Chapter Text
There was just something about drinking tea in his own office with the morning sun coming through the windows and warming the still-chilly air. Once, Wylan had hated mornings– the only hours of his day that had really been his had been the ones he’d spent in the late evenings, sketching by lamplight and imagining futures he’d thought were impossible. But now he was living one of them. His mother was alive, his father was in prison, and he was respected and loved. Sleep wasn’t an escape anymore– his sleep held nightmares and probably always would. But he didn't need an escape. The world he got to wake up to every day was worth the price he'd paid for it.
He smiled faintly, his body still aching and sensitive in all the best ways from Jesper’s enthusiastic welcome home the night before.
The business trip to Eames Chin had been terrifying to make without him. But everything had gone without a hitch, and it had made sense for Jesper to stay home this time while Inej was in port. There had been no reason for Jes to miss an extra few days with her.
Wylan would have liked more time with her as well. Their ways of seeing the world and their scopes of knowledge were so different from each other. Conversations with her ended up wandering wildly from topic to topic late into the night. He wasn’t sexually intimate with her or Nina the way he was with their male partners, but it was more than a friendship. He craved time talking to her, being close to her, feeling her rest her head on his shoulder and holding her hand.
Wylan stretched. Jesper’s intense dominance last night had been a pleasant surprise. He'd asked afterward and Jesper had snorted and squeezed him tightly in his arms the way Wylan loved.
"I'm not apologizing because I know you enjoyed the hell out of that, but a lot of it was pent up frustration. Kaz is… argh.” Jesper had rested his head on top of Wylan's with a sigh.
“Mmm?” Wylan bit back a laugh. “He was teasing you, was he?”
Jesper sighed. “Not exactly. He suggested subbing for me again the other day. I don't know why he still suggests it from time to time when he makes it absolutely impossible."
"I know he and Nina tried and it didn't work, but I thought that was just… Kaz and Nina," Wylan had laid a soft kiss on Jesper's throat. "They don't fit like that. It didn't work with you either?"
"Nope. You try to dom him and he doms you right back. You know I don't mind a little power struggle or brattiness, but the man just won't give an inch."
"That sounds like Kaz," Wylan had said, amused.
"Everything you tell him to do, he turns around on you. If you tie him up, he slips the knots. If you tell him to make you come, he teases you. When you ask what he wants, he won't tell you."
"Could it be a trust thing?" He'd wondered as Jesper unwrapped himself from around him and shifted to rearrange the pillows more comfortably.
"That was what I thought the first time we tried, back… a while ago, I don't know. But he found the most tactless and unflattering way possible to tell me he trusted me unconditionally." Jesper had shaken his head. "Who even knows what's going on in there? He certainly doesn't."
The conversation had ended there, but Wylan found himself dwelling on it. Something about the information nagged at his mind. Kaz had been the one to suggest it. He wanted something, needed something, and it wasn’t coming together right.
Wylan loved a puzzle, and Kaz wasn’t the only one who could scheme.
The right opportunity didn’t actually come for a couple months. Kaz had stopped by to have a drink and discuss a Kaelish smuggling ring that he was thinking of dismantling and taking over. He’d been coming over in the evenings more often lately, as if he had finally begun to realize that he was welcome just to come over and spend time with them– that they wanted his company.
He’d made himself comfortable on the sofa, leg stretched out across the cushions as he sipped a glass of brandy. With the other hand, he was stroking the head of the sleek-furred, adoring mongrel that Jesper had found as a half-grown puppy last year and brought home. Wylan had named him Catalyst for the chaos he’d caused while he was growing into his long limbs, which had resulted, to his exasperation, in a dog who got nicknamed Cat.
When Kaz was over, Cat rarely left his side and reveled in the constant pets and scritches Kaz was willing to give. Wylan was now absolutely certain that Kaz had grown up with dogs.
Jesper had been sitting with them at first, but he’d gone outside about half an hour ago to pace around the conservatory and read. He was studying, actually, for the university course he’d signed up for with Wylan and Inej’s encouragement. After some trial and error, they’d discovered that constant movement allowed him to focus on what he was reading, and he’d guiltily quit studying in rooms with carpet after he’d worn a visible path on the one in the study.
A comfortable silence had fallen. Kaz looked relaxed, somehow warm, and suddenly Wylan knew that this was the right moment for it.
“Could I interest you in coming up to my bedroom?”
Kaz looked up sharply, and Wylan smugly noted the spark of interest in his eyes. “Am I being seduced?” he asked.
“You are absolutely being seduced,” Wylan confirmed. Kaz laughed quietly
“I could be seduced,” he admitted with a smirk and a lazy, slightly sensual stretch that made Wylan's gaze catch on the breadth of his shoulders. "I mean, it would be a terrible inconvenience. You'd have to make it worth the trouble."
Kaz was also becoming comfortable being a little slutty, Wylan thought, and it suited him very well.
Wylan pretended to consider for a moment. "I mean, I'd hate to inconvenience you. You're a very busy man. But even a busy man has needs, and I could make sure those needs are thoroughly met." He raised an eyebrow, thinking, and I plan to try to meet more of those needs than you know.
"Thoroughly, hmm?" Kaz's teeth flashed in a wicked grin and he set his glass down on the table beside the sofa, giving Cat one last affectionate ear ruffle. Wylan rose and offered Kaz a hand, and Kaz let him pull him to his feet, smirking.
“How much touch tonight?” he asked, pausing long enough for Kaz to grab his cane and then leading the way to the stairs.
“Don’t wrap your arms around me or press your body against mine for too long. I don’t think I’ll do well with a lot of skin against me.”
Wylan blinked and glanced at him. That was awfully quick. “You’ve been thinking about this,” he accused, delighted.
Kaz shrugged, not looking embarrassed in the slightest. “You look good in that waistcoat.”
“I do, don’t I?” Wylan allowed himself to be a little smug, then stopped at the foot of the stairs. He caught Kaz by the lapel of his jacket, then slowly smoothed it, running his fingers down the lapel to the top button. “I have a proposal, if you’re willing to hear it.”
“If it involves explosions, the answer is no,” Kaz said firmly, because Wylan’s last proposal, with Inej’s backing, had had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with demo and the home of a certain slave trader. Kaz had talked them down to blackmail, but it would have been a good plan.
“I’m not bringing explosives into the bedroom, you jackass.” He rolled his eyes, then grew more serious. “I want to dom you, if you’re interested.”
Kaz raised an eyebrow slightly. “That’s new. Tonight?” Wylan nodded. He considered for a moment, then tilted his head and smiled. “Sure, why not.”
Wylan felt a rush of anticipation blaze through him. “Then go up and take your clothes off. I’m letting Jesper know what we’re doing.”
The light in the conservatory left pockets of shadow in the corners, and Jesper was pacing slow circles around the center, book in one hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other. Wylan felt an overwhelming fondness curling in his chest.
“Jes.”
Jesper looked up questioningly and came over, lowering the book to his side but keeping his thumb inside to mark his place.
“Hey.” He brushed a curl off Wylan’s forehead with the hand holding the muffin. “Did you know that obsidian makes the sharpest blades because of its crystal structure? But that also makes it break too easily for us to use it for knives.” The class he’d chosen to take was Mineralogy, which had made perfect sense once Wylan had realized how much learning the structure of rock and metal tied into Jesper’s use of his gift.
“Figure out how to make it less fragile,” he suggested, brushing the muffin crumbs off of himself without bothering to complain, but Jesper shook his head.
