Billy allows Russell to watch one night as he reduces Paul to a quivering pool of need capable only of pleading for completion. Russell thinks he might want to know how that feels but is uncertain how to reconcile that with his own personality. It’s against everything he thinks goes with being a top but as he watches Billy work, heat slices through him. It pools low in his belly, making his cock fill and harden. He reaches to adjust himself. When Billy tells him to stop, his hand falters. Billy’s raised eyebrow is an invitation, Russell realizes. He accepts.
Russell pulled against the rope holding him securely to the grating. A top by preference and a relatively vanilla one at that, he tried to calm his fears about what he was doing here. It was all mental anyway; he could batten down the hatches with his erection right now if needs be. He shifted forward slightly, pressing himself against the latticed wood, biting his lip to stifle his needy whimper at the resulting friction.
“Do that again without my permission, Russell, and I’ll leave you here to be found by the morning shift security.”
“B-Bill…” Russell stuttered, trying to keep his hips from reflexively grinding against the roughened wood at the low growl. Billy Fucking Boyd’s voice should be registered as a lethal weapon.
Billy ran a fingernail down Russell’s spine, deliberately raising a long, unbroken weal. He followed the mark all the way back up with his tongue and then bit hard at the juncture of Russell’s shoulder and neck.
Russell gasped loudly, the pain bright and sharp, and reflexively jerked back against Billy. Billy growled and Russell shuddered in response, his entire body tightening. "Billy, I don't know how...I can't...oh God"
"Do you want to stop?" Billy asked, his voice even as he ran his hands down Russell's sides to rest lightly on his hips.
"No, I want to fucking come," Russell snarled.
"Ah," Billy replied, his fingers digging deeper into the tender flesh of Russell's hips. "Well, good things come to those who wait."