The Deeper He Hurts (7 page)

“The things I could do…”

Asher's voice had lowered to that penetrating tone that had whispered over him with the promise he'd delivered on before. “Then do them.” He glared over his shoulder, impatient.

Asher laughed, head shaking. “You can't goad me into action. I don't work that way. And in case this wasn't clear before”—he leaned down to brace himself over Sawyer—“this is a mutual exchange, but I don't take direction well, and I won't be your service top.”

Fuck yes.
He closed his eyes against the rush of need that swept through him. No guy had ever lit him up like this before he'd even touched him. Once again Asher crowded into his space, too close yet not close enough.

He swallowed, forced control into his voice. “If you'd do something, then I wouldn't have to direct you.”

Asher straightened, his musky scent going with him, and a full breath finally filled Sawyer's lungs again. Air ghosted over his testicles, his dick limp now. His anus clenched at the click of a cap that sounded like lube. He wasn't opposed to a good hard fucking, as long as he got the pain first. A give-and-take like that was part of the deal, at least in his mind.

He jerked at the first touch of cold that was swiped down his ass crack. His clench was reflexive, but he quickly forced his muscles to relax. The silence upped his focus on the action. On the chill of not gel or liquid, but cream, as it was rubbed over and around his hole. The cold sensation was his first clue as to what was coming. The distinct menthol scent was the second.

A groan escaped as flashbacks of past experiences with sports creams rushed in. Like the switch to the sole of his foot, it was subtle but so damn intense.

Asher continued to rub the cream in a slow massage over the sensitive nerves protecting his hole. The muscle flexed on its own, the sensation perking up his dick whether he wanted it to or not. The chain reaction was automatic and he let it flow, took every feeling that came and sucked it into the void within him.

The burning started out slow, a subtle shift from cool to not that prickled over his skin. A warning perhaps before the fire fully engaged.

He sighed into the coming storm, the tension flowing out of every part of him. Yes, he could do this to himself, but it wasn't the same, and he could never go far enough before logic made him stop.

This was all Asher's to control. His to decide and administer.

He stroked a hand up Sawyer's back, his shirt shoved up to his armpits. “You want this, don't you?”

“So much.” More than words could ever communicate.

The burn had ignited now, his asshole becoming a ring of fire Johnny Cash had probably never envisioned. He clenched his teeth and held in the groan that rose up his throat as the fire climbed and spread. It speared into his gut and spiked over his bottom like a thousand fire ants having a party on his ass.

A finger was pressed in then, the penetration itself barely noticeable. It was the knowledge of what it meant that sent him into heaven. The burn would go deeper, sink into his hole, and light him up from the inside out.

“Yes,” he breathed, pulling the sting in, centering on the torment that was quickly engulfing his backside. His dick was completely hard, mostly from the stimulation and the guy administering it.

“Turn around.”

Asher's command was combined with the retreat of his touch. Air swooped in almost immediately to inflame the area. He tensed, fingers digging into the wood as he gritted his way through the initial hit of intensity. Sweat peppered his skin, his back clammy with the effort it took to hold the agony in.

A tap to his hip reminded him of Asher's request.
Shit
. Moving was incredibly uncomfortable. Each shift brought a distraction along with another flash of fire as it spread and abated. And damn if it wasn't perfect.

He faced Asher, his wince tight, but he didn't make a sound. No one was going to hear him. If Asher expected him to fail that part of the challenge, then his expectations were way too low.

The gleam of appreciation in Asher's eyes was a reward he rarely sought. He usually didn't care how tops saw him or how he took the pain they delivered. But the light in Asher's eyes spoke to him on a simplified level free of pretense and posturing.

Pain given and received equally in an exchange of need more than power. The connection was alluring and terrifying at once. And potentially filled with more pain than he could handle.

Asher wet his lips, smiled. “That's just the warm-up.”

He grinned right back, clenching his ass to incite the burn even more. “Give it to me.” He sent a pointed look to the tube of cream in Asher's hand, pretty certain of what was next. He removed his T-shirt to keep it clean, and then braced his hands on the desk behind him, hips thrust forward.

“I fucking love pain sluts,” Asher murmured, truth spreading from each adoring word. He purposely squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers while Sawyer watched, Asher's every movement deliberate as he set the tube aside and flashed another of those sexy grins at Sawyer.

Sexy? When backed with the confidence Asher had and the guarantee that came with it, yes. Everything about him right now was sexy as fuck.

