Title: "Lover, Mine"
Author/pseudonym: xof
Fandom: Queer As Folk
Pairing: SJ/VT 

Rating: NC-17 (To say the least – careful, it’s still hot to the touch.)
Status: New/Complete
Archive: Yes. Please.
Feedback: xof@rose.net 
Website: http://thesleepydragon.com/nesting/main.html 

Series/Sequel: No.

Disclaimers: I don’t own these characters. I presume that Channel 4 and Russell D. do.

Notes: I’m sure you’ll either love this one at first read or you’ll be shaking your head wondering what the hell I thought I was up to with this ferocious bit of tail (opps . . . that’s tale, luvs). Oh, and see the challenge at the end of the story. It’s so good!!!


Summary: Vince gets the chance to give himself over completely . . .


Warnings: Spoilers for both QAF Series, especially the second. This is not a drill, folks. Was that specific enough? This is a total first-time AU fic. And to make matters more scrumptious, it deals with a slightly more intense level of sexuality – for gays and straights. I’m talking D/s play. Yes, I gave into my baser instincts and made Stuart dominant to Vince’s submissive. Now that said, I did feel it was necessary to point out that it’s all relatively light in my story. I don’t touch on the darker aspects of such things, leaving that to more talented and experienced writers than I am. This is dedicated to - in my estimation, the queen of all BDSM slash fiction - Xanthe. And since I’m American to boot, please forgive any mistakes on my part when it comes to grammar. Feedback is more than welcomed – after taking this turn, it’s commanded!!!

"Lover, Mine"



by xof



(July 15, 2000)



"Tell me your fantasy, Vince."

"I will not."

Stuart smiled devilishly, which was quite an achievement considering that he was still slightly pissed to the gills . . . keeping on the sofa only by the grace of gravity. They’d been at club until Vince had been forced to drag Stuart into the nearest taxi at three in the morning. Considering how off his head the man had been, it hadn’t proved an easy task. Only three days had passed since Stuart had come out to his family. And today his dad had asked him not to attend the latest in family gatherings. 

Stuart had kept his pain private after telling his family the truth, making it a point not to turn his own anguish into just another pub tale. Being forced by circumstance to tell Vince anyway had proved trying. At first, Stuart had attempted to shrug it off as no big deal . . . downplaying his pain and worry. Just another Stuart Alan Jones exploit, but Vince had stood there looking at him with quiet concern shining through his eyes. Having never really been able to retain his mask of pretence in the face of his best friend’s encompassing gaze without running away or changing the subject, Stuart had finally told him in short clipped sentences how his family had responded in the aftermath of his confession. His Dad had exploded, temper hot but quickly settled into a resigned look of disappointment. His Mum stood in shock, the hurt radiating from every pore. She hadn’t cried, just left the flat. His father had followed, leaving Stuart standing in the wreck of Marie’s new home. He’d leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed, it’s solidity his only support. Never one to stay in a bad situation, Stuart finally drew himself up and left.

The only contact he’d received from his family before his Dad’s visit was a worried call from Marie on his answering machine. She’d spoken in hushed tones as she apologized for Thomas’ behavior. The boy had been talked to and would be disciplined but the damage was done. She was trying to reassure him that their parents would be able to accept the truth, when the machine had cut her off. There had not been any other calls.

He’d kept the scene from Vince until his mother’s impromptu visit to Hazel’s house. Afterwards his friend had hunted him down at pub, following him around the room until Stuart stopped in the back. Having Vince jerk him round when he’d pretended not to hear his question had been surprising. They were standing in the corner of their favorite bar when Vince had pulled him closer so that Stuart could not ignore him. Speaking close to Stuart’s ear to be heard above the music, Vince had managed to get Stuart to finally open up about what had happened. Once his own words had stopped, Stuart remained silent. Looking down at the floor while biting his lip, Stuart finally resolved to not think about it anymore tonight. He proceeded to drag a bemused and anxious Vince through the whole of Canal Street’s haunts, the night passing in a whirl of music, dance and alcohol. 

That is until now. It stood at 3:30 AM. Stuart’s flat . . . that white walled space that never seemed like a home, more like a showroom for Stuart’s shags. No sense of warmth, only sterility. Vince had dragged Stuart into the large apartment, avoiding the stairs for the more common sense refuge of the couch. Stuart knew that Vince expected to just let him flop back in near oblivion, removing his shoes and jacket before making his exit. But despite his condition and his reluctance to discuss his problems any further, Stuart desperately didn’t want to be alone. Not now. Not alone to fight against the demons that lurked behind the inevitable closing of his eyes to sleep.

