Sex in C Major
Chapter 95

The only mercy was, Stefan supposed, that he wasn't gagged or blindfolded.

But then, what was the point of that mercy when neither of them would touch him?

For Yannis, of course, that wasn't really a departure from before Stefan had fucked it all up. But as the week dragged by, and he was left in the corner like a scolded dog while Daz jerked off to porn on the TV, or the torturous night that Stefan had had to listen from the dark cage to the soft creaks of the bed as they had sex in the middle of the night, Stefan's mood shifted from bewildered gratitude at the reprieve and time to adjust, to a searing guilt and hurt that-

That his master wasn't using him.

That he was naked on the rug, and his master would prefer to masturbate than be sucked off, or bury his dick in a tight, willing body.

The guilt and hurt shifted slowly to simply hurt by the weekend, and then into an angry sort of indignation by the beginning of the following week. And the shot hadn't helped. That slow burn of arousal was building again, and being subjected to the sight of his master coming in tissues instead of his toy was torture.

He thought, after his breasts and thigh had healed, he might be used then-but the week came and went, and still neither of them touched him. Even Yannis' experiments seemed to have stopped, and he wasn't playing much in the house.

Stefan didn't dare to rock the boat, though. He hadn't truly been punished for running off, but he had the distinct impression that either he would be for an infraction now, or everything would be over. Permanently.

And it couldn't be over.

He'd learned at least that.

And he ought to be grateful for the gentle structure and the reprieve, given that he'd found himself in a situation where he was literally tied up for twenty-four hours a day and had even his diet and sleeping times dictated to him...but he wasn't.

He wanted more.

Stefan wanted a reaction. He wanted to be wanted. And he had felt wanted, with Daz's cock buried inside of him. Had felt at peace, after being torn open around a dick. Had even, despite how overwhelming and scary it had been, enjoyed being passed around Daz's friends. Had felt so good in the aftermath of that fuck.

If he'd only let himself feel, instead of think, it would have been fine.

Only he hadn't.

He'd thought, and run, and now...

Now he was back, and had his regime, but...didn't quite have Daz back. Because before, Daz would have watched porn and fucked Stefan. He would have made Stefan suck him off before going to bed, or first thing in the morning.

Now, Daz barely glanced at him.

And Stefan wanted-something.

A blowjob. A fuck. To be beaten. Punished. Used.

Anything but this silence.

Yannis leaned over the back of the sofa and Daz tipped his head back for a kiss.

"See you later."

"Stay safe. And bring me back some samosas!" Daz yelled after him, and the front door slammed on a laugh.

Immediately, the TV came on.

Stefan watched as Daz channel-surfed, knowing the signs by now. The slouched, open-kneed posture. The fact he was wearing his worn jogging bottoms. The speed with which he flicked past the sports channels without even pausing to see which matches were being shown on the highlights.

And the sudden slowness, as they approached the late night viewing.

Stefan shifted onto his knees hopefully. Maybe now Yannis had gone out for the evening, and Daz obviously wanted to fuck at least his hand...

He settled on a channel. Lesbian porn. Daz pushed a hand down his jogging bottoms, beginning to jack himself slowly, and Stefan crawled from the rug to sit at his knee.

Did he speak? Would Daz simply do something now Stefan was within reach? Or should Stefan just...

He glanced at the growing bulge and moving fist under the cotton.

He could just...do it. Just do it. Maybe that was what Daz was waiting for? For Stefan to step into his role without prompting?

Stefan reached up, curled his fingers into the waistband of Daz's trousers, and tugged.

For a moment, Daz simply glanced down at him-then lifted his hips, and let Stefan pull the jogging bottoms down far enough to expose that half-hard cock. He spread his knees a little wider as Stefan leaned forwards-and then Stefan wrapped his lips around the soft head, and sucked.

Daz groaned.

Buoyed by the sound, Stefan sank his head down over the swelling shaft and measured the weight of it on his tongue. He could taste Daz's shower gel, and the bitter cotton of the man's clothes. The smell was familiar; the clash of power and powerlessness at suckling on his master's cock was a balm on Stefan's jittery mind.