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"You were irresistible," Marcus said in a low voice. "Too shy to ask me to do any of it to you. But it mesmerized you to see others treated that way. Restrained, on public display before total strangers. A Master taking up a whip and leaving red marks on fine skin. " He ran his knuckles down the center of Thomas' chest and Thomas swallowed, forced himself to remain still, though he wanted to scramble away from the truth of it.
"Who was the other guy you. . . you know. "
"Some poor, unfortunate - or perhaps he considered himself lucky - complete stranger. It was a month after I was certain you weren't coming back. " There was a faint hardening in Marcus' gaze. "I took him to a private dungeon room and fucked him within an inch of his life. Slapped him over a bench, rammed my cock in him six or seven times, flogged him until he had to use his safe word. Then I kissed every welt so he was begging for more. "
Thomas closed his eyes, his jaw flexing. His hands clenched into fists on the towel.
"You son of a bitch. " When he began to jerk away, Marcus caught his arm, held him there with a fierce grip and an even fiercer look.
"Tonight is your turn. I'm going to use you, pet. Drive you crazy. Give you pain and pleasure so you don't know which is which. Don't deny that's what you want, because your hard-on is saying something different. " His gaze shifted down, then back up, pinning Thomas in place. "I'm going to do what I've always wanted to do, what you've always wanted me to do. Make you surrender to me utterly. "
"But I'm here for a week. . . "
"It doesn't have anything to do with time, pet. It has to do with accepting what is, no matter what happens. Lie back down on your stomach. Now. "
When Marcus had Dominated him before, often in the harsh light of day Thomas had rationalized it as a game, role-playing he'd "allowed". But since their separation, he'd recognized that for the lie it was. Thomas found himself lying down again, despite the resentment burning in his gut. That inexplicable emotional compulsion to obey Marcus' commands didn't care about his wounded feelings. His cock sure as hell didn't care.
All those different times, watching the things Marcus had described, Thomas had sensed something in Marcus, waiting. Something in him had wanted to beg for his Master to take command, do more, though he had no idea what "more" was. Whatever it was, he knew he was afraid of wanting it. But that didn't stop him from wanting it so much.
Marcus' hands smoothed over the muscles that had re-knotted in his back. As Marcus leaned forward so the ends of his hair grazed the back of Thomas' shoulders, Thomas felt his breath there. "After I give you all that pain tonight," his lips brushed Thomas' skin, making his fingers convulse on the sand, "I'm going to kiss every one of your welts, soothe everything I've torn apart and put it all back together again. " His last scrap of sanity warned Thomas he should back out of this. They had so much shit tearing up the ground between them, and there seemed no way to make it smooth. Thomas wondered if his passive acquiescence was just a way of stumbling blindly down a road they'd never taken this far to see if a solution would present itself.
Marcus massaged his body in silence for about ten more minutes, until Thomas was both more relaxed and more aroused again. Then his lover stretched out on the towel next to him, apparently prepared to take his own nap.
As Marcus lay on his back in the sun, his sunglasses shaded his eyes, one lean strong arm relaxed over his head. His other palm rested on his abdomen, just above the waistband of that sinfully low-riding suit, drawing Thomas' eyes to the impressive mound triangulated between his thighs. Even at rest it was able to make saliva clog his throat.
"We've always played on the edges, you and me," Marcus said, his eyes hidden, his voice neutral. "It's time for you to understand what me being your Master means. My Will becoming the air moving in and out of your lungs, the blood pumping through your body. You've submitted to me, your heart yearning to be my slave, but you haven't taken that final step. When you do, the chains you've wrapped around your internal organs to squeeze the life out of them might just fall away. " A few minutes later the merciless bastard succumbed to a doze, leaving Thomas like a tightly strung wire next to him.
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Eventually Thomas sat, knees drawn up, one arm linked over them. He got a beer and opened it, took a swig. Watching the volleyball players, he listened to the wind and surf.
He also watched over the man next to him. Jesus, even Marcus' inhumanly, perfectly styled jet-black hair was drying in an attractive windblown look, despite the saltwater content that should have made it like bedraggled seaweed.
As Thomas rocked the half-empty beer between his fingers, he thought of Marcus touching that faceless slave, kissing away his hurts. Ramming his cock in his ass.
On second thought, Marcus really could use a rinse.
* * * * *
Fortunately the coffeehouse Andrew and Ben recommended was on the ground level of a yacht club with showers. Andrew was a member.
"You had to douse me with Bud Light? There was bottled water in the cooler, for Chrissakes. Or a good quality wine, at least. I smelled like a college frat punk. Or a mill worker on Friday night. "
Thomas grinned without repentance as Marcus returned to their table with damp, newly washed hair and the acid comment. Glancing down as the waitress set a cup in front of him, he thought he was probably the first person who'd ordered plain black coffee since the place opened.
It was delivered in a mug the size of a soup bowl. If he drank all of it, he was sure he'd be bouncing off the walls, and his nerves didn't need any more jangling. Though the dumping of his beer had helped relieve some of the tension, and this relaxed atmosphere was a simple pleasure, he still saw the anticipation of the impending evening simmering behind Marcus' eyes.
Marcus' hands settled on his shoulders, a double-edged reassurance. "Ben, Andrew? I have to go down the street and pick up some things. Would you mind looking after Thomas for about thirty minutes?" He ruffled Thomas' hair, rested his hand on his nape as he straightened. "How's the coffee?"
"Fine. " Thomas lifted a shoulder. "I don't need a sitter. You know, I have been out in public before. Where are you going?" And why aren't you taking me with you? Gods, was he getting that possessive?
"Hmm. " When Marcus signaled, the waitress practically leaped to his side, his obvious sexual preference notwithstanding. "Please take this toxic waste away and bring my friend a chamomile tea. " He bent again before Thomas could snarl at him, met him eye for eye. "Your stomach's already upset. You're not going to get out of this by poisoning yourself. "
"I can walk away anytime. I don't have to do anything. "
"You're exactly right. But you're not walking, are you?" Marcus brushed his lips over his, just a passing caress that had Thomas torn between a self-conscious hunching of his shoulders and a wrenching in his gut for more of that mouth. "You keep your ass in this chair and I'll be back soon. It'll be worth the wait. "
He straightened again, nodded to Ben and Andrew and headed for the door.
