Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 3

with dreams in his eyes back in Reverie. He wished he could see those sparkling silver eyes once again filled with hopes and dreams. But at least now he knew how that sparkle had been expunged.
    Will kissed Sinn, hungered for him. He thrust his tongue deep into Sinn's mouth. Sinn's head dropped back against Will's shoulder. He sucked on Will's tongue sending arousal darting fast and furious through Will's body. He pulled away before it went beyond the point of no return.
    "Your answer," he rasped. He needed it now. He was too near to losing it and he had to get some distance.
    Sinn's lips were now puffy and engorged, reddened from Will's possession. Parted with readiness for more. Will bit his lower lip, tugged and Sinn groaned, his eyes closing. Will worried the lip. Drew blood. Tasted the warm, thick metallic texture before releasing the lip. Sinn's tongue flicked out to test the slight wound.
    His eyes darkened as he looked into Will's eyes. "I like pain," he admitted.
    "Good," Will said. "I know how to give it."
    Sinn licked the wound again. "I can see that. I used to get punished a lot. I've never been known as a good boy. My stepfather always said I was the devil's spawn. Guess he was right."
    "He gave you the belt." But this was something Will already knew.
    "Often. I learned how to handle it."
    "Like you handled those record producers?"
    Sinn nodded. "All of it."
    "I don't mete out that kind of pain. Not like that."
    "No, I don't think you do. Bite me again. I like the way you do it."
    Will smiled. "You are recalcitrant, aren't you?"
    "Oh, yeah." Again he wiggled his wrists and the cuffs jangled. "You have no idea."
    But Will did know. The only way to get this man's attention was to be different than anything he had before. For the moment he had his attention, but there was still more to show him.
    "I'm still waiting for your answer."
    "All right, then. Yes. Yes, I want to be here. Do your worst, big boy. Do your worst. I can take anything you throw at me."
    "You think that's what I'm going to do? Beat you until you scream? Fuck you until you beg me to stop? Wound you until you can't take another moment? Make you cry?"
    Something hardened in Sinn's gaze as he stared at Will. "I don't cry. I never cry. My stepfather taught me that. I don't cry. So do your worst, sweetheart. Do your worst."
    Will's heart almost broke at Sinn's words. The hard crust that life had built around his heart was not going to easily be broken. But Will was planning to try. This man deserved at least that.
    Will moved back; he had the assent he wanted. He pulled the black silk scarf from his pocket, wound it tightly and then gagged Sinn with it, tied it firmly behind his head. He heard Sinn gasp. Will cupped the back of his head.
    "Remember what you said. Remember you agreed to put yourself into my hands. Whatever I throw at you, you can take. That's what you said. Well, let's see if you mean it."
    He grabbed Sinn's arm and turned him down the hallway. Past the stairs leading up to the second floor, toward the back of the building. He opened a door, then guided Sinn down the stairs. He felt Sinn tense, try to pull back. But this time, there was no going back. Only forward, and down. Will closed the door behind him and shoved the bolts into place.
    ****
    Sinn had thought he was experienced in every sort of sexual persuasion, and perversion, it was possible to know about. Having survived that phase of his life, once he'd found his feet in the music world, found a band and a rhythm he could embrace wholeheartedly, he didn't take it for granted. But he was also the type of man who did not do things by half-measure. He took chances, he rode the edge in every way.
    He stumbled down the next step, his stomach churned. And yet, his heart thundered with excitement. Will knew how to seduce a man. Sinn had never had the occasion to need to seduce anybody. He had those type of looks that made a man–any man–or woman for that matter, stop and look twice. He had a way about him that drew people to him. Unfortunately, not always the right people. But still, he'd never had to work to find a fuck partner. Yeah, he'd been young once, been used, been abused, sworn it wouldn't happen again. And since those years, any of the encounters had been in, out, and gone. Fuck, dispel the energy, send them on their way–never a redux with the same man. Always a box of condoms on hand.
    He'd been lucky after those early days. Real lucky. There'd been a stretch