Vic was surprised at how much he was turned onimagining Matt all trussed up. With a grunt of pleasure and thatimage sharp in his mind, he jerked off until he came a secondtime.
* * * *
After his shower, he remembered the soiled sheets andstripped them off the bed. He left them in a pile by the clotheshamper, then dressed in his work uniform. There was a wet spot onthe mattress pad he didn’t want to cover—better to leave cleansheets off for now, let the mattress dry, then make the bed. In thekitchen he scribbled a note to Matt, asking him if he wouldn’t mindputting on fresh sheets when he got home. Had an “accident,”Vic wrote, grinning as he pictured Matt would when he read the notelater. Was thinking of you, what can I say? Since you weren’thome, I had to handle it myself. I did all right, but would’vepreferred a helping hand. But it did give me some ideas fortonight, if you’re “up” for it…
He left the note on the fridge, where Matt would findit when he came home from the gym. For a moment he toyed with theidea of swinging by the gym on his way into work, just to steal afew minutes with his lover—that bondage dream had him hotter thanhe’d been in a long time. If it wasn’t a dream but Matt’sown devilish thoughts somehow spanning the distance between them,then maybe there was enough time to at least get thingsstarted…
But a glance at the clock told Vic he had to getmoving. This evening then. They didn’t have a stool, but one of thekitchen chairs would do just fine. Vic would have to remember toget out the tie-down straps he kept in the trunk of his car foremergencies. This could certainly qualify.
Even if Matt hadn’t planted the seeds of bondage inVic’s mind, he suspected his lover wouldn’t object to adding alittle kink to their foreplay. The hint of a smile threatened tobreak across his face but Vic tamped it down and hurried out thedoor before he was late for work.
* * * *
The dream followed Vic into the day and resurfaced inhis mind at the oddest times. At the bathroom in the bus garage, itcame back with such force that Vic had to zip up in mid-stream atthe urinal and duck into a stall before anyone else came in and sawhis sudden hard-on. The last thing he needed was to give one of hiscoworkers the wrong impression. During his route, his seat beltrode high across his lap, covering his crotch and applying sweetpressure to his cock whenever thoughts of Matt aroused him. He knewhe was in love with the man, there was no denying it, but he didn’tknow where this sudden interest in bondage play was coming from.Could it be Matt’s earlier suggestion of no hands thattriggered lustful thoughts of stepping their sex life up anotch?
At Broad and Libbie, Vic pulled the bus over to pickup a couple college-aged girls who giggled over his tattoos as heignored them. An image blindsided him—Matt on the stool, stillbound, the front of his shorts pulled down and tucked beneath hisballs, his hard shaft curving up toward his belly. At the very edgeof the image Vic saw a hand he assumed was his own, holding a long,narrow, neon tube: a reusable ice cube, the kind that fit intosports bottles to keep the contents chilled. The tube was pressedto the base of Matt’s cock, just above his balls, in an area Vicknew was more sensitive than anywhere else on his lover’s body. Howmany times had he nuzzled into Matt’s crotch to lick at the area?To nip it between his teeth, give the loose skin a gentle tug, asMatt writhed on the bed in ecstasy? If Vic touched nothing but thattiny spot of skin, within minutes Matt would come in thick, ropyspurts that left him trembling and spent.
What would happen with a touch of ice on that heatedtrigger point? As Vic navigated through downtown traffic, hisconcentration wasn’t on the cars around him or the fares on hisbus, but in his own head, where the hand holding the frozen tubeeased it up Matt’s length, until it touched the tip of his dick.Vic could hear Matt’s gasp as the cold plastic swirledaround the plum-shaped head, once, twice, then trailed back down tothe base again. Vic’s own balls throbbed to see his lover pleasuredto such an extreme. When Matt could hold out no longer andclimaxed, Vic had to shift in the driver’s seat to alleviate theuncomfortable ache in his own crotch. He came a little himself,biting his lip as he glared out at the world beyond his windshield,daring anyone to interrupt this private moment. Beneath the seatbelt, his briefs felt damp against his heated skin.
Before the image of Matt could fade, Vic watched inhorror as a hand slapped his lover’s cheek with a hard smack thatresounded through him like a gunshot. Matt’s head snapped back insubmission. Vic almost stood on the brake in anger and confusion.What the fuck?
He’d never hit Matt, even if his lover begged him. Hedidn’t get off on pain, tattoos and piercings notwithstanding. Thatwas self-inflicted, and sexy to him because it appealed to hissense of counterculture. But hitting and whipping and beating…hecouldn’t get off on that. He knew just how much of a lucky bastardhe was to have a man like Matt in his life. Vic would never darejeopardize that, even with a playful smack.
There was nothing playful about that.
He shook his
