Taking the Knot by Sean Michael

Chapter Two

We grab a cab, not saying much of anything, Don texting like mad. We head downtown to a huge skyscraper, and Don herds us into an elevator and pushes a key card in a slot on the panel, then hits the thirteenth floor.

The fact that there is a thirteenth floor doesn’t escape me. Don gives me a grin. “Yeah. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?”

“I guess. Yeah. I thought they didn’t do that.”

“They do here. They celebrate it, in fact.”

“That’s cool.” Superstitions are silly, after all.

The elevator comes to a stop and a bing sounds as the door glides open for us.

There’s a tiny lobby with a young buff stud sitting behind the desk. “Donny, good afternoon.”

“Hey, Richie. This is Matthew. I’m bringing him in.”

Bringing me in? The words almost have me bolting.

Richie’s smile is warm, and it reaches his eyes. “Oh, how wonderful. It’s very nice to meet you, Matthew.”

“Hey there. I’m just going to stay a second. For Don.”

Richie glances at Don, who just shrugs. “I’m going to show him around. Time will tell if he stays or goes.”

“Fair enough. Please, go in. It’s quiet today.”

“Come on,” Don tells me, heading for a door across from the elevators.

They swing open before he gets there, darkness beyond them.

Huh. I get this feeling that I ought to run, ought to just turn and head right back downstairs.

I don’t, though, and the lights come on as we cross the threshold, lighting up a long hall as the doors close audibly behind us.

“Welcome to the club,” Don murmurs, his back a little straighter, his gait rolling now, sexy.

The hall walls are all mirrored, and it occurs to me suddenly as we walk along them that they’re one-way mirrors. We’re being watched. I can feel it.

“The club? Is there a name? Where does this go?” I have a million questions, but these are the ones that shoot out of me.

“It’s called the Giving Place, and we’re headed for the lounge at the end of this hall. We’re meeting my master there, and he’ll have some of his friends with him, I’m sure.”

This is going to be weird. Really truly weird. “You call him…seriously?”

“I do call him master. Most seriously. I’m not wearing a cock cage and two plugs for just anyone.”

“What did you call him before? I mean…Mister X?”

“I called him sir.”

Right. This isn’t a place for me. No way.

“Oh, relax, Matt. You might just have a good time. And get laid.” Don seems so easy in his skin.

“You suddenly show me all that… stuff in you and then this whole thing with masters and shit, and I’m supposed to relax?”

Don nods. “Good point. But don’t stroke out, okay? This is going to blow your mind and that’s a good thing.”

“Don’t stroke out.” I’m feeling so confident now; Don’s really selling it.

Don opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, big hands—and I mean enormous—land on my shoulders.

“You are a little tense.” The voice is deep. It matches the hands.

“A little.” Wait. No one’s been that much taller than me in years.

Don smiles at the man behind me, and then his face lights up as someone comes into view beside me. All I get is big; then he moves to Don and I see it all. This guy is enormous, at least a foot taller than Don, and muscles like they’re never going to end. Is this what the guy behind me looks like too?

Okay. Okay. Whoa. Um. Fuck.

I probably should go. The massage feels good, though, I have to admit.

“Good morning, Master. This is my friend Matthew,” Don says.

His… friend holds out his hand to me. “Nice to meet you, Matthew.”

“Yeah, nice to meet you, Matt,” says the behemoth behind me who is still working fucking magic on my shoulders.

Don’s friend’s hand engulfs mine, and I gasp in shock. Huge. No one is that big. I look up and up, and he looks handsome, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Pleased.” This isn’t real. There’s no way. This is Don fucking with me. The thought pisses me off and settles me at the same time.

Don’s friend grabs his hand and they sit together at one of the couches.

“You want to sit?” the big guy massaging me asks.

“F-for a second. I can’t stay long.” God, that feels so good.

“Why not?” His hand engulfs mine and he leads me to another couch where he tugs me down into his lap.

I squeak. Seriously, squeak. “What the hell?”

I crane my neck, looking around, my eyes going wide.

He’s beautiful in a very strong, very masculine way with eyes that are so dark his pupils almost disappear. And he’s got horns. I blink a few times and realize that it’s just the way his hair is brushed, but I can still see them in my mind’s eye.

He smiles and murmurs, “What the hell, indeed.”

The few men in the room chuckle softly, the sound wicked as fuck.

I look to Don, but he’s being kissed by his friend and it’s enough to steam up the entire room.

“Jealous?” asks the man whose lap I’m sitting in.

