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The metal wrapped around my cock is painful. The cage digs into my erection, preventing me from getting fully hard, and I wince when he runs his fingers down the silver ridges until he reaches my inflamed balls.
“Oh, Jarred…” he says softly, tracing his finger up and down my cock cage as he looks up at me with sympathy. “Babe, what did you do to yourself?”
It’s embarrassing. I didn’t think that this would happen tonight. I hadn’t been thinking when I had put the cage on. I had been plagued with thoughts of Noah, so many fucking thoughts, and I just wanted them to go away. I wanted to punish myself for thinking about him in that way. I was willing to do anything. So, I went through my old belongings and brought out something I hadn’t had to use in years.
“I couldn’t stop thinking of you,” I admit, shuddering when he encircles the cock cage and gives it a light tug. “I wanted to stop thinking of you.”
“Where’s the key?” he questions. When I don’t respond, his eyes narrow and his lips set in a firm line. “Give me the key, Jarred.”
I shake my head. “It’s in my cabin.”
He lets out a deep breath, still lightly stroking me through the cage. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to make it better?” he asks, falling to his knees in front of me. He places a gentle kiss against the head of the cage. “I can make it all better, babe.”
I should say no. The whole reason for the cage was to prevent anything like this from happening. I jerked off to him once and, although the blinding pleasure was enough to satisfy me, the guilt that followed paralyzed me.
But I’m only a man. I’m only human, and Noah is on his knees for me, kissing around the cage, his mouth open and eager for me. “Please.”
He smiles up at me tenderly as he licks one long stripe down the cage, his tongue twirling around when he reaches my balls. Although he can’t fully get to my cock, he tries his hardest, worming his tongue in between the metal bars to lick at my swollen head.
“I think I can make you come like this,” he says when he pulls back, a wicked grin on his lips as he teases the back of my balls. “I think you’re so worked up that it won’t take much, will it?”
I shake my head, wishing that he could put his lips back on me, and put me out of my misery. “No.”
“No, it won’t take much, or no you don’t want to come?” he teases, flicking his tongue against my sac.
“Don’t stop,” I beg, pushing my hips out so the cage rubs up against his cheek. He chuckles to himself before swallowing me whole and even through the metal, I can feel his hot tongue sliding across my skin.
It’s all a blur of pleasure and sin and vice as he expertly works me in his mouth. He gets me all the way to the back of his throat like the cage doesn’t bother him at all. He looks up at me as he sucks two fingers into his mouth and doesn’t break eye contact as he slides them in between my crease and gently circles my hole.
I’ve always imagined going there. I’ve always pictured what something would feel like pressed against my opening. I never thought it was possible, but I come, and I comehard. I unleash myself with a shout, my come overflowing the cage and dripping onto the ground beneath us. Noah’s greedy as he laps it all up, sucking me clean.
When he stands, he presses a gentle kiss against my lips and helps me tuck myself back in. He reaches one hand up to rub the back of my neck in a soothing motion that makes me press my forehead against his.
“Next time, that’s happening without the cock cage,” he says, kissing my temple. “No matter how pretty you look in it.”
That brings a deep hit of reality, and the panic sets in. “This can’t happen again.”
“Say that again but louder,” he laughs, still kissing all over my face.
“So, you and Patrick?” I ask, feeling the stupid need to quell my curiosity, to wonder if he would have done this to that guy if I hadn’t interrupted them, to know if he was willing to sin with anyone else.
He gently cups my face in his hands, his eyes so fucking tender it makes my heart crack. “There is no me and Patrick.”
“Um, good,” I cough, suddenly feeling the need for some space. No. That’s wrong. I don’t need or want space, but I have to put it between us. I step back and rub my hand down the wrinkles on my shirt. “I should go.”
“Hey, stop,” he says, grabbing onto my elbow as I try to walk away from him. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes. Yes, we did,” I say, admitting my shame, feeling as if God won’t be able to forgive this. “It was dirty and immoral and—”
“Gay,” he deadpans, a sudden fury in his eyes as he spits out the word. “The word you’re looking for is gay.”
“It’s a sin—”
“I’ll stop you right there. I don’t want to hear it,” he snaps, holding his hand up in the air. He looks at me, something pleading in his gaze before dropping his hand with a sigh. He scrunches the top of his beanie and curses, kicking at the ground as he walks back away from me. “Sorry about the weed.”