Asher held his gaze as he wrapped his hand around Sawyer's erection. His stomach clenched, the touch a flash of pleasure against the burn still raging around his hole. It was a tease before that same fire spread over everything.

And it would.

The first few strokes were all chilly enjoyment, each swipe up enclosing the sensitive head before sweeping back down. He watched the hand moving on his dick and absorbed the erotic sight with the knowledge of how demented it was. The burn started faster and spread quicker as Asher twisted his hand to ensure the cream was rubbed into every inch of Sawyer's dick. The juxtaposition of the pain with the incredible feeling of the hand job swelled in his chest.

Asher didn't ignore his balls, either. More cream was added, rubbed onto the thin skin and spread down to his hole until his entire genital area was engulfed in flames. Sweet, sweet pain that raced deep into his gut and flushed over him in heavenly torment.

His arms shook and his toes curled into the industrial carpeting, but he didn't make a sound. Didn't hop and jump around or crumple in half in an attempt to ease his suffering and release the building pressure. There was no point when it was exactly what he wanted. Needed.

To feel.

Asher urged him upright, forcing him to stand on his own. His legs trembled, but he held his weight, hands fisted at his sides in a clench so tight his knuckles ached.

Then the cream was on his nipples, rubbed in as Asher toyed with each one until they screamed from the stimulation. His mind hitched and fuzzed out on the complex mix of stimuli. The distinction between good and bad, pain and pleasure swelled and merged until he was nothing but sensation.

Every time Asher stroked his dick he wanted to scream into the burn and wail at how good it was. Desire ran hot and fevered within the flames that roared through his groin and over his entire chest. But he held it all in, still. Stayed silent except for the small grunts and harsh breaths that bled out between his clenched teeth.

“Focus on this.”

The sharp pinch on the underside of his sac almost launched him off the floor. He couldn't stop the pitch of his body as he doubled over. He was stopped by Asher, his arms encircling Sawyer to keep him on his feet.

“Fucker,” he mumbled into Asher's shirt, forehead grinding on the hard bone of his shoulder. The addition, whatever it was, became a direct point of throbbing pain that thundered over the burn. It sliced through his nuts and threatened to break his silence.

Sweat ran down the side of his face, and his hair clung to his cheek. His stomach rolled with the sick wave of nausea brought on by the agony. Each breath became a labor of resistance, a concerted effort to take the pain in and contain it.

It never had a chance of breaking him. Not this kind of pain. But it wouldn't ravish him, either.

The endorphins were flooding in to mask the intensity and there was nothing he could do to stop them. He wouldn't hide in them, though. All of this was pointless if he did that.

The stroking restarted on his dick, persistent and forceful. So good and yet painful as the burn shifted and sunk deeper. His whimper escaped unwanted, but he was beyond caring how it sounded. His hands found their way onto Asher's waist, fingers digging into his sides.

“You're gorgeous,” Asher whispered into his ear. Too close again. Too near. “I want more.”

He shuddered. Those were possibly the hottest words anyone had ever said to him. “Do it,” he rasped.
Make me take it. Make me scream
—only he couldn't here.

Get away. Get closer. He couldn't decipher what he wanted. Everything was scrambled with anguish and the strange addition of lust. Of a different need he didn't want to acknowledge.

The roar built inside him, coalescing around the swirling mass of pain and need and want that somehow also held wishes he'd long given up on. Dreams that couldn't be and would never flourish. It all pooled together until the tears leaked out despite how hard he tried to squeeze them back.

“Let me have it,” Asher encouraged.

He shook his head, refusing to fail. Refusing to end this.

His legs threatened to crumple when he straightened. Whatever was attached to his scrotum dug deeper as he moved until he swore a spear was slicing through his balls. But he did it, a fierce determination holding his back straight, his hands lowering to his sides. He would stand on his own.

He stared straight into Asher's eyes, letting him see exactly how far he could go. How much he wanted the pain. Asher was right there too. Not more than a foot away, still working Sawyer's dick in a punishingly slow stroke.

“I want it.”

Asher's clear tone penetrated the thundering of his heart and rush of blood in his ears. Simple. Honest. Truth. He shook his head, jaw clenched so tightly the tendons on his neck restricted the movement.

“Yes,” Asher demanded.

Another tear slid down his cheek, the path a distinct line of betrayal he resented. Hated.

Asher tracked its descent before he cupped the side of Sawyer's neck and swiped it away with his thumb.

