Snowed In Read online

  Hunter opened his eyes to find himself looking up into Cam’s ice-blue ones. He started to smile and say good morning when he shifted slightly and the collar clinked and the prongs bit harder into his neck. He remembered: TPE.

  “In the second drawer of my dresser find a pair of mid-thigh, microfiber mesh briefs. Gray, black trim. Fold them neatly and leave them on the long counter in the bathroom. Use the toilet, drink a bottle of water. Shower. Use a washcloth to soap everything that hurts. Twice. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  ADJUSTING THE SHOWER TO PULSE, Hunter allowed the hot water to pound his aching shoulders and neck through the collar. Hands flat on the wall, head down, he vaguely recalled Cam’s cock pushing into him. He’d realized Cam had come inside him when he walked to the bathroom. The dribble of fluid from his hole spread and burned the insides of his cheeks.

  Every time you clench, every step you take, every chair you avoid, you’ll feel me here. Wherever you are, I own you.

  He felt exactly what Cam wanted him to feel, a raw burn he could not avoid.

  “When am I in you Hunter?”

  “Always.”

  “Thank, God,” Hunter murmured, the words lost under the sound of the spray.

  Feeling much less stiff, he washed the dried sweat from his hair and soaped himself with his hands. He used a washcloth on his ass and squatted to get between his cheeks. It hurt.

  He held himself open and let the water rinse him clean. He re-lathered. It didn’t hurt quite as much the second time.

  And all the while he thought of Cam’s tongue, hot and wet and firm and in him. Hunt would have taken his newly sprung erection in soapy hand except for the fact that Cam owned him. And he had not been told to.

  He switched to a fine, cool spray.

  CAM’S SHOWER WAS NO STALL. It was a large open alcove, birch paneled instead of tiled. After Hunt cooled down, he switched off the water and turned around to find Cam in his wheelchair backed against the opposite wall.

  Cam was naked.

  “Did you masturbate?”

  Hunt swallowed hard; the collar moved slightly with the action. “No, Sir.”

  Cam knew certain words had power. If he’d asked Hunter if he’d beat off or choked his chicken or any other of the quadrillion ever-evolving euphemisms, he wouldn’t have triggered the hint of humiliation and the arousal that went with it.

  “Come close to me.” Cam held up some after-bath oil. “This says it should be applied while your skin is wet.”

  Cam’s eyes glittered as Hunter stopped at the end of his cast leg and the cock Cam loved, substantial even flaccid, darkened and rose, literally in front of his eyes.

  “Closer.”

  Hunter started, looking at Cam’s cast leg sticking straight out. If Hunt swayed forward an inch, he’d be touching Cam’s toes. But Cam cocked a well? eyebrow at him. Hunter opened his stance and shuffled forward awkwardly until he was over Cam’s knees. His stiffening column hung over Cam’s lap.

  “Put your arms out, hands flat on the wall.”

  Leaning over Cam, hands on the wall above his head, body angled, brought Hunt’s now very erect penis, closer to Cam’s mouth. Hunt looked down between his arms into his Dom’s upturned face.

  “Watch.” Cam poured some oil into one hand and rubbed his palms together. He oiled Hunter’s arms and chest and stomach. He used a lot more oil, reaching around to Hunter’s back, as far up as he could reach. He covered Hunt’s inner thighs and lower legs, avoiding the buttcheeks, where the damage was the worst.

  Hunter wanted so much to close his eyes and sway into Cam’s palms and fingers. It felt beyond wonderful, the long, strong strokes, the pulls up the backs of his calves. His balls ached from not coming last night, and his dick was a sand wedge, but he wished Cam would never stop.

  Using a bit more oil, Cam reached out and cupped Hunter’s sac, heavy and warm. Another of his favorite things. He smiled up at his sub. “Make any sounds you need. Come whenever you like.”

  Cam felt a subtle movement inside the inside pouch resting on his palms and squeezed gently; Hunter groaned.

  Cam wasn’t interested in teasing or torturing. Spreading the oil with his fingers and thumbs, his intention was to arouse and soothe. Hunt’s cock was now against his belly, a steady trickle of precum flowing down and over Cam’s fingers to drip on the shower floor.

  Cam was hard, of course, but Cam seemed to be hard the majority of the time with Hunter. The thought filled him with a kind of eager contentment, background music for his life.

