years of sports. Nothing like Gideon’s toned, fit build though. If anything, Cal might seem too skinny, too small, almost feminine in the right light.
“Perfect,” Gideon muttered under his breath before closing the space between them, his fingers trailing over the tattoo on Cal’s shoulder. A small sparrow. “It suits you, this…little bird.”
Did it? He sucked in a startled breath when lips scraped against his shoulder, his hands flailing at his sides before reaching behind him, gripping the man’s pants more to anchor himself than to bring him closer.
Gideon caught Cal’s hands in his. “No touching unless I give you permission. Understand? You get only what I give you.”
Goosebumps erupted over his skin. “Yes, Daddy.”
Pleasure bloomed behind his ribcage, but nerves took its place as the leather belt grazed his skin. Cal had never been spanked, not with a hand or a belt, not even as a child. Somebody would have had to care enough to discipline him, and that was the one luxury Cal had never had.
He dragged the leather strap along Cal’s thigh. “You belong to me tonight. You’re mine. Just mine. Say it.”
Cal closed his eyes. “I’m just yours, Daddy.”
He gasped as Gideon’s hand came to rest low on his belly, the older man’s nose pressing behind Cal’s ear. “Open your eyes and look at me.” Cal forced his eyes open, meeting Gideon’s gaze in the mirror, heart racing at the obscene portrait they made. “Now, say it again.”
“I’m yours, Daddy,” he repeated. “Just yours.”
Gideon pulled him back against him.
“I’m going to spank you. Do you understand?”
He shivered. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Does the thought of being helpless scare you, little bird?” he murmured against Cal’s ear, biting down on his earlobe.
Cal’s nipples hardened, his cock twitching. If it did, he was definitely experiencing an inappropriate fear response. “A little bit, Daddy,” he acknowledged.
“Yellow or red and we stop immediately. If you don’t say it, I won’t stop. I’m going to spank you until you cry, and then I’m going to fuck you as many times as I like, however I like. If you’re good for me, if you behave, I’ll let you come too. Do you understand?”
Jesus. Cal swallowed hard. “Yes,” he whispered before remembering himself. “Yes, Daddy.”
There was a low growl from behind his ear. “Do you feel how hard you make me?”
There was no missing his erection, pressed against the small of Cal’s back. He was huge, just as Bastian said. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Does that excite you?”
It did. It excited him and scared him in equal measure. He’d only bottomed twice and never with anybody so big. With all of Bastian’s warnings, Cal’s situation only now seemed real. “I’m going to fuck you.” That’s what he’d said. At some point, Gideon would be inside him, using him, maybe more than once. It was only when he’d dared to meet Gideon’s gaze that Cal remembered Gideon waited for an answer. He gave a stilted nod, not trusting himself to speak. He cried out as the leather strap of Gideon’s belt cracked across his ass.
“When I ask you a question, you will answer me out loud. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” he managed between gritted teeth, his skin on fire.
Maybe Bastian was right. Maybe this wasn’t for him. His body couldn’t seem to decide how to behave. All he had to do was say the word, one word, and he could walk, money in hand. But try as he might, he couldn’t force the word past his lips.
Every muscle was tensed, every nerve ending at attention. Adrenaline fired warning signals to his brain to flee, but his cock was hard, and he practically vibrated with his desire to give Gideon what he wanted.
He jumped as Gideon’s belt clattered to the floor and his hand rubbed Cal’s smarting bottom. “I only do this so you’ll learn, little one. I can teach you. I can teach you to be good for me. So good. Will you let me teach you, sweet boy?”
“Can I trust you not to cover yourself during your punishment, or do I need to tie your hands?”
“I…” Cal didn’t want his hands tied, but he also didn’t trust himself to hold still. He wasn’t sure what would be worse, trying and failing or not trying at all. “Please don’t tie my hands, Daddy.”
“You beg so sweetly,” Gideon murmured. “Walk to the bed.”
Cal did as Gideon asked, his steps slowing the closer he came to the mattress as if the path was mired in quicksand.
“Bend over. Palms flat on the mattress.” Cal began to comply, but Gideon stopped him. “Wait. Don’t move.”
Cal froze, like a single step might detonate the bomb that seemed to tick down inside him. He could hear Gideon moving, heard a drawer opening and closing, and then the man was back behind him. Panic sent his pulse off-rhythm as leather closed around his throat. For a moment, he wondered if this had all been an elaborate ruse and Gideon would now choke him to death with his belt. But it wasn’t Gideon’s belt—it was a pink leather collar, and in the mirrored headboard, Cal could make out the silver letters along it. They spelled out BABY BOY.
Cal’s fingers fluttered to the butter soft leather, touching each letter, feeling more naked somehow with only the collar around his neck.
