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“That’s it… come on, you’re nearly there…”
Douglas’ voice was practically a croon as he watched Martin, writhing and twitching desperately atop the bed. His sub had been tied up all day, spread-eagled on the duvet. Douglas had touched him and teased him, stroked, palmed and caressed him, but every time Martin had got within a whisper of coming, Douglas had backed off, leaving the boy incoherent with frustration after more than an entire month where Douglas had forbidden him from climaxing at all.
“I can’t – oh Douglas, please –“ Martin half-sobbed, the vibrator dangling above him slipping away again. Douglas had hung it up three hours before, buzzing tantalisingly on its lowest setting where it swung just above Martin’s hardness. Martin could make contact with it by straining upwards, but couldn’t find any kind of rhythm, the device drifting away if he pushed too firmly towards it.
“You can.” Douglas kept his voice dispassionate, tamping down hard on his own excitement. This was all for Martin – Douglas' own pleasure, or the possibility of it, was an irrelevance in comparison with his boy’s desperate need. “Try harder, you can do it.” He leant back in his chair, drinking in the sight of his lover, deliciously debauched in his disarray.
“D-Douglas…” Martin whimpered, rocking his hips up once more, his whole body shaking with weariness and denied arousal. He succeeded finally in hovering next to the humming toy, his cock visibly twitching in time with the pulses the device emitted. Martin’s breath was coming in harsh gasps, strangled whining catching in his throat and his muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he managed at last to sustain a position that kept the wand in contact with his cock.
“There you are – come on, Martin, that’s it –“
“Douglas!”
Martin wailed as orgasm at last whumped through him, streams of pearlescent white erupting from his purpled cock, shooting as far as his collarbone and painting his stomach with sticky streaks that made Douglas lick his lips. Tears poured down Martin’s face as he writhed and cried out his pleasure, body juddering against the restraints that had held him lashed firmly all day.
It seemed to take an age for the spasms to cease, but at last Martin let out a final hoarse sigh and went limp on the bed, eyes closed, still panting, face damp. Douglas strode over in two giant steps, ignoring his own erection in favour of reaching to flip open the buckles binding his much-adored sub. He chafed gently at Martin’s hands and feet, warming them, and folded the captain’s naked body gently round with a fleecy blanket.
It was only as he reached his own arms to encircle Martin, though, that he realised that Martin was still crying. “Martin?” he asked, slight worry stirring for the first time. “Are – are you alright?”
Martin didn’t reply, just quaked violently. Douglas held him tighter. “Are you hurt?”
That elicited a shake of the head, and Douglas kissed Martin’s hair just above his ear, breathing in the smell of shampoo and perspiration. “Just coming down?”
Martin shivered and nodded, his sobs becoming more vocal, little cries in the stillness of the bedroom. He leant heavily against Douglas, and Douglas stroked his back, murmuring soothing nothings as he rocked him back and forth. “You’re alright… I’ve got you… shh, shh…”
Ten minutes passed, and Douglas began to grow even more concerned; Martin didn’t seem to be able to stop crying. The harsh hiccupping noises were horrible to hear. “Love?” he asked, his anxiety making itself plain. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”
“S-Sorry…” Martin stammered out, but any further words were lost in another storm of sobbing.
“You’ve never dropped like this.” Douglas pushed the sweaty curls off Martin’s forehead, managed to reach for a tissue to wipe his face.
“Sorry…”
“You don’t have to apologise.” Douglas kissed him, again and again, which quietened Martin’s hoarse whimpers a little. He didn’t stop shaking, though.
An idea occurred, and Douglas pressed a last kiss to Martin’s temple. “I’ll run you a warm bath,” he promised.
“No!” Martin’s hand shot out and grabbed at Douglas’ wrist, preventing him from wriggling away.
Douglas instantly froze. “Don’t want me to leave you?” Martin turned his face away, trying to conceal his crimson, tear-stained cheeks, but Douglas just rubbed more quiet circles into his shoulders. “I won’t leave, if you’d rather I stayed.”
“You- you can go.” Martin sounded as though the words were a boulder he was trying to roll up a mountain.
“No.” Douglas shook his head firmly and pulled Martin close. “If you need me here, that’s where I’ll be.”
The release of tension in Martin’s shoulders was minute, but noticeable; Douglas snuggled into him and kept his arms firm where they held the captain, a cage to keep the world out.
It took more than an hour, but eventually Martin spoke – so quietly that Douglas almost missed it.
“How can you respect me?”
Douglas was nonplussed. “What?”
Martin shifted in his embrace, but didn’t pull away. “How can you look at me?” he asked, shame apparent in his tone. “After we’ve been together?”
“Because I love you.” Douglas was utterly confused. “What do you mean?”
A tiny tsk of frustration escaped Martin’s mouth, and he glanced up to meet Douglas’ eyes before looking away again in apparent ignominy. “I’m… supposed to be a captain.”
“Not of the bedroom.” An illogical threatened feeling made Douglas’ voice border on harshness. Martin flinched, and Douglas immediately gave an apologetic hum, rocking Martin back and forth and trying to sway the fear away. “You don’t like subbing?”
Martin froze, then relaxed a bit again. “No, it’s not that –“ His attitude was that of a penitent in a confessional, only without the relief. He shuddered, and a fresh tear trickled down his cheek, damp against Douglas’ chest. “I love it.”
“Well, good.” Douglas’ heart rate – which had spiked with anxiety – slowed a little.