  Hunter seemed to be filled, too, uttering soft sounds of pleasure. His hips undulated slightly as Cam’s hands moved over him.

  Cam dribbled oil over Hunt’s shiny glans and hard length. He spread the oil and banded the taut column with his strong fingers. Cam knew how much Hunt liked the feel of his hands, the skin slightly roughened. He tightened his grip, rotating his fist as he moved, allowing the head of Hunt’s cock to disappear into his hand, thumbing the rim before sliding back down to the root.

  Hunter’s sounds deepened into a husky growl.

  Cam looked up into Hunter’s eyes, the deep gray-blue shadowed and almost black, the thick lashes wet and spiked, his skin flushed with heat and need.

  “Would you like to fuck my mouth, Hunter?” Cam asked softly, and the hot column jerked in his hand. Cam kept stroking.

  Hunt’s “Yes, Sir” was almost inaudible.

  The wheelchair was low, and Hunter was tall. Cam leaned forward, swiped his tongue over Hunt’s slit, opened his mouth and took him all the way to the back of his throat.

  The groan was loud and deep, and Cam felt the vibration through the cock he closed around, stroking with his tongue but not moving his head. Cam reached for Hunter’s hip and urged him to move, still cupping his testicles.

  It was beautiful. Hunter breathed in a series of stressed ahs timed with controlled thrusts, loving the feel of Cam loving him. He didn’t chase his orgasm as much as allow it to happen, watching himself, red and wet with saliva, slide in and out between Cam’s lips.

  When he came, Cam’s tongue rubbed hard when he swallowed. “Jesus,” Hunt breathed and spasmed again.

  Cam kept him inside for a few moments and then pulled back, holding his hand out to catch Hunter’s still-turgid shaft. He tilted his head back, reached up and pulled Hunter down for a kiss.

  “Kneel for me, sub,” he whispered, and “sub” was the most intimate of endearments.

  Gratefully, Hunt sank down in front of Cam and returned the favor.

  “HERE, TASTE IT,” CAM SAID, holding out an index finger with a dollop of yellow-brown goo on the end. He’d been motivated to do so by the look of revulsion on Hunt’s face when he caught sight of what Cam scooped out of the jar to smear on his ass.

  TPE. Hunter opened his mouth, and Cam shoved his finger inside and laughed aloud at the surprised look on his face.

  Cam used a wet wipe on his finger. “Spread yourself.” He reached into the jar for more goo.

  Bent over the counter, Hunter reached back and pulled his buttcheeks apart. He felt the blood suffuse his face.

  “Man, I hope you never lose that humiliation reflex; you are so fucking hot,” Cam told him, carefully spreading the thick substance over beard-burned flesh.

  “Honey,” he said, “Is a great treatment for minor burns. It’s antiseptic, and the gauze sticks to it really well.” He illustrated this last by laying thin pads along each side of Hunt’s cleft.

  “Release.”

  Hunt let go of himself. The layers of gauze felt thick and alien in the crack of his ass. But he was out of pain.

  Cam spread more honey over the welts, dark red with edges of bluish bruising. More gauze.

  Grabbing the briefs from the counter, Cam shook them out and leaned down. “Left foot … down … right foot … good.” He worked them up Hunt’s legs—“Straighten”—and over ass and hips, keeping them from disturbing the gauze. Once in place, Cam smoothed t
hem over Hunter’s rounded cheeks that twitched with the pressure, the welts making their existence known.

  “Adjust your junk,” Cam told him, rolling away.

  CAM PERCHED ON A BAR STOOL in front of the stove, making breakfast. On the floor, canted over on one hip, Hunter leaned against Cam’s right leg.

  There was something comforting in the movement of Cam’s thigh through the fabric of his sweats. Hunt could feel the play of muscles when Cam turned to lift a bowl or stretched for an ingredient.

  Hunt was anticipating that night, when the collar would come off and he could tell Cam all things he now understood.

  Cam was thinking about that afternoon, when all he had prepared Hunter to accept would begin. He chided himself for being anxious. He knew what Hunt needed, knew how difficult it was for him to not get relief.

  Cam had arranged for the best service Dom he knew to take care of Hunter. He’d cracked several layers of defense and primed Hunt to accept his transfer of ownership—that moment he would know Cam was handing him over to someone else to be broken.