“That’s not how it works. You can’t make it less fragile without changing it to something else, that’s just the structure of it.” He rolled his eyes fondly. “Like making a chemical more or less stable, you have to make some sort of change to it.”
“Maybe you could make it sort-of obsidian but stronger though,” Wylan argued. “Like a homogenous mixture– an alloy, I guess it would be.”
“It’s already a mixture of minerals; all volcanic rocks are. I’d need to use a process like they do to make Grisha glass if I wanted to change the proportions in it properly. Even a glassblowing furnace wouldn’t be hot enough to change it on that small a level.” Jesper’s eyes grew distant, thinking.
Wylan smiled, tugging on his tie lightly to get his attention. “That’s actually not what I came out here to talk about though. You know the other day when you said Kaz was impossible to dominate?”
Jesper blinked a few times. “Is he still here? Shit, you didn’t tell him I said that, did you?”
“Of course not, you podge. I just, well… I took it as a challenge and we’re about to go up to the bedroom.” Wylan wasn’t able to hold back a smirk. Jesper let out a bark of laughter.
“Saints, okay. Have fun with… whatever ends up happening, I guess. I’ll check on you two in a bit?”
Wylan nodded; it was normal for one of them to check on the partners involved after a scene and make sure everything had gone okay.
Jesper was looking at him with amused fondness. “I should have known you’d have to try it.”
“Of course I did. It’s a Kerch thing. If no one else can do it, that means there’s a niche in the market to exploit,” Wylan said with a grin.
“Go exploit Kaz’s market niches, then.” Jesper wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Though I suspect he’ll end up exploiting yours.”
When Wylan went upstairs and opened the door to his room, he found Kaz waiting with exaggerated nonchalance, nude except for one of Wylan’s own dressing gowns and lounging on his desk chair as if it were a throne. One hand rested on the head of his cane, the other was draped over the chair arm.
You try to dom him and he doms you right back, Jesper had said, and sure enough, there wasn’t a hint of submission in Kaz’s posture. Kaz held himself as if he owned the entire house. Wylan laughed and Kaz shot him a grin.
It was a real grin, too, almost boyish.
It’s a game and he’s taken the first move , Wylan thought.
He decided not to even acknowledge Kaz’s posturing. Instead, he walked up to him and looked down into his smug face seriously.
“Red means stop, yellow means pause and talk before continuing, and green means keep going," he reminded Kaz. "Stop means stop and no means no. When you want it to be over, it's over."
Kaz nodded, looking slightly amused.
“I’m serious, Kaz. It might get a little intense. I want to know you’ll be honest with me when I check in with you.”
"The deal is the deal," Kaz agreed readily, and Wylan supposed that this was a verbal contract of a kind, but really? He rolled his eyes, but if that was how Kaz wanted to play it...
"While we're doing business," he told Kaz in a mock haughty tone, "I think it's high time you took my clothes off and convinced me that it's worth my trouble to make an investment."
He'd judged right. Kaz looked delighted at the wordplay. "I think you'll find the advantages to pursuing a merger are well worth your time."
"They're well worth your time, sir," he corrected sharply. Another spark in Kaz's eyes. That was it. Push him. Let him push back a little.
"Sir," Kaz echoed obediently. Then he laid the cane on the desk behind him, stood, and assumed the demeanor of a butler so perfectly that if Wylan hadn't known better he'd have expected to glance down and find him in a pressed uniform. "May I take your coat, sir?"
It took every ounce of self control Wylan had not to burst out laughing. Fucking con artist. No wonder Jesper couldn't stay dominant in the face of this sort of thing.
Wylan wasn't even wearing a coat.
He’s not being a brat, Wylan realized . He’s just… having fun. It's still a game to him, and he thinks he's going to come out on top.
"Take everything off and fold it neatly. Not an inch of your skin touches mine until I give you permission," he said, giving Kaz a reassurance and an easy challenge for his pickpocket fingers at the same time. "And tell me about the filthy things you'll let me do to you tonight." Tell me what you really want out of this. Because as much as you’re enjoying the banter, you can have that without submission. What is it you want, Kaz? What is it you need from me?
Kaz began to undo the buttons of his waistcoat so lightly that Wylan could barely feel it. "Surely it's the investor's privilege to decide how his financial contribution is distributed," he demurred, slipping the waistcoat off Wylan's shoulders with barely a rustle of fabric. "You're a man of means, after all. Your resources are considerable, and I've been told my capital is an opportunity well worth taking advantage of." He paused. "Sir."
Oh, you irrepressible bastard. "Your stock futures are far from the only promising opportunities on the market, Brekker. You'll have to be more convincing than that if you want me to treat you as anything more than a cheap Barrel whore."
He watched carefully to see how that phrase hit. But Kaz rose to the bait without so much as blinking.
"I think you'll find yourself more than satisfied with the way we do business in the Barrel." He slid his fingers under Wylan's suspenders, running them down from his shoulders to the waist of his trousers. The teasing pressure made Wylan's breath catch despite himself. "It's no place for coy evasions or soft dealing, or formality, sir. We play rough." His voice rasped low as he unclipped the suspenders, his touch feather-light once more.
Wylan had spent his life trying and failing to be good enough. When Wylan submitted, it was because he craved the experience of earning a partner’s praise and giving up control of his body. But Kaz had no need or desire to be good– did he? Or was it not about being good at all?
"I'm not sure it's worth the effort it takes to remind you of your place." Wylan retorted sharply. "I demand respect, and I will have it even if I have to take it."
His shirt followed his waistcoat, Kaz's long fingered hands neatly folding it and placing it on the dresser. Wylan remembered when those hands had been a rare, intimate sight. He could still envision how they had looked the first time he’d seen Kaz wrap his hand tightly around Inej’s, touch Jesper’s face, bury his fingers in Nina’s wild curls.
“I admire a man who’ll do whatever is necessary to get what he wants,” Kaz said with a smirk. “Even when the task is an… ambitious one.”
Wylan raised an eyebrow. “Sir,” he prompted.
This time, Kaz ignored the reproach and reached for the button of Wylan’s trousers as if he’d said nothing at all. Wylan stepped back sharply, slapping his hand away.
“If we do this, we do it by my rules, Kaz.” He took another deliberate step away when Kaz’s hand moved as if to reach out to him. He saw Kaz’s muscles tense slightly.
“Is that understood?” Wylan prompted him.
Kaz let out a slow breath. “Yes, sir,” he said— not terribly submissively, but it was a start.
Wylan stood there a minute longer, watching the way that Kaz stood just a little too still. There was some sort of emotion flickering in his expression, and Wylan desperately wanted to know what it was.
“Apologize for your bad manners,” he told Kaz in an unyielding tone. Not actual humiliation, but a taste of shame to punish his flippancy.
“I’m sorry, sir.” The words seemed slightly forced out. He really did want this. The first threat of Wylan withdrawing touch and attention had been all it had taken. But whatever he was looking for, it didn’t seem to be the submission itself. He showed no arousal or satisfaction at being reminded of his place and forced to apologize. So it wasn’t brattiness, not exactly.
Does he need to feel physically vulnerable? Wylan wondered. He narrowed his eyes. “Can you kneel without hurting your leg?”
Kaz shrugged. “Depends, sir. Bending my knee for too long makes it go stiff.” He looked a little startled by the question. Given how solicitous of Kaz’s leg all his partners were, Wylan wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first time he’d been asked to kneel.
“How long?” Wylan pressed.
