“Uh-huh. Please don’t stop!” Jeff let out another noise that sounded like a cross between misery and an orgasm.
“If it’s too intense,” Nate said, “let me know.” He adjusted another pressure cup on Jeff’s right shoulder.
“No, it’s great,” Jeff said. “Seriously.”
Jeff now had six of the cups on his shoulders, three on each side, each one with an acupressure pointer in it.
“Once I see how you tolerate this,” Nate said, “we can maybe try fire cupping next time. But we can’t do that on a bed for safety reasons. I’d bring in my massage table and we’d do you in the living room or on the lanai. Someplace with tile floors, preferably.”
Emma and Grace watched from where they sat perched on the end of the bed. “That’s really cool,” Emma said. “I know all of us on the swim team were watching the reports about Michael Phelps at the Rio Olympics getting that done. Is that hard to learn how to do?”
“Well, it’s not rocket science,” Nate said. “To do it therapeutically, it does take some study. I mean, you can buy a kit yourself and learn how to do it. The kits are less than a hundred dollars. I do not recommend trying fire cupping without getting properly trained first. You can seriously hurt someone if you don’t know what you’re doing. But, sure, with the pressure cups there’s not the same risk. You just put them where they will give him the most relief for whatever it is you’re trying to help.”
Jeff let out a long, low moan as Nate placed another cup, this time lower on Jeff’s back, to the left of his spine.
“That is sooo good,” Jeff mumbled into the bed. “Seriously good.”
“Happy to help. I wish you’d called me in sooner. Like I tell one of my other stubborn friends, who is also a client, don’t wait for the pain to get so bad you can’t function. That only makes it harder to recover. You should probably be seeing me at least twice a week right now, as bad off as you are.”
“I didn’t know I was as bad as I am until I couldn’t get out of bed this morning.”
“We have an appointment with his doctor tomorrow,” Brandon said. “I already called off work. I’m driving him. I think he crashed himself yesterday by doing too much out in the yard, then this change of weather on top of that finished him off.”
Brandon sent a pointed glare toward Jeff that he couldn’t see because of his position on the bed, but Brandon let his tone of voice convey it. “With no one else home to stop him because it was Monday, someone thought they could be sneaky and try to do more than they should.”
“That’ll do it,” Nate agreed. “I have quite a few clients with chronic pain conditions who are impacted by weather changes.”
Jeff’s Lyme disease had seemed to be getting better for a while. He’d started with oral medications after he’d collapsed with Bell’s palsy, which had scared the men but finally allowed his Lyme to be diagnosed. Weeks of oral medications hadn’t brought much in the way of improvement, so he’d had several months of IV drug treatment with a PICC line installed, followed by more oral medications.
That’s when Brandon and Stuart put their feet down and told Jeff he would quit working. He couldn’t be a mechanic with a PICC line, anyway, because there was too much risk of him yanking it out accidentally or it getting contaminated or infected from dirt or chemicals.
Brandon had married Jeff, putting him on his insurance so he could still get treatment. Now, their inside joke was that Jeff was their little house slave. He did what he could as he felt up to it, sometimes having to be ordered to bed or the couch by Brandon and Stuart when he tried to do too much.
Now, Jeff was generally better, although he still had residual symptoms. The doctors had warned them it was possible he could have flares from time to time. Every patient was different. There were no magic bullets to knock out Lyme disease. And even then, he might experience residual effects of the disease for the rest of his life.
The other problem being that when Jeff felt good, naturally he tried to do more, instead of taking it easy to nurse the good periods and make them last longer.
He’d tackled yard work yesterday that Brandon had already told him not to do.
Correction, Brandon had ordered him not to do. Combined with a gorgeously cool fall day yesterday—that had turned into a harsher cold front overnight—it was a perfect storm of the bad kind of pain for Jeff today with damp, cold temps in the fifties, practically Arctic weather for Sarasota in early November.
Except Brandon couldn’t punish his stubborn beta slave and husband for overdoing it, because the Lyme disease was doing a damned fine job of that already.
In the bad ways.
Emma, his daughter, and Grace, her girlfriend, both sixteen, seemed entranced by Nate and the cupping procedure. Nate also had his acupuncture kit with him and was going to do some of that to Jeff, as well, once he had the cups in place.
“Did you girls get your homework done?” Brandon asked.
“Yes, sir,” they chimed in unison.
Lowercase S, natch.
“So what’s bothering you besides all of that? You looked like something was on your mind when you got home.”
Stuart tipped his head back. “It’s spooky when you do that.”
He smiled. “It’s a Dom thing. And a dad thing, but I’d prefer calling it a Dom thing with you, because otherwise, that’s borderline creepy. Do you want to tell me, or make me cane it out of you?”
Stuart told Brandon about his phone call that morning from Eileen.
Brandon didn’t respond at first. “I thought we established you wouldn’t go see them alone.”
“I know, Master. I don’t want to go alone. If you can’t go with me, or if you say I can’t go, then that’s it. I won’t argue with you about it.”
Brandon’s sigh sounded weary and heavy. “You want to go, don’t you?”
“It’s…complicated. You and Jeff heard what Mom said when I came out to her. I’m not looking forward to a confrontation with them.”
“I won’t let you go alone.”
Stuart hadn’t seen his family since he’d left Iowa and moved to Florida early in the year, but Jeff and Brandon had literally sat next to him and held his hands as he’d made the call to his mom to tell her he was gay and living with two guys. He’d had it on speaker phone, so Brandon and Jeff had heard every word.
“If you can’t go with me,” Stuart said, “then absolutely not, I won’t go. I don’t want to go alone. I know Jeff can’t go.”
“No, Jeff will not go. I don’t want him traveling this time of year. It’ll likely be cold up there, and I don’t want him trying to defend you if your brother acts like a dickhead.”
“I think I’d have to go after Jake if he tried it. Might even have to go after him if he goes after you.”
“I can take care of myself, buddy.”
Brandon’s left hand slid down Stuart’s ass to hold on, fingers digging in.
Now he knew why Brandon wanted to climb into the shower with him.
Not that he objected.
Brandon’s other hand slid up, cupping the back of Stuart’s head and holding him in place. He slanted his lips over Stuart’s for a long, crushing kiss, both of them softly moaning as their cocks hardened between them.
Like this, Stuart knew the only place he wanted to be was right there, in his Master’s arms.
And Jeff’s, too, of course.
Brandon spun him around, facing the wall, a hand between his shoulder blades to bend him over. His hands skimmed down Stuart’s back, grabbing his hips to grind against his ass.
Brandon leaned in, his lips near Stuart’s left ear. “Yeah, buddy.” His voice practically sounded like a growl. “You know what I want, don’t you?”
Stuart wiggled his ass at Brandon. “Yes, Master.”
“Such a good boy for me. I told Jeff earlier today I’d like a chance to nail you in here and he gave his blessings.” He lightly smacked Stuart’s ass, then reached for the small bottle of lube they kept in the shower just for these kinds of situations.
Stuart arched his back, sticking his ass out for Brandon and spreading his legs wide for access.
“That’s my good boy.”
A soft moan rolled out of Stuart when he felt Brandon’s fingers probing his ass, lubing him, getting him ready. The sweet pinching burn he knew would immediately turn to pleasure once Brandon really got started. Stuart’s cock throbbed, rigid and ready for whatever his Master wanted to do to him.
He felt the thick knob at the end of Brandon’s cock press against his rim and didn’t bother waiting. Stuart rocked back, impaling himself and earning an appreciative grunt from Brandon.
“Damn, boy,” Brandon whispered. “Somebody’s eager to get fucked.”
“Yes, Master. Please?”
Stuart had to brace his hands against the wall to keep from getting his head driven into it. Brandon grabbed his hips and started fucking him, hard and fast, deep, really plowing him the way he enjoyed.
Feeling owned and well-fucked by his Master.
Life had gotten in the way over the past couple of weeks, leaving the three of them with barely any energy to really roll around the way they liked to. And with Jeff in pain, Brandon and Stuart were always careful not to hurt him. Which sometimes meant evenings cuddling in bed instead of fucking each other’s brains out.
Brandon’s balls slapped against Stuart’s ass at the bottom of every thrust, his fingers digging in harder as the man grew closer to release. Every long, deep stroke glided across his gland, pulling Stuart close to the edge but not getting him over tonight.
Finally, Brandon built to a finish, a long, satisfied groan escaping him when he buried his cock deep inside Stuart’s ass one last time, his balls pumping a load of cum deep inside him.
Then Brandon reached around him and fisted his cock. “Make it fast, boy, or I might make you wait until tomorrow night. You already got off once today.” He reached around with his other hand and tugged on Stuart’s balls, the combination quickly finishing him off. It didn’t take more than a few pumps for his cock to explode, hot cum covering Brandon’s hand as his ass clamped down on the cock still buried inside him.
Brandon turned them, leaning against the corner, his arms around Stuart holding him even as Brandon’s softening cock remained inside Stuart’s ass. “Such a good boy.”
Stuart tipped his head back to look up into Brandon’s blue eyes. “Thank you, Master.”
Brandon’s throaty chuckle rumbled through Stuart’s chest. Brandon leaned in to kiss him. “Thank you. Sorry it’s been a few days. Under the circumstances, if you want to ask for permission to masturbate, you can have it.”
Stuart drew Brandon’s arms snugly around him. “No, thank you, Master.”
“Because I’m your good boy.”
Brandon nuzzled Stuart’s ear. “Yes, you are my very good boy.”