I shake my head, my mouth dry as dust. Get up. Get up and go.

“You don’t want a kiss? I do.” His lips are almost touching the skin of my ear.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“You need a name for a kiss?” He kisses my cheek, shocks resounding on my skin and into me.

“I—” Get up. Get up and go. I can feel his cock, pressing into my hip, huge and hard.

One of those big hands takes my chin and turns my head. He’s going to kiss me. He is going to kiss me. I can see it coming. I know it’s going to happen and I don’t do anything to stop it.

The connection is immediate when our eyes meet, a rush of arousal driving in the pit of my belly, the ache in my balls making me want to scream. Then his lips drop onto mine and it’s like I’ve been hit by lightning.

All thoughts of leaving disappear as he turns me, hand hot and solid on the small of my back. Gasping, I put my hands on his chest, and they look small against his muscles. Small. Me. The sensation is surprisingly hot.

This can’t be real. It can’t be. I don’t kiss strangers. And I’m definitely not a twink.

Fuck, he tastes good. My balls and nips are tight, my cock throbbing. His erection is pressed against my cock and belly now and it’s enormous. It should scare me, but instead it’s enticing.

He hums softly, tongue exploring my mouth, not giving me a chance to think, to argue. Fuck, I want more. Like he heard my thoughts, he deepens the kiss, pressing hard and making the kiss completely his. That strength is rather intoxicating. And this is just a kiss.

One hand cups my ass, grinding me against his prick, pushing my balls against him and making me ache. My head keeps telling me I should struggle. I shouldn’t want this; I should leave.

My body has other ideas.

He has my head in his free hand, fingers digging into my scalp and holding me still.

I shift my head to the side—not because I’m trying to get away but because I want to see what he’ll do.

His nails dig in, keeping me still, the kiss deepening until I can’t breathe. I open wider, trying to draw in a breath, but the fact that I have no control is making me even harder.

My cock is pressing against my zipper, the metal biting, and I regret going commando.

“Someone is needing.” Yeah, he’s hit the nail on the head. It can’t be more obvious. “Tit for tat—you suck me off, and I’ll make sure you come too.”

“Where?” There has to be a place we can go because I am not doing that in front of an audience, sex club or not.

“I’ve got a room.” He stands, one big hand under my ass keeping me up and against him. He carries me off like a pirate’s booty.

“Have fun, Matt!” Don calls, and then I hear the distinctive sound of a sharp swat.

“Focus, boy.”

I swallow and my… uh, captor? Lover? The huge guy carrying me? chuckles.

“I don’t need to tell you, I know all your focus is right here.” He squeezes my ass, and I’m reminded how huge his hand is. How can I of all people possibly feel small? But I do. And it’s hotter than I could have ever imagined.

This isn’t real. It can’t be.

“I’m real, boy. Every inch of me.”

God, I have to stop saying things out loud that I don’t mean to.

He takes me into a small room that’s intimately lit. All I can tell for sure is that there’s a bed, and when he lies me down on it, I can tell it’s a big one—like bigger than king sized, so it has to be custom. I run my hands over soft sheets, and I can feel my eyes are huge.

“Trust me, it’s not the size of my bed that counts.” He purrs out the word bed.

“This is probably a mistake.” I keep trying to center myself, to figure out where my brain is.

He leans over me and grinds his massive girth into me. “You want me and you know it. As I said, you suck me off, and I’ll make sure you come too. In fact, I’m betting you come from sucking me off.” He laughs softly, the sound wicked. “If you do, I’ll keep you.”

Keep me? What the fuck does that mean? I’m not sure I like the sound of that. But he pulls away his meager covering, and the club at his middle comes pushing out toward me. My mouth waters.

Now, every man likes to get sucked, but not every guy likes sucking. Too bad for them, I say, because if you like giving as much as you like getting, you’re going to be happy no matter who’s got whose mouth around whose cock.

I like sucking—in fact I love sucking—and this monster in front of me looks like the most delicious challenge.

“Oh, you are a little cockslut, aren’t you? That will make things so much easier.”

A shiver goes through me at the word cockslut. Some might see it as an insult, but I don’t. It’s exactly what I am when I’m in the mood to suck.

“Bring that up here,” I tell him in a moment of bravado.

“Good boy.” He crawls up my body, the tip surprisingly sharp, the slit wet. I open up, the touch making my eyes go wide. Tingles. He must have put something on his prick. “Don’t stop now.”

He rises up on his knees and uses a hand to slide his cock along my lips, coating them, and they immediately begin tingling. It’s like sparkles inside my skin.

