Page 2 of Merrick

Merrick’s cheeks burned and he nodded.

He watched the two men leave, his own arousal so violent inside of him it felt like a living and breathing organism by itself. He had always been like this, for as long as he could remember. From puberty on, nothing had ever been enough for him. Unlike his brother, he was very good at hiding it, though.

Their parents had put unattainable expectations on both of them, and for years before Bryce was born, Merrick had taken the brunt of that focus. He’d excelled at everything because he had no other choice. Failures were not well received in the Shannon household. Merrick had learned that from a very young age. His worth had long been contingent on his accomplishments, on the things he was able to provide for others. He knew much of his personality had become what it was as a result of his upbringing. His incessant need to talk had grown from a desperation to keep the conversation going. If there was a lull, it was an opportunity for someone—his parents generally—to be critical of a failure or shortcoming. Even out of the house, the talking had become part of his personality, and he couldn’t turn it off.

The only time Merrick wasn’t talking was when he was at Rapture—or elsewhere—with a gag or something more exciting in his mouth. He found out, by accident, he didn’t hate going quiet during sex. He didn’t even hate it if partners sometimes said mean or critical things while they were being intimate. There was a sort of control he found by allowing it, by asking for it, that he never had growing up.

After a careless run his senior year when Merrick had almost ended up in the hospital after being passed around by the boys’ baseball team, he’d walked himself back from his teenage promiscuity and refocused on other aspects of his life. He’d thrown himself headfirst into art and never looked back. He hated moving away and leaving Bryce at home with theirparents, but there was not a future for him in a small town like St. Jack’s Bay. He hoped Bryce would move one day, and he’d actively encouraged it. He just hadn’t thought bringing Bryce to LA meant having to lose the only outlet he had outside of art.

He needed someone else to show up, because even though Merrick wasn’t talking, his brain wouldn’t stop. The thoughts were getting loud in his ears, and he didn’t want his erection to flag before he’d even had a chance to get a taste of what he wanted the most.

A pleased hum from the doorway drew his attention, and Merrick glanced in that direction. He must look a mess, cheeks still flushed from the blow job, spit pouring from the corners of his mouth. His cock was an angry shade of red, skin pulled tight for how hard he’d gotten. His jaw ached, but he would ice it at the end of the night and fall asleep knowing he’d done a good job.

“Free use top,” the stranger said, tapping his fingers against Merrick’s sign.

The man stepped into the room, and Merrick gave him a quick once-over. He had on black leather pants and a black leather harness, slim muscles and long fingers, a smooth face and black hair. He looked young, closer to Bryce’s age than Merrick’s, but he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter.

“I assume that’s you?” the man asked.

Merrick nodded, and his hips lifted off the couch on their own accord.

The man narrowed his eyes, not in a judgmental way, but more like he was assessing the scene. It was a look Merrick knew well, something he did by default in every room he walked into.

Merrick held up a condom, and the man arched a brow at him before walking to the bed and sitting down. He was not dressed for a quick fuck, and Merrick watched, rapt, as those long fingers slowly undid the laces of his boots. The man set theboots together neatly, then stripped out of his leather pants in much the same manner. He crawled onto the bed, all fours with his ass in the air, the base of a black rubber plug visible between the pale globes of his ass.

“Well,” the man said over his shoulder, lowering his chest to the bed, “let’s see what you can do.”

CHAPTER 2

Wilder

Wilder thoughtthe man was gorgeous. Average height but muscular, a fair amount of his skin covered in colorful tattoos. His hair was dark and cropped close to his scalp. His lips, stretched around a red gag, looked plush and full.

And his cock.

Holy shit, his cock.

He climbed onto the bed behind Wilder and gently petted his hands over Wilder’s ass, teasing his finger along the base of the plug he’d used on himself before getting dressed. Wilder had seen the stranger’s ad on the hookup app he normally used when he was looking for a quick fuck, and the invitation had been simple enough…the sign the other man taped to the door of the playroom only driving the point home.

Free use top.

Condoms a must.

Sex only, no D/s.

Snaps to stop.

It was probably definitely careless of Wilder to take the stranger up on the offer. He knew as well as anyone, probably better than anyone, how important the rules of consent were ina play space, but this man was clear in his asks. He’d laid out the ground rules and set the safe word, and that was as much as Wilder would expect from any partner, kinky or otherwise.

He rationalized to himself it was more than enough. He would make his own concessions in the name of getting the thing he was after—a rough fuck. Any repercussions of his actions, he could deal with later. Wilder was, and had been for as long as he could remember, a dominant. There was no scenario where Wilder preferred to not have the upper hand. Unfortunately, finding submissive partners who wanted to top was harder than finding a needle in a haystack. Most times, he resorted to apps like the one he’d logged into earlier, searching out something to tide him over until he needed another go.

The man eased the plug out of Wilder’s ass with a practiced tug, and Wilder pressed his forehead against the sheets. They smelled sterile, as most things at Rapture did…at least until the smell of sex got into the air. His own cock leaked violently, smearing precum across his stomach as slippery fingers slicked into his crack.

“I don’t need prep,” he said, tone clipped.

The top grunted, spread Wilder’s ass wide, and shoved his dick inside. The first thrust pushed the air out of Wilder’s lungs, and he barely had time to catch his breath before the second and the third came in quick succession. Fingers dug into his hips for support, the sound of skin against skin louder than his own heartbeat.

Wilder reached down and grabbed his cock, squeezing hard around the base to stop himself from shooting his load before he’d even made it a minute. His own attempts to hold off his pleasure seemed to displease the man behind him who somehow doubled the strength of his thrusts. He fucked Wilder until both of their bodies had moved to the top of the bed, Wilder’s head knocking against the wall. The man hooked his fingers throughthe ring on the back of Wilder’s harness and yanked him toward the foot of the bed, never breaking his pace.