“It’s like it was made for you,” Gideon said, sounding almost surprised. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Cal whispered.
“Such a quick learner,” he praised.
This close, their size difference was obvious. It made Cal feel…something. Vulnerable? Needy? Fragile... Something his father had never allowed him to feel in nineteen years, not even after his mother died.
This time, Gideon didn’t speak, just guided Cal into position, one hand at the bend of his hip and the other applying pressure between his shoulder blades until he was bent over.
“Open your legs for me, baby boy.” Cal did as Gideon asked immediately. “I’m going to spank you now, and I want you to count each one. Twenty to start, I think. If you mess up, miscount, or forget to count, we start all over. Do you understand?”
“Good. Let’s begin.”
The breath punched from Cal’s lungs as the first blow landed. If he’d thought Gideon would spare him the full weight of his palm because he was new, because he was small, he’d been wrong. “One,” he gasped.
Once more, Gideon rubbed the area, pulling a low whine from Cal. He yelped as the second smack came. “Two,” he said, voice trembling.
And on it went, this maddening rhythm of slap, soothe, begin again. Cal was sure his skin had blisters as Gideon’s palm landed again and again, hotter than any fire might have been. A fine sweat broke out along Cal’s skin, the air conditioning causing goosebumps to erupt over his whole body.
“Ten,” he cried, his voice catching on a sob.
Time stretched as he waited for the next blow to land, but nothing came. Cal glanced up, catching their reflection in the mirror. He almost didn’t recognize himself. At some point, he’d stopped supporting his weight on his palms, his head and chest now rested against the cool sheets, his arms akimbo, his ass in the air like he presented himself to Gideon. He didn’t remember shifting, didn’t remember when his body had surrendered to gravity, but tears streaked his face, and he had clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip. He closed his eyes.
Gideon’s body blanketed Cal then, pressing tender kisses at the nape of his neck and along his throat. “You are doing so well for me, little bird. So well.”
“Daddy,” Cal whined, not sure what he wanted but feeling lost somehow.
“Color,” Gideon purred against his skin.
It took Cal a full thirty seconds to register what Gideon was even asking. Red, his body screamed. Red like his skin? Red like the fire burning in his belly. He didn’t know if he could take anymore. His body shook, but he didn’t know if it was adrenaline or fear. Still, when he opened his mouth, all that came was, “Green, Daddy.”
Gideon twisted a hand in Cal’s hair, tugging his head back and slanting their mouths together in a filthy kiss. “Such a good boy,” Gideon said against Cal’s lips before tearing himself away and pressing Cal’s face back against the bed.
Cal now understood why Bastian had warned him not to kiss Gideon. When his cheek hit the mattress, Cal was shattered, his chest hollow as if Gideon had sucked out his soul and left him empty.
The next blow that landed seemed to have less heat, or maybe Cal’s body was adjusting to the pain. Maybe it was something else altogether. By the time he uttered, “Fifteen,” a strange haze had wrapped itself around his reality, leaving him feeling almost like he floated on the ceiling in a delicious pocket of warmth.
“Twenty.” As soon as the word left his lips, Gideon seemed to disappear like some figment of Cal’s imagination. Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t dare. Daddy hadn’t given permission. He closed his eyes, aware of the hot tears flowing down his cheeks, a strange opposition to the euphoric sensation pulsing through him.
He moaned as lips trailed over his ass, the scratch of Gideon’s scruff warring with the soft open-mouthed kisses moving along his skin. He tensed as Gideon gripped him, spreading him open. “What…” was all Cal managed before a soft tongue laved over his hole. “Oh,” he gasped.
Nobody had ever touched him like that, so intimately. He’d never understood the way men whined and whimpered when they experienced it in videos. But now, he got it. He understood. He rocked his hips against the bed without thought, groaning at the friction of his cock against the sheets.
There was a low chuckle, and then Gideon pulled Cal’s hips back. “Uh-uh. You get only what I give, remember, little bird?” To his embarrassment, he started to cry again. What the fuck was wrong with him? Gideon’s hand caressed his lower back. “Shh, sweet boy. You’re doing so well. I’m going to take care of you. Just let me taste you.”
Cal was painfully hard, his cock leaking pre-cum onto the mattress, but Gideon’s fingers dug into his hips hard enough to leave bruises before he buried his face between Cal’s cheeks once more. There was nothing tender about his movements—it was a full-on assault on his senses. Gideon licked and sucked at his entrance, spearing his tongue against his hole before biting at him.
“Oh, God. Oh, fuck,” he sobbed. “I need… Please, Daddy.”
Gideon’s touch disappeared, and then one thick finger massaged his hole. “What baby? What do you need? Tell me.”
“Touch me, Daddy.”