Fiercely clinging to his friend’s arm, his grip surprisingly firm, Stuart stated, "You’re not leaving. Stay for a bit." The words weren’t questioning. He needed Vince. Vince would stay. A given, even if expected in gratitude. 

Vince looked down at him, taking in the sprawl of his body as it contrasted with the heat of his determined expression. Nodding gently, he stood and removed his jacket. He walked over to sit in the side chair. The silence yawned forth as they both settled into the comfort of just being in the presence of the other. Stuart found himself drifting in amazement of the clarity of his mind. The alcohol was still in his system but it wasn’t deterring his thoughts. He could see so clearly as he looked Vince’s way. His friend sat there barely able to stop from fidgeting, looking all vexed and anxious. "Hmm. Vince, you never answered my question."

With a lift of his eyebrow Vince asked, "What question?"

"Tell me your fantasy, Vince."

"I will not." Stuart watched as Vince shook his head, staring down at his lap to avoid looking his way. The topic of fantasies had been running in and through their brief periods of conversation all night. That is when they weren’t dancing or drinking in needed distraction. Stuart was to blame for the topic. He’d wanted to not think of his worries, deciding that drawing Vince out into admitting a little of his wild side would prove pleasing to his mood. He’d had to give his friend credit, though. No matter how he’d strained to get an answer, nothing he said breached the armor of Vince’s sense of self-defense. He’d whispered his own dreams into the man’s ear on the dance floor, throwing in bits of fact and loads of what-ifs and still Vince hadn’t answered.

Stuart was not a fool. He knew that ultimately he was Vince’s fantasy. Had known for years. Having Cameron throw it in his face hadn’t been a revelation, only a confirmation that even people outside their inner circle knew the depth of Vince’s desire for him. The knowledge of that need had proved a comfort over time. Avoiding while skirting the line . . . the topic there between them but never spoken. Perhaps Vince was as scared of the words as Stuart had always been. It would change the only known permanence in his life . . . their lives. And yet, now when he faced the loss of control in his own world . . . Stuart wanted so much to hear the words at last. 

After all, this was proving the week for speaking the truth . . . voicing the secrets of one’s heart.

"Oh come on, Vince. You don’t have to tell me who . . . just how." At his friend’s continued stubborn silence, Stuart complained. "Don’t be a prat. I told you mine."

Vince released a snort in response. "Bloody hell, Stuart. Your whole life is one big fantasy. Where’s that leave the rest of us folk?"

Frowning at that, Stuart pulled himself up right. "That’s what I’m trying to ask you, you twat. We always talk about shagging, but we never really talk about what we want. It’s all ‘I had him,’ or ‘He was such a wanker.’ Shag-war stories, time and again." Pulling his legs up onto the sofa, Stuart sighed. "I just wanted to know more about how you . . . I don’t know. What you would like."

Vince shook his head, wondering how the night ended up being about him all of a sudden. "What do you want me to say? You want me to tell you what I dream about, right. Being kidnapped and having to service my captor. Being rescued from the hands of death and showing my gratitude. Being left tied up as I am teased to tears by some unknown bloke. Being made to come without being touched. Being made to play ‘boy’ to his ‘Sir.’ Is that the kinda thing you want to hear?"

Swallowing harshly before answering, Stuart brought his hands up to run them over his face. Drawing his legs closer to his torso to better conceal the effect of Vince’s words, he answered quietly. "It depends. Is all that true?"

Vince glanced back down to the floor. After a moment he nodded. Stuart bit his lip as he contemplated what his friend had actually revealed to him. Being taken. Made to serve. Being tied up. Being commanded. Being teased and controlled. Welcoming submission . . . 

"Vince. Have you ever played those games?"

Vince looked back up to him, arching his brow before answering. "Hmm. Not really. I had one bloke that wanted to . . . wanted me to play sex slave, but he wasn’t the most trustworthy bloke by the looks. Never got that far."

"So your fantasy is to be dominated." At Vince’s beginning protest, Stuart interrupted. "Think about it, Vince. All those scenarios you just mentioned. They all contain aspects of submission. Of giving up control to someone you can trust."