  Camden Snow had never lent out a sub or exchanged one for play. He demanded all from them, all their trust. This they gave to Cam, not to anyone else. And while it was always implied in such a situation that Cam could do that, he never would. Or, he thought he never would.

  Until now.

  It went against Cam’s basic nature to give up control of a sub, to give up the ability to protect him. He told himself to relax. It was all for Hunter, after all. And he knew the players well and could confidently extend trust for his sub.

  After all, he reasoned, it was virtually the same as Hunt going to the club to find release. Except for being collared.

  Except that it would not be his choice.

  HUNTER WAS IMMEDIATELY AWARE when Cam stopped moving. Stopped cooking.

  “Kneel. Head down.”

  Hunt lifted himself to his knees and dropped his head. He felt Cam’s fingers on the collar. It tightened around his throat. Anxiety spiked his heart rate. Hunter Dane feared choking.

  The collar came apart. Cam tossed it into the sink.

  “You’re released.”

  Hunt looked up in surprise. Cam cupped the side of his face with a warm hand. Raising his own to cover Cam’s, Hunt was astonished to see him well up.

  “Cam?”

  “Please get up. I made a mistake.”

  Hunter immediately rose to his feet and pulled Cam into a full body hug. Cam buried his face in the crook of Hunter’s neck.

  “First we’re going to eat,” Hunt told him. “And when our brains have food, we’ll talk.” He nudged Cam with his nose and kissed his ear.

  Cam sighed deeply and looked up. “Food’s done. I’ll go light the fire.”

  “I’ll bring the plates and coffee.”

  “And the apple pie,” Cam told him, snagging the arm of his wheelchair. He turned it to face him and sat down.

  Hunt grinned. “We’re having pie for breakfast?”

  Cam shrugged as he wheeled away. “We need some fruit.”

  Hunter used Cam’s biggest cutting board as a tray and loaded it with food and cutlery. Across the great room, Cam held the telephone receiver to his ear with one hand, and tossed a handful of cedar chips onto the fire with the other. The room filled with the spicy, warm scent.

  He’d hung up by the time Hunter delivered the first board-load to the coffee table. Cam stripped the soiled cover from the couch. Rolling it up on itself, he launched it toward the hallway to the laundry room.

  Hunt went back for the coffee and juice and napkins, picking up the rolled cover on his way by.

  Last night felt like a lifetime ago.

  “YOU GOT ME A DOM FOR CHRISTMAS?”

  Hunt sat canted to one side with his leg bent underneath, facing Cam, propped against pillows at the other end of the couch.

  “It’s only Advent,” Cam said. “Are you laughing at me?”

  Hunter grinned. “No, I’m astonished by you. How the fuck would he get here? There’s like six feet of snow on the roads.”

  “Ski or snowshoe. They live in the development. But you’re missing the point.”

  “No, I’m ignoring the point.” Hunter carried the remains of their breakfast to the kitchen. “What do you mean by ‘in the development’?”

  “Here, where I live, the development. Hanging Valley Estates.” He shook his head no when Hunt gestured with an empty coffee cup.

  “People were hung up here?”

  “Other than you?” Cam smirked. “No, it’s a geology thing. Or maybe a developer sales thing, I don’t know. There’s like twenty properties along the creek that runs down to the river. “

  Hunter returned and perched next to Cam on the edge of the couch.

  “There’s a jogging track that winds through it,” Cam told him. “You can make out just about all the houses through the trees. Some of them have horses, so you have to watch for piles of shit, though. At one place there’s a lookout and a little waterfall.”

  Hunter let his hand roam across Cam’s chest over his pullover, a deep green knit, thick and warm. “It’s a foothills cul-de-sac for rich people.”

  “Wealthy queers, to be precise,” Cam said, sliding down a little, relaxing under the weight of Hunt’s hand.

  “All twenty of them? Who built it, Buttwell Banker?”

  Cam moved Hunter’s hand pointedly off his chest. “I didn’t know you were crude.”

  Cam wasn’t the only one who could move quickly. Hunt’s arms circled Cam’s waist and slid him down, lying on top of him. He waggled his eyebrows. “I’m crude? You’re the one with the boner”—his hips pressed—“oh, to be twenty-four, again.”

