A New Deal
It's been a year since Clark and Daniel found one another in Hearts Under Fire, and the bartender and the professor have found harmony. However, Clark's work for Lucian Gray, the New Amsterdam Mayor's son and leader of an underground vigilante network, still continues, and it's not without danger. Clark knows it's only a matter of time before the risks become too great for Daniel to bear, and his prediction comes true when a BDSM scene turns into a captive discussion. Find out what happens when the men must balance life's passion with true love.
Rough denim rubbed against Maxwell Clark’s lips, and he mouthed the hardening cock he could feel beneath the fabric. Clark kept his hands behind his back at his lover’s instruction, grip digging into the flesh above his elbows. Fingers raked through Clark’s hair and tightened in warning. His lover didn’t actually say stop, however, and Clark dragged his teeth along the thick line straining the front of Daniel Germain’s jeans.
Buttons popped and clattered to the floor as Daniel ripped open his dress shirt. “Damnit, Clark, when I asked you to wait for me on your knees, this isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
Clark chuckled, and Daniel groaned as Clark dug deeper, the jeans growing damp. Daniel tugged again at Clark’s hair, twisting just the way Clark liked. “Though I do love your sense of initiative,” Daniel murmured, and he let go of Clark to rip apart his cuffs.
“Just keeping myself occupied in full service capacity, Sir,” Clark said around a smile, while Daniel impatiently shrugged out of confining work clothes. Clark had lost his shirt, shoes, and socks on the way up the stairs after the dinner that had led to a brief negotiation of the games that would serve as a damned fine dessert. He expected his pants would follow in short order, and impatience swirled beneath the knowledge of protocols to observe and procedures to follow. Daniel didn’t like to wander too far from the outlined beating path.
Still, it didn’t hurt to hurry some of the details along, and Daniel wasn’t exactly complaining. Clark caught the tongue of Daniel’s belt between his teeth and yanked it to the side to undo it. Warm hands fell to Clark’s shoulders, and Daniel’s legs spread for balance. “You do have a talented mouth, love,” Daniel said. “Finish and then stand for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” Clark answered with a glance up at deep blue eyes that grew darker while Clark worked the belt’s bar out of a worn notch. He grasped one end and slid it until the belt came apart with a quiet clink. Daniel rubbed Clark’s nape, and Clark sighed, kissing tanned skin above the button of Daniel’s fly. So simple, now, to fall into the web of safety that Daniel wove, and Clark allowed his world to narrow to the task. One undone pair of jeans later, and Clark rose. He kept his gaze on Daniel’s lips, his arms crossed at the small of his back, and thoughts of what was to come—and who, and when, and how—made his cock fill further.
Slender fingers cradled Clark’s jaw and rubbed with the grain of stubble. Daniel kissed him, a slow mesh of mouths that invited as well as invaded, and their tongues tangled. “Mm, perfect, Clark,” Daniel said, smile hungry. Daniel’s greed and want got translated through eager caresses over Clark’s chest and belly. Firm thumbs flicked against the nubs of Clark’s nipples, and Clark curled his toes into the nap of the rug covering the floor beneath their bed. It became a struggle to stay still, and even more difficult to keep his hands to himself. Daniel made a delightfully arrogant sound and yanked Clark closer by the belt loops, one hand stroking Clark’s erection with surprising force.
“Nn— oh,” Clark gasped, and he leaned into Daniel. Daniel caught him, and Clark pitched his hips into the friction. For approximately the millionth time in the relationship he and Daniel had built over the last year, Clark wanted to forget the Scene shit and just fuck. Top, bottom, sideways, or all of the above—so long as Clark got Daniel, he didn’t care how it happened.
“Want you, Sir,” Clark whispered, daring to nibble the place on Daniel’s throat that made Daniel moan and writhe when enough pressure was applied.
“Want you, too,” Daniel growled and yanked at Clark’s fly. He impatiently pulled Clark’s pants and boxers down, and Clark weaved unsteadily. Daniel snaked one arm around Clark’s waist and pried Clark’s heels from the cloth with his free hand. “Should have just cuffed your ankles with these.” The tone was rough grit, but the caress to the backs of Clark’s legs as Daniel straightened was gentle silk.
“And let some of the toys I gathered and dragged up here go to waste?” Clark asked, tipping his head toward the box of restraints and gear he’d fetched from the room they’d converted into a dungeon just after they moved into the townhouse. “Wouldn’t be worthy of you, Sir.”