Vince opened his mouth then closed it as he thought about what Stuart was saying. His friend could virtually see the wheels of Vince’s mind turning. It made him smile. Finally, Vince cleared his throat and sighed. "I guess you’re right. The idea is more than incredibly hot. But what’s the point?"

"Meaning?"

"There’s no one I trust enough to play with like that. No one who’d want me like that."

Feeling suddenly very sober, Stuart stood up and crossed to Vince’s side. He crouched down to his friend’s level before speaking. "What about me?"

"Um . . . I. Wha . . . what do you mean?"

Seeing Vince gripping the arms of the chair, Stuart sat up on his knees so that they were head to head. Placing his hand over Vince’s tensed grip, he said gently, "Do you trust me enough for that?"

Vince seemed almost transfixed by the glide of Stuart’s fingers over his own. He didn’t answer the question until Stuart fiercely encircled his wrist in a tight grasp. Meeting Stuart’s gaze warily, he spoke. "I . . . Stuart. Why are you asking me that? You don’t . . . I mean we’re not in . . . We haven’t ever . . ."

His stumbling words were quickly cute off when Stuart suddenly pulled Vince’s imprisoned hand forward to within reach of his mouth. Holding his friend’s eyes captured with his own, Stuart leaned in and slowly licked up the line of Vince’s inner arm from wrist to elbow. The motion brought him within breathing distance of Vince’s lips. When next he spoke, Stuart’s entire field of vision was Vince’s startled eyes. "Answer the question, Vince. It’s not a matter of what we aren’t or haven’t been in the past. I want to know. Do you trust me enough to give yourself over? Yes or no."

Stuart could tell that Vince’s expression was a blend of confusion, doubt and not a little bit of need. The want in his eyes was breathtaking. Closing his eyes before answering, Vince found the courage to answer. "Yes. But I . . ."

Quickly covering Vince’s mouth with his own, Stuart kissed him possessively. He held Vince to him by his other hand resting firmly on the back of his friend’s neck, not letting him move in any way except forward into their embrace. At the sound of Vince’s moan, Stuart guided his tongue into Vince’s mouth. Tasting him . . . tasting his friend for the first time having only ever pressed his lips quickly against Vince’s in the past, was more intoxicating than anything they’d had to drink that night. Stuart growled low in his chest as he felt the answering thrust of Vince’s own tongue into his mouth. 

Moaning at the touch, Stuart moved back before he lost himself in the moment and pulled Vince to the floor. No, Vince deserved better. They both did. Hearing Vince’s answering groan at the loss of contact, Stuart murmured, "Shh. Vince, shh. Open your eyes." Once he had, Stuart grinned. "Oh yesss, Vince. The way you look at me."

Vince unconsciously leaned back into the continued press of Stuart’s hand behind his head. Licking his lips before managing to speak, he asked quietly. "A question. Why? Why me? And why finally now?"

Grinning for a moment, Stuart teased. "Wasn’t that three?" At Vince’s confused look, he laughed. "Three questions, Vince. Does that mean I get to pick which one to answer?" He knew a moment of guilt when Vince ducked his gaze, instead of sharing in the humor. Using the same commanding tone he’d begun this with, Stuart said, "Eyes up, Vince. You don’t have permission to turn away from this." Vince jerked his head back up, the surprise evident on his face. "Why – because we both need this. You want to know what it’s like to submit. I want to know what it’s like to have you submit to me." Stuart took in the fire that flinted across his friend’s eyes at those words. "Why you – because you’re gorgeous and enticing. Everything that happens to you shines across your face, your skin. Every blush and every sadness glows through you. Because I want you." Threading his fingers through the short hairs at the nape of Vince’s neck, Stuart continued in a hushed deep tone. "And finally why now – because I need you so badly. Everything in my life is slipping out of control. You are my touchstone, Vince." Moving in, Stuart spoke his next words with his lips pressed gently against Vince’s own. "I want to make you fly, knowing that I’m the one who gave that to you."

Using a voice thickened by desire, Vince asked, "You’ve done this before, yes?"

"Yes."

"How do we . . . umm?"