“I am touching you, sweet boy.” He slipped a finger inside him to the second knuckle, startling a gasp out of Cal. “Is this what you need?”
Cal couldn’t speak, could barely breathe as Gideon probed him, his finger brushing against a spot inside that had his toes curling. It was all too much, and it wasn’t nearly enough.
“I don’t know,” he said, his hands fisting the sheets. He couldn’t think with Gideon’s finger inside him.
Cal gave a low moan as Gideon’s hand closed around his aching cock, stroking him. “Do not come until I say. Understand?” Cal panted into the sheets, his hips thrusting into Gideon’s tightened fist, but then it disappeared. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, Daddy. I understand. Please…”
Gideon’s hand returned, but now, his strokes were frustratingly slow, his grip too loose for Cal to get the friction he so desperately needed. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t take this anymore. It was too much. “I can’t…”
“Can’t what, baby?”
He didn’t answer, just whined in frustration. Gideon’s finger slipped free and then two fingers were working themselves back inside him. His whole body felt like a live wire. Every small touch or caress wrenched a cry or a moan from him. “Please, Daddy. I’m ready.”
Gideon’s hands disappeared. “Get on the bed.”
Cal crawled onto the bed and collapsed. He heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper and the sound of a foil wrapper torn open, then hands hauled his hips back up. Cal risked a glance in the mirror. What a dirty picture they made. Cal sweaty, naked, and panting, and Gideon calm and collected, clothed except for his thick cock, which he stroked as he examined Cal.
Gideon crawled onto the bed behind him. Cal closed his eyes, prepared to feel the blunt head of Gideon’s cock against him, but hands tugged Cal’s shoulders back before guiding his hips down. Cal’s thighs shook as Gideon’s erection pressed against his hole. He sucked in a startled breath at the pain that bloomed as his body attempted to reject the invasion. Gideon didn’t force him down or even thrust up, just let gravity and Cal’s own body weight do the work.
“Ow,” Cal whined. Gideon was too big. So big. But that didn’t stop Gideon’s slow breach of his body. Cal’s heart hammered against his ribs. He shook his head. Everything was wrong. This was going all wrong. He was disappointing Gideon. But he couldn’t stop the panicked whimpers escaping or the way his hands grasped at Gideon.
“Shh,” Gideon breathed against his ear. “Shh, stop fighting me. Your body knows what to do.” It wasn’t said with any malice. If anything, he spoke as though he soothed a child.
Cal wanted to obey, but he was scared. “You’re too big. It hurts.”
Soft lips pressed kisses against his throat and behind his ear. “You can hurt for me just a little, can’t you, baby? You’re doing so well. I’m so pleased.”
Cal wanted to be good for him. Wanted it more than anything. He gave a jerky nod. Gideon tilted Cal’s head, capturing his mouth in a kiss that made his head spin. Gideon’s hand closed around Cal’s now soft cock, stroking him. He lost himself in the feel of Gideon’s hand and mouth. Cal had kissed lots of boys but never like this, never like kissing was the goal, was everything. Like it was enough. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but when Gideon rocked his hips upward, Cal’s body complied.
Bastian had said Gideon would use him hard, but there was nothing hard about the slow steady way in which Gideon worked himself into Cal an inch at a time. His care was maddening, confusing. It made Cal feel things… Things that weren’t true. None of this was real, but it was hard to remember that with Gideon’s arm around his waist and one hand stroking his cock as he fucked into him with patience and care. Outside, the storm raged, but it was nothing compared to the emotions flooding Cal’s brain, stealing his breath and making him dizzy.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” Gideon panted against Cal’s mouth.
Pleasure spread along his body. He locked those words away so he could remember them later when this was all over. Gideon never used the same boy twice. Something about that made him want to weep. One night and Cal was addicted, addicted to Gideon’s rough hands and sweet kisses, his praise and his punishment, pleasure and pain. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Look at you. Look at us.”
Gideon gripped his chin, forcing his gaze to the mirror. Fuck. Was that him? He looked so…debauched. His body flushed and bruised, his eyes wet from his earlier tears as he sat impaled on Gideon’s huge cock. Cal watched himself in the mirror as he shifted upward and then slid back down. There was still pain but Cal found he wasn’t just willing to hurt for Gideon, he craved it—craved the shocky, sharp pain that shot adrenaline through his system and made him shiver, craved the way his movement caused Gideon to groan or bite at him like he couldn’t help himself.
“That’s it. Fuck yourself on my cock. God, you’re taking it so well. Such a good boy, so good for me,” Gideon growled, a tension in his voice that wasn’t there before. Cal melted against Gideon, letting his head fall back against his shoulder, his lips parted as he stopped worrying and just let himself feel. Gideon had him. He wouldn’t let Cal fail.
