Page 62 of Xel: Broken Bond

Holy heck. That was not supposed to happen.

“Xel? Do you want to stay?”

“That would be wonderful,” I said, a sly work-around to the fact that I seemed unable to properly express myself. Ididwant to stay. I wanted to comfort him, and to be allowed to sleep beside him, and to have his hands on my body. But I also felt completely disoriented by the fact that a dimari was only supposed to be able to bond withonemaster in their lifetime. This wasn’tbad,but it was certainlyweird.

I had no idea what to expect from the rest of the night. Based on recent experience, my master probably only wanted me to sleep beside him, to put his arms around me and draw comfort from my presence.

But then again, this morning he’d led me into the shower and wrapped his hand around my cock, so perhaps I was underestimating him.

With a wary look on his face, like he was expecting a wild animal to lash out and bite him, he reached out and put his hand on the makeshift knot that held my towel in place. He looked up, his gaze meeting mine, and tugged lightly on the towel. That easily, it unravelled and slid to the floor, leaving me completely naked. Then his gaze slid down my body, slowly, landing on my groin, where my cock was already beginning to sit up and take notice.

Meeting my eyes again, he reached for his own towel, hesitating only a moment before letting it slide to the floor. I felt a rush of blood to my groin now, as long years of training recognised the slow seduction of his movements, a dance of temptation and daring that I was well-versed in. I waited, letting him take the lead, impatient to know what he would do next, at the same time as revelling in the anticipation.

He took a half-step closer, glancing down at my erection and putting a hand on my hip. Then, with his other hand, he lifted his slowly growing erection to press against mine, grasping us both together in his hand.

The barest hint of a moan escaped my throat, and I fought the urge to thrust into his hand. My old master had never touched me like this, never looked at me with such gentle longing, and it was a heady rush to feel so wanted.

“Is this okay?” he asked, as if he was asking for permission. But I nodded anyway. Being controlled and manipulated by my master was exactly where I was supposed to be.

He leaned up towards me, not releasing his grip on our cocks, and I leaned down to meet him, anticipating what he wanted next. And sure enough, he pressed his lips firmly against mine, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck.

I felt the slight roughening of the skin at the edge of his mouth where his scars began. But then his lips parted and I felt his tongue against mine, and I stopped thinking for the next few minutes, as his lips and hand coaxed the most delicious shivers of pleasure through my body.

He hadn’t specifically asked me to touch him in return, and I hesitated a moment, wondering if I should ask permission. Once again, there was a clash between Alliance culture and what I had been trained to do. Most masters would want their dimari to pleasure them without much prompting.

But this master was very different – both from the one I had been trained to expect, and from my previous one. “Do you want me to touch you?” I asked him, drawing back from his lips just long enough to murmur the question.

“Yes,” he breathed, then apparently taking that as a cue, he started to manoeuvre us both towards the bed. I steadied myself with my hands on his hips as we both stumbled across the room, neither of us paying much attention to where we were going. My foot got caught on my abandoned towel and I had to shake it off, the motion causing me to inadvertently thrust my hips into my master’s hand. His grip tightened around me, and then I stumbled again as I went weak at the knees.

The backs of my legs hit the edge of the bed, and he pushed me backwards. I let myself fall, landing splayed on the mattress. He stood there, staring down at me with what could only be described as apprehension. Apprehension and a weeping erection. He wanted this. But he was scared of it, too.

Attempting to look as harmless as possible, I shuffled around, clumsily pulling the sheets out from beneath me and thenplumping up the pillows in a mildly overdone display of ‘I want to make you comfortable’. Then I shuffled over, sitting with my back against the headboard, making sure that my erection was still clearly visible. “Would you like to join me?” I asked, with a playful smile. I could have matched his sombre mood, and given Bribie’s death, it wouldn’t have been inappropriate. But I also worried that if we both jumped willingly into that pit of despair, we might be freefalling for a long time before either of us could catch ourselves.

He knelt on the bed, his cock jutting out in front of him, then he ran his fingers up the inside of my thigh, a light, delicate touch that just bordered on being ticklish. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. The gentle tracing of my body continued, over my abs, my biceps, then through my hair. I felt his hand grasp mine gently, then, as he continued to stare into my eyes, he tugged my hand over to wrap around his cock.

Okay, I didn’t need any instructions to know what I was supposed to dohere. I stroked him firmly but gently, experimenting a little to see what he liked, how much pressure, how much speed. After just a couple of strokes, his breathing quickened and his eyes fluttered closed. “Oh fuck,” he muttered, on a breathy exhalation.

With my other hand, I traced a line up his chest, tweaking his nipple a little – the one on his non-scarred side. It wasn’t because I was at all uncomfortable touching the other one. I was just making the somewhat bold assumption that the undamaged one would feel better if I was playing with it.

In a sudden move, my master threw a leg over my hips and straddled me. He kissed me firmly, pressing his erection against my stomach and grinding slowly against me. And in the process, giving my erection a thorough stroking. My hands found his buttocks and I squeezed and massaged him, pulling him closer, rubbing him more firmly against me. Stars, I could keep doingthis forever. The urge to climax was insistent, but I had plenty of practice at pushing that to the back of my mind. If necessary, I could go forhourspoised right on the brink of climax, but never falling over the edge. Never without my master’s permission. Though I didn’t think my master was going to make me wait that long, this time around.

With a groan, he pulled away, leaning over to rummage in his nightstand. He emerged with a small tube, and I felt my cock throb as he popped the cap open. I knew exactly what that meant. But then he went entirely off script, as he looked down into my eyes and said, “I want to feel you inside me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

XEL

My eyes opened wide in surprise, and then I gasped as I felt a cold dollop of lube land on my cock, my master’s fingers hastily spreading it around.

This wasnotthe way things usually went between a master and his dimari. I had, of course, been trained in how to be the one doing the penetrating, but that was mostly because there were a number of species in which females also routinely bought dimari, and we were expected to be able to please them as effectively as any male. But there had been a clear expectation amongst my trainers that a male master would expect a receptive dimari, rather than the other way around.

I fumbled for a moment, expecting the compulsion to lead me to agree… but there was no buzzing in my head, no stiffness in my limbs, and I realised that my master hadn’t phrased his desire as an order. ‘I want’ was not the same as ‘you must’.

But a moment later, I also realised just how delightful it would be to satisfy this desire for him. My trainers had drilled into me the steadfast belief that I would feel great satisfaction in pleasing my master. And with my old master, I had stubbornly tried to convince myself, each and every day, that letting himrut upon me with barely a word of greeting had, indeed, been satisfying. But it paled into insignificance, even when compared just to the bashful look of anticipation on my master’s face. He could climb off me now, send me back to my room, and I would have been more satisfied in this one night than I had been in the entire time I’d known my old master.

But he didn’t send me away. Instead, he knelt up, reaching around behind himself with lube-slicked fingers. He winced, and I tensed in concern. “God, it’s been a long time,” he muttered.

Perhaps overstepping my bounds just a fraction, I placed my own hand on his wrist, stilling his movements. “Would you like me to do that for you?”