1 Chapter 1

Even when Ian didn’t have to set an alarm for work, he was always an early riser. On their trip here they’d both been up and moving with the sun. Today was different, however. This morning when Ian stretched and rolled to the side so he could see the time, the clock read a few minutes to ten.

His night had been an interesting one. Very rarely did he spend so many hours, and sleep, completely naked. No cage or codpiece, he wore no chains attaching his nipples to a penis plug or sounding bar, there was nothing prodding his prostate from within.

Still, Ian’s husband and Dom, Taren, managed to keep him on edge all throughout the night. He’d held Ian close, his thigh between Ian’s legs and pressed to Ian’s balls, providing constant pressure. During the night, whenever Ian had drifted from Taren, he was gently pulled back in to be held firmly against Taren’s wide chest. This wasn’t how their nights normally passed. Generally, Ian’s cock was bound in some manner. It was what he preferred.

Last night was different. It was fun and a throw-back to their first days—and nights—together. While they’d had a Dom-sub relationship from almost the very beginning, the intensity and degree evolved over the years. They’d come so far in their relationship. It was touching in a way Ian never expected to be taken back to those early days, even if only for one night. He was going to give some thought to suggesting they do this more often.

He rolled onto his back and indulged in another stretch. Ian’s half-hard dick brushed against the sheets. His flesh was still ultra-sensitized from cages, plugs, and screws. That simple, light contact caused shudders from the little sparks that slithered through his groin and spread throughout his body.

Their room door opened, and Taren pulled a fancy metal serving cart through. He stopped long enough to close the door before guiding it to the bed. Ian’s gaze was glued to Taren. He was dressed in black, fitted light weight trousers and a gray, short-sleeved shirt that clung to him in all the right places. Taren’s broad chest, ripped abs, and muscular arms were accentuated so that every movement he made showed off his exquisite muscles gliding under the material. He was a tiger primed to pounce. Knowing all that power was laser-point focused on Ian, pleasing him, caring for him, stole Ian’s breath away.

Taren glanced down at himself then met Ian’s gaze with a lopsided grin. “Good morning. Sleep well, boy?”

Ian lowered his own gaze, letting his demure, sub nature take complete control. “Yes, sir. Very well. I would enjoy sleeping like this more often, sir.”

Taren sat on the bed and reached over, using his fingers to caress Ian’s cock through the sheet, and murmured, “I think that’s a worthwhile request.” He smiled. “We’ll have to explore that more at home.”

Ian bit his lower lip. He moaned softly and stretched again, watching, fascinated, as the sheet rose higher while he went from half-hard to completely erect. Ian squirmed and tried rolling to his side, but Taren moved so his big hand was now firmly against Ian’s hip and stopped his progress.

Blowing out a soft, contented sigh, Taren rubbed Ian’s belly directly over his bladder in soft, circular strokes. “I do enjoy feeling your skin.” He gripped the sheet and pulled it slowly off then turned his hand and gave Ian’s abdomen a sharp slap.

Ian grunted from the quick increased pressure to his bladder and tried to move but Taren pressed his palm firmly against Ian’s pelvis. His bladder tingled with the urgency to be emptied and his cock demanded release. Taren rubbed the end of his thumb up and down Ian’s shaft. In response, Ian’s balls tightened and a dull ache encased them.

Taren arched an eyebrow, watching Ian closely. His action was far from their normal play. Ian bit his lip, drew in a deep breath, and nodded. “You willuse your safe word if it gets to be too much. Understood, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” Ian breathed the words out. A sharp twist of one of his nipples and Ian cleared his throat and said with more conviction, “Yes, sir!”

Another slap to his bladder caused Ian to bend his knees and then flex again so his heels pushed across the bed. Ian fisted the sheet in both hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He stuttered out another low grunt when Taren pressed the meaty part of his palm with increasing pressure to Ian’s bladder. When Ian’s back arched, Taren applied more force. Panting, Ian sank down onto the bed. His belly quivered and his thighs trembled from the strain.

“It’s been a while since we’ve tried this,” Taren said in a matter-of-fact tone.