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Because Ewan was a masochist. Ewan, by all accounts, needed pain to keep him grounded, to rage against, to force him to submit. And Nate, a conscientious sadist, enjoyed pushing the limits of what Ewan could tolerate.
Jack enjoyed hurting people too, but not like Nate did. For Nate, there was a savage joy in the infliction of pain, something wild and dangerous. For Jack, it was all about control. When he hurt Channon, it was because Channon belonged to him, was his to do with as he liked, and if that included pain then so be it. But Nate just liked to hurt pretty things. Ewan, he said, was beautiful when he hurt.
But Channon did not like pain. He endured it as a sign of submission, to please his Sir, as a means of showing his dedication to Jack. When it was Ewan being hurt, Channon liked it even less, despite knowing how Ewan got off on it, needed it to help him let go. That was the difference between them. Ewan had to be forced to submit. Channon gave himself to Jack with every breath he took.
Jack knew which he preferred.
“On your knees,” he said, releasing Channon and stepping back.
Channon slid to his knees with the ease of practice. Jack’s coat pooled on the floor around him. He looked up, eyes wide and green, his lips parted in anticipation. “May I take your shoes, Sir?”
“You may.”
Jack watched him work. Channon was careful in the way he served, unlacing Jack’s shoes and putting them aside neatly. Later, Jack would have Channon clean and polish them for him, but for now there were more important things to do.
Jack pushed his fingers into Channon’s hair, gripping it tightly. “You’ve been a good boy tonight,” he said quietly. He loved the way Channon leaned into the grip, listening to Jack’s voice no matter how low he pitched it. Channon’s attention was a thrill in itself. “I’m going to give you a choice. You can come tonight, or you can wait until our playdate on Tuesday.”
He watched Channon struggle with this choice, those green eyes tilting up to examine Jack’s expression for a hidden trap. “But you’re going to come—right, Sir? Either way?”
“Oh yes,” Jack said, smiling down at his clever boy. “I’m going to fuck you every day, and I won’t be depriving myself of the pleasure of coming in you.” He stroked Channon’s hair as Channon absorbed this information, watching as Channon’s pale cheeks colored in the soft light of their condo. “You’ll just have to wait.”
All that stimulation and no payoff. Could Channon handle it? Jack knew he’d try. He trusted Channon to always try his best to do what Jack demanded of him. Channon would no doubt be a squirming mess by the time Tuesday came, with a hair-trigger Jack would have to be careful of if he didn’t want Channon breaking at the first touch. But that would be fun in itself.
Channon wet his lip, his eyes flickering as he thought. “But if I come tonight…what’s the catch?”
“Nothing, sweetheart,” Jack told him fondly, winding his fingers in Channon’s hair again to watch him wince. “But if you can wait until Tuesday, I will be very, very proud of you.”
Channon groaned, closing his eyes. It was unfair, really, because Jack knew Channon well enough to know what he was going to choose. Jack could have just ordered Channon not to come, and Channon would have accepted it as law. But it was fun to make him do this to himself.
“Then…then I’ll wait, Sir,” Channon said, his face twisted in resignation. “I’ll do it.”
Jack felt his mouth stretch into a gleeful grin. There. Exactly what he’d wanted. “That’s my good boy. Now.” Jack stood, towering over Channon on his knees. He wrapped the cord of Channon’s leash tight around his hand until his fist was under Channon’s chin. “Take me out.”
Obediently, Channon reached for Jack’s belt. He unfastened Jack’s trousers and opened them, pulling Jack’s boxer briefs down to expose him. He looked up, his hands still on the band of Jack’s underwear, and licked his lips like he’d already guessed what was coming.
“Hands behind your back,” Jack said. “Open your mouth.”
It was gratifying how quick Channon was to obey. With one hand, Jack held Channon in place with the leash, and with the other he slid his fingers over his thickening cock. Channon’s eyes were fixed on Jack’s hand as Jack slowly pumped himself. Jack pressed the head of his cock to Channon’s lip, smearing it with precome.
Channon was so beautiful like this. Obedient, eager, ready, willing. Jack rested the head of his cock on Channon’s tongue. “Close,” he said. Channon’s lips closed on him, his eyes turned up to watch Jack’s face. Worshipful.
Jack didn’t have to tell Channon not to suck. Channon knew by now that sucking Jack’s cock was a privilege he had to be granted. Instead, Jack pushed into him, holding him in place with the leash, feeling the hot thrill of using Channon’s mouth, knowing how excited Channon would get and how much he’d ache later when he didn’t get to come.
I should make him hold off for a week, Jack thought, slowly fucking Channon’s face. Two weeks. A month. See how long it takes him to spill in his sleep. See how anguished he gets over failing me.
Because he would get upset about it, and then Jack could either punish or console him, and then make him start over. Maybe the punishment could be too many orgasms. Jack could tie him up and strap a magic wand to him, wring Channon dry until he was pleading for Jack to stop.
Jack closed his eyes, imagining Channon’s tearful begging, and buried a hand in Channon’s hair, forcing himself deeper into Channon’s mouth, into his throat. Channon made a strangled sound—Jack let him have a little breathing space. He looked down again, and Channon was still gazing up at him like Jack was a hero or a god.
It felt right.
This was what Jack wanted, his obedient angel taking everything Jack gave him. The power of it thrilled him, spicing the pleasure of fucking Channon’s mouth, of stroking as deep into Channon’s throat as his boy could handle.
“Go on,” Jack commanded roughly. “Suck me.”
The sudden tightness of Channon’s mouth sent jolts of sensation through him. He let go of Channon’s hair to reach down and grip his balls, pressing hard behind them. And then he came, flooding Channon’s tongue with the only reward Channon was going to get tonight. Jack groaned, pulsing into Channon’s mouth, feeling his knees quake with the force of it. He went up on his toes, relief spreading through him in a beautiful lethargy.
He looked down at Channon, whose lips were still wrapped around his cock. Water gathered in the corners of Channon’s eyes. “Swallow,” Jack said. He felt Channon do it, sparking another throb in Jack’s dick. Then Jack slid out and ran his thumb over Channon’s wet, swollen mouth. “Good boy,” he said, smiling, and Channon smiled back.
