Page 39 of Rust of Control

Oh, Jude thought.

The Ever Bright tracks were playing. His tracks, their tracks, the ones they'd finished last month in the studio on Woodward, the ones that sounded nothing like anything they'd made with Rand because nothing they made now sounded like anything from before. His own voice from the bedroom speaker, the second verse of "Hollow Bright" as he'd recorded it three weeks ago in a booth that was entirely his.

He set his bag down. Took off his jacket. Walked to the bedroom doorway.

Nate sprawled against the headboard, his thick thighs parted just enough to invite, the candlelight licking golden shadows across his bare chest and the hard line of his cock already thickening against his belly. On the pillow beside him, the biothane cuffs gleamed beside the spreader bar and blindfold, lined up neat as a surgeon’s tools. The air hung thick with vanilla wax and the faint musk of Nate’s skin, warm and clean from his shower.

Jude’s gaze dragged over the gear, then Nate’s face, then back again. His pulse kicked hard.

“Hi,” Nate rumbled, voice already dropping low.

“Hi.” Jude’s mouth twitched. “You line those up by size on purpose?”

Nate’s eyes flicked down, a flush creeping along his throat. “Maybe.”

Jude climbed onto the mattress, knees sinking into the sheets. He lifted one cuff, leather soft and supple under his fingers, the buckle heavy and solid. The scent of it, new synthetic hide and metal, mixed with the sharper tang of Nate’s arousal. He buckled the first cuff around Nate’s thick wrist, pulling it snug, two fingers sliding beneath to check the fit. Nate’s breath hitched, the leather creaking as Jude tightened the second cuff. The click of the buckles echoed like a promise.

“Color?” Jude asked, voice rough.

“Green,” Nate said, flexing his hands, testing the give. “Fuck, these feel good.”

Jude’s palm slid down Nate’s forearm, feeling the muscle jump. He grabbed the blindfold next, silk cool against his knuckles, and slipped it over Nate’s eyes. The fabric settled, blocking out the room, and Nate’s lips parted on a soft exhale. Jude traced the edge with his thumb, then leaned in to bite the corner of Nate’s jaw, tasting salt and the faint spice of aftershave.

The spreader bar came last. Jude spread Nate’s ankles wide, the metal bar locking them open, cuffs snapping into place with a decisive snap. Nate’s thighs trembled once, then stilled, his cock now fully hard and leaking against his stomach, the head flushed dark. The bar knocked the bedframe when Jude adjusted it, the sound sharp and final. Nate laughed, low and surprised, the vibration rolling through his chest.

Jude stripped slowly, letting Nate hear every rustle of fabric, every zipper. He climbed between those spread thighs, skin sliding against skin, the heat of Nate’s body radiating up like a furnace. His fingers wrapped around Nate’s cock, stroking once, root to tip, thumb smearing the bead of precome. Nate groaned, hips twitching against the bar.

“Been thinking about this since Tuesday,” Nate rasped, voice already wrecked.

Jude traced his tongue along the sensitive underside of Nate’s shaft, savoring the salty tang of his skin and the intoxicating heat radiating from him. He took the head into his mouth, his tongue swirling around it in a tantalizing dance that drew a strangled groan from Nate. Above him, Nate’s hands, bound by the cuffs, flexed in a futile attempt to touch, to hold. His fingers curled open and shut rhythmically, like a man reaching for an elusive lifeline.

Jude set a deliberate pace, working Nate with slow, wet pulls of his mouth that were as much a promise as they were a tease. His hand cradled Nate’s balls, rolling them with a firm yet gentle touch that had Nate bucking beneath him. His other hand ventured lower, pressing two fingers against the puckered skin of Nate’s hole, teasing but not penetrating. The promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air.

Nate’s breathing grew ragged and uneven, punctuated by low, guttural sounds that spilled from his lips unfiltered. Jude’s name tumbled from him in broken pleas, interspersed with raw expletives. The pulsating rhythm of the music from the speaker vibrated through the mattress, adding another layer to their intimate dance.

Jude dragged his tongue up the sweat-slick column of Nate’s throat, savoring the salt of him, the way his pulse jumped under his lips like a fucking drumbeat. The blindfold hugged Nate’s face, black silk stretched tight over those high cheekbones, his lips parted—pink, wet, panting. Jude’s fingers traced the spreader bar keeping Nate’s thick thighs wide, the cuffs biting into his wrists, the way his muscles flexed and trembled with every teasing brush of Jude’s knuckles along his inner thigh.

“Look at you,” Jude murmured, voice rough as gravel, “all laid out for me. Fucking perfect.”

Nate’s breath hitched, his cock twitching against his stomach, already leaking. Jude smirked, dragging a single fingertip up the underside of that thick, heavy shaft, watching pre-cum smear in its wake. “You gonna beg for it, baby? Or do I gotta make you?”

Nate swallowed, hips jerking helplessly. “Jude-”

“Uh-uh.” Jude wrapped his hand around Nate’s cock, squeezing just shy of too tight, just enough to make Nate’s back arch off the bed. “Say it.”

Nate’s voice cracked. “Please.”

Jude clicked his tongue, stroking slowly, torturous. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

Jude leaned in, lips brushing Nate’s ear. “Not yet.”

He let go, ignoring Nate’s bitten-off whine, and reached for the lube. The snick of the cap echoed obscenely in the quiet room. Jude slicked his fingers, watching Nate’s hole clench at the sound, already fluttering like it knew what was coming.

“So fucking greedy for it,” Jude murmured, pressing the pad of his thumb against Nate’s rim, circling slow, “already trying to suck me in, huh?”

Nate whimpered, hips rocking down, but Jude held him still with a firm hand on his hip. “Nah, baby. You take what I give you.”