  Cam laughed. “And you’re some old geezer with a truck axle in his pocket.” He squeezed Hunter through his sweats. “And FYI, the billionaire’s brother built this place.”

  “Nicky Hart?” Hunter worked Cam’s shirt up and dropped mouth to skin.

  “I told you he’s a billionaire, too. Jag turned me on to this place when they got married.”

  Hunter raised his lips from Cam’s sternum. “Hang on. Jag is the service Dom?” He worked the shirt up higher until Cam knocked his hands away and took it off.

  “You know how surfers chase big surf? Jag chased big moguls. It was how he paid his expenses. He’s really good with a flogger.” Cam closed his eyes as Hunter’s mouth found the sensitive skin in the hollow of his collarbone.

  “Hunter …”

  The hoarse whisper shot right into Hunter’s core. He sucked and growled and ached, and Cam’s hips tilted, seeking him.

  Hunt stopped for breath, panting into Cam’s neck. “Every fucking time you take your shirt off I want to do this.”

  He raised his head to look into Cam’s face. “Let’s lie here and neck like horny teenagers and hump each other until we shoot. I never got to do that. And I can give you a major hickey since no one’s coming. ”

  Cam pushed Hunt up. “Hang on, the first thing isn’t finished. How are you not pissed? How do you still trust me? I was going to hand you over to him.”

  “No, you weren’t.” Hunt rolled onto his side, resting his head on his hand, his elbow on the cushion next to Cam’s head. He circled Cam’s far nipple with the tip of his index finger, following the well-defined border of the rosy areola.

  “Cam, everything you did and planned was about getting me what I needed. I’m assuming you didn’t want to get yourself off watching.”

  “No, God no. I wouldn’t even be there.”

  Hunter nodded. “Which is why you literally beat it into me, scored it into my flesh. I am yours; you are in me. Always.”

  “You had to know you weren’t abandoned after I handed you over and walked away.” Cam watched Hunt’s fingertip circling. “Jesus, that feels good,”—he closed his eyes for a moment—“but what do you mean I wasn’t going to? I was definitely going to. I confirmed with Jag and Nicky when the wind died down.”

  Hunter gave Ca
m a warm, reassuring smile. “You intended to. Intent isn’t action. You were always going to release me, always going to leave the decision to me. You’re into control; all Doms are. But you care more for a sub than yourself. It’s why I trust you.”

  Hunt lowered his head and licked Cam’s now furled nipple.

  “Holy shit!” Cam bucked; Hunt pulled away.

  “What? Did I hurt you?” He felt Cam’s cock recede.

  “No, it just—that went straight to my ass, like an electric current.” He shuddered. “What was that?”

  “Neurology, I expect.” Hunter sat up. “It’s just how you’re wired. Trust me?”

  Cam licked his lips, and Hunt saw the anxiety flash in his eyes. It was something he knew well. Cam nodded.

  “Close your eyes and relax. Try to stay relaxed and just breathe through it at first. See what happens. Okay?”

  Cam shut his eyes and Hunter stroked his hair. “Deep breath and relax.”

  A minute later, Cam breathing evenly, Hunter opened his mouth over Cam’s other nipple, the one he hadn’t overstimulated. He kept his tongue soft, and laid it on the bud. He heard a hiss of air through Cam’s clenched teeth as he felt it. Hunter stayed still. Cam’s body stiffened, but he didn’t move.

  Hunt concentrated on remaining relaxed and unmoving. He couldn’t risk swallowing and stroking Cam even a little, so the saliva ran out the side of his mouth and down Cam’s side.

  Beneath his tongue, Cam’s nipple tightened. Hunt didn’t react. He felt the bud harden and rise.

  “Hunter …” Cam’s voice soft and thick. “Oh, God, Hunter.” Cam’s hand covered Hunt’s and guided it down to his shaft. Hunt wanted to smile, feeling him stretch and fill and heat—but Cam would feel it.

  Cam was panting softly. Hunt felt the nipple peak under his tongue.

  “Just … just … a little,” Cam gasped. Hunter didn’t move; he pressed down. The cock under his hand jumped.

  “Hunter … Hunt-” Cam jerked Hunt’s head back by the hair. “Enough,” he gasped, a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip, cheeks flushed. “How did you know to do that?”

  “I Dom women, remember? Lots of nipple experience.” He leaned over and kissed Cam briefly.