Fuck yes.

I close my eyes and go to town, my head bobbing, the corners of my mouth stretching wide. It’s going to take me a while to get this whole thing in my mouth—I’m not even sure I’m going to be able to, but I sure as hell am going to try.

I grab the base of his cock, pulling off in shock at what I feel. There’s a…a…swelling? A knot?

“Shh. Suck. Suck, boy. You want it.”

He’s right—I do. I guess if he’s not worried about it, I don’t have to be. I tongue his slit, and he groans for me, jerking to push the head in a little deeper. I love that I’ve affected him, and it encourages me to keep going, to show him what I can do. I slap the shaft with my tongue, working the ridges, swallowing as pre-come splashes in my mouth.

It tingles all the way down, like it’s carbonated, only better.

God, what does he slick on his prick?

I pull back, focusing on the head alone, pulling hard and fast. More drops slide from it, and each one is like the last, only stronger tasting, with even more tingles. I could learn to crave this sensation.

My cock begins to leak, to drip in my jeans. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on from sucking dick.

I roll my tongue around his head, feeling all the little bumps and ridges, loving how they feel. I reach down and feel that knot again, fascinated by how it fills my hands.

I’m too close to actually see it, so I try to imagine what it looks like based on what I feel. It’s a knot of some sort—it has to be, even though that makes no sense. It’s sensitive, though. He moans and more drops of pre-come fall on my tongue every time I touch it, so I start squeezing and rolling it with my fingers, letting myself imagine it in my hole.

I shudder as I imagine him going in all the way, then sinking that much deeper as he pushes this knot in, stretching the entrance of my hole so fucking wide.

Whimpering, I suck harder.

I want to jack myself off, but my fingers are fascinated by the heavy bulge, the response when I squeeze it. He begins to rock but keeps it fairly gentle—I think because he’s enjoying what I’m doing to that knot. Still, I love being forced to take more in and sucking hard to try to keep it in when he rocks back out again.

“Slut. I knew when I saw you that you belonged.”

What am I supposed to say to that? I just want to make him come and taste him. I’m eager for it.

Then I’m going home and jacking off for three days.

He rocks faster. “Take it, boy. Take it deep and suck it hard. Make me come. I know you want to taste me. I’m going to make you come when I shoot down your throat.”

He grabs my head and begins to fuck my mouth, and instead of panicking, I melt. Somehow, I keep one hand wrapped around his knot. I can’t do more than just squeeze it every time he pushes deep, but I think he appreciates it. He’s making these amazing noises and starts to shoot, the spunk pouring down my throat, filling my belly.

I’ve never tasted anything like it, and it’s magic. Pure fucking magic.

He holds me on his cock, keeping me still and close. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in. “Come for me, boy!”

My eyes fly open as my balls empty, like the words forced my orgasm.

“Mmmm. That’s my boy.” He rubs my head, rocking gently and pushing the thick cock along my tongue. “Now I get to keep you.”

I groan, because no, but I don’t stop sucking.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s like I’m addicted to him, even though this is the first time I’ve ever seen him. I don’t even know his name.

Get up, I tell myself. Get off the bed.

I don’t move. I keep sucking on him like his cock is a giant soother.

“Mmm. You were meant to suck cock, boy. I won’t forget that.”

I’m about more than just sucking, but I can’t exactly say that with his cock in my mouth.

He strokes my ear, my jaw, easing the ache that’s building there. It’s like his touch is as magical as his cock, as the come that I can still feel inside me. I look up and up and up—stunned at the sight of him.

He’s got a massive chest with dark nipples, both of which are pierced. His shoulders are broad, broader than any I’ve ever seen before. His face is handsome, severe, his hair long and flowing, and I swear to god that there are actually horns growing out of his head, not just hair like I thought.

What the hell?

I shake my head, around his cock. No way.

“Easy, boy. You’re good.” He pets my head, tugging my hair and pulling my head back. “I’ve got you.”

I groan as I close my mouth, my jaw aching. He rubs my cheeks, his thumbs firm.

His smile turns wicked again. “I’ve got you.”

“I need to clean up. Bathroom?”

“Through the door on the left. There’s an outfit for you to change into hanging off the back of the door.”

Right. Like I’m changing. I bolt through the door and shut it behind me. As soon as it closes, I begin to freak the fuck out.

What the fuck did I just do?

I clean myself up, wash my face, breathe. My pants are soupy and gross, so I want to change them, but…

I look to see what’s hanging on the back of the door. It’s gauzy. Like pretty much see-through and light and airