Page 17 of The Barn: Frost and Q

He blinked a little bit, because the two sensations had very different applications. Still that soft little flogger could be sort of like a feather, or it could sting.

“May I ask, Sir?” Quentin started.

“You can ask…”

“What did you plan to do with the flogger?”

Frost dug into his thighs, heading back down from his hips. “I don’t know yet; we’ll see how you do with the feather, but I was thinking maybe your nipples, or maybe I would flog your cock a little bit.”

He shivered, goosebumps rising up all over his skin. He would do that? It had been a long time since Frost had done something besides tease him after they had tied him up.

But Quentin supposed that made sense. They’d had to establish what felt good and what didn’t, what might hurt him and what wouldn’t, and how his body would react to stimuli.

Some of his nerves would never be the same, and a lot of his neural pathways were having to retrace themselves even such a long time after the wound had healed.

“Anyway, baby boy, I think we’ll play it by ear.”

“Play it by ear,” he agreed, his voice hiccuping when Frost’s forearm grazed his cock.

“Mmm, somebody likes that.”

“Of course I do. What about the blindfold?”

“What about it?” Frost asked, staring into his eyes.

“Are you going to use it tonight?”

“Not right away. You’re a little too tense.”

“I’m trying not to be.” He took a deep breath, and then he let it out, remembering that it helped release everything in his spine and his neck.

“I know that, boy. Don’t worry; there’s plenty of play for us to get up to.”

“That’s good. I like to play, but then I also like you to put me in my subspace.”

“I know, and I plan to.” Frost put a hand on his belly. “I want you to feel me here today. I want it to pull a little bit. I want everything to be intense.”

He almost choked on his own damn spit from that.

Quentin sputtered a little bit, his hands clenching, his toes curling.

“I like intense.” And it was true; he liked it more than he had even a couple of weeks ago.

He was learning to deal with his body, and he was also learning that there was no shame in having to use his slow down or stop words.

It wasn’t personal, and it wasn’t emotional. It was all physical.

“So the tape is okay on your ankles?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s like being bound, but without being held down.”

“Good. I like that.” Frost picked up the feather, twirling it between his fingers. “So now we’re going to start with just a little bit of sensation, and we’ll work our way up.”

Quentin took a deep breath, another one, and nodded. “All right, Sir. I’m ready when you are.”

“That’s what I want to hear, baby, but don’t brace yourself. Just relax and lean into it. Breathe.”

“Mmmhmm.” He closed his eyes. It wasn’t a blindfold; he could open them whenever he wanted and see what was happening, but he wanted it to be a surprise. That was the only way he could just lean into it and not anticipate what Frost was going to do.

His reward was Frost running the feather down from his forehead across his nose and then over his lips, the featherlight touch. It made his lips purse and made more goosebumps rise up on his body. It was too much and not enough all at once.

Frost chuckled softly and then brought the feather down his chin and around to his jaw, circling his ear, so gently.

Goosebumps raised up over his body, and he fought to keep his breath even.

The bullet had gone in on the other side, right behind his ear. There was a little indentation back there. The spot that one of the nurses in the hospital had called his angel mark.

“It’s where the angel kissed you, because there was no reason you shouldn’t have died. Your guardian angel kissed you there.”

Now wasn’t the time to think about that, though.

Now was the time to think about nothing, to simply breathe and feel the tip of that feather slide down his neck and make patterns over his collarbones.

His nipples drew up into taut nubs, like they were begging for the sensation, for a touch. Like they were calling for Frost.

The feather traveled down, circling one of his pecs, making slow, concentric circles. He chuckled because he caught himself moving his head in time with the spiral. He couldn’t help it; he was totally focused.

Frost wasn’t laughing. It wasn’t stopping him, so he figured whatever he was feeling and doing must be all right.

Before the feather touched his nipple, though, the circles began to go the other way, to get bigger and wider before going to the center of his chest and slipping down to tease his belly button.

His body felt like it was on fire, like it was burning a little bit.

And his toes curled as he tried to decide what the sensation he was experiencing actually was.

“You have the prettiest belly,” Frost murmured.

“Thank you. I’m aching for you some, Sir.”

“I can see that. It’s a good look for you—hard, dripping a bit. Your nipples are dark. Almost like they want a quick bite or a good hard sucking.”

There was no lie detected there.

“I need you. This is amazing. I feel you everywhere.”

Now Frost did laugh for him. “Oh, not yet, but you will. Don’t worry. I intend that you feel me absolutely everywhere.”

The feather took a slide down at an angle and then began to circle his hip bone. Frost reached down and tugged his pubes in a firm hand, making him raise his hips off the bed a little bit. It wasn’t a jerk. It was a long, slow pull.

His eyes flew open. “You didn’t tell me to shave.”

“Nope. I couldn’t do this if I had.” Another of those long, slow pulls came again. He swore he could feel a couple of the hairs popping free. All the while, that feather was circling and circling and circling, making that one patch of skin itch and ache and burn just the slightest bit.

He made a couple of noises that were incomprehensible even to him, because he didn’t know what to say. So he just let his head fall back, and he closed his eyes again, shaking his head back and forth as his body accepted all these sensations.

“Good boy. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Okay.”

His hip got a little swat. “Okay?”

“Yes, Sir. Yes, okay, Sir, please.”

“Better.” Now the feather was on his sac, and he was tingling and buzzing.

His hips bucked up in time with all the little strokes and taps, and at some point, he rocked back down, and instead of just rocking down into the mattress, he found himself gasping, his eyes flying open again to stare into Frost’s.