No, damn it. No
. That single gentle swipe seared into his heart when everything else had raged around it. He gasped, too shocked to hold his reaction back.

Asher upped his pace, grip tightening on Sawyer's dick. He leaned in, passion burning in his eyes, breath gusting over Sawyer's lips when he paused.

The moment stretched, tension building, then he dove in and claimed Sawyer's mouth in a kiss as brutal as his touch. This was all force, all take, and Sawyer lost it.

His orgasm blasted outward from his groin to resonate clear to his toes. He screamed, every sound he'd held in caught by Asher. Swallowed and accepted while demanding more.

And he gave him all of it.

Every ounce of the hurt and pleasure that blinded his sight and trembled from his core. The well of emptiness that could only be filled by the pain. The years of isolation and loneliness he'd blocked into survival.

The crazy, mounting yearning to be held. To live instead of survive.

It flew from him until there was nothing left.

Nothing but the pain.

Ash soared, desire crashing with lust until he barely hung on to his sanity. Sawyer's tormented screams scraped down his throat to further ignite the sadistic high he got at seeing this kind of pain. Of feeling exactly how deeply he'd gone.

And with something so simple.

He tightened his hold on the back of Sawyer's head and demanded even more from him. Hunting for the last drop of resistance, of denial and withholding, until there was nothing Sawyer could do but relent.

Come splattered over his fist and shirt, tension holding every muscle tight within Sawyer. He reveled in it, fed on the power while marveling at Sawyer's strength.

At how much he'd given.

At how raw the pain was. Not surface level, but yanked from somewhere deep and dark and given to Ash. The trust was beyond humbling and almost overwhelming.

Adrenaline raced through him, oversensitizing every sense until there was nothing but Sawyer. His heat and that bittersweet scent that managed to penetrate the stronger menthol stench. The will and determination to take everything on his terms and the give that'd slipped through. That single tear that'd come so damn close to breaking through Ash's own barrier.

Maybe even had.

He eased up on the kiss, his lips aching from the punishing assault. He licked deeper now, slower, with intent to calm and reassure. This was everything he'd been missing, the connection he'd never wanted to experience with another man. He kept kissing him long after Sawyer had quieted, exploring and discovering everything he could about him.

The trembling started in Sawyer's legs before it worked its way up his back. Ash absorbed every sensation, each little shudder sinking into him in a mellow welcoming. His lungs burned for air and Sawyer's probably did, too, but he didn't let go or shove away.

Ash shifted just enough to allow them both to breathe, the warmth of Sawyer's gusts caressing his throbbing lips. He held his forehead to Sawyer's and floated in the descent. His head swam, every delicious moment already replaying in his mind, yet he needed to move before Sawyer crumbled to the floor.

He released his hold on Sawyer's dick and removed the binder clip from the underside of his scrotum. Sawyer's low muffled groan provided one last thrill. He grabbed the towel from the desk and shuffled back to his chair, bringing Sawyer with him, moving together without words. They'd barely needed them through the scene and words felt intrusive now, even though there was a ton that needed to be said.

He slowly lowered them down, Sawyer sinking to his knees with a grace Ash couldn't have mustered. His soft grunt rippled into the silence before he rested his head on Ash's thigh.

Ash's heart skipped a beat, longing snapping out to kick him in the nuts. He stared at Sawyer, hair damp with sweat, eyes closed, and face relaxed. His back lifted with each slow pull of air that spoke of the calm he'd sought and found with Ash.

It wasn't the subservient pose that got to him, but the open vulnerability. This was yet another level of trust. One that scared the shit out of Ash, when he wasn't sure if he could give it back.

Yet his clean hand found its way into the soft strands of Sawyer's hair to gently stroke them away from his face. Any intense scene brought a level of intimacy that transcended normal levels, but the sense of closeness and connection with Sawyer ran deeper than he was used to.

It contracted around his heart and defied every piece of logic he tried to throw at it. They hardly knew each other, and outside of this they probably had little in common. Plus Sawyer was only here for the summer. He was temporary, which should be good, but didn't settle that way within him.

He roused himself from his wandering thoughts to wipe his hand off as best he could. The cream tingled on his palm, and he didn't relish the thought of accidentally getting it in his or Sawyer's eyes or on his own dick.

The bright red state of Sawyer's genitals reconfirmed that notion. The effects of the cream would last for two to three hours, possibly longer. And with the amount he'd used and worked in, they'd be sensitive for the next few days.