Smiling again at Vince’s naivete, Stuart spoke. "Terms, Vince. I lay them out. You either agree or say no." Pulling back, Stuart stood up beside Vince. He wanted to impose his strength of will from the beginning in order to make Vince’s submission easier for them both. "First, you’re mine to play with as I so choose. In every way. I’m not into pain. I will not hurt you. If you find our play too intense and you want to stop, you’ll say your safe word. Second, from the time we start until I tell you we are finished . . . you will address me as ‘Sir’ unless I give you permission for anything else. This isn’t about humor or awkwardness, Vince. It’s a sign of your respect for your Dom. And third, to answer the question you cannot find the courage to ask . . . you will love every moment, you will find yourself lost to it . . . in me and you will not want it to end. That given . . . when at last our scene has been played I will give you my greatest fantasy in return. Namely I’ll play sub to your ‘Mr. Tyler.’"

"Oh my God." Vince’s voice escaped in a gasp. 

Retaining his calm façade despite the rush of emotion in his body, Stuart asked Vince for his answer. "Yes or no?"

Vince briefly closed his eyes again to the enormity of his decision. Finding the center of his own heart, Vince opened his eyes to Stuart and breathed his answer longingly. "Yes, sir."

Releasing a small breath of his own, Stuart tried not to burst from the triumph he was feeling . . . for them both. They were going to cross the self-imposed boundary that outlined their lives and curtailed how they responded to each other in any situation. "There’s no questioning my orders, Vince. I say to do something, you get it done quickly and without argument. Is that understood, boy?"

With a slight waver in his voice, Vince answered. "Yes, sir."

Stuart stepped back a distance. "Kneel down before me, back straight and head down." He watched as Vince slowly managed to draw himself out of the chair and down to the floor. His movements held a sense of unreality to them, as if he might be lost in the wonder of a dream. Once settled, Vince awaited Stuart’s next words relatively without movement . . . though his need to respond radiated from the surpressed energy of his body. "Close your eyes. Now, on the count of three . . . I don’t want you to think. I just want your gut reaction. This isn’t about decisions, Vince. On the count of three . . . One. I want you to tell me . . . Two. Your safeword . . . Three."

"Paul McGann." Vince’s whispered words echoed through the air that surrounded them. He immediately seemed to regret his choice, opening his eyes and almost rising out of position. 

"Stay put, Vince. That’s an order." Stuart waited until his friend settled back on his knees, watching the bright red flush touch his cheeks and sweep rapidly down his throat. "You turn the most adorable colors when you’re embarrassed, boy." Stuart moved over to crouch once more at Vince’s side. "It’s a good safe word. Something that you don’t say often." He smiled before continuing, "But a word that is intimately related to you personally." Besides, he thought, it’ll make the next run down of Dr. Who’s more than a relative hoot. "Nice choice over all." He leaned in and traced the line of his sub’s ear with his next words, "You’ve pleased me. That’s a good boy."

The low huskiness of Stuart’s voice sent a visible shiver down Vince’s spine. Biting back a wicked smile, Stuart rose to his feet. "Stand up. Now walk over to the stairs." He followed Vince’s stride across the flat. Coming to stop before the first step, Stuart continued. "Face me and take off your cloths." At his friend’s sudden lift of the head, Stuart tisked playfully. "Do it now, boy. Slowly. I want to enjoy the view." 

Vince kicked off his shoes, looking all together torn by a mix of just-get-it-over-with and oh-my-god-I’m-stripping-for-Stuart-this-is-real emotions. He managed to reign in his nervousness and deep arousal enough to work the buttons through the holes of his shirt. Letting is drop to the floor, he slowly ran his hands over the metal of his belt . . . creating an sensuous picture as he worked the leather open before drawing his zipper down. Guiding the material down his legs, Vince stood up again . . . the outline of his hardened cock more than evident through the cotton of his black boxers. The contrast of the darkness against the white of his skin was extraordinary. His hands seemed finally to hesitate at the waistband.

Knowing that Vince was probably second guessing their decision, probably asking himself if this was really gonna turn out to be some elaborate prank . . . Stuart commanded in a harsher tone, "All of it. Your Dom wants to see how hot he’s made you." With a small whimper, Vince pulled his underwear off. His cock stood hard against his body, angled up as the blood continued to flow through his length. A length that was impressive, made more so by the darkened curls and smooth balls . . . drawing Stuart’s full attention and making his mouth feel suddenly dry with desire. Giving in momentarily to his own need, Stuart quickly pulled Vince against his body . . . kissing him forcefully, swallowing both their groans at the full-on contact of Vince’s naked body pressing against Stuart’s clothed form. 