Something slick and solid was nudging his hole, pushing into him.

He groaned because it was so good and so foreign and so hot.

And he wanted it.

“You do have a hungry little body, baby. You’re just going to suck up this plug, aren’t you? I told you that I was going to touch you everywhere.”

“Yes, yes. Yes, Sir.” The words were coming out, but they were whispers, like he was afraid to say anything too loud that might make it stop.

Because that might kill him at this point.

The last thing he wanted was for any of this to stop. He kept rocking, and every motion took the heavy plug just a little more in, and the tip of that feather just kept driving him insane, tapping his balls, and there was no way that it could feel so heavy because it was so tiny and so soft.

But it did.

It felt huge.

“I love how you respond to me, baby boy. I love how your body is sucking in this plug. It’s just the most perfect thing.”

“Yes. Yes, Sir. It’s perfect… Oh, please more.”

“Only just a little bit more with the feather.” Frost pushed the feather over his sac again and again then back to where the plug filled him.

He couldn’t believe how that felt, this hard pressure of the plug the soft tickle of the feather.

The juxtaposition of it made him groan and grunt and just try to get loose so that he could push it away or get it closer or something. To get more.

Then to his everlasting disappointment, Frost abandoned the feather.

Quentin opened his eyes again. “What are you doing?”

Frost reached up and pinched one of his nipples good and hard, twisting it slightly. “Excuse me?”

“Please, Sir. What are you doing? I like the feather.”

“I can tell you do, but there’s more to this than one implement.”

He watched with an unholy curiosity as Frost picked up the tiny, super-soft flogger. “I told you I was going to try this on you today, too.”

“You did. I just wasn’t sure if you were actually going to do it.”

“Well, I did wait to see how your body was gonna react today, but I think you absolutely deserve it. Look at you; you’re just flushed and vibrating and begging for it.”

He tested his hands and legs again making sure nothing was twinging, making sure his back and neck didn’t hurt. “You’re right, Sir. Please, I need it.”

“What is it that you need? Tell me. Use your words, baby.”

“I need you to use that flogger on me please, Sir.”

“And where do you want me to use it, baby boy?” Frost asked, staring at him again, those eyes just boring into him.

“I want you to use it on my nipples. Maybe on my cock. Everything is on fire for you.”

“I can see it. I can see the flame inside you, baby boy.” Frost ran the flogger over his cheek and chin, then down his neck.

“Do you see how soft it is? I picked it out especially for you. There’s not a single hard edge on it.

Of course, if I took it to your ass with the right amount of strength, it could be hard, but this, this is for me to play with you. ”

Quentin swallowed hard because he wanted to be played with. He wanted Frost to use him as a toy and to keep him in the headspace that he’d already found. His balls were pulled up against the base of his dick, and his cock was so hard that a cat couldn’t scratch it.

Frost seemed to read his mind, flicking the flogger against one of his nipples, the tiny tails almost caressing and catching rather than snapping against him. It wasn’t enough, and yet it was everything all at the same time.

“How is that, baby?” Frost asked him. “Is that giving you what you need?”

He forced himself not to shake his head wildly, instead giving it a single shake. “It’s not enough, Sir. I need more.”

“Do you need it harder? Like this?” Frost slapped the tails of the flogger against his other nipple, and that actually stung. Not enough to hurt him but enough to make him gasp and enough to make tingles break out all over his body.

“Yes.” It came out with about ten exclamation points on the end of it. “That’s it, Sir. That’s it.”

“Oh, we can do better than that, baby boy.” Frost grinned that feral grin and then snapped the flogger against his cock.

Quentin keened, arching up but then had to push himself back down because that made his back twinge.

He took a deep, deep breath because he didn’t want to have to put in his safe word, not even his word for slow down, but he needed to remember not to react in a super quick manner.

That was a sure way to having pain later on.

“Do I need to slow down, baby boy?” Frost asked, holding the flogger away from his skin.

“No, Sir. I just need to not get so excited that I can’t remember what we’re doing here.”

Frost rubbed the flogger tails, just the very tips, over his cock, back and forth, back and forth. “And what is it we’re doing here?”

“Getting me out of my head. Getting me to my subspace. Giving each other pleasure. Sir.”

“And what are you supposed to be doing?” There was a serious, near-dangerous tone in Frost’s voice.

“Trusting you.” He knew the answer. That was always the hardest part, wasn’t it? The trusting. The believing. The difficulty wasn’t even believing in Frost. It was believing in himself. Enough to just let go, and?—

Another quick snap hit his cock, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to sting. The sensation had his eyes flying wide open.

“Either safe word or get in here with me.”

The little flogger began to work and move like tiny licks of fire that disappeared almost as soon as they came, hitting randomly without a pattern, so he couldn’t keep up.

All Quentin could do was breathe and open his fisted fingers, curl his toes and release them.

His entire body was focused on where the next one was landing.

And then, blessedly, he didn’t even have to do that.

His Dom would decide where the next blow came. Frost would know what he required next, and Frost would let him know if there was something else he needed to do. That was the important part.

That and when Frost whispered, “My good boy.”

That was fucking magic.

“Now the blindfold, love. You’re ready for it.”

He was. He got it. He understood what they were doing, and Frost had prepared him well. They were in the space, and he was soaring.

So he swallowed hard, and then he nodded. “Yes, Sir. I’m ready.”

“I knew you were.” Frost pulled out the blindfold but then met his gaze. “I’m not gagging you. If it gets to be too much, use your words. There’s no shame in it.”

“I know.” And he wouldn’t have to now.

He was in the zone. Thank God.