Sawyer heaved a sigh that ended in a low grunt. “You're a real bastard, you know that?” The rough grate of his words was a testament to how raw or dry his throat was. The tone was light though, appreciation removing the cruelty.

“Yes.”

His chuckle was barely more than an airy snort. “The burn is fading already.”

Ash tried to decipher if it was sorrow or exhaustion that had slipped into the statement. Or if it was simply a fact. “There's a bottle of hot sauce in the kitchen.”

Sawyer's purr of appreciation had Ash wishing he'd grabbed it. But he was still learning Sawyer's thresholds, and they were at the office. Not that any of the guys would blink, let alone complain, if their activities were discovered.

It was still unprofessional, to a point that teetered on irresponsible. He didn't play with employees, especially on company property. And he'd done it twice now.

“Here.” He held the towel down to Sawyer, who'd shown no sign of moving. It had to be the endorphins, even though he'd never dropped into them the way some guys did. He couldn't see Sawyer remaining this close or emotionally exposed otherwise.

Sawyer lifted his eyelids and swiveled his head. “I'm good.”

Ash had suspected he'd say that, but he'd offered anyway. He dropped the towel on the ground near Sawyer in case he changed his mind. The silence fell around them again and Ash let himself relax into it. He didn't do it that often, and he wasn't really the cuddling kind of top when it came to aftercare. The two guys he regularly played with preferred to recuperate on their own. He remained in the room, talked to them if they wanted, saw to their wounds if he'd drawn blood, but didn't comfort them.

This was nice. He rested his hand on Sawyer's shoulder, smoothing light circles over his skin. Sawyer's exhales heated the fabric of his khakis. It wasn't intentionally sexual, yet the warmth spread up Ash's inner thigh to roll over his nuts and up his dick. His erection had abated some, but it still made a prominent ridge beneath his pants.

One that was getting harder by the second.

His erections during a scene were rarely sexual. They were mostly a result of excitement and his strange-as-fuck kink that made him revel in someone else's pain. The urgency to get off usually wasn't there, though. He'd always thought of his erections as by-products of the visual stimulation, emotional rush, and adrenaline.

Sawyer tipped his head, nose lifting until he nuzzled beneath Ash's balls. His inhalation was large and audible, his exhale slow as he mouthed Ash's dick.

Fuck me.
Lust speared his groin so quickly he barely contained the reflex to thrust into the warmth. His hand tightened on Sawyer's shoulder, eyes glued to the sight of Sawyer's mouth working its way toward his belt buckle.

“You don't have to do this,” he managed to say despite how much he wanted it. Him.

Sawyer glanced up, his eyes lazy but clear. He slowly rose, hands pressing up Ash's thighs until they met at his belt. He stared at Ash as he opened the buckle, snap, and zipper, never once looking down to check what he was doing.

His eyes darkened, eyelids lowering when he gripped Ash's dick. Ash grunted, the contact igniting an ache he hadn't felt in years.

The dimple popped on Sawyer's cheek when he cocked a satisfied smirk. “You should know I never do anything unless I want to.”

He dropped then, his mouth encompassing Ash's dick in a long plunge that seemed to sink to his toes.

“Fuck.” His hips jerked, hands gripping the arms of the chair, pulse escalating to neck-breaking in the space of a breath. The wet suction was intense, quick, and all-encompassing.

Sawyer yanked at Ash's pants until they were around his ankles, never stopping his assault on Ash's erection. He circled the head with his tongue, sucked, dipped, and kept going until Ash's dick nudged the back of his throat.

Ash's eyes fell closed as the heady sensations overtook everything. He forced his eyes open in the next second, unwilling to miss the erotic visual. He wasn't a Dom who got off on making subs suck his dick, but this had nothing to do with power or orders.

This was desire plain and simple. Sex and nothing more.

And damn was it hot.

Sawyer worked him with one hand, the other rolling and squeezing his balls, his mouth dipping and sucking until Ash was on the cusp of coming.

Sawyer glanced up, froze, lips swollen and glazed with spit around the head of Ash's dick. His brow quirked, a teasing light coming into his eyes, his tongue needling the slit on the top until Ash wanted to scream. Every flick zinged down his dick to sink into his groin before blazing outward.

His groan tore out of his chest, exiting as more of a snarl. He didn't want to come yet, but his battle to withstand the urgency building in his balls was coming to an end, too quickly.

