Page 55

Lincoln moved without resistance, stepping forward until his chest met the wood. Henry secured his wrists first, then his ankles, spreading him open. Vulnerable. Perfect.

Henry ran his palm over Lincoln’s back, trailing lower, just enough to brush over the butt plug nestled between his cheeks. A deep, satisfied hum rumbled in his chest.

"Green?"

"Yes, Sir."

Henry picked up the flogger, testing its balance before beginning the warm-up. He started light, using the familiar figure-eight pattern, the strands of leather kissing Lincoln’s skin before gliding away. Lincoln twitched under each stroke, the rhythm coaxing him into that hazy space.

Gradually, Henry increased the force, letting the leather snap a little sharper against Lincoln’s ass, against the backs of his thighs. His boy arched into it, chasing the sting. His breath came in quick, shuddering gasps.

Henry paused, taking in the faint pink hue blooming across Lincoln’s skin. He ran a palm over the heat, kneading lightly, feeling the tension thrumming just beneath the surface.

"Ready for more?"

"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir."

Henry discarded the flogger and lifted the cane. He ran his hand over the solid length.

Smooth. Perfect.

He stepped closer, lining up his first strike. A backhanded snap across Lincoln’s left cheek. The crack of cane against skin echoed in the space, and Lincoln jerked and gasped.

Henry gave him a second to absorb the pain, then followed with a forehand stroke on the right.

A second red stripe appeared, symmetrical to the first one.

"Still green?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm going to give you ten."

Henry lifted the cane again. He struck six more times, alternating sides, watching the tremors course through Lincoln’s body. Watching how his boy clenched around the plug.

Henry’s cock twitched with each impact. His boy was beautiful in his surrender as he took everything Henry gave him.

He let the cane fall from his hand and closed the distance in a single step.

Pressing himself against Lincoln’s back, he pinned him against the cross.

Henry slid his hand around Lincoln’s body, the smooth heat of his boy’s skin beneath his palm sending a thrill through him.

He didn’t rush but ghosted his fingertips over Lincoln’s lower abdomen.

Beneath the tips the muscles tightened in anticipation.

When he wrapped his fingers around Lincoln’s cock, the hard length, slick with precum, pulsed against his palm.

He stroked and used his thumb to spread the wetness over the sensitive skin. He glided his palm from base to tip in a deliberate, teasing drag giving it a little twist to heighten the sensation.

The heat of Lincoln’s arousal trapped in his grip, sent a possessive thrill curling low in Henry’s gut.

A strangled sound tore from Lincoln’s throat—half moan, half plea.

Henry smirked, tightening his grip when he reached the base of his shaft.

“Feel good, boy?” he murmured. His voice was thick with satisfaction and lust.

Lincoln’s body sagged against the cross. He was completely at his mercy. And Henry was aware of every sharp inhale and every tiny shudder.

"Yes, Sir."

Henry hummed, dragging his fingers over the flushed head, feeling it jerk in his grasp.

“So responsive,” he murmured, amusement threading his voice. He leaned in, teeth scraping his earlobe, voice dropping into a rough whisper. "Are you getting off on being caned, my filthy boy?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Did you count?"

A pause. "No, Sir."

Henry smirked. "Well, I did. That was eight. And I’m going to make those last two memorable."

Lincoln’s breath hitched. Anticipation rolled off him, thick and electric.

Henry stepped back, reclaiming the cane. He took his time. Made Lincoln wait. Made him feel it before it even happened.

Then—he struck.

Once. Right across the line between Lincoln’s butt and his thighs.

Lincoln cried out, his body jerking forward.

"One," Henry murmured.

He let the sting settle, let the heat burn into his boy’s skin.

Before landing the final stroke. He struck hard and precise, and placed the line perfectly over the first stripe.

Lincoln whimpered, and his body shook.

Henry dropped the cane. He was on Lincoln in seconds, his hands gripping, stroking, soothing. His mouth pressed against the curve of his neck, against the damp skin of his shoulder.

"You took that so well, cuddle-bug."

Lincoln’s breath was uneven, and his body was loose. His submission was absolute.

Henry ran a hand down his back, then lower, teasing the plug as he reached between his boy’s buttocks. He gripped its end and wiggled it lightly.