Martin squirmed, though, and Douglas loosened his arms, letting him pull away, alarmed to see Martin’s tears pouring forth again. “But why –?“ Martin flapped his hands, fruitlessly. “I shouldn’t – shouldn’t like this –“
Douglas’ soul ached to see Martin’s distress. He gently clasped Martin’s hands in his. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“It’s –“ Martin seemed to wrestle with the words. “I’m supposed to be your captain.”
“When we’re at work, yes.” Douglas circled Martin’s knuckles with a thumb. “But not at home.”
Martin hung his head. “How can you still – still see me as worth respecting?” he choked. “When –“ he gestured at the limply dangling vibrator. “When this is what you know I want when we’re together?”
Douglas swallowed roughly, and slipped from the bed to kneel at Martin’s feet. Martin blinked down at him, still quivering from head to toe.
“You have no idea,” Douglas said, as hoarse as Martin, now. “No idea how much I’m in awe of you.”
“Don’t lie.” Martin let the admonishment slip out, but bit his lip as if in fear of what his dom’s reaction would be.
Douglas gripped Martin’s knee. “I’m not lying.” He shook Martin’s leg gently. “I didn’t realise you didn’t know. I couldn’t do what you do, when you submit to me.”
Martin looked disbelieving, but Douglas carried on. “I couldn’t be any sort of a good dom to you if I didn’t respect you completely.” Worry gripped him, an icy fist around his heart. “Do you feel like I don’t?”
Martin immediately shook his head. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?” Douglas wrapped his arms around Martin’s calves, resting his chin on the sub’s thighs so he could gaze up at him, and Martin’s fingers came to tangle in his hair almost by instinct.
Martin sighed, as pale as Douglas had ever seen him. “How can I respect myself?” he muttered.
“My love….” Douglas was at a loss. Tears pricked at his vision, but he held them back. This was about Martin; his own emotions could wait.
Silence spread between them. Martin’s shoulders slumped; he looked utterly wrung out, and Douglas felt as if his entire being was splitting in two. He made a Herculean effort, and forced himself to stand. Martin’s eyes followed him; that tiny indication of trust heartened Douglas just slightly. He held out a hand. “Come with me.”
Martin didn’t even consider, just stood, following Douglas’ order as beautifully as he always had. Douglas led them both to the bathroom, setting the bath taps running and adding lavender so scented steam curled into the small room. Tenderly, he unwrapped the blanket from Martin’s shoulders, kissing him before urging him to climb shakily into the hot water. “Is that the right temperature?” he asked.
Martin nodded, and Douglas reached for a flannel. He knelt and immersed it in the tub, then added a squirt of the shower cream they shared, rubbing it to a foam. He encouraged Martin to lean forward and soaped his back, then cleaned his front, where faint traces of his earlier orgasm still adhered to the skin. Martin submitted to his ministrations, but the unhappy wrinkles around his eyes didn’t clear.
“Shall I tell you what I see, when we’re together?”
Martin didn’t jump at Douglas’ quiet question, barely audible over the noise of the water drip-dropping as Douglas rinsed the flannel - but nor did he open his eyes. “What?” he asked, dully.
Douglas set the washcloth aside and looked down at Martin, taking in the unease, the humiliated air emanating from him. “When we’re together,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I see… not my captain, you’re right.” Martin frowned, and Douglas hastened on before Martin could sink further in mood. “I see the strongest man I’ve ever met.” He placed his hand on Martin’s chest, flat over his heart, feeling the pulse there. “You trust me, when we’re together, in a way no one else ever has. You surrender everything to me, and trust me to take care of you. I don’t know how you can.” Douglas’ hand shook, but he persevered. “You make yourself utterly open. Utterly vulnerable. I don’t know how you do it.”
He glanced down at Martin’s face: the other man’s eyes were still shut, though Douglas knew by the listening expression that he was taking in every word. He took a deep inhale, and stroked his hand upwards, cupping Martin’s cheek, smoothing the cheekbone with his thumb. “When you submit to me… your desire, your need to let go like that… it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Truly. When you’re with me… and you’re mine, and I’m yours… I’ve never felt so close to anyone in my entire life.” Douglas’ voice throbbed with emotion. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, Martin. Never.”
Martin opened his eyes, and Douglas was lost in the clear blue of them. He stared for a minute, drinking Martin in. “I can’t tell you how to feel about yourself,” Douglas whispered. “All I can tell you is what I see.” He pressed his lips to Martin’s forehead, and leant back so Martin could perceive his sincerity. “I see the love of my life. Whom I respect more than anyone else.” He smiled, just a little, but it was adoration, not mockery. “No matter what he does at weekends and on layovers with me. And when we’re at work, or we're flying, well, then I see my captain again.” His smile broadened. “The captain I love.”
“Love.” Martin’s voice was quiet, but there was a calmness in it that Douglas hadn’t heard for days.
“Yes.” Douglas bent to capture his mouth in a kiss before reaching for the towel, warm from the radiator. He held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you dry.”
“Hmm.” Martin stretched and got a little shakily to his feet. Douglas wrapped him in the towel before he could shiver, allowing Martin to lean down on him from his elevated position. He felt Martin rub his nose slowly through his hair, and held him even more firmly, his arms secure round Martin’s waist.
“I love you,” Martin whispered, and Douglas replied by lifting him bodily from the tub, not letting him go, holding him tight.
“I’ll never let you go. Not ever,” Douglas murmured, and the hum of acceptance that Martin gave sent relief washing through him in a wave of welcome warmth.