Mr. One Fifty-Eight Ch. 07

"Should I open it now?"

"Yes, boy, open the damn envelope," Justin laughed.

Chris did. In it was a card that said, Happy Birthday! - there was no other message in it. Justin had deliberately chosen something plain, so that whatever the dynamic was, it would be appropriate. Inside the card was a gift certificate to a very special downtown men's clothing store. It was for five hundred dollars.

Chris stared at it blankly.

"Justin . . . thank you, but that's way too much money . . . I can't accept that."

He tried to give it back to his ex-roommate, but the jock wouldn't take it.

"Please. I want you to have it. You can buy something fierce to wear at the Council on Global Affairs."

"I'm just an intern . . . Seriously, Justin, this is too -"

"Chris . . . please take it. It's not too much. You're a hot guy, you deserve to have something awesome to feel great about yourself in. Clothes make the man, or whatever it is. Please." Justin pressed the certificate into Chris' hand.

Chris let his hand close around the paper, a startled look on his face. Had Justin just called him "hot"? They had bantered quite a bit in the room last year; it hadn't all been, "suck my cock, fag". But the level of flirtation had been high this evening. The apologies Chris had been prepared for. The compliments, he had not.

"Thank you," he said, and put the gift certificate back in the card, and on the coffee table.

"You're welcome, Chris."

Justin's hand itched to go back into his breast pocket for the second present, but he knew it wouldn't land right. Not yet. He chose what would hopefully be somewhat easier ground.

"There's still the matter of your language to deal with tonight, young man." Justin grinned as he said it, hoping to put Chris at ease, and yet rope him back into their usual pattern.

"Yeah . . . Justin . . . I don't know if we're really in that place . . ." Chris was going to say "tonight", but instead said, "anymore."

That hit Justin like a hammer. For a fleeting moment he wrestled with a surge of anger, then squelched it. That demon had to be buried, expunged, burned out. Choose friendliness or humor, he told himself. And keep your expectations realistic.

"I know, I get it. It's ok. I'm just hoping we can get back there." He squeezed Chris' shoulders, and turned to smile at him again.

The problem, Chris thought, is that I don't know what "there" is for you. Is it having an on-call cocksucker? Is it having a submissive not-quite-boyfriend? What is it you really want? That question couldn't be asked; the answer was potentially far too scary. And what is it I really want? Chris couldn't answer that either, if he was being truthful.

They remained silent for a minute. Chris' mind was racing, seeking a way to find a solution to all of the problems with this relationship this evening. At twenty-one, he did not yet know that life is long.

Unable to work it out, he pulled himself back from the precipice of the future, and tried tentatively to concentrate on now. What did he want from this moment? What was on offer? Another spanking. Which would make him hard and horny. And then what? Could he let nature take its course? Most importantly: could he trust Justin to stop when Chris reached whatever boundary he had - the location of which was still unknown to him?

After the last several hours . . . yeah, I can, Chris thought. He'll stop. I know this guy. He's flown off the handle before, but I know he won't do that tonight. Ironically, this may be the one and only time I get to exercise a modicum of control.

And, fuck me, but . . . I still like him.

Justin didn't know what was going on in Chris' head, but he felt the shoulders in his arm relax. And he knew that was good.

"You don't have to say anything, Chrissy," Justin began, rolling the dice for a third time. He wasn't failing - he just had to consider anything that happened from this point on to be gravy. Ok. So considered. "You can just nod. Just stay with me for a sec, ok?"

Chris nodded.

"So I think you deserve a little more spanking. For your language," Justin chuckled, "and maybe just because we both like it. Am I right?"

Chris hesitated, then nodded again.

"Good. So the question is just whether or not we're going to do that, and if we are, how."

Chris nodded.

"What I'd like to do is have you go into the bedroom, strip down, and wait for me. No fancy posture or anything, just wait. Nice and easy. Just thinking about whatever you might have done to deserve a spanking. And in a few minutes, I'll come in, and you'll go over my knee. And we'll be done when I say we're done. Just my hand. That's all. And there's no plan for anything after that. Just a spanking until we're done. Does that sound ok to you?"

A minute passed.

Chris nodded.

"Does that sound like something you might want?"

Another nod.

"Does that sound like something you might need?"

Another nod - no hesitation. Chris was now rock hard and straining against his slacks. Justin's uncut prick was pulsing as well.

"And do you trust me to give you what you need and want, until I decide you've had enough?"

"Yes, Sir."