“I can sit for maybe half an hour without stretching before the muscles seize up. Probably less if I’m kneeling.” The reply was quicker this time, matter-of-fact, and Wylan searched for signs of interest or reluctance in Kaz’s face.
“Would a massage afterwards help?” Wylan asked. He didn’t want to take advantage of Kaz’s disability to make him submit, but there was a particular intensity to being on your knees in front of someone… and besides, the decision should be his own. “I know Inej rubs your leg sometimes in the winter. I could–”
Kaz’s eyes met his for a moment before he looked quickly down, almost but not quite fast enough to hide an intense, vulnerable look in his eyes. “It does help.” His voice was slightly rougher than usual.
“Would you let me?” Wylan asked, keeping his voice low and even, careful not to let on that he’d noticed anything out of the ordinary.
“You wouldn’t have to. The stiffness wouldn’t be so bad if I shifted positions,” Kaz added, not answering the question. Wylan stepped forward and slowly reached out, threaded his fingers into Kaz’s hair, and pulled it hard.
“Would you let me?” he repeated in the same tone. “Red, yellow, or green?” Kaz’s eyes visibly dilated and he swallowed.
“Green,” he said quietly. Kaz had his expression back under control in seconds, complete with the mocking arch of his eyebrows. “Sir,” he added with something close enough to sarcasm that Wylan pulled his hair harder and made him gasp.
But the pieces had come together now.
Kaz wanted to submit, but not for the thrill of submission. He wanted to be used roughly so he could justify to himself the softness and care he’d be given afterwards. And the fact that Kaz wanted to be vulnerable and taken care of, even if only under the guise of aftercare, was…
It was endearing and heartbreaking at the same time.
He wanted to be safe in someone else’s hands, but he wouldn’t be comfortable surrendering himself to that comfort unless it was within the structure of a scene– and after earning it through pain and humiliation.
The way Kaz goaded him, inviting punishment… the submission he’d offered and then had so much trouble giving… it all made sense. The raw, twisted ache of it made Wylan want to kiss him so softly and hold him so tight.
But Kaz would allow neither– not yet at least.
He let his hand slide from Kaz’s hair, just barely brushing the back of his neck enough to make him shiver.
“Take off the robe. Get a pillow from the bed and kneel on it for me,” he ordered. To his surprise, Kaz obeyed without a clever retort, though the scheming look was back on his face. He knelt carefully and a bit clumsily, and Wylan allowed himself a moment to admire the image, the blood racing to his cock at the sight.
Kaz wasn’t conventionally good looking– his features were too thin and sharp to be pretty but not rugged enough to be handsome. But the wiry muscle of his body, the scars that knit across his skin, and the way every motion and nuance of his posture were calculated…
Everything about him bore witness to his survival. Every flaw spoke of a triumph over the cruelty of the Barrel. He was a masterpiece and a menace and a temptation.
This is the man you think you can dominate, Wylan thought wryly, but following on the trail of that thought was another: this is the man who needs an excuse to be vulnerable, and he trusts you to give it. The rougher you are, the more he'll let himself be loved. Hurt him.
He cleared his throat roughly and spoke.
"No more mincing words. What are you going to let me do to you? How much can you take ?"
"What kinky new fantasy made you ask for this, I wonder?" Kaz replied, managing to look superior while naked and on his knees. "Are you hoping to fuck me until it hurts? To leave bruises with those soft, white mercher hands? To try to make me beg and then hurt me when I won't? It's not really dirty or cruel if you do it to Barrel scum, after all." He smirked darkly. "It's the sort of treatment our kind ought to expect. Sir."
The sort of treatment our kind ought to expect. Why had Kaz felt the need to say that? Was it all Kaz would let himself hope for, the only reason Kaz could think of that someone might want to do this kind of scene with him? The dynamic of making use of someone too far beneath you to respect didn’t appeal to Wylan. He’d have thought Kaz would know that.
Then again, Kaz had spent enough time combing West Stave for information to have few illusions about how dark the fantasies of even the most unassuming man could be.
Either way, Wylan didn't rise to the bait. “I didn’t ask you what you think I want. I asked you how much you can take. I'll make it easy for you. Can I touch your face?"
Kaz nodded.
“Discipline you when you talk back?”
“Green.” Kaz’s eyes glinted darkly, and Wylan knew already that wouldn’t stop him.
“Can I leave marks?”
“It’d be a pretty weak punishment if you didn’t,” Kaz said scornfully, then before Wylan could remind or scold him, he rolled his eyes and added– “Yes, you can mark me, sir. Green.”
It occurred to Wylan that there was actually a very good way of shutting him up, and the thought made heat twist low in his abdomen.
"What about fucking your mouth?"
"I'm surprised. You know I can make you beg with my mouth. Are you sure that's what you want this time?" Kaz raised his eyebrows. "And yes. You can, sir ."
"I'm not talking about lying back and letting you suck my cock," Wylan corrected him. "I'm talking about fucking your throat until you choke on it."
"Green." Still casual, careless.
Wylan went to the small box in the lower dresser drawer beside the bed and took it out. He pulled a few things from it, purposely avoiding the restraints and the wooden paddle. Kaz had been handcuffed enough and taken enough beatings in his life. Wylan didn't intend to mix trauma with sex, even if Kaz was willing to endure it. No, he was looking for something that would sting.
Kaz gave the soft tailed flogger and the switch that Wylan held out an incredulous look. "Those won't even leave a bruise."
“Will that be a problem?"
Kaz just scoffed. “If you want to break me, you’ll need more than that, sir.”
The idea that Wylan would be willing to deliver the amount of pain it would take to break him was slightly horrifying, but he hid the emotion by turning back to the box and returning the rejected toys to their place. He considered the paddle once more, then shook his head. Wylan's eyes roamed around the room and settled on the ruler on his desk. It was wood, springy rather than heavy, but with one metal edge. He crossed the room, picked it up, and experimentally struck his forearm with it.
The impact was hard and stinging. If he'd hit with enough force, it would have raised a welt. The metal edge wasn't sharp, but it was possible it might break the skin slightly.
If it left bruises, they would be the tender, lingering kind that reminded you of their presence when you stretched or put pressure on them.
Perfect.
When Wylan came back to stand in front of him, he realized that Kaz hadn’t moved. Wylan had been behind him and– naked, unarmed, on his knees– Kaz had waited obediently with his back turned .
Kaz might not be good at submission, but he trusted Wylan to keep him safe. And the fact that this made Wylan feel like a demo blast had gone off inside his chest was something he’d have to unpack later.
"Hold out your hand," he ordered a little more sharply than he meant to. Kaz did without hesitation and Wylan snapped the ruler sharply across the inside of his wrist. Kaz tensed, inhaling quickly without making a sound, and they watched the place the blow had fallen redden.
Kaz's lack of protest made Wylan smile. It hurt a respectable amount, then. "I'm using this on you later," he said slowly. "Color?"
"Green." A slight tension in his voice now, but the reply was immediate. Good.
"I don't want to hear your voice unless I ask you a question or you want to stop," Wylan told him, very lightly running a hand through Kaz's hair. "You're here to shut up, do what you're told, and take what you're given."
"And what are you here for?" Kaz shot back in immediate disobedience. "To make me grovel for it?"
The way he came back to the idea of being made to beg or grovel was interesting. Wylan filed that away for later.
"I'm here to strip down all those pretenses you hide behind until there's nothing left but the fragile, greedy liar underneath." He shrugged. "Maybe I'll fuck you. Maybe I'll make you fuck yourself. Maybe I'll leave you unsatisfied. I haven't decided yet. But right now, I’m going to use you."
