Sebastian had acquired the granite coffee table before he'd acquired Kurt, so it always surprised Kurt that it seemed so perfectly sized to his own body. It probably shouldn't have surprised him. Sebastian must have a type, and must have enjoyed laying that type out on the stone slab long before Kurt came along, but Kurt didn't like to think too much about that. So he went on being surprised.
The stone was always slightly cold, no matter how warm the room was, and supported Kurt's body from the top of his head to just shy of the bend in his knees. It felt hard and cool against his naked skin and never failed to evoke that foundational submissive teenage fantasy of being laid out on an altar, a bound and helpless offering for a lustful deity who would take his pleasure doing unspeakably erotic things to his defenseless sacrifice. And it was oh so easy to imagine Sebastian as a gorgeous trickster god descending from on high to dole out pleasure and torment. He loved to shackle Kurt's limbs to the four legs of the table, blindfold him, and free his cock from its prison for a night of television and teasing. Hours of squirming and gasping under Sebastian's nimble fingers, trying not to moan too loudly – drowning out the television would earn him a sharp slap to the balls or the swollen head of his cock in punishment – and Kurt really needed to stop thinking about this when his three-month's starved dick was about to fuck two eager submissives without (he hoped) spilling.
He stared up at the ceiling and wished they had tiles. Maybe counting them would distract him from what was to come.
Sebastian didn't use cuffs tonight. He placed Kurt's hands and feet where he wanted them on the floor and ran a hand up Kurt's body, along his thigh and over his chest. He avoided his dick but it didn't matter. Sebastian's touch made him burn no matter where it landed.
"I'll be right back, don't move," Sebastian said, and he was gone.
Kurt could hear the voices of their guests coming from the back of the apartment. Still in the bathroom, probably stretching and lubing each other in preparation for his cock – no, don't think about that, think about . . . buttons! Yes, buttons for the gray morning coat, his intern had picked up samples on Thursday and he still hadn't decided – then Sebastian's hand was on him again, making it impossible to not think about what was about to happen.
Sebastian's hands were moving around his dick and Kurt lifted his head to see those long fingers roll a condom down his shaft. He sighed, never so grateful for the necessity of safe sex. Sebastian flashed him the wicked smile that always made his insides melt and held up a second foil packet, waving it before Kurt's eyes.
"You can't be too careful," he said, and winked as he tore open the packet. "Don't say I never did anything nice for you."
"Oh, god, thank you," Kurt breathed as the second condom rolled down over the first.
Their guests made too much noise coming out of the bathroom and Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Torn between closing his eyes and keeping them open, he somehow ended up with one of each, until Sebastian's chuckle helped him steel himself to meet his fate head-on. From his position there was no way to lower his eyes so for the first time he got a good look at the three men who'd come to use him.
The submissives were naked now, and they were beautiful. Kurt understood why Sebastian had chosen this threesome despite the patronizing dominant. They were very much Sebastian's type. Tall and lean, with beautifully sculpted wiry muscles shifting under their skin as they moved. Both had shaved heads – not a surprise considering the old-school style of the dom – and their hands were now cuffed behind their backs, which threw their biceps and pecs into sharp relief. They moved to the end of the coffee table and both dropped to their knees at Kurt's feet in perfect synchronicity. Show offs.
The dominant, on the other hand, was immediately and so obviously not Kurt's type that Kurt had to exercise some serious self-control to keep from belting out an elated high g. Maybe there were some chinks in Sebastian's supercilious armor after all.
He was an older man, dressed in head-to-toe leather, right out of Central Casting or the world's most cliché 1950s gay bar. Kurt understood the tradition behind it, and he wanted to be able to support it, he really did, but his fashion sense wouldn't let him. He'd seen maybe five men in his life who could pull off that look and none of them were this guy. He was a little too old and a little too thick around the middle and though he was clearly trying to look nonchalant, the twitching of his shoulders and tensing of his hips betrayed his discomfort to Kurt's expert eye, if nobody else's. But aside from that his hubris was firmly in place.
"Well this is perfect," the man said, casting his critical eye over Kurt laid out on the table. "My boys'll get a good workout and a good fucking. What do you think, boys? You ready to take a ride?"
"Yes, Daddy," the boy on the right said.
"But we'd always rather ride you, Daddy," the one on the left piped in, shooting a glare at the other.
"Oh, so you'd rather have me fuck you and not come?"
This time the boy on the right glared at the boy on the left. "We only want whatever will please you, Daddy."
"Such good boys," Sebastian drawled. Kurt had to stifle a smirk.
"Alright Alpha, get your ass up there. I'm dying to see whether this boy can manage to hold his load long enough for both of you to get a ride. Maybe we should put some money on it."
"I don't think so," Sebastian said. "This isn't really about you and me, is it? You want to reward your subs. I want to challenge mine. There's no competition here. Kurt obeys me or he doesn't. Either way, that's between him and me." His hand dropped to Kurt's head and carded through his hair, as if to illustrate the difference between Kurt and the submissives at his feet. His other hand gripped Kurt's penis, fingers tight around the base, and held it upright, ready to serve.
