Sex in C Major
Chapter 70

"If I can't trust you to safeword, this relationship is over."

"No!"

Stefan's cry was animalistic, and his eyes flew up to meet Daz's. They were hard and cold, and shame coiled in Stefan's stomach.

"No. Please."

"You-"

"It wasn't worthy of a safeword! You-you surprised me. That was all. I'd I'd expected something else, from what Yannis said, so I was...surprised when you used me the other way. I wasn't prepared for it."

Daz's eyes narrowed.

"I promise," Stefan breathed. "I promise, I promise, it didn't need a checkmate, it didn't."

It didn't. It could be solved tomorrow. God, why had he panicked at all? It could always have been solved tomorrow.

"Since when do you think you deserve to be prepared?"

Stefan swallowed, and dropped his gaze.

"I got comfortable with Yannis. I...forgot. That you're my owner."

"I see."

"I deserve punishment, Sir."

"You do." The agreement was flat and factual, but the fingers that dragged over his arse and cunt and dick in one smooth stroke were less detached. "But first, I have plans for today. And most of tomorrow. So I'm going to untie you, put you in your clothes, and call a taxi. If you say one word between now and stepping in the front door of my house, then you won't leave my house again until New Year. And you will hate every single day between then and now. Understood?"

Stefan opened his mouth-then sensed the trap.

He closed it.

Then bowed his head, and nodded at the floor.

"Good. Where's your jeans." 26

There was a hand stroking his back.

Up and down, then up again. Down. Up and down. Up again.

Stefan blinked muzzily, trying to collect his thoughts. His limbs felt very heavy. His skin tingled where the hand was soothing it. He was drifting in a sea of cotton, soft and warm, and with nothing to ground him.

Nothing.

He could

He could fall from here. He could-

Panic flashed. He grabbed. Soft polyester, slack over a limb, crumpled in his grip, and a voice murmured.

"Ssh. It's alright."

Stefan clutched. He fisted his fingers around the cotton.

"It's alright," the voice said again. "I've got you."

The hand kept stroking. Another came to wrap around his wrist. It squeezed. Firm, but gentle. Grounding.

"You back with us yet?"

He hadn't gone away, had he?

"I-I don't-what-"

"Ssh, relax. You spaced. It's fine."

"S'that s'that okay?"

The words felt thick and foreign. His tongue felt clumsy. He slid his hand around the limb, and tried to pull it closer. When it wouldn't budge, he felt tears threatening.

"No-no-no. Ssh. You need to be held?"

Stefan whimpered when the limb was pulled away. The cotton sheets under him were pulled away, too, and he cried. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to be-

Skin. Warm skin. Miles of it. He clutched, and heard a heartbeat thundering under his cheek. The hand returned to his back, and began to stroke again.

"There you go. You're fine."

Stefan slid both arms around his master's chest, and relaxed. His master couldn't leave now. Stefan would hang on and make him stay until this-this floating, this disconnection, went away. Until he was anchored, safe back in his cuff, all pieced back together.

Slowly, sensation began to creep back in.

His arse hurt. His legs were sore. He felt shaky and thin. Thirsty. His wrists and ankles felt swollen and clumsy.

And even more slowly, memory.

Of sex.

Endless, forceful, intense sex.

He had been bent over the piano bench and chained there, thighs to arms between the legs of the stool so he couldn't move from his exposed position. And they had both used him. His master had fucked him-over and over and over, in the course of five hours until his arse had been leaking cum, too full for anymore. And then Yannis-God, Yannis-had spread his cheeks and fucked him like a machine, fucked until his dick had dragged all the cum back out.

Only then, when Stefan had been emptied again, did his master permit him to come.

Stefan didn't remember anything after that. But he could feel the shattered shaking in his limbs. He had come. And after his training not to masturbate, he must have passed out.

Slowly, he dragged a knee up to cling to his master's legs, and whimpered. His arse hurt. Oh God, it burned.

"Sore?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"You're bleeding."

"M'sorry, Sir..."

"Ssh, it's fine. It's to be expected. You've had some cream. I'll put more on later."

"Shouldn't-should be better'n that..."

"Mm, no. I'm at my most demanding after a trip to Birmingham. You did very well. I'm proud of you."

The word was bright and hot against Stefan's ears, and the kiss that was pressed to the top of his head felt like ecstasy.