Reluctantly drawing back again, Stuart took a deep breath. He’d had to capture Vince’s hands behind his back in order to stop his friend from driving him crazy with a touch. Now they stood chest to chest, Vince’s arms still trapped and his eyes slightly unfocused. Stuart needed space in order to continue the scene. 

Stepping away, he ordered, "Go upstairs to my bath. Fill the tub with warm water and put some of the bath beads in the tub. The brown ones. Get in and wait for me. I want you relaxed but aroused. You can stroke yourself but no coming. Just remember your body belongs to me now." Gazing into Vince’s widening eyes, Stuart inclined his head so that Vince would actually get that he was supposed to respond to the hypnotizing murmur of his Dom’s command . . . not just stand there in shock. After a moment Vince turned and slowly ascended the steps, Stuart watching the curves of his arse the entire way.

Biting his lip against the wave of heat that swept his body, Stuart made to follow . . . gathering needed implements as he walked around his upstairs bedroom. He changed the sheets on the bed to his best black silk, lighting spiced candles to add to the seductive atmosphere. He’d turned off the downstairs lights, finding the warm glow of the flames a satisfying blend with the soft light of his bed side lamps. He knew the sheets would probably be ruined, but he didn’t give a shit. Vince deserved the luxury. Besides, seeing his paleness spread submissively over and against them would be more than worth the loss.

After placing several items on the side table, Stuart took off his own clothes. He pulled on his favorite styled black silk underwear, eyeing his reflection in the mirrors that stood against the wall opposite the bed. Very nice indeed. He removed his silver watch and rings, leaving on the bracelet that matched Vince’s. Stuart had given them as gifts several years back and he liked the idea of having them be the only adornment from their past that would be allowed to remain during their play. Finally when all was prepared, Stuart went to join Vince in the bath.

Stuart entered the large room silently, not wanting to disrupt the activity that might be occurring per his earlier instructions. He found his friend lying back in the jacuzzi with the swirl of jetting water harboring his nervous body. Vince had his head thrown back and eyes closed, beads of water trailing tantalizingly down the length of his neck and chest . . . followed by the slow sweep of his own fingers as they teased the hard nibs of his nipples. He would trail his touch over his skin then stop off a brief moment, shaking his head as though trying to awaken himself from a dream before begin the gliding tease once more. This pattern repeated more than once. Vince seemed to purposefully avoid guiding his other hand down to his cock under the water. He rested his free arm along the side of the tub.

Noticing that Vince had removed all of his jewelry as well, Stuart quietly retrieved the matching bracelet from beside the basin. His steps covered by the rumble of the jets, he startled his friend by encircling the out-stretched wrist firmly. Vince opened his eyes in surprise, their china depths awashed with something akin to the tumult of a stormy blue sea. He opened his mouth to speak, forgetting for a moment that he wasn’t allowed to talk unless given permission but was forestalled by Stuart’s murmured, "Shhhh, Vince. You’re not allowed to think, only to feel. To submit fully to my will and respond solely to my touch. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Pleased by the gruffness of Vince’s tone, Stuart lifted the captured wrist to his lips. He traced the line of the inner surface with his tongue, turning the arm so that he could completely circle the base of Vince’s hand. He felt the jump of his friend’s heartbeat through the rapid pulse as he pressed a final kiss to the sensitive skin. Drawing back, Stuart replaced the silver bracelet on Vince’s wrist. "I gave this to you originally as a symbol of our connection to each other. I’m returning it to you as a sign of my acceptance of your submission. You belong to me Vince . . . and this is never to leave your wrist again. Swear it." 

Vince barely managed to speak around the knot in his throat, his reply an expression of his deepest need. "I’ve always been yours, sir. I swear to never take it off again."

The wonder of this exchange was not lost on Stuart. He knew that they were both admitting and accepting the most intense of their emotions. They were becoming more than they’d ever hoped they could be . . . partners in friendship, passion and love. Stuart was left feeling more hopeful and possessive than he’d ever been. He was not going to fuck up this gift. He’d lose part of his own soul without Vince in his life. "This isn’t about just tonight, Vince." He brought their silver encompassed wrists together, clasping Vince’s hand in his own. "This is everything."

Vince smiled softly, happiness mixing with desire.