The boy on the left stood up and straddled the table – his legs were just long enough to accomplish it – facing his master and away from Kurt. His cuffed hands had just enough give that he could grab and spread his ass cheeks, which exposed his stretched and lubed hole for Sebastian to aim Kurt's cock at. The boy lowered himself into a squat and Kurt watched for as long as he could but at the last moment he had to close his eyes. He felt rather than saw the blunt head of his cock press against the resistance of the boy's sphincter once, twice, then on the third press slip inside.
Thank god and Sebastian for the double condom.
Kurt's fingers grappled vainly for something to hold but there was only bare floor under his hands. The squeeze on the head of his cock was so strong and so hot it stole the breath from his body, which was good because otherwise he might have moaned and tonight he was just a sex toy. Sebastian had been very clear about his role. Sex toys didn't moan. Dildoes didn't writhe and gasp and beg for mercy. But mercy was what he needed because he was already seeing stars and barely an inch of him was actually inside the boy's ass.
The squat must have made it impossible to relax his muscles but the boy was clearly not going to let that stop him. He pressed himself down until Kurt's cock pushed through the second sphincter and then it was one long, smooth, eye-crossing slide and he was sitting in Kurt's lap, ass full to bursting with Kurt's throbbing and long-starved cock.
How could he have forgotten this? The boy's body held him like a lover in a burning, ardent embrace. Nothing Sebastian had done to him – not with his hand or, on those rare occasions, with his mouth – had ever felt like this. His cock picked up every tiny twitch and flex of the ass that hugged it, despite the two condoms Sebastian had allowed him. Pleasure rippled out from where he and the boy were united and rolled gently as a spring breeze through Kurt's body. He wanted the boy to move; he was desperate for it and he feared it but he knew he had no say in the matter.
"How does it feel?" the leather dom asked.
"So good, Daddy," the boy groaned. "It's so deep. It's amazing."
"Well go on, ride it. Give him a hand, boy."
The boy's gasp muffled Kurt's as the muscles around his cock spasmed tight. He opened his eyes long enough to see the second sub kneeling between his feet, sucking the alpha's cock down into his eager mouth. The three of them, dom and both subs, stared at each other, completely oblivious to Kurt shuddering at the other end of the cock in question. It was just as Sebastian had said – he was nothing more than a toy.
Then the boy rose from his lap, dragging that pressure up the length of Kurt's cock, and Kurt had to close his eyes again and hold on for dear life as he dropped down again with a sigh.
Oh, it burned, it burned and he ached and there was so much pleasure, so intense, only a few strokes in and his balls were tightening with the familiar pressure. It had been too long – too many months of Sebastian's patented formula for keeping his bitch on the horniest of hair triggers; he tried to think about buttons, about sketches, about grass growing or paint drying but it was no use. The boy was bucking up and down with abandon now, his moans merging with the slurping sucks of his partner working his cock, and Kurt could feel sweat trickling down his ass and the back of his neck and tears moistening his cheeks because he knew he couldn't do it. He could be super-human and he wouldn't be able to withstand the relentless pull and slide of that hot, glorious ass.
"Oh, fuck yeah. Right there, fuck . . ."
Then he remembered.
Oh, fuck yeah, Kurt, right there, don't stop . . .
He remembered the last time he'd been inside someone's ass. How could he have forgotten? Freddy someone, a boy he'd taken home from a party his senior year of college, when he always seemed to be searching for something, something more, and sex was hot but never quite enough. He'd pounded into Freddy's ass and closed his eyes and imagined, as he always did, a tall, strong stranger whispering in his ear. That's it boy. You belong to me now. You fuck who I say. You come if I say. And if I want to make you wait you will fuck this slut blind and not spill a drop, you hear me? He always came hardest when he gave in to the fantasy. But always with a twinge of despair that he might never find that man who could give him what he wanted; who could maybe even make it okay to want it in the first place.
Sebastian's hand was still on the top of his head and Kurt pressed into it, trying to nuzzle. As if he could read Kurt's mind Sebastian slid it around to cup his cheek, fingers pressing tight against his jawbone in silent acknowledgement. And everything was alright again.
Oh, the boy was still pistoning up and down like his life depended on it, moaning loud enough to wake the dead, but Kurt had found his balance on the precarious tightrope of his control. He stopped fighting the pleasure and let it take him, until his whole body was suffused in gorgeous, pounding sensation. He embraced the unbearable frustration of knowing that he couldn't come, he wouldn't come, not until Sebastian chose to grant him release, and the gentle fingers wiping tears from his cheeks held him in check as effectively as if they were clenched around the base of his cock. He was only an offering, a sacrifice to the will of the wicked, wonderful god who held his very existence in the palm of his hand.
He felt the boy come. Muscles squeezed with agonizing power and Kurt stiffened against the need to cry out the ecstasy that was not, was never, his. A barely-there curl of fingers around his throat was all he needed to stopper it safely in his chest. As the enveloping heat slid up and off his cock, and it flopped hard against his stomach and danced its frustration, Kurt shivered, cold with sweat, damp with tears. He could hear the other dominant murmuring to his panting sub. He opened his eyes to meet Sebastian's so-dark gaze.
He had to swallow hard before he could speak. "Thank you," he whispered.
Sebastian smiled. "Told you, bitch," he said, too low for the threesome cuddled together at the end of the table to hear. "Didn't I say you'd be grateful for that milking?"
Yeah. That too.