Kaz's breathing sped up ever so slightly, and Wylan could see the hidden eagerness in the set of his mouth and the tension of his shoulders. Wylan ran the ruler lightly down the side of Kaz's neck, traced his collarbone with it, then struck him with the flat of it, aiming the blow so it landed precisely across Kaz's nipple. Kaz rocked back and quickly swallowed a sound of startled pain.
"That was for speaking without permission. I'll tell you when I want to hear your voice, sweetheart."
He let the endearment come out like a threat and Kaz's throat moved as he swallowed hard. He responded to that, then, tenderness and cruelty mixed together. Of course. Wylan couldn't believe he hadn't realized it before. It was how Kaz dominated others, after all– harsh and gentle both. Loving but merciless.
It was just like Kaz, to so carefully give others what he wanted without knowing how to ask for it himself.
“Open your mouth.”
Kaz did, looking wickedly up at Wylan through his eyelashes.
“Don’t try anything,” Wylan warned him. “You do what you’re told and nothing else.”
At Kaz’s nod of acceptance, Wylan shed his trousers and pulled his cock from his drawers. He was half-hard already from the sight of Kaz naked and scheming on his knees. He guided the head between Kaz’s parted lips.
“Hold it in your mouth,” he ordered. “No hands, no fancy tricks with your tongue. Just a nice, wet, sloppy hole for me to fuck.” Wylan ran the edge of the ruler from Kaz’s shoulder down to the inside of his elbow and up again, making him twitch slightly. “Look at you,” he murmured. “You’re so pretty when you shut the fuck up. Too bad it won’t last. I’d like to keep you like this.”
Kaz’s eyebrow rose slightly and Wylan could almost sense the witty retort he was holding back. Instead, Kaz swallowed around him and the change in pressure sent tingles up Wylan’s spine.
“No clever comebacks,” Wylan mused. “No threats or games or manipulation. You’re absolutely itching to take control, but you’re holding yourself back, because you do know your place after all, and your place is on your knees with my cock in your mouth, doing what you’re told.”
He watched as Kaz bridled slightly at his words.
“Hold up one finger for red, two for yellow, and three for green.”
Kaz barely hesitated before holding up three fingers. Wylan reached out to set the ruler down on the dresser, then threaded the fingers of both hands through Kaz’s hair. His mouth felt amazing, slick and soft, sucking ever so lightly now and then.
Once again, Wylan found himself gazing down in fascination at the sight of Kaz on his knees. He was looking up at him through his eyelashes wickedly, lips wrapped around his cock, and there was not an ounce of submission in him.
Wylan waited until he’d fully stiffened in Kaz’s mouth. Then he cradled Kaz’s head in his hands and pulled it forward, pushing in deeper with a sound of satisfaction. Slowly he begun to thrust, fucking Kaz’s mouth by dragging his head back and forth with each movement of his own hips. Kaz yielded beautifully, breathing in through his nose and struggling not to choke when the head of Wylan’s cock hit his throat.
“You darling,” Wylan breathed. “You filthy slut.”
He could feel Kaz’s lips twitch around him. The bastard was smirking, or would be if his mouth wasn’t full. Wylan shoved him down harder on his cock and felt him choke as his nose touched Wylan’s pubic bone. His throat spasmed around the head and Wylan groaned at how good it felt before pulling back and letting Kaz gasp and cough.
“Color?” he asked.
Kaz swallowed hard, wiped the drool from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Green.”
Without further ceremony, Wylan fisted his hands in Kaz’s hair and fucked back into his mouth, not stopping until Kaz’s eyes were watering, then pulling back to ask for a color. He let himself be indulgent about it, holding off his orgasm for as long as he could without care for how much Kaz’s jaw must be aching. Kaz’s expression was sheer, stubborn defiance. Green, he answered each time. Green. Green. Green, you motherfucker. I’m not going to break.
Wylan froze at that last, eyes narrowing. “ What did you just call me?” he demanded.
“I called you a motherfucker, sir.” Kaz’s voice was barely a rasp. Wylan’s cock had done that, and he felt a perverse satisfaction.
“Glad to see I haven’t fucked the sass out of you yet.” Wylan pulled Kaz’s hair to yank his head back and force him to look up. “When I come, swallow it. Say yes, sir.”
“Yes.” Kaz let out a harsh breath. “Sir.” He shifted slightly, brow furrowing, and Wylan realized that his leg was hurting him.
He let himself come after a dozen thrusts or so this time, unable to hold back a groan as he felt Kaz’s throat spasm around the head of his cock, then swallow. “You were– fucking– born for this, I swear,” he gasped when Kaz managed to swirl his tongue over the sensitive head as he pulled out. “Get up.”
Wylan held out his hand and Kaz gripped his forearm. Wylan wasn’t strong enough to haul Kaz to his feet the way Matthias was, but he took some of his weight and steadied him as he rose. Kaz winced momentarily as his bad leg took his weight, then schooled his expression. Wylan waited for a handful of breaths, then very gently reached out to run his thumb over Kaz’s lower lip.
“Do you really think this is about trying to break you?” he asked Kaz in a low voice. “This is about you submitting to me, willingly, repeatedly, or none of it means anything.”
Kaz nodded jerkily and swallowed. “You don’t have to be gentle for me to be willing.”
“Sir,” Wylan prompted him.
“Sir.” It was half a breath, half a word. Kaz licked his lips, his tongue brushing over the tip of Wylan’s thumb.
“I know.” Wylan lowered his hand. “But I’m going to keep asking, and you’re going to keep answering. Now. I'll be right back, and I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. You have five minutes to stretch your leg however you need to, and then you’re going to sit on the edge of the bed.”
Wylan waited until Kaz began stretching before he went downstairs and heated a kettle of milk. He didn't like leaving during a scene, but he suspected that a moment alone would allow Kaz to gather himself and let him ease his leg without feeling like he needed to hide the pain. And more importantly, now that he knew what Kaz needed from the aftercare, a glass of water didn't feel like enough anymore. He'd need a mug of something hot and rich and comforting, and Wylan knew Kaz's weakness for chocolate.
He stirred in the cocoa and sugar, then returned, a kitchen towel draped over the steaming kettle in place of a tea cosy. Kaz took one look at it and snorted.
"That's a ridiculous threat. Do you really expect me to believe for a second that you'd pour boiling water on me?"
Wylan froze in mid-step and gave him an incredulous stare. "It's hot chocolate, you podge. For us to drink afterwards. You thought I was threatening you with torture?"
To his surprise, Kaz flushed slightly. "Like I said, I didn't think you'd do it."
There was a pause as Wylan set the kettle down, carefully folding part of the towel underneath it. Then they looked at each other and both of them burst out laughing.
"You ridiculous–" Wylan couldn't even finish the sentence. He crossed the room to where Kaz sat on the bed and lightly smacked the back of his head. "That is so fucked up. What the fuck."
"I'm processing my traumatic childhood," Kaz said with a smirk before cracking up again. Inej had convinced him to see an alienist a while back and he'd lasted for exactly three sessions before he'd turned the man's own words back on him in a scathing analysis and been told not to come back.
You definitely are, Wylan thought, but Kaz's laughter held dark humor and mischief, not bitterness, so he grinned back.
Wylan took out the oil and set it on the nightstand. Then he sat down beside Kaz, grabbed his chin firmly, and turned him to look at him. He didn't stare into his eyes– prolonged eye contact made Kaz nervous unless he was using it to manipulate a mark– but let his eyes settle on the other man's mouth, the lips still slightly flushed from being fucked.
