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Stepping out of the bathroom, Thomas returned to the coffee shop, self-conscious enough to almost blush when Andrew let out a low wolf whistle, turning heads. Ben elbowed him, gave him an affectionate smack on the back of his head as Marcus turned in his chair and let his eyes settle on Thomas.
Thomas was hyperaware of the leisurely track his gaze took, strolling up his body, his green eyes going from warm to slow burn as he crossed his groin, slid up to his face.
> Thomas forced himself to maintain an easy pace. He didn't want to think about how obvious his erection probably was, compressed as it was in the snug jeans and straightened behind the folds of the tucked in shirt.
"Have a seat, pet. " Marcus pushed out the chair next to him with a foot.
Of course he was going to make him sit there and suffer, when all he wanted to do was taste Marcus' mouth, his skin, feel the smooth layers of muscle under his palms.
Thomas sat, feeling the plug settle itself more deeply, keeping his cock in ramrod stiff mode.
There was a tablecloth, and Marcus and Thomas had the corner. When Thomas sat, Marcus slid a hand onto his knee, exerting some pressure so Thomas knew he wanted his knees splayed, increasing the tension and the angle of the -
Holy Christ. Thomas' teeth snapped together as the probe started to vibrate silently, as well as the base ring on the harness. Jesus. . . He clenched his teeth, trying to hear what Ben and Andrew were saying. It wasn't the type of stimulation that would make him come, not for an excruciatingly long time. But it made it impossible to think coherently about anything.
He dropped his hand below the table. It landed on top of Marcus', gripped hard.
Marcus' thumb stroked the side of his smallest finger, just a teasing caress.
Ten minutes. Marcus put him through ten minutes of conversation that Thomas was barely able to follow, let alone contribute to intelligently, and the bastard made him actually participate. Not huge long syllables, but having to say yes or no had the complexity of a physics equation. Finally, as Marcus began to make their goodbyes, the vibration stopped. Thomas noticed Marcus withdraw his hand from the pocket of his pants where he obviously held the remote.
Thomas managed a courteous farewell and followed Marcus' lead to the door.
When he held the door for Thomas to precede him, Marcus' hand grazed the dip in his back, his fingers brushing the top of his buttocks. As sensitized as Thomas was at this point, it was like receiving a hard electric jolt.
"You let me know if anything starts to hurt. " Marcus unlocked the passenger side door of the Maserati for him at their street parking place. "I want you stirred up, not in pain. You understand?"
Thomas nodded, his eyes on Marcus' mouth as he took the passenger seat. He wished they were home, at the cottage in the woods, in that soft darkness like the first night, just the two of them.
But another part of him wanted to be right here, particularly when Marcus leaned in and brushed his lips. Just a taste, even as Thomas strained for more, a stroke of his tongue. Marcus' hand rested on his shoulder, a brief hold to keep it short.
When Marcus pulled away, it was like he was magnetized, for Thomas followed him, trying to reestablish the connection, too hungry to exercise control. Slamming his hand down to pin Marcus' wrist on the frame of the door, Thomas caught his Master's other hand and pressed it to his groin in the shadows of the car. He nearly groaned in gratitude as Marcus flexed his hand under his grip, pressed the heel of his hand against Thomas' engorged cock.
"Let go of me, pet. "
Marcus wasn't trying to pull away, but was ordering Thomas to remove his touch, drawing the line. Making himself let go wasn't easy, not when his thighs were trembling with the need to thrust into that touch, insist.
"Are you going to be bad for me tonight? Make me really punish you, teach you what being a slave is all about?"
Marcus' voice was a husky growl. With the coffee shop left behind, the heat was now turned up. He'd shed the cloak of the courteous lover who'd always let his less experienced leman take cautious steps. His Dominant side was far more out front and less restrained. But tonight Thomas didn't want caution. Maybe not ever again, not when it came to Marcus taking him over.
Raising his gaze, Thomas locked it with Marcus'. "If that's what it takes to get my Master to fuck me. Any part of me. Whatever pleases him. That's what I want. " When he reached up, he wasn't at all surprised that Marcus intercepted him, gripping his wrist. He pulled back but Marcus held firm, strength pitted against strength until Thomas subsided, his gaze still on his Master's, burning with a need to fight. . . and submit both.
"Take off the shirt and put your hands behind you, on the outside of the seat on either side. "
No gentleness, just hard command.
Thomas obeyed, pulling off the T-shirt, watching Marcus' gaze course over his bare chest, down to the substantial bulge of his cock. When he put his hands behind him as directed, Marcus closed the door, went around to the driver's side and slid in, one leg stretching out under the wheel before he turned, reaching into the back.
The rattling of paper told Thomas Marcus hadn't brought in all his purchases. He wondered if there was a limit to the amount of blood his cock could contain as Marcus wrapped one of his wrists firmly in a Velour cuff then the other, snapping them together with a strong hasp behind the seat. It was enough of a reach that it put a strain on Thomas' shoulders, thrust out his upper body so when Marcus straightened it was easy to reach over, run his hand down Thomas' chest, play with his sensitive nipples.
"God. " Thomas swallowed as sensation shot straight down to his lap, an arrow of testosterone-charged adrenaline.
It was incredible. He couldn't get loose, an anxious feeling, and Marcus was taking his full pleasure with it, not asking his opinion or anything else, just fondling him like he was his, with a stern set to his mouth and a hard lust in his eyes that made Thomas' body into a tight rubber band of reaction about to snap. Marcus touched his navel, traced the indentation. The heel of his hand was so close, but his Master paid no attention to his suffering cock.
Marcus had closed his door and the Maserati's windows were dark tinted. People were walking along the sidewalk within feet of the car, and Thomas could clearly see them, a disconcerting effect, but he couldn't deny the powerful arousal of it as well.
Marcus reached behind the seat again and this time came back with a dark black strap with a buckle. He placed it against Thomas' throat, nudging up his chin impatiently then buckling it in the back, around the metal bar beneath the headrest, so Thomas couldn't lift his head away from it.