Justin's cock nearly burst the seams of his pants. Chrissy had finally said the magic words. Such a fuckin' champ, Justin thought. MY champ. I may not have taken his cherry, but I have the key to what makes this boy tick. And I'm not giving it up.

"Ok then, young man." Justin squeezed Chris' shoulders one last time. "You know what to do."

Chris got up and walked into the bedroom. He immediately stripped off all of his clothes . . . shirt, slacks, shoes, socks, briefs, all of it. He stood naked at the foot of the tightly-made bed, his perfectly-proportioned, slim, muscular, hairy body on display. One of the nightstand lamps was on; otherwise, the bedroom was dark. The moon had just begun to rise over the lake, shedding another ounce of light into the hotel room.

Justin took in the picture through the open French doors, and admired it. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! This boy . . . is fuckin' hot. Hotter than any of 'em. The hottest. Especially because he still has the balls to trust me, even after what I did.

Tonight, just as the year before during Chris' rush period, Justin felt responsible. Responsible for the boy's wellbeing, for his safety, and even for his emotional health. In extremis - that was Justin's finest hour. Always. He walked into the bedroom, fully clothed. As he passed Chris, he mussed the sub's short hair. To let him know he was safe.

Justin sat on the bed, and contemplated his boy from the front. The red in his beard glinted faintly in the light; his chest hair formed a perfect pattern against his recently-developed pecs. And his four-and-a-half-inch penis was jutting out proudly from his groin, not quite reaching his abs.

Poor guy, Justin thought. He can't help having a small one. But it sure makes him a perfect sub.

The jock patted his knee for the second time that evening, and Chris bent over it. Justin preemptively grabbed Chris' right wrist and with his left hand pinned it behind the boy's back; he lifted his right leg and secured Chris' legs. He could feel the boy's erection pressed against his thigh.

"Alright, boy. This is for swearing; this is for being a bad boy; but this is also for being a good boy; and most of all, this is because you know you love it."

Justin raised his right hand and commenced the punishment.

SMACK!

SMACK!

Justin took his time, letting the spanking sink in. He varied the pace. If he had known it, he was performing very similarly to what another erstwhile Dom done the week before.

SMACK!

Justin made sure to carefully cover every single part of Chris' behind with the red marks left by his hand. He revisited each area to make it all a shade darker. And then again to make it a few more shades darker.

SMACK!!

Justin landed a few on Chris' thighs. That caused a yelp, and Justin smiled with satisfaction. This is where we belong, he thought, each of us accepting our role. We know who and what we are when we're like this. And we wouldn't have it any other way.

SMACK!

Chris' yelps were turning into small cries, but his little boner had not abated. Justin could feel it against his left thigh, pressing in. He liked that feeling, too.

SMACK!!

Justin made sure to keep the tension high, but also to make sure he could feel the hardon on his leg. That was his gauge of success. Let the rest of the evening come as it would; this was about restoring their hierarchy. Not just that, Justin allowed himself to think - their bond.

SMACK!!

Chris was in heaven. After the first dozen swats or so, he had let himself go, falling into a sub space where he knew Justin would catch him. He could feel the jock's strong but reassuring grip on his wrist and legs. He wasn't going anywhere, and he didn't want to.

What was the caption guys were always writing on Tumblr pics? Everything for your Alpha?

Chris felt that way about the spanking. For him, it wasn't about anything other than connection. And in this discrete sense, he did want to give Justin everything. Chris also allowed himself to enjoy the silence. If feelings were being stirred up, and they were this evening, there was a lot he wanted to say. But he had also realized he didn't have to yet.

SMACK!!

The spanking continued relentlessly. Justin's hand was starting to burn. But he wasn't done yet. He wanted to bring Chris to a place of submission. And peace.

SMACK!!

SMACK!!

Chris' yells were pretty loud now, and although he was still hard, Justin could feel the erection softening slightly. Ok. Time to wind down.

The Dom's voice jolted Chris; the only sound in the suite for the last ten minutes had been that of hand smacking flesh.

"You're a good boy, Chrissy. Is this what you need?"

"Yes, Sir!" Chris grunted.

SMACK!!

"How often do you need it, boy?"

"Probably every other day, Sir, mid-afternoon around 3:30, Sir!"

Justin slapped the boy's ass extra hard, and they both burst out laughing. Justin lifted Chris off his lap, and dropped him unceremoniously on the bed.

Yeah . . . the kid had to feel pretty safe and peaceful to say that. So that's good, Justin thought.

