Trust Me | MxM | BDSM

15. Nightly Encounter

Shoutout to yaso11 - thanks for reminding me to get back to writing :D it's nice to know that someone's looking forward to an update! I've got storyboard ready for a couple more chapters, but spirits are kinda low.

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My knees are hurting, tempting me to drop my posture for even just one moment without the pain. Yet I can't because I know that he is watching me - or at least, someone is. Someone who will inform him about every little thing I do or do not do. I'm left with nothing but the option to bite down on the inside of my lower lip. It's for a greater good, and that's all that matters.

My thoughts keep me company, slowly carrying my consciousness off to a state of drowsiness that I snap out of when the door opens. Even the faintest clicking can easily disturb my sleep; something that's handy, but usually just deprives me of necessary rest. I blink a couple times in an attempt to clear my head, and quickly fix my posture. There's a sigh. The voice tells me it's not Gavrilo, though awkwardly enough, that only makes me tense more.

"Your master," Jack's voice stresses the word uncomfortably, or maybe he's mocking our relationship. I haven't talked to him enough to know the difference. He continues in a more casual tone, "He's occupied for the day - business matters. He regrets it very much."

"Thank you for telling me, sir." I don't move an inch, though. This might be a test, and even if not, there's a chance of Gavrilo watching the exchange. I think it would please him if I don't just jump up and start going about my day as if I had been waiting for a chance to do so. I gnaw at my bottom lip, waiting.

The sound of Jack's footsteps echoes through the quiet room before the door falls shut. I curse inwardly, staring at my fingers. My eyes narrow slightly, the only sign of my discomfort. While Jack basically told me that Gavrilo isn't going to drop by anymore, he didn't allow me to stop waiting like the good submissive I'm supposed to be. I take a deep breath, steeling myself against the pain in my stiff joints.

Only when my phone rings, informing me that I'll have to go to work in half an hour, do I finally move. I push myself up with my hands on the bed and a grimace on my face because everything just hurts. I grunt when I stretch my legs, then wiggle my toes to get some feeling back. I'd love nothing more than a hot shower, but there's no chance of that happening, so I simply get dressed and tell Jack I need a driver.

Working helps me loosen up again, and the routine of taking orders, then serving drinks and food quickly takes over my mind. I'm all smiles and small-talk until I drop down on the back seat of the SUV again, ready to be driven back in silence. I message Gavrilo that I will be back soon and have my day off tomorrow, but he doesn't reply yet again. I push my phone into my pocket with a shrug, then doze off to the steady sounds of the engine.

The apartment is filled with the scent of burned wood, and my ears make out the faint cracking of a fire. A bodyguard greets me with a nod, one hand leisurely resting on his colt. I frown at the weapon but don't make a remark. I think I've seen the guy standing in front of my room before; his hair is a lighter shade of brown than Jack's and he has a mole close to his right ear.

"Follow me," he says curtly, then leads the way down the corridor to the left. I glance around with interest. I've never been to this part before, though I don't get to see much since the first door stands open, and Gavrilo is waiting inside, wearing nothing but a silken robe. I gulp nervously.

He sways a glass of resin-coloured liquor in his right while gazing at the contents. His feet rest on the small table he's sitting in front of, and there's a fire burning low in the hearth. His gaze flickers towards us briefly before he downs the liquor then puts the glass aside. He waves me over with a sigh.

I scurry closer, keeping my eyes down while my ears perk up. His breathing is deep, yet a little shaky, and when he gets up from the couch, the leather groans softly.

"Take off your clothes."

"Yes, Master Kemp," I reply dutifully, already pulling my shirt over my head. My eyes briefly find his face, and I notice how intently he's watching my every move. My skin tingles apprehensively, more pleasantly so the lower the sensation travels. His apparent want is thrilling, so when my briefs follow my pants to the ground, my erection springs right back up.

Gavrilo steps close enough to wrap his fingers around my girth, causing my stomach muscles to clench at the sudden jolt that surges up my spine. I gasp for air, quietly though, and my hips thrust forward with a mind of their own. Gavrilo laughs.

"I'm really sorry that I couldn't attend to you sooner," he says, his voice just as soft as the pressure with which he caresses my length. I moan, the sound muffled by my closed lips, and my eyelids drop almost shut. I feel myself tremble. He circles his thumb across my dripping tip, spreading the slick pre-cum across it. "But you showed me what a good boy you are, waiting for me so patiently even though you knew I was busy."

I moan in agreement as he grips me harder, massaging the base of my cock. My fingers dig into my thighs while I concentrate on staying upright, and my mind is becoming foggy with thoughts of what might follow.

"Did you know I was watching you?"

"No, Master Kemp," I pant, then whimper when he squeezes me firmly, his fingers stilling. I grimace because he's not loosening his grip. "But I always expect you might be, and besides, I wasn't told to stop waiting for you."

His hand pulls back and I notice his head nodding from the edge of my vision, then my attention shifts back to his fingers because he opens his belt. It slides from the robe without making a sound. Gavrilo wraps it around his hand, carefully straightening the fabric.

"Turn around."

When my back is to him, he slides his hand up my spine, making me feel the soft silk before draping my eyes. He pulls the knot firmly, then moves away from me. I hear the shuffling of his feet and the soft rippling of liquor while he fills his glass again, followed by the clinking of ice cubes. Finally, there's the quiet complaint of the leather when he sits back down on the couch.

"Turn back again. A little to left. My left, Mike." I follow his instructions until he is satisfied, and I assume my front is now facing him. My cock twitches attentively. "Touch yourself."

His voice is enough to make me moan, and I yield to his authority. His orders make everything so much easier - there's no wondering what he might think of me, whether I'm doing the right or wrong thing as long as I do as he tells me to. I pump my erection tentatively. My knees are already threatening to buckle. When I slide a finger down between my balls, exerting pressure on my root, I bend forwards slightly, unable to stay up straight as I tremble, moaning.

"Come here."