Page 89 of Love Lessons

Alright, so it apparently was about the superintendent. At least it wasn’t Dustin’s fault.

But what the hell? It was like his talkative, friendly boyfriend had been replaced by…

A teenager.

Holy shit. Was that it? Was this Landon… asking?

Not just asking, telling. Telling him that he couldn’t fix it because he wasn’t there. Because he’d been trying to pull back and, apparently, that wasn’t what Landon needed at all.

Dustin rose to his feet, lust pooling in his belly and a tentative hope unfurling in his chest. But he kept his face stern. That part was essential.

He gripped Landon’s shoulders, his thumbs crossing over the back of his neck, and yanked him up until he was sprawling awkwardly with one leg on the floor and one tucked under him. But at least he was sitting up.

Dustin slipped onto the cushion he had just vacated so he couldn’t crash down again. You will not talk to me that way.

Or what? Landon was all defiance and anger. That light that Dustin loved so much flashed in his eyes.

Dustin held up one finger and gave it a slap. He hoped he looked confident, because inside he was terrified that he’d misinterpreted everything. And he really didn’t want to fuck this up.

Landon crossed his arms over his chest, thrusting out his chin. His body said make me.

Thank God. Landon wanted this.

What followed seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Dustin pulled Landon over his lap and pinned him with his left hand while he struck his round, perfect ass with his right.

He didn’t give any warm-up swats, just turned all of his stress and fear of the past two months into harsh blows that left Landon kicking and twisting and screaming.

Dustin leaned over so that Landon could see him. You will speak to me respectfully.

Landon shook his head, agreeing and disagreeing at once. His hands gripped the couch, nothing close to a safe word.

Then I’ll make you obey.

Landon glared at him, kicking out his feet. But, Dustin noticed, only hard enough to feel the restraint of his arm across his back and not enough to slide to the floor.

Dustin struck him again and again, always in the same place, imagining the color blooming under the thin cloth.

Dustin’s palm began to burn from the impact, and he debated switching hands, but what he really wanted was to be striking Landon bare. If Landon wasn’t wearing a belt, he could probably reach down and strip off his pants.

Though that gave him an even better idea.

He’d read about techniques, and he’d practiced. On a pillow and on his own thighs.

And if there was one time to show that he trusted Landon to use his safewords and trusted himself to provide what Landon needed, this was it.

Are you ready to talk to me?

Landon shook his head wildly.

Dustin pulled him up again, leaving him awkwardly crouched in the corner of the couch and balanced by his hand.

Take off your pants.

Landon looked mutinous.

Now.

Sullenly, Landon stood and shucked them off, leaving them in a pile on the floor. His cock jutted out from under his incongruous shirt, belying his interest.