"You're such a smartass tonight, young man. Clearly I'm not getting through to you."

"You are! You are, Sir!" Chris protested, still laughing; he couldn't take much more. "I'm just . . . glad to see you again."

He gazed up at Justin with his blue-gray eyes and smiled shyly.

Justin looked into those eyes, and quickly turned away, rolling over onto his back. He couldn't sustain the eye contact. He felt . . . humbled.

"What's wrong?" Chris asked.

"Nothin' Chrissy. Just still feelin' bad about . . . hitting you."

Chris didn't know how to respond; further remonstration seemed unnecessary, further forgiveness, too much. He settled for curling up next to Justin and changing the subject.

"My ass is really sore, Sir."

"You deserve it, young man." Justin kissed Chris on the forehead. Honestly, this boy . . . constantly adapting to me. Do they fucking MAKE them any better than this? And one more thought, quiet and small, but nagging, because it felt like the truth: Do I really deserve him?

Chris took his own gamble, since the mood needed lightening.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, boy."

"So . . . last week . . . I turned a boy's ass as red as you just turned mine."

Justin pushed himself up on his elbow and looked at Chris. "You're shitting me."

"Nope. I did it."

"Fuck, boy!" Justin's grin was infectious. "Tell me about it, you fuckin' perv!"

Chris obliged. He told about meeting Steve online, and almost at the gym (omitting, of course, any reference to Tag); he told about having the guy over to his house.

Yeah, Justin thought, he's allowed to go up there and I'm not. He quashed his jealousy, remembering that he had given Chris the Ritz, which was better than some crappy attic.

Chris narrated the spanking, and confessed some of his nerves about administering the punishment, and also his pleasure at doing so. The offense, the consequences . . . it was all fresh in Chris' mind, and he told a good story. Justin was clearly digging it - he unbuckled his belt, shucked his slacks off, and started rubbing his enormous bulge.

"Aw fuck yeah, Chrissy, you're a fuckin' stud, man!"

Man? Chris savored the momentary journey into bro-hood. Bonding. This was bonding. And being friends, not just Alpha and sub. THIS, Chris thought - this is what I want. A dominant man to keep me in line, but also a partner in crime. Fuck the frat. All I ever wanted was this guy like he is tonight.

Chris concluded the story with the application of the hairbrush to Steve's very repentant bottom, but Justin pressed for more.

"And then what? Did you get off, or send the little f- . . . the guy away?"

Edge of the blade, Chris thought. We are dancing on a high wire tonight. But it seems like I can be honest.

"He wanted to suck me off."

Justin considered this.

"And did you let him?"

"Yup," Chris said, with all the cockiness he could muster, given that his own naked, apparently hot, but also clearly unendowed body was lying next to his muscular Dom, who was still partially clothed, his uncut monster, for which no apology was needed, sticking out of his boxers.

Oh fuck it, Justin thought. Let the boy have his moment.

"Atta boy, Chrissy!" He tousled the kid's head. For a minute, they both felt like brothers.

"Did you cum big?"

"Well . . . you know what I sound like."

They laughed again, and lay companionably for another moment.

And now it's time for you to suck MY cock, Justin thought . . . but resisted the urge to let his hand move to Chris' head and push it southward. We gotta do this together tonight. So . . . try asking.

"So now what, Chrissy? Whatcha thinkin'?"

Oh God . . . I don't know, was Chris' mental response. Just don't be mean. Justin wasn't mean to you . . . you be nice back.

"Looks like we'd both like to shoot," Chris replied matter-of-factly.

They both looked down at their penises. Yeah, they were both boned, and Justin's uncut meat had an especially long, thin string of cock-drool extending from it.

"And how do you think that should happen, boy?"

"I . . . I'm not sure . . ."

"Just say it, Chrissy. Spit it out. I'm havin' a good time. Don't worry about offending me."

Don't tell him what you won't do, tell him what you want to do, Chris decided.

"Let's jerk each other off. We've never done that."

Justin rolled his eyes, then checked himself. You promised you'd consider everything after the birthday spanking to be gravy. Remember? Do you want the boy back or not?

There was only one answer to that question.

"Sounds hot, young man. Just remember, you can't shoot without permission," Justin grinned.

"Of course not," Chris said, smiling delightedly.

Justin yanked his shirt up and his boxers down, and they reached over to grab each other's cocks.

Just two bros helpin' each other out, Chris thought. This was middle school for Justin, but for Chris it was new. They leaned in a bit, and Justin spit on his hand. He knew Chris would need the lube. The boy's dick felt so tiny in his hand, after stroking his own endowment.