Stuart held on for a time before moving back. He shucked his shorts before joining Vince in the bath. He pushed Vince’s out-stretched arms back until they rested along the sides of the tub, pressing down on the limbs to indicate that they weren’t supposed to be moved. Vince gripped the edge as Stuart spread his thighs, making him sit with legs open and drawn up bent at the knees . . . exposing everything to his touch. Rising onto his own knees between Vince’s thighs, Stuart reached forward to take full possession of his lover’s mouth. The kiss was not gentle, filled with the ferocity of his long held desire to taste his friend. He loved the feel of Vince’s moans against his lips, the glide of their tongues as they played and the mixture of Vince’s scent with the spice of the bath oils. Not breaking their kiss, Stuart drew his hands down Vince's chest . . . groaning lightly at the rasp of the man’s hard nibs against his palm, the brush of the light tuft of hair between the man’s breasts and the silky softness of Vince’s stomach as the muscles jumped in excitement at the pressure of his hands traveling along Vince’s abdomen. 

Pulling back from the heaven of Vince’s mouth, Stuart chuckled. "And you thought you couldn’t kiss . . . hell. You snog like a wet-dream made flesh." He moved forward to devour the line of Vince’s throat while bringing his hands to rest against the inner surface of each of Vince’s thighs. Running his hands up and down in a matching rhythm with his tongue on his neck, Stuart absorbed the chorus of Vince’s gasps and small-frustrated cries. He knew that his friend wanted to touch him in return, wanted Stuart to move down to touch his cock . . . but that would all come with time. Removing his hands, Stuart commanded, "Stand up."

Once Vince had managed to stand up right on shaky legs, Stuart had a front row seat to the beauty of the cock before him. Darkened with desire, it drew him forward. Knowing that he was being cruel to make them both wait, Stuart didn’t actually take Vince into his mouth. He didn’t even take cock in hand. Instead, he blew a warm trail of breath along it’s length from base to tip. At Vince’s groan, Stuart stood. He left the tub, indicating that Vince should too. Handing him a towel, Stuart told Vince to dry him then himself. No teasing or touching beyond what was necessary for them both to be dry. Seeing the disappointment and frustration in Vince’s face, Stuart bit back an evil grin. It’s not as if he remained unaffected by Vince’s hands as they trailed the soft towel over his skin, indeed his cock was arching full up with the coursing of his own need. But he knew that if he could continue to draw out their play, then he’d truly be able to blow Vince’s mind. Not to mention his own.

"Bedroom, boy. Hands behind your back." Following Vince into the next room, Stuart indicated with the inclination of his head that they weren’t headed for the bed. He grinned as Vince reluctantly turned his eyes from the decadence of the bed . . . taking in all the changes Stuart had made to set the mood. As he stood awashed in the warm flickering glow of the candle-lit room, Vince clasped his hands tighter at his back – trying not to embrace Stuart for his thoughtfulness. Appreciative of Vince’s attempt of self discipline, Stuart told him to lay down on the leather message table in the corner. He’d not had it long, but the table would prove most beneficial to his plans this evening.

"On your stomach, Vince. Grip the bars. No matter what I do, you are not allowed to turn loose." The picture his friend presented draped across the leather, pale skin against black, was enough to make him bite at his own lip again to keep from moaning at his body’s quickened response. He traced his hands fully down the line of Vince’s back, over his arse and down the backs of his legs. Hearing the murmur of Vince’s reaction, Stuart shushed him. "We’re just getting started." Picking up a small jar, Stuart leaned in and poured a tiny amount of the spiced oil onto Vince’s back. He felt as well as heard his friend’s gasp through the contact of his hands sliding firmly over Vince’s flesh, messaging the oil deeply into his pours. His talented touch traveled the full expanse of Vince’s torso, coming to his arse with teasing circular strokes that had Vince whimpering as his hips moved restlessly upwards to draw out the erotic sensations. Just as Vince was about to buck back in a demand that Stuart end the torment, Stuart withdrew his hands to start once more at his friend’s feet. Stuart continued to work the oil into Vince’s body, leaving the skin warmed – laxed – and covered in a light sheen. He didn’t want Vince to be too slick to hold onto, so he used the oil sparsely so that they would be able to glide against each other with a delicious friction. Feeling a sense of pride that Vince had remember his instructions enough not to let go of the table legs, Stuart slapped his firmly on the backside and said, "Time to turn over."