"You know what’s next." Henry pressed a kiss to the center of Lincoln’s spine.

Lincoln moaned and pressed his ass against his hand, offering everything.

When he stepped away, he slapped Lincoln’s ass playfully. “Don’t go away.”

He made quick work of the laces on his leathers and shoved them aside just enough to free himself. His cock jutted forward. It was hard and aching, and the anticipation was nearly unbearable.

Henry reached for a condom from his back pocket and tore the packet open with his teeth. Although he preferred to go bareback, per club rules protection was mandatory.

He rolled the sheath down his length and indulged himself by stroking up and down a few times. Then, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the side table, drizzling it generously over himself. He slicked the latex with slow, firm strokes.

Lincoln was panting against the cross, and his back was arched in a silent offering. His entire body trembled. The caning left him raw, open, and waiting. Henry’s chest swelled with something dark and possessive.

Returning to the cross, his cock was like a heat seeking missile pointing at Lincoln. His dick knew what it wanted.

He reached between Lincoln’s spread cheeks, and he wrapped his fingers around the base of the plug.

Teasing himself as much as Lincoln, he twisted and pulled before pushing the plug back in, feeling the tight ring of muscle flutter around the intrusion.

He fucked the plug in and out a few times in a deliberate warning of what was to come, before pulling it free with a single, smooth motion.

A low groan rumbled from Lincoln’s throat.

“Patience, my boy.” But Henry didn’t leave him empty for long.

He pressed the slick head of his cock against the entrance, pushing just enough to feel the resistance as it stretched to accommodate his girth. The ring of muscle clenched, trying to deny him for the briefest moment before yielding, inch by inch, as he breached Lincoln’s ass.

"Fuck," Henry exhaled.

The tight heat gripped him like a vice.

He pulled back slightly, the drag of Lincoln’s body clinging to him sending a shudder through his spine. Then, he pushed in again, sinking deeper, stretching him open until his groin met the welted, caned flesh of Lincoln’s ass.

Lincoln gasped.

Henry leaned forward, sinking his teeth into the muscle between Lincoln’s neck and shoulder, marking him in the primal way he liked to do.

He let himself settle there for a moment, lazily rolling his hips, feeling the way Lincoln pulsed around him, adjusting, taking him deeper.

Then he reached down, grabbing Lincoln’s ass with both hands, digging his fingers into the swollen, sensitive flesh.

Lincoln shouted, his body jerking involuntarily against the cross, and something inside Henry snapped.

A growl tore from his throat as he snapped his hips forward, driving himself deep.

Again. And again. And again.

The rhythm shifted from controlled to primal, the sound of flesh slapping flesh echoing in the playroom. He set a brutal, unrelenting pace, his cock dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside his boy, forcing moans from Lincoln’s lips that were downright sinful.

Henry’s balls tightened, a shiver working its way up his spine, his climax already coiling low in his belly. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Lincoln was panting, his body rocking with each thrust. Henry braced his left hand against the cross for leverage, then wrapped his right around Lincoln’s cock.

He was beyond hard and dripping like a faucet.

Curling his fingers around the length with a strong grip, he stroked and pumped in perfect time with his thrusts.

One stroke. Two.

Lincoln shouted, his cock pulsing in Henry’s grip as the first thick rope of cum shot from the tip, splattering against the cross.

He jerked hard, milking his boy before letting go himself.

His thrusts turned erratic. His movements now rougher and more needy.

Lincoln pressed back, offering himself for the primal possession.

He drove forward, pulled back, and rammed back in. His groin crashed against the backs of Lincoln’s buttocks and his upper legs connecting with the backs of Lincoln’s thighs.

He repeated the movement until his legs almost gave out.

Then he slammed in deep and spilled inside his boy, his entire body locking tight, shaking with the force of his orgasm.

The world blurred. Time stilled. Only the sound of their ragged breathing filled the room.

Henry swallowed hard, pressing his forehead to the damp skin between Lincoln’s shoulder blades, the lingering tremors of release still shaking through him. His heart thumped against his ribcage.

Fuck.

This was twenty years of trust. Of love. Of devotion.

And Henry had never been more complete.