Ghezen, that had been hot.
“I’m going to kiss you and stroke your cock until you’re hard,” Wylan said, “and then I’m going to show you what a mistake you made demanding something more painful than leather.”
Kaz sucked in his breath.
“Color?” Wylan asked.
“Where are you going to hit me?” He’d forgotten the ‘sir,’ but Wylan didn’t point it out this time.
Instead, he released Kaz's chin and traced a line down the sensitive skin of Kaz’s side. “Here and the backs of your upper thighs." He paused. "I won’t be gentle. I’ll leave marks for you to wear and think of me.”
Kaz’s neck flushed very slightly as Wylan’s touch lingered possessively just above his hip bone. “Green,” he murmured, then added, "sir."
“Come here, then.” With just his fingertips brushing Kaz’s cheek, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Kaz’s. It was the sort of kiss they had only ever shared in the lazy moments after lovemaking, slow and sweet and a little messy. Kaz sighed and swayed into it, reaching out to grip Wylan’s upper arm tightly.
Wylan wanted to push him back onto the bed, hold him down, and suck him off, but that wasn’t what Kaz needed now. So when their mouths parted, he poured oil into his hand and wrapped it around Kaz’s cock, which swelled and thickened nicely under his ministrations.
"You're staring, sir," Kaz said, eyes half lidded as he allowed himself to enjoy Wylan's touch. "See something you want?"
"I see how much the so-called Bastard of the Barrel likes the touch of my soft, white mercher hands." Wylan gave him another long, leisurely stroke. "Getting a taste for the finer things in life, are we?"
Kaz’s only response was a quiet, amused huff of breath. Wylan rose and fetched the ruler, watching the tension in Kaz's shoulders increase. Anticipation or dread?
"Color?" he checked.
"Green." The response was firm. Kaz's eyes caught on the ruler and lingered.
"The only thing I expect to hear from your mouth are colors and moans. Left hand on the bed behind you," Wylan instructed, "right hand on your cock. Just grip it for now. I'll tell you when to move it."
Kaz miraculously did as he was told without talking back, and Wylan wondered if that was a reflection of Kaz becoming more comfortable submitting to him or if it was just because he wanted to be hurt. Wylan pulled the ruler back and thwacked it against the skin of Kaz's waist.
Kaz hissed, tensed, and then relaxed, shutting his eyes. Good. Wylan repeated the blow, moving up and down Kaz's side with each one until there were only thin lines of pale skin between the stripes of red. It was unexpectedly pretty. He paused.
"I'm about to touch with my hand," he warned Kaz, then ran his fingers over the abused skin. Kaz tilted his head back slightly and breathed, his eyes shut.
"Lovely," Wylan said softly, pitching his voice almost too quietly for Kaz to hear but not quite. Then he raised his voice to a normal speaking tone. "Start pleasuring yourself, slowly. "
Kaz swallowed and began to move his hand. Wylan took a moment to admire the play of the muscles and veins in his forearm before he struck Kaz again, hard, over the already marked skin.
Kaz flinched and bit back a sound. Wylan, who knew from pleasant experience how much it hurt to be struck repeatedly in the same place, smirked.
"You like that?" he asked silkily.
"It's not meant to feel good. It's meant to hurt," Kaz said, his words coolly logical despite the tightness of his voice. "I know how this works. You're using the pain to intensify the high from the pleasure. Green."
"Green, sir," Wylan snapped, punctuating the words with another slap of the ruler.
"Green," Kaz gasped, "sir."
Fucking brat. Wylan hit him a few times, more gently, then paused. "Stop," he ordered.
Kaz pulled his hand from his cock and took a shaking breath in and out. "Edging?" he asked. "I wasn't particularly close yet, sir."
"When I want your opinion,” Wylan replied sharply, “I'll ask for it. Repeat to me what I said about what I want to hear from you."
Kaz looked downright wicked. "I think you said you preferred colors and moans to my witty rapport, sir. I can't imagine wh–"
Wylan grabbed his hair and pulled it hard, yanking his head back and pressing the ruler against his lips. Kaz's eyes widened and dilated, but he refused to react otherwise.
"I'm quite a conversationalist," he whispered against the wood of the ruler.
"What about my telling you to shut up and shoving my cock down your throat made you think I was here for your conversation?" Wylan demanded.
Kaz shrugged with elaborate casualness. "Your loss, sir."
Wylan let go of Kaz's hair and ran the ruler down from his mouth until it reached his cock. Then he ran the metal edge along its length, not painfully, but not gently either. Kaz groaned quietly.
"Right hand behind you on the mattress," Wylan told him. "Left hand on your cock." He moved to Kaz's other side and used the ruler to lay a stripe over an ugly knife scar. "Jerk it for me."
Kaz obeyed, quiet gasps and hisses accompanying each strike of the ruler. Wylan had the trick of using it now, sharp stinging blows with long pauses between, alternating how hard he struck so Kaz didn't know what to expect. His hand moved quicker and more roughly on his cock whenever a particularly painful hit landed, and there was a flush on his neck and chest. Wylan wanted to sink his teeth into him.
He stroked Kaz's hair gently and delivered another blow at the same time, and without realizing it, Kaz leaned into the caress.
Wylan traced the ruler lightly up to press against Kaz’s throat. "Keep going," he said when Kaz's hand faltered and he swallowed hard. He watched– yes– fuck, that's hot– and waited until Kaz had fallen into a rhythm again, tension and pleasure building even as he watched Wylan out of the corner of his eye.
When Kaz's breathing grew shallow and he bit down on his lip, Wylan softly ordered, "Stop."
Kaz let out a long, shaky breath as he let his hand fall. A bead of precum glistened on the head of his cock. Wylan stroked Kaz's hair again, then grabbed a tight fistful of it as firmly as he could without being painful.
"Color."
"Green…sir." Kaz's voice was unsteady with adrenaline, yet somehow more confident.
Not in subspace, but definitely feeling a high, Wylan observed. And feeling safe enough to stop pushing back for now.
He didn't tell Kaz he was a good boy, because he'd immediately turn contrary. Instead, he dragged his nails over the close cropped hair at the nape of Kaz's neck and down the line of his spine, and Kaz arched into it.
"Stand up," Wylan told him. "Hand me the oil."
Kaz got to his feet, the lines around his mouth deepening for a moment as he put weight on his bad leg, his hard cock bobbing against his stomach.
He passed Wylan the oil, and Wylan let their fingers brush as he took it. Kaz's eyes flickered down to their hands and he wet his lips with his tongue.
"Remember the time when you rubbed oil on Jesper before you spanked him?" Wylan asked calmly. "Remember how dramatically he complained about the sting?"
Kaz nodded.
"Turn around. I'm putting oil on your thighs." Wylan paused. "Thighs or ass? If I strike your thighs, it'll hurt both when you sit and when I knead the tension from the muscles after." He offered the greater pain like a temptation.
Kaz turned around. "Thighs. I can take it."
"Sir," Wylan added patiently.
"Sir." Not resentful or taunting, this time, just absentmindedly adding something he'd forgotten. Wylan bit back a smile.
He poured oil into his palm and smoothed it over the backs of Kaz's thighs. There was barely enough flesh there to cushion the blows from the wiry muscle, which was why he was using the oil. He'd hit him only a little harder than he had on his sides, and it would smart and burn as if he were striking much more mercilessly. He pressed a thumb into the muscle of Kaz's bad leg testingly and Kaz sucked in a breath. It was tense, trembling slightly, but it hadn't seized up. Good.