Sawyer chuckled, the vibrations rippling through Ash's dick to edge him closer. He gritted his teeth, breath gusting through his nose, and stared him down. He didn't give in easily either. He was just as stubborn.

Just as strong.

The smirk dropped from Sawyer's expression, that seriousness returning. He closed his eyes and dipped to take Ash down his throat.

There was no stopping the snap of his hips, the urge to thrust too powerful. Sawyer swallowed, and the ripple of it stroked over his dick. Still he resisted, fought the inevitable.

The finger at his hole was a shock, the press in amazing. He groaned, legs spreading as far as they could, hips dipping between the two sensations. The digit was dry, which made it more noticeable, and slightly painful.

Good.

He gave up the struggle and let his orgasm flood him. His stomach clenched, tension building, pleasure cresting until it burst from him in a long groan and rush of release. He jolted forward, fell back, holding Sawyer to him through his choked gasps until he could breathe again.

He sucked in air, hand trembling on Sawyer's nape. His chuckle was completely inappropriate, but it bubbled out anyway. Despite being a guy who planned everything, he hadn't seen this coming. Literally.

Sawyer wiped his hand over his mouth and sat back. Damn, that was a picture Ash wanted to keep. Hair tangled and messy, lips red and swollen, eyes dark and satisfied.

Ash lurched forward and stole another kiss, this one soft. More of a touch of lips that he held and savored for a long moment before he sat back. “Thank you.”

Sawyer puffed out a laugh, dimple peeking through. He rubbed the back of his head, a frown dipping his brows for a moment. “It was only fair.”

His answer sucked away the last of Ash's euphoria. “Fair?”

“Plus”—he started to stand, winced, and froze—“I was thirsty.”

Ash didn't know if he should laugh or feel guilty for not having water on hand. “Ass,” he finally said, chuckling. He held out a hand to help Sawyer up. “We have a fridgeful of water and sports drinks.”

“Sure.” He swiped his tongue over his bottom lip in a seductive move that should've looked odd on him but didn't. Not in this moment. “But I was looking for a protein drink.”

Ash groaned. “Are you always this corny?”

He shrugged. “No.” His gaze went to the ground. “Any chance you can hand me my clothes?”

Sawyer's dick and nuts were still a gorgeous shade of red that appeared far from comfortable. Ash relished the sight and his role in their state: dick soft now, the hair around its base slicked with cream, scrotum bright red beneath.

But it was the story below his dick that drew Ash's focus. Sawyer's upper thighs were a tale of pain and years of anguish. The scars formed a complex pattern of faint lines, grooves, and stained skin. Touching them had been intoxicating. Seeing them—all of them—was stunning.

He slid forward on his chair, reached to trace a particularly angry, puckered scar on Sawyer's inner thigh, near his balls. Sawyer flinched at his touch, muscles tensing beneath his fingertips. He didn't pull away, though.

Ash looked up, the rough skin teasing his sadist. “How?” The two-inch burn could've come from a number of things.

Sawyer swallowed, gaze stony and hard, like his jaw. The stare-down became a silent test of trust. This went beneath an act into history. Again, the need to understand Sawyer's past was stronger than Ash wanted to analyze. It was just there, tripping around his brain and digging into his hunger for more.

“Heated knife blade.” The terse words held an element of challenge. Did he think Ash would judge him? Comment?

He didn't. There wasn't anything to say. He trailed his fingers to a series of faint white lines. “Cuts.” There was no question in that, and he didn't wait for a response before moving to four burns in a row, each a small circle. “Cigarette.” Down now to a jagged gash that wrapped around half of Sawyer's leg, edges dark from age. He relished that one, studied the torn appearance. “Barbed wire?” Or something equally punishing?

He waited this time, holding still until Sawyer nudged his chin down in a silent yes. He continued his study, fascinated and awed at once. Whatever had caused every one of these marks would've hurt like a son of a bitch. Some deep, others more superficial, each magnificent to Ash. Where others might see ugly and deformed, he saw strength. Courage. Agony challenged and defeated.

It eased through him, all the suffering—both physical and emotional—to quiet his soul as nothing else could. His strange, fucked-up center, which saw through it all to the heart of the man, sang in glory. Pain was the great equalizer and the purest exposure of what hid within a man.

This was what called to him. What he dug to uncover with every flick of his whip and dive into depravity. He ran both palms over and around the sides of Sawyer's muscular thighs, every silent testament of this deeply stoic man luring him in even more.