Vince rolled slowly over onto his back. His face was beautiful in its raptured abandon. He truly seemed to be radiating with need, with trust. And with love . . . it shone from his widened eyes with such a light that Stuart had to catch his breath at the intensity. Pouring more oil into his palms, Stuart warmed it before working up the line of each of Vince's legs. He purposefully avoided the man’s groin, paying close attention to the inner thighs before moving to his hips and abdomen. His touch was causing Vince to breath heavily, his chest rising and falling in rapid pants. Stuart trailed his hands to just under Vince’s upper chest. Bending forward, he licked the hardened nipples . . . taking each into his mouth in turn. He sucked and gently teased them with his lips and teeth, feeling the jerk of Vince’s lust filled body as he moaned out loud. At the sound, Stuart drew back to continue the message over his friend’s breasts and down his arms. Finally coming to a stop with their fingers intertwined on both hands, Stuart kissed Vince as reward for good behavior.

"That’s my good boy, Vince. You’re doing very well. Now, who do you belong to?"

In a voice made harsh with desire and wonder, Vince answered. "To you, sir. I belong to you."

"Yes, you do. You are so fucking hot like this, Vince. Jeez." He pulled Vince up off the table, pushing him over to the bed. His own need was making him restless for more, his cock aching . . . the fullness a pleasant torment. He pressed Vince back on the bed, rising his friend’s hands above their heads . . . tying them to the bed frame with silk scarves. He made sure that Vince wasn’t uncomfortable, that the ties weren’t biting into the man’s wrists before straddling Vince’s slim hips. "I like seeing you tied to my bed. It could be addictive." Reaching back, Stuart pulled Vince’s cock up along the cleft of his own arse. He watched Vince’s face as he cried out, feeling his cock being fucked between those smooth firm cheeks. Stuart circled his hips as he felt Vince thrust up against his behind, moaning in unison with his lover at the feel . . . the tease of what lay in their future.

Stuart abruptly stopped moving. He ran his hands up Vince’s chest until he captured his friend’s head. He played along the willing line of Vince’s mouth, licking the edges and dipping into it’s sensuous depths. Moaning into Vince’s mouth, Stuart began stroking along his tongue. As they continued to kiss, he reached down and skimmed his fingers over the bud of Vince’s opening. He growled in a low tone as Vince arched bodily into the touch. Making pleading sounds against his Dom’s mouth, Vince continued to press into the stimuli of those fingers. Stuart drew away with a command, "Tell me, Vince. Tell me what you want."

"I want . . . I need you to take me. Please, sir. Let me feel your cock inside me. Please." The pleas continued to flow as Stuart opened the lube he’d placed beside them on the bed. Pressing into the heat of Vince’s body with a determined glide, he prepared his friend. He knew that if he didn’t finish this soon, they’d both be at a point of no return. Stroking over the gland of Vince’s prostate, he groaned in chorus to Vince’s cry of encouragement. 

When at last he felt Vince’s body relax enough to accept him fully, Stuart eased forward between his outstretched thighs - pressing the tip of his covered cock into Vince’s body. "Oh yeah, Vince. In we go . . . shit. So good. That’s it. Almost there. Awww." Being fully enveloped by the tight sheath of Vince’s body, Stuart clenched his jaw as he fought to concentrate completely on the moment. Vince gasped loudly as his body accepted Stuart’s entrance. Pulling his friend’s legs over his shoulders, Stuart bore down until he was completely seated within Vince’s arse. Resting for a moment with his forehead against his friend’s knee, Stuart took a deep breath . . . feeling the tightening clasp of Vince’s muscles as the man teased him with the only weapon left to his disposal in his helpless position. 

"Sir?"

Meeting Vince’s half closed eyes, Stuart smiled evilly. "I’m gonna fuck you so good, you’ll feel it for the rest of your life." 

"Oh my god, yes. Sir, please." His next plea turned into a cry as Stuart began thrusting into his body with a fiercely possessive rhythm. Moving forward into him . . . rocking his hips hotly, driving in then out . . . Stuart gripped Vince’s hips as the intensity built. So good, oh fuck. It was so good. Leaning down, Stuart broke stride temporarily to kiss Vince . . . laughing as his lover moved against him trying to make Stuart fuck him into oblivion. 