"Legs further apart," Wylan commanded. “Touch your balls lightly. Squeeze them for just a second, then trail your fingers up to grip your cock."
The muscles in Kaz's lower back spasmed in a fascinating way when he squeezed, and he made a guttural sound in his throat. When he let go, Wylan pulled back the ruler and released the first blow.
Kaz hissed loudly.
"Stroke yourself, but don't come." Wylan snapped the ruler sharply down just under the curve of Kaz's ass and he made a bitten off sound and let his head drop forward. His arm began to move.
"Wait. Hold out your hand." Wylan poured more oil into Kaz's hand when he awkwardly stretched it back. "Now do it."
He could hear the slick, filthy sounds of it now, and felt a stirring in his cock as he laid down another blow and watched Kaz's back tense and relax with each impact.
"Tell me how it feels," he demanded.
"Feels like I'm jerking myself off, sir," gasped Kaz, because some idiot had given him permission to talk. Wylan sighed inwardly.
"That's the idea," he replied dryly. "And this?" He snapped the ruler again, making him sway slightly on his feet.
"Feels… good, sir." Kaz cleared his throat. "Probably means you should hit harder."
He can't let go of the idea that he's not supposed to enjoy being hit, can he, Wylan mused incredulously.
"Pretty sure that just means you're a slut," he replied, then leaned forward and brushed a kiss between Kaz's shoulder blades. The sudden gentleness made Kaz make a choked, barely audible sound with more pain in it than even the hardest blows had wrenched from him. "Don't worry,” Wylan went on as if he hadn’t noticed that moment of vulnerability. “It'll get worse."
It did. Wylan caught the exact moment when the pain overwhelmed the pleasure. Kaz’s right hand slowed on his cock, and he went silent, his back tensing and his breathing catching on each slap of the ruler.
Wylan whipped the ruler against his side instead, drawing a gasp and a shiver from him. “Did I tell you to slow down?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Kaz gritted out.
A part of Wylan wanted to stop, wanted to whisper that he was sorry and kiss the marks on Kaz’s skin, but this wasn’t about indulging himself. Kaz needed this pain.
“Harder,” he ordered Kaz. “Try to make yourself come.”
Kaz sucked in a breath sharply, then started fisting his cock roughly, hips thrusting into each stroke. Wylan hit him again across the thigh and was rewarded with a bitten off cry. His thighs were striped with rising welts and flushed red; there were no longer any spots that were not painfully sensitive. He struck again, then again in quick succession, then lowered the ruler. A drop of sweat rolled down Kaz’s spine and he was making the faintest, hottest sounds as he approached climax.
“Stop.”
The desperate, broken moan that escaped Kaz sent a thrill through him.
“I– thought you told me to make myself come.”
He’d forgotten the sir again. Wylan trailed the ruler gently up Kaz’s outer thigh and hip, then dragged the metal edge hard over the flushed stripes on his side.
“What do you call me?” he asked.
“Sir.” Kaz was gripping the base of his cock hard.
“Take your hand off your cock.”
“I–”
“I told you to try to make yourself come. I never said I would let you do it.” Wylan told him cruelly. He was going to have to stop the punishment soon. Kaz might be ready to endure more, but they were drawing close to Wylan’s own limits.
He half expected Kaz to defy him this time, but Kaz let his hand drop
He used the ruler on him again, watching a welt where the metal edge had struck already abused skin. Kaz's hand was clenched hard at his side, and Wylan knew he was struggling to keep himself from bringing it back to his cock, even as he hissed sharply. Again, then again, bracing himself through the guttural sounds of pain that each blow tore from Kaz's throat– if he didn't feel safe and want this, he wouldn't let himself make a sound, and if you'd gone too far, he'd end the scene or lash out– but even so. Enough. Wylan set the ruler lightly on the dresser from his hand and circled to stand beside Kaz where he faced the bed. Kaz was trembling slightly.
“Turn. Look at me.”
His eyes were dark, all pupil, and he was breathing heavily. A deep flush covered his face, neck, and chest.
“Does it hurt?” Wylan asked. Kaz nodded. “Do you want to come?”
Kaz hesitated as if reluctant to admit it, then nodded jerkily.
Wylan raised his eyebrows. “Brats don't get to come unless they beg for it. You already told me you won’t beg if I try to make you. So I guess I won't see you come tonight.”
It was an open challenge. He waited to see how Kaz responded.
He received the exact response he’d expected. Kaz narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders. “I guess you won’t, sir.”
“Then prop up some pillows against the headboard and sit on the bed.”
Kaz was measuring his breathing now, forcing it even. “That’s it, then?” he asked tightly.
“This is the part where you drink hot chocolate and I take a look at how badly I hurt you,” Wylan countered. “But if you’re asking if I’m going to let you get yourself off, the answer is no.”
Wylan crossed the room and poured a mug of hot chocolate, watching Kaz sneakily out of the corner of his eye. He seemed awkward, taken off guard, but he didn’t argue. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment, breathing hard. His cock was still dripping with precum. It stood so painfully erect that Wylan ached to take him in hand and make him come so hard he went to pieces. Then Kaz lowered himself to the bed, sucking in a sharp breath as his thighs made contact with the sheet.
Wylan watched as, with an effort, Kaz forced his breathing under control. Then he took the towel from the kettle and brought both towel and mug to the bed. He handed the mug to Kaz once he was propped up against the pillows, then carefully draped the towel over the knee and shin of Kaz’s bad leg. It still held the heat from the kettle, and Kaz’s lips parted silently, then he gave a low sigh as the heat soaked into the sore muscles. He let his eyes fall shut for a moment, then raised the mug to his lips and sipped.
Wylan pulled the blanket over Kaz’s legs and tucked it around his waist, then fetched a tin of balm from the dresser drawer and returned with it. He settled down beside Kaz on the bed, close but not touching.
“Will you let me put it on you?” Wylan asked, holding up the tin. He already knew the answer before Kaz nodded, because this was the important part. The humming tension was almost visible in Kaz’s body. Even the gentlest touch would be intense, and gentle touch was what Kaz had craved from the beginning but been unable to ask for.
The balm was cool on his fingers, and Kaz shivered when it touched the hot skin of his side. He closed his eyes, swallowing hard. He’d lifted one arm to give Wylan access to his side, the other hand wrapped around the warm mug like it was anchoring him. That’s it, precious one, Wylan thought but didn’t say out loud. Let yourself be safe. Let me care for you.
Kaz flinched when Wylan smoothed the balm firmly over one of the reddest of the marks, pressing down for a moment before gentling his touch. As he’d hoped, the momentary pain made Kaz let out a shaky breath when it was replaced by softness. He carefully applied the balm to each of the marks, taking his time, caressing and soothing. Kaz sipped the chocolate and slowly, slowly relaxed into Wylan’s touch. By the time his sides were fully tended to, he was no longer biting back his gasps when it hurt or his sighs when the balm brought relief.
Then Wylan moved down the bed and drew the blanket and the now cooling towel off of Kaz’s leg.
“We don’t have to…” Kaz began, his words slightly stilted.
“Are you suggesting I skimp on aftercare after a scene this intense?” Wylan asked him with a faint smile. “I had you kneeling. Inej would murder me. So yes, we do have to. Either you let me massage your leg, or I watch while you do it yourself and make unhelpful comments.”
