Picturing Lysander by L.M. Somerton

Author:L.M. Somerton [Somerton, L.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Bound Publishing
Published: 2014-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

* * * *

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Brock cooked dinner. They watched a movie from separate chairs. Neither man mentioned what had happened that afternoon, but the livid bruise on Brock’s neck bore testament to that brief escape into sensation. Kyle felt ridiculously protective. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m shattered. Is it all right if I go to bed?”

Kyle nodded. “Of course. I need you fit and well. Get ready and I’ll be up shortly.”

Kyle gave him fifteen minutes to use the bathroom then followed him upstairs. Brock sat on the edge of the single bed in the small, cell-like second bedroom. He wore dark pajamas in some kind of tartan pattern, his pale bare feet rested on the floorboards. Frustrated, Kyle sighed. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Yes, I do.” Brock gazed directly at him, blue eyes glittering sharply. “Much as I’d love to jump into bed with you, Kyle, I have to know you want me for the right reasons. It’s not like we’ve just come back from a dinner date, is it?”

Kyle scowled. “Fine. It’s your choice. Lie down.”

Kyle went to the other bedroom and came back a heavy blanket that he placed over Brock.

“Those pajamas are your way of torturing me, aren’t they? Tell me you don’t normally wear them.”

Brock smiled sweetly. “I usually sleep naked.”

Kyle turned and stalked from the room, muttering expletives under his breath.

Kyle went through his pre-bed routine with a raging hard-on and a head full of Brock. He got into bed and spent an hour tossing and turning and beating the hell out of his pillow. All he could think about was Brock, cold and alone, in the other room.

“Bugger this.”

He threw back the duvet and sat on the edge of the bed. He was wearing black shorts that did little to disguise the prominent bulge testing the elasticity of the fabric and he debated covering up a bit more. “Fuck it.” What he had in mind did not require more clothing. He crossed to the dresser and hesitated before picking up his handcuffs and the flick knife that sat between his comb and coin tray.

“This is a really bad idea.”

Kyle prowled across the landing to Brock’s room, where he wasn’t surprised to find him awake.

Kyle didn’t say a word, just yanked the covers off the bed and loomed over Brock’s helpless form. He tugged Brock’s arms up and cuffed him to the bed frame. In his hand, the knife glinted in the dim light. As he climbed onto the bed and knelt across Brock’s thighs, Brock yanked on the cuffs, rattling the chain. He looked wide-eyed and expectant rather than scared. Kyle rested the tip of the knife in the hollow at the base of Brock’s throat and glared.

“I really hate these fucking pajamas.”

Kyle slid the knife down until it met the resistance of a button. The blade slipped through the threads smoothly and descended to the next. In seconds, all five buttons had been sliced free, allowing him to push the gaudy cloth back and expose golden skin and small dark nipples.

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