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Apr 19, 2019 10:20 AM
In Which Being A Member Of The Cult Of Bacchus Is Bad For Your Marriage Prospects
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"If we went back to my place you could get loud. My servants are very discreet."

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He wants that so badly — Ashley could tie him up properly, it would be so good — 

"I shouldn't," he says, and it sounds mostly like he's trying to convince himself. 

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Ashley jerks him off once, twice, three times, and says, "you don't have to if you don't want to."

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"I," gasp, "want to, I just, shouldn't —" 

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Ashley's hand eases up on Lindsay's throat so that it's only a calm presence, a reminder of what he can do. His other hand is teasing between Lindsay's legs.

"We can stop right now," Asher says into his ear. "You can smooth down your dress and we can go back to that boring, boring ball and you can touch yourself tonight thinking about what I'd feel like inside you--"

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"Or," gasp, "or we could not —"

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"That's what I like to hear," Ashley says. "My house is not far. I walked."

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He pauses to catch his breath, smoothes down his dress and follows. 

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When they get far enough away from the party that no gossipy matrons will see, Ashley scoops up Lindsay in his arms and carries him.

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Oh gods — lots of people can pick Lindsay up if they try, but Ashley's hold is — good. Very good. 

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Then in two blocks they can be at Ashley's house and Lindsay can be thrown on the bed and very thoroughly kissed.

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Oh good. 

He presses his hips up into Ashley's body, arches his back and lets his eyes close. 

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"Take off your dress for me. Prettily, please."

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He takes off his shoes and dress and stays, very slowly, very pretty about it; leaves his stockings and nothing else. 

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Ashley is watching him intently and possessively, like Lindsay is a thing he's bought and he wants to see whether he's got his money worth.

"You're lovely. Good boy. Lie down on the bed."

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He moans, just a little, at the praise, and lays himself out on Ashley's bed. 

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Ashley looks at Lindsay for a moment like he's thinking about something. Then he gets out some rope and ties Lindsay spreadeagle to the bed. The rope is very, very soft.

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He goes so, so relaxed, with a tiny little blissed-out smile. His eyes are closed. 

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Ashley slaps him. "Pretty boy," he says, "I'm going to take my time with you."

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The smile spreads across his face. 

"Thank you, sir." 

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Then Ashley will slap him again and put his fingers to Lindsay's lips.

"Suck."

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He does. 

Lindsay is good at this, Ashley might notice — he looks up at Ashley through his eyelashes, moans prettily around Ashley's fingers. 

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Ashley does! It does not surprise him, because he expects Lindsay to be experienced.

Lindsay might notice that, unlike the subs he's slept with, Ashley doesn't slip into submissive body language when his fingers are sucked. Ashley's moaning and biting his lip, but his muscles are tense with coiled power and his fingers explore Lindsay's mouth like it unquestionably belongs to him. 

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The Society has plenty of people who could go either way, but this is — Ashley is — he moans again and sucks on Ashley's fingers more enthusiastically. 

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Ashley pulls Lindsay's hair hard while he sucks on his fingers.

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