Speaking into Vince’s eager kiss, Stuart asked, "What is it, boy? You want something? Having my cock in you not enough . . . what more do you need?"

"Please, sir. Touch me, please. Oh Stuart, move for fuck’s sake." 

Laughing at Vince’s break from his submissive role, Stuart teased him. "Tisk tisk, Vince. That’s no way to speak to your Dom." Whispering into Vince’s ear, Stuart murmured breathlessly. "Now you have to be punished."

"Oh shit. Oh shit . . . no! Sir, please no." Vince strained towards Stuart as he withdrew from his body. Surprise, shock and desperation . . . each emotion vividly shown in Vince’s face. His breaths were a continuous stream of "Come back. Sir please. I . . . please."

Stuart pushed down his own desire to give in to Vince’s pleas. Quickly settling beside him, Stuart physically flipped Vince over onto his stomach. The movement made Vince’s wrists cross but allowed him to draw his upper body up on his elbows as Stuart told him to rise up on his knees . . . legs fully spread. Hypnotized by the wantonness of Vince’s bodily display, Stuart soothed his hands over the round cheeks. "Remember, Vince. I’m not into pain, but you’ve been a willful little sub. And these cheeks will look dead-gorgeous with some color."

"What . . ." 

Vince’s question was cut abruptly short by the loud smack of Stuart’s hand against his arse. The blows continued to rain down in quick hot secession, never meant to hurt only to heat his flesh. Moaning, Vince soon found himself swaying back into each slap of Stuart’s hand. The warmth of his arse transmitted through his entire body until he collapsed his arms, bending down submissively against the bed with only his arse still raised up for his Dom’s pleasure. Whispering raggedly, "Please, sir. Please more," Vince begged for Stuart to finish what they’d begun.

Running his hand soothingly over the hot surface of Vince’s behind, Stuart leaned in to run his tongue over the curve of each cheek. "So responsive." Lifting back up, Stuart rose up behind him on his knees. He added more lube to his cock before pulling him close and reentering his body. So perfect, the feel of him. The fire of Vince’s skin against his own and the friction, the erotic pleasure of being held inside him. Muttering his friend’s name, Stuart began to shag Vince with all the surpressed passion he’d held inside now set free.

Time narrowed to the touch of their bodies, eons encapsulated in a moment and still they moved together. Stuart reached under Vince’s body, stroking his lover’s cock in time to his own thrusts. He bit into the curve where Vince’s neck met with his shoulder as the sweat slid down their skin, their bodies moving rapidly towards the caprice. Jerking against Vince’s back, Stuart growled out his name as he felt the answering shudders of Vince’s climax. Both men fell down to the bed, each feeling the sensation of the silk against their sensitive lust-blown bodies. Stuart idly ran his hand over the soft bristles of Vince’s hair, rubbing his own curls over the back of his lover’s neck. "Lover, mine."

Sighing in this moment of bliss Vince answered, "Lover, yours."

Vince smiled as he felt Stuart’s grin against his back. Stuart reached up and released his hands, rubbing them to help with the prickle of returning circulation. With a moan, Stuart eased back from the haven of Vince’s body . . . removing their protection and drawing his lover around into his arms. Each man resting on their sides as they lay with legs still entwined and arms lazily traveling over their sides. For the longest time, each gazed into the wonder-filled expression of their mate . . . for truly this had been a mating, a claiming of each other’s soul.

"Thank you, Stuart."

Smiling even wider, Stuart answered. "My pleasure, Vince. In every way."

"It was . . . god. It was bloody fabulous. Only one thing will make it better."

Frowning slightly as he pulled Vince closer, Stuart asked, "What else do you need?"

"Uh umm. It’s not what I need, Stuart. It’s what you need."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that ‘Mr. Tyler’ thinks it’s way past time for his sub boy to come out and play…"

"Oh my god. I’ve created a monster."

"Yeah but I’m your monster." With a surprising flip, Vince had Stuart on his back in seconds - his weight baring down on his lover’s body. "And now, boy . . . you’re mine."

Finis

{{Challenge – Okay, I braved the story along this far. And I know I’m not the only fan who’d love to see Vince taking charge of Stuart during sex . . . so the challenge is for you to try your hand at "Mr. Tyler" and his "boy," Stuart. I’d be thrilled to see the results. THUD!!!}}


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