Invoking Inej did the trick, as Wylan had guessed it would. Kaz nodded and didn’t protest further. Instead he shut his eyes and swallowed. Wylan slowly dug his fingers into the place just above the badly-healed break where the muscles of the calf hadn’t reformed around it quite right. Kaz drew in a sharp breath, then groaned as Wylan methodically kneaded out one knot, then another. He took his time about it, letting the balm ease the friction of his fingers as he pressed and rubbed at the sore muscles. It was a surprising amount of work– he’d known Inej’s hands were strong, but the amount of pressure it took to coax Kaz’s muscles into compliance was more than he’d expected. Just like the rest of him, he thought wryly.
When he glanced up, Kaz’s cheeks were flushed again and there was a slightly glazed expression in his dark eyes. “Color?” Wylan asked.
There was a pause as Kaz opened his mouth and no words came out. Then he swallowed and murmured, “Green.”
Oh. Oh.
Wylan had worked out that being cared for was the part that would make Kaz the most vulnerable, but this, this was beautiful.
“Good,” he murmured, hoping the praise would encourage him to drift further into subspace rather than pull him out of it. Oh, Ghezen, Kaz. The trust you’re giving me.
“Hand me the chocolate and turn over,” Wylan ordered gently, and Kaz held out the mug. Wylan set it on the nightstand and smoothed his hand firmly down Kaz’s back when he turned over to lie on his stomach. Kaz arched into the touch a little, then lowered himself to his stomach and wrapped his arms around a pillow.
Wylan was forced to stop a moment just to stare at him and swallow down a wave of lust. The way the light caressed the scarred muscles of his arms and shoulders was fucking indecent. His hair was tousled every which way, and something about the bony curve of his spine and the way his arms curled around the pillow made him look vulnerable in the most gorgeous way–
And now Wylan was hard again. He’d just have to ignore that.
“I’m putting balm on the muscles on the backs of your thighs and rubbing out the tension,” he told Kaz. “This is going to hurt. Let me know if you need me to stop. Remember, you can use words or hold up your fingers.”
Kaz nodded into the pillow and Wylan began generously smoothing the balm on the marks that crossed the backs of his thighs. Kaz tensed and relaxed by turns, his breathing deep and ragged.
“You let me hurt you so much,” Wylan told him tenderly, pressing a thumb firmly against the raw, red skin. “This is going to ache for days. You’re going to think of me every time you sit down and remember what you let me do to you.”
Then Wylan began stroking his hands up the line of the hamstring on Kaz’s bad leg, pressing in with his palms and eliciting a sharp, hitching breath. The muscle was so tense that it barely yielded, and Wylan repeated the motion again and again, alternating with digging in with his thumbs and tracing the same path all the way up to his ass cheek. He lost track of time a little himself, focused so closely on Kaz and the response of his body to the pressure and touch. Kaz began lifting his hips up into the touch as Wylan's hands reached the top of his thigh. As the muscle finally eased up, he did so more and more shamelessly every time until he was all but pressing his ass into Wylan’s hands.
Wylan ignored the tiredness in his hands and began kneading Kaz’s lower back, eliciting enough muffled moans into the pillow to make Wylan’s erection, which he’d managed to will away, throb back to life.
“Perfect,” he whispered. “You’re perfect. Look at you, darling, pressing up into my hands like a cat being stroked.” He traced the lightest of lines with his fingertip down from the base of Kaz’s spine and slowly, slowly ran it further down.
“Can you spread your legs?” he asked. “Can I touch you? Give me a color.”
“Green.” The word was barely audible. Kaz parted his thighs and Wylan gently pressed them further apart. Then Wylan pressed two fingers lightly against Kaz’s entrance, circling. Kaz made an incoherent sound and his grip tightened on the pillow even as he seemed to melt just a little more.
Wylan didn’t rush it– gentle, reassuring, sensual. Slowly Kaz’s hands relaxed and he shifted a little, restlessly.
“Lift your hips,” Wylan told him, and gently readjusted Kaz’s slowly thickening cock to press against his abdomen, not stroking, just making him comfortable. Then he kneaded Kaz’s ass, spreading his cheeks obscenely, massaging the muscles until Kaz was arching up into his hands with the softest of whimpers.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” He murmured. “I’ll take such good care of you. I’ll make it so good, Kaz, I’ll open you up gently for me and slide in slow and easy and then I'll watch you take my cock over and over again.”
He began to ask for a color, but then he paused. If Kaz didn’t want it enough to say yes on his own– or if he was so far into subspace that he couldn’t consent without being asked– Wylan didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t going to risk that Kaz would have a single regret afterwards. He was going to treasure him like the priceless gift he was.
He waited, and Kaz tried to say something in a whisper, then let go of the pillow with one hand and curled his thumb and little finger beneath his palm. Three fingers. Green.
“I’m going to grab the oil,” Wylan told him. “You’ll feel me get up, but I’m not leaving you for a moment.” He swallowed hard. “Trust me to stay with you. Let me take care of you while you’re mine.”
He let himself be messy with the oil, wetting his fingers until they were dripping with it before rubbing the rim of Kaz's entrance unhurriedly. When he finally pressed a finger in, Kaz let out a slow breath and took it effortlessly, muscles relaxed and yielding to the penetration. He took the second finger just as well, and Wylan moved them in and out in a gentle, lazy rhythm, reveling in the soft, trembling sighs he could draw from him this way.
Ghezen, he wished Kaz could see himself right now.
He kept going, adding a third finger and stretching Kaz slowly and thoroughly, curling them to press against the sensitive spot inside until Kaz was moaning low and desperate and his hips were jerking erratically against the mattress.
"I can keep doing this," Wylan told him, "or I can bend you over the edge of the bed and give you my cock. Do you want me to fuck you with my cock now, love?"
Kaz sucked in a breath as Wylan spread his fingers and stretched him, then nodded, fumbling to raise three fingers in consent.
It took a minute for Wylan to arrange the pillows to his satisfaction. The bed sat high off the ground, almost but not quite at waist height, and a pillow or two tucked under Kaz's hips would serve to make up the difference, support his weight, and give him something to rub up against as Wylan took him. Kaz had clung to the pillow this entire time– he liked having something to grip onto. Thankful for once for the excessive amount of pillows Jesper insisted on, Wylan put down another one for Kaz to hold.
Then he looked across the room and, with a quiet reassurance to Kaz that he would be close, moved the floor length mirror so that they would be directly facing it. At the last moment, he thought to grab his discarded shirt and put it back on so that not too much of their skin would touch when he pressed into Kaz.
Kaz moved slowly and a little clumsily, as Wylan guided him to stand and lower his torso into the bed. He rested his weight on his upper body, wrapping his arms around the pillow immediately and resting his forehead on it.
Hiding from me, sweetheart? Wylan thought, resting his hand firmly on Kaz's lower back. Not for long.
Again, he was liberal with the oil as he slicked himself up. He thanked Ghezen that he'd come once already; the sight of Kaz Brekker submissive and bent over a bed, offering his ass to Wylan to fuck, was overwhelming.
Wylan held Kaz's hip firmly as he guided himself in, steadying and grounding him. Kaz made a soft, choked sound of bliss. Wylan just paused and breathed for a moment, letting Kaz relax around him completely.
"That's it, love, so good for me, sharing this with me, letting me have you…" Wylan didn't know how much of what he said Kaz was absorbing and how much was just sound, but the endearments and praise flowed from him instinctively as he felt Kaz shiver and his inner muscles adjust. He waited and rubbed Kaz's lower back even after he had relaxed around him, letting the moment of intimacy stretch on– waited until Kaz sighed and rocked his hips back just a little. Then Wylan moved.
