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He should have known it was coming.
Hedidknow it was coming.
That doesn’t make it any easier when sir looks down at Carter and says, “Take your plug out and come up on my lap.”
With a hand that shakes hard enough to hurt, Carter fumbles with his plug until it’s out of his hole. He holds it for a moment, confused about what he should do with it. Sir takes it from him and puts it on the table where his glass of scotch is now resting on a coaster. It looks obscene there, resting on the flat end, the bulb slick and glistening in the lamp light.
Carter places his hands on sir’s thighs and hoists himself up, his entire body trembling now. He can’t meet sir’s gaze. Thankfully, sir doesn’t try to make him.
Carter flinches when sir spits, looking down at sir’s hard cock with wide eyes as sir spits on it a second time. Sir rubs the pad of his thumb over his glistening cock head and Carter realizes that’s the lube he’s going to get. That, and whatever is left in his hole from this morning’s preparation. He’s stretched from the plug, but not nearly enough. Sir is fucking huge. Carter must have been out of it at the auction to take that thing as easily as he had.
He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until sir frames his face with both hands and pulls him in close, their foreheads touching.
“Breathe,” sir says so softly Carter’s not sure if he imagined it. He smells spices and scotch as he follows the order and breathes the man in. He shudders beneath the weight of the oxygen, but sir whispers, “Good boy. Again.”
Carter obeys. This time, it’s a little easier.
“Again,” sir whispers.
Carter feels light-headed with relief as the air he’s taking in finally registers in his system. His eyes flutter shut, his body relaxing in sir’s hold.
A tap on sir’s shoulder catches Carter’s attention. He looks up to find the man from last night – Benny – standing beside the chair, a small packet of something in between two fingers. Sir’s eyes meet Benny’s for a moment, the two of them holding a surprisingly intense gaze. Then he takes the packet from him and puts the edge between his teeth, tearing it open. Carter realizes it’s lube when he sees sir rub a glob of it on his fingers. Sir adjusts his position in the chair slightly before threading his hand through the opening of Carter’s thighs and sliding two fingers easily inside of him.
He’s going to prep Carter.
Oh, thank god.
The prep is different this time. It’s not clinical like this morning when he was prepping Carter for his plug, and it’s not bare minimum like the night before. This is right on the edge of foreplay, sir’s fingers focused less on stretching him and more on stroking his walls in ways that Carter hates to admit feels good.
Sir tightens his grip on Carter’s hip and tilts him forward, the angle of his fingers shifting. His gaze is intense on Carter’s face as he crooks his fingers. One stroke. Two. Then Carter’s gasping, his body bucking forward. Sir found his prostate, and if his mischievous smirk is any indication, that was his goal.
“Oh,” Carter breathes, not sure what to do with himself as sir works the sensitive spot over and over with his fingertips. He thinks he might be moving himself against sir’s hand now. Riding his fingers. He thinks maybe he can’t get himself to care. “Oh,oh.”
“That’s it,” sir growls, his fingers speeding up, a third teasing the edge of Carter’s hole. “Feel good, pet?”
Thepetis a reminder, like ice water falling over Carter’s head. He gasps for a new reason, his body seeming to screech to a halt, his muscles tensing, his breath catching, his heart sinking. Tears burn his eyes. Sir catches his gaze, the fingers in his hole pausing. They stare at each other for a beat before sir’s eyes fall closed, a slow, controlled exhale pushing past his lips. The hand on Carter’s hip flexes once. Then sir looks at him with a far away gaze, his face suddenly devoid of emotion.
The fingers in Carter’s hole are pulled out. Lube is squeezed from the packet onto sir’s cock. Then sir is speaking, his voice authoritative and icy. “Up.”
Breath hitching again, Carter forces himself to lift up on his knees. Sir’s free hand holds the root of his cock to keep it steady for him, his other hand remaining on Carter’s hip in a bruising hold. Carter doesn’t look. Hecan’tlook. He swallows a sob when he feels the head of sir’s cock press between his cheeks. Benny is standing behind sir, watching Carter with narrowed eyes. Carter looks away quickly, a tear falling down his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep any more from spilling.
“No,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else. Maybe he can convince his mind that this isn’t really happening. Maybe he can shut it off again. Float away. “No, no, no.”
Sir ignores him.
Everyone does.
“Down,” sir orders. He brings his free hand up to grab Carter’s other hip, fingers digging bruises as he nudges Carter down an inch or two on his cock. “Come on. You can do it, pet.”
It’s almost worse, being made to do it like this. It feels like Carter is raping himself. Carter swears he can feel bile crawling up his throat.
A sharp smack against his ass cheek startles a sob out of Carter. His body jerks with the power of it, more sobs welling up in his chest like a queue of grief. He’s spanked again.
“Don’t touch my property!” sir growls, startling Carter more than the hits had. He’s even more startled by the meaning of the words. Sir isn’t who hit him. It was one of sir’s men. And sir is… mad about it.
Carter doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Just trying to hurry the boy up for ya, boss.”