Chris, of course, had the opposite reaction: now I'm finally holding something real, he thought.

They tugged and tugged. Chris knew Justin's cock much better than Justin knew Chris', of course. But Justin gamely kept spitting on his hand, and relubing Chris' boyclit. He could sense that the boy was getting off not just on having his little shaft stroked, but also on whatever was going on in his head. He was distracted, though, by Chris' practiced touch on his manmeat.

God, boy, I want your fuckin' MOUTH on it . . . or to have it buried in your ass, Justin thought. The Alpha was aroused, and a handjob was not his due. But . . . remember your promise.

"Feels great, boy. You're gonna have me squirtin' in no time."

Chris was totally overcome with sensations . . . the feeling of Justin's big, rough hand jerking his dick, the smell of Justin's armpits, the proximity to the lips he wanted to kiss so bad.

"I'm cloooosse . . . Sir . . ."

Justin smiled, and yanked his hand away. This was terra firma.

"NO. Not yet, boy," he growled softly. "You make me shoot first."

Chris redoubled his efforts on Justin's thick, uncut, veiny cock. He turned on his side and used both hands, his own erection bobbing uselessly between them. He missed the taste of Justin's crotch sweat and precum, but he just couldn't go there tonight. And holding the jock's manhood fed his inner monologue . . . that he was submissive, that men with larger penises deserved worship, that he was putting the superior cock's pleasure before his own . . . without making it external and possibly fraught.

Chris enjoyed the feel of the foreskin slipping up and down, and varying the pressure of his grip. He envied Justin's size, of course, but also that he was uncut. The jock had the whole toolkit to play with.

Chris went to town with his hands, stimulating Justin's fuckstick every way he could. Faster, slower, holding the base firmly while massaging the covered head . . . Chris also spit in his hand, and used the extra slickness to please his man. It didn't take long. A sharp inhale, and then a grunt . . . and Justin's cum was all over his chest and Chris' hands, as well as a couple drops which landed on the boy's face. Chris made a show of wiping them up and licking his fingers.

"Ok little boy - your turn."

Justin spit in his palm again, and took Chris' small erection back in his hand. He used only his thumb forefinger, and had the boy arching his back and whimpering in seconds. The jock savored the control. He pumped with a very light grip guaranteed to drive the boy crazy, and just a bit too slow to bring him to orgasm. He started whispering:

"You wanna cum, don't you, boy? You wanna shoot your little load all over my hand, don't you? You wanna have your little baby orgasm, yeah? Yeah? Even though it's only a fraction the size of mine, right, Chrissy? You smacked that guy's ass, but deep down you know you like gettin' it more, dontcha, Chrissy? He may have sucked you off, but you know what you really need . . . a man to take control and take care of you, right, Chrissy? Someone who will be in charge of when, how, and most of all IF you cum . . ."

The dirty talk did what the light grasp didn't.

"Permission to shoot please, Sir!!"

"Do it. Shoot your little peepee," Justin ordered.

"AAAAUUUGGGGGGHHHHH!!"

Jesus H. Christ, Justin thought, laughing, I gotta invest in some gags.

Justin hopped out of the bed and brought back an armful of towels from the bathroom.

"God bless hotels," he said, as he mopped Chris up, and then himself.

Amen, Chris thought.

But . . . best not push it. He got off the bed, and started to put his underwear on.

Justin grabbed his arm.

"Hey . . . what are you doing? Don't run away."

"I gotta get home, Justin. It's Sunday night."

"Naw, stay. Stay and enjoy yourself. When's your first class?"

"10:30," Chris answered.

"You don't need to run, then. Stay. Let's have a sleepover. I wanna talk to you more."

Chris was flabbergasted. There was something on Justin's mind after an orgasm? That was a first.

"Go brush your teeth." Justin remembered Chris' nighttime habits well. "And you can wear my boxers and my socks if you think you'll get cold."

Chris' dick got half-hard again at the suggestion. Wearing Justin's underwear? Holy fuck.

Who IS this guy?

Chris obediently went into the bathroom and cleaned up; Justin took his clothes off, and went to do the same. Chris picked up the worn boxers and socks; he sniffed them all thoroughly before putting them on. The scent was rich. This was a multi-faceted privilege for Chris - wearing his Dom's clothes, AND having the jock's scent in his nostrils. He checked his phone: 11:07. Not that late.