Obedience Lessons

Chapter Three

My hands grabbed at him to steady myself and found that his were already there, one holding my waist and the other on my chest. He patted me slightly before letting me go. "Watch where you're going." He said with half-hearted menace.

"Yeah, the pet food is right over here, it's just past those sacks of kitty litter...."

In the end we ended up buying more than what was on the list. He added a chew toy, bagged dog bones, insisted on a pink and yellow squeaky ball he saw, so gay, several packs of beggin strips, since he'd seen the ads on TV, and a dog rug. A dog might just trade their legs for the whole haul.

Dylan floored it on the way back to his house. I sensed it was done in rebellion but I didn't bother. I wasn't his dad. I wasn't his anything. It was time to get my head out of the gutter. Gay or straight, Dylan wasn't a guy to get mixed up with. He had... issues. I could just about sense the fuckedupness.

"Help me fetch this shit you asshole," he called out from his trunk with an amused tone. Had I spaced out in his car? Oh shit.

I waited until I was by his side to check my watch pretentiously, "Yeah, but right after I'm out of here."

He grinned, something full of promise that went straight to my cock. "Sure," was all he said and he shouldered the sack of chow. I was being ridiculous. I should be blackmailing him for a blowjob not helping him shop for a broken dog. Immediately I felt guilty for thinking it, but it wasn't enough to deter the growing erection. Chlamydia, aids, syphilis.

His shirt rode up when he bent over to settle the chow onto the ground and I was left staring. He caught me looking and flushed. "All done."

I hand him his bags and cleared my throat. "Yeah. I uh... yeah, I gotta go."

"Hot date?"

"Something like that."

"Liar."

That part of me stirred again. The part that hated being called out, pushed around or dealing with jerks. That part of me only knew to teach lessons. I faced him off, where he casually threw his weight onto his kitchen counter. Sleek black granite countertops. "What was that?"

"I said liar. You're not going anywhere tonight. You just want to leave so you don't grab the ass of the guy who ran over a dog."

I sucked in my breath. Score one, Dylan. Andy, none.

"So I'm right. No hot date. Fuck you, Andy. I don't need you judging me." He wrenched open his refrigerator and shoved in the bones he'd bought, slamming the door. "Well? No cops so far, how do I know you don't hold this over me forever?"

"I have a life you know. But I guess you'll just have to keep me happy for a while." He cocked his head slightly, gauging me, I could see the gears in his head turning.

"Fuck it," he said crossing the room towards me. I could see every intention written in his eyes, etched across his face. He was going to kiss me.

I caught him halfway there by the throat, feeling him gasp as I took charge midway. I closed the distance slowly, watching for the final sign. His eyes fluttered shut, thick black eyelashes framing his cheeks and I claimed his lips. He tasted faintly of mint I noted as we battled for a moment before he gave way to my control. His lips were hot, soft and sweet. Just as I'd imagined they'd be. I pushed him back against the counter.

He had more muscle, but I was taller. I used that leverage to lower one hand to cup his ass, lifting so he ended up on the countertops. He brought his legs up and wrapped them around me as I secured his face with my other hand. I pulled back only after he whimpered, a low, almost indiscernible sound, full of need.

"Happy?"

"Not more than you," I retorted before nipping his lips so that he cried out softly, then touched his lips wonderingly.

"Gay or Bi?" He asked.

"Gay. Why?"

"I don't do Bi-guys," He shrugged, looking particularly more vulnerable than I would have thought possible. So this is how Dylan Ryman looks without his defenses.

"Fair enough. But who says you get to do me?"

"I thought..." He broke off, "You're toying with me again. Messing with my head. Damn fucker!" And the walls came up again.

I brought my hand down on his leg hard enough for my hand to leave its mark, then squeezed his thigh. His pupils dilated as he absorbed the pain. Definitely kinky, I noted. "You get this now. You play by my rules."

"My house," he said mutinously.

"Fuck that, I don't want your house. I don't fuck concrete."

"Good to know," he deadpanned, "That would be a turn off." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips and grinned when he pulled back. Hot.

"Your mouth will put you in trouble," I warned, hoping he'd say something that did just that.

He didn't disappoint, "You're going to detain me self-appointed officer?"

I pinched his nipples roughly and he cried out, "Fuck! Sadist."

"Are you trying to piss me off?" I pulled away from his legs wrapping around me, then bent him over the countertops. I ogled his butt in clear admiration before yanking down his trousers to expose his ass. "Commando?" I sniggered, "You were looking to get fucked." It seemed he was. His ass was slightly fairer but everywhere else was bronzed like his legs. I could see that his butt would be a source of hours of fun. Spanking, marking, biting, rimming. Oh, options sweet options.

"You're so close to playing out a favorite fantasy of mine right now," he confessed, looking over his shoulder, blue eyes pleading quietly.

"Oh, yeah? Tell me."

"No way, that's way embarrassing."

"You mean you won't tell me or you can't?"

He didn't answer so I smacked his ass hard. He squirmed under my hand and hissed through his teeth. "I can't Andy."

"Hmm, guess I'll fill in the blanks then." I slapped his ass again before positioning myself behind him, unfastening my belt and dropping my jeans. "Don't move." For once he shut up. Maybe hoping I'd hurry up if he didn't speak. Tough. I pressed up against his butt, letting him feel my length against him, just teasing his reddened ass.

He pushed back onto me slightly, glancing back to see my dick. He smirked when he managed to see me despite the angle.

"What's so funny," I dared to ask, knowing full well that he was thinking to tell me some kind of dick joke. I'm bigger than people would think, what with me being tall and slim, instead of muscle-bound.

He swallowed, "Nothing, put it in me."

"If you'd taken me to dinner first you'd at least know something about me," I retorted.

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Dylan sounded curious at my reproachful tone, he looked back, blue eyes peering into mine.

"I like to play with my food."