He fucked Kaz tenderly and gently, and Kaz melted – there was no other way to describe it. He was whispering something muffled and incoherent into the pillow. The only part of his body that wasn't slack with utter submission were his hips as he arched to meet each slow thrust. The sheer depth of the trust he'd been given burned sharp and bright in Wylan's chest.
"Look up," he urged Kaz. " Look in the mirror. Watch."
Kaz just moaned again, head still lowered. Wylan pushed in again, searching for and finding the right angle, and was rewarded with a low cry.
"Look, Kaz," he repeated. "You're so sweet for me, so fucking hot, I want you to see."
Kaz whimpered, pressing his face into the pillow.
Wylan’s voice hardened. "I'm going to make you look, treasure. I'm going to pull your head back by your hair and make you watch . Give me a color." His voice broke on the last word, a groan of pleasure escaping as Kaz clenched tighter around him for a moment..
He slowed, and Kaz gasped helplessly for a moment before he held up three trembling fingers.
"Fuck, treasure," Wylan swore, then leaned forward, sank his fingers into Kaz's hair, and yanked hard, dragging his head up. "Open your eyes," he ordered roughly. "Open your eyes and look at what you're giving me."
Kaz's eyes opened and his breath caught for a long moment as he stared into the reflection of his own flushed face, at his body bent over the bed as Wylan took him. Wylan watched Kaz watch them both, watched a tear slowly run down his cheek.
"It's all right," he whispered, his own voice rough with emotion. "You can let go. You're safe, Kaz, you're safe and loved and so, so good."
Now, without the pillow muffling them, Wylan got to hear the beautiful, rough, breathless sounds Kaz was making, rutting forward against the pillows and back onto Wylan's cock as he watched himself be fucked. Wylan didn't slow down or speed up, didn't loosen his grip on Kaz's hair.
And he could see the single word Kaz was mouthing between gasps and cries.
It was his name.
His hand tightened on Kaz's hip possessively. Each repetition of it-– Wylan, Wylan, Wylan — lit something inside him on fire.
"Love." Heart overflowing, he let himself slip into the sort of Kerch endearments that their other partners would have reproached him for. "Cherished fortune, gold in my hands, breath in my lungs–”
Kaz cried out, voice breaking, and yanked his head down against Wylan’s hold on his hair. He let go, letting Kaz bury his face in the pillow once more, and Kaz thrust his hips back hard and desperate, trying to get him to go harder and faster.
“Slow,” Wylan commanded, gripping Kaz’s hips in both hands and holding them in place as firmly as he could. He didn’t change his pace– smooth, deep strokes, dragging out the pleasure and letting it build steadily for both of them. Slow, treasure. Let me love you.
Kaz was shaking, choking on moans that were almost sobs, barely able to give a muffled Green when Wylan asked for a color.
Thrusting into him was slowly unraveling Wylan’s mind. He was so hot and shamelessly demanding, arching into him for more, taking his cock so beautifully. “Ghezen, Kaz. Kaz. Let me– move back, let me–”
Kaz let himself be pulled back to slide his weight off his hips so that his weight rested on his forearms. He rocked into each thrust, broken syllables of Wylan’s name still falling from his lips, knees buckling when Wylan bottomed out inside him. The corded muscles in his shoulders and back moved gorgeously beneath sweat-slick skin. The entire world faded away and there was only Kaz, wanting him with a vulnerability and desperation that pushed Wylan past pleasure into euphoria.
“Please.” It was half a whine, half a whisper. Wylan ground his hips, and Kaz made a wild, incoherent sound. “Please, please, Wy, please–”
He was begging .
Oh, Ghezen, Kaz Brekker was begging .
Wylan reached around, wrapped his hand around Kaz’s cock, and gave him what he needed. He stroked firmly three times, four, and then Kaz’s entire body spasmed, clenching around Wylan so suddenly that he had to bite down hard on his own lip to keep from following him. He fucked Kaz through the orgasm deep and slow, treasuring every sob and blissful groan. Then Kaz’s muscles went lax. Wylan caught him, arm around his waist, and gave his cock one last, hard stroke that made him whimper and jerk with overstimulation. His ass clenched tight and Wylan was barely able to pull out before he came himself, thin ropes of white over the streaked red of Kaz’s thighs, a harsh grunt bursting from his lungs.
Slowly he lowered Kaz onto the bed, running a shaking hand from his shoulder blades to the base of his spine, and Kaz collapsed onto the sheets and pillows like a rag doll. Wylan had to lean forward, rest one hand on the bed, and catch his own breath, his heart racing, mind still blank and swimming from the intensity of his climax. He caressed Kaz mindlessly, tracing a scar over his hip, the curve of a rib towards his spine, the bead of sweat that ran slowly down a raised welt on his side.
When he felt able to move again, he tenderly wiped the come from Kaz's skin and shifted him, turning him the right way on the bed and lifting his legs onto the mattress. No sooner had he lay down beside him and pulled the blanket over them both than, to his surprise, Kaz pressed himself to Wylan’s chest, forehead nestled into his collarbone and one hand curling in the fabric of his shirt.
“Do you want me to put my arms around you and hold you?” Wylan whispered. Kaz shook his head no, breath still coming in trembling gasps. “Can I pet your hair?” A nod.
Wylan carded his fingers lightly through Kaz’s hair, feeling a little fragile himself. He could feel tears soaking through his shirt.
“Do you feel safe, Kaz?” he needed to know.
Kaz nodded again. “Fuck,” he breathed reverently, almost inaudibly.
“I know,” Wylan murmured. “That was so much trust you gave me. You did so well.” He felt a sharp little tremble go through Kaz’s body. “I’m here with you, fortune. I’ve got you, and I love you so much.”
Kaz raised a hand and brushed three fingers clumsily over Wylan’s cheek. Green. Wylan’s heart skipped a beat because green meant– I want to be loved by you , Kaz was saying without words .Yes. Be here with me. Love me. Wylan caught his hand and kissed the fingertips one by one, and Kaz’s sigh was deep and rough against him.
“I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Slowly Kaz’s breathing slowed and evened. The hand not holding onto Wylan’s shirt began to trace something on the bed sheet, a motion he had seen from Kaz’s fingers countless times against the wood of his desk or the arm of a chair, and once against Jesper’s shoulder after they had made love. It was a letter or letters, Wylan guessed, and he did it without realizing it sometimes. It was one of those tiny details and tics that made him Kaz.
“I love you,” he said again, his voice unsteady with emotion, but this time Kaz was drifting far away, and the only response was a deep, sighing exhalation.
There was a soft knock at the door. “Are you two doing all right? Do you need anything?” Jesper. Wylan smiled faintly.
“We’re good,” he reassured their partner, the words coming out a little shakier than he’d intended. Kaz had stirred and was tensing slightly against his chest.
“You sure, Wy? Do you need–”
Wylan cut Jesper off. “Later.” And he would need some aftercare himself later. While he could enjoy hurting his partner in the moment, the guilt afterwards was sometimes intense. He would spend a few hours tomorrow in Jesper’s arms, being cuddled and kissed and reassured. But right now, it was Kaz’s turn to be cared for. “Thanks, Jes, but we need to be alone for now. He’s mine tonight.”
As the faint sound of footsteps faded into silence, Kaz relaxed against him again. Wylan glanced down to see the utter bliss and relaxation return to Kaz’s features as he pressed his cheek against Wylan’s chest and his lips silently echoed Wylan’s phrase–
He’s mine.