A low moan escaped as Gideon’s hand closed around Cal’s cock once more, but this time, with purpose. He let Cal thrust into his fist before impaling himself back on Gideon’s cock. Cal lost himself in the ritual, the rhythm, his body tightening as he worked towards his release, sparks of electricity shooting along his skin.
“Don’t come until I say,” Gideon commanded.
Cal whined. “Yes, Daddy.”
Gideon’s arm became an iron bar around Cal’s waist, holding him still so he could drive into him with purpose, his hand working Cal’s cock in time with his movements. “Tell me you’re mine,” Gideon snarled.
“I’m yours, just yours, Daddy. Please,” Cal begged.
Gideon thrust into him one more time, his teeth sinking into Cal’s shoulder until he cried out, hips stuttering as he found his release. “Come for me.”
Two more strokes and Cal cried out, his orgasm jetting from him like he hadn’t come in a year. Gideon kept working him until Cal hissed, oversensitive. He sat, panting, and let his head fall back against Gideon’s shoulder once more.
After a minute, Gideon kissed his temple and gently lifted Cal, pulling free of his body, leaving him feeling empty and unsure. Gideon left the bed, doing away with the condom in the trash can. Cal fell onto the mattress, rolling to watch the older man as he moved. Gideon caught him watching, working his shirt open with a grin before peeling it off.
“You definitely have to be a superhero,” Cal mumbled.
“Is that so?” Gideon asked, chuckling.
Cal blushed. “Yeah. Not Superman, though. The glasses fooled me at first.”
Gideon made a noncommittal noise as he removed his pants and underwear. “Oh?”
Clothed, Gideon was impressive, but nude…nude, he was a masterpiece, flawless in a way that made Cal want to cover himself up. “Yeah. You’re rich and hot and kinky. Tell the truth, you’re Batman.”
Gideon shook his head as though Cal amused him, then strode naked to the kitchen, giving Cal a view from the back. He was just as beautiful but far from flawless at this angle. Scars of every shape and size criss-crossed his back all the way down to his rounded ass and muscular thighs. Jesus. What the hell? Cal couldn’t even imagine what would make marks like that. It was like he’d been mauled by a bear.
Gideon either didn’t notice Cal’s frown or was used to the reaction. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge and brought it back to the bed. “Drink this.”
Cal gulped down the frigid water and sighed. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he was. He handed the empty bottle back to Gideon, who placed it on the bedside table before returning to bed and rolling to prop his head up on his hand, running a finger along Cal’s cheek. “How are you feeling, little bird? Are you alright?”
The tenderness in Gideon’s voice had tears springing to Cal’s eyes. His face flushed with heat as he fought to wipe his eyes before they escaped, but it was too late. “Ugh, what’s wrong with me?”
Gideon wiped his tears with his thumb, smiling. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You were perfect. You were made for this.” Then why did he feel like he was cracking into a million little pieces? “It’s called subspace,” Gideon said as if reading his mind.
“This feeling that’s eating you up inside. When you’re in the moment, the pain gives you an endorphin rush, a sense of euphoria, like you’re high. But when it’s over, it causes a bit of a crash, and that’s what’s happening now. It’s all perfectly normal. There’s nothing wrong with you. You far exceeded my expectations.”
Somehow, that didn’t make him feel any better. He wanted to grab his clothes and escape. He felt foolish and choked up. This wasn’t some unique life experience, at least not for Gideon. It happened to everybody he played with. It had meant nothing to him, not the way it had to Cal. “So, this happens with every boy you bring here?” Cal asked despite himself, hating how jealous he sounded.
Gideon chuckled, pushing a damp lock of Cal’s hair away from his face. “I didn’t say that. Most of the boys Hillary sends me are just doing a job. We play out the scene, of course, but it’s…lackluster. But you… I knew you were different almost from the moment I opened the door. I gave you every opportunity to run, but you didn’t. No matter how hard I pushed you, you rose to the challenge. That’s quite rare. You’re quite rare.”
Cal smiled, feeling himself blush. This wasn’t who he was in the real world. Gideon made him feel small and vulnerable and…protected, but out in the real world, Cal had learned a long time ago that there was nobody who would protect him. Still, this charade was nice. It was nice to imagine somebody caring for him, looking out for him.
He opened his mouth to ask another question but stopped short at the familiar sensation, a quivering in his belly like his organs shook. Shit. How had he not noticed? A chill racked his body, and his teeth chattered hard enough to worry the enamel. Gideon frowned.
It was hard to speak. “My…my blood sugar. Diabetic. Too much insulin, not enough food. Juice,” he managed, blinking as his vision swam. Everything seemed far away, like somebody had wrapped his brain in cotton.
It would be just his luck that he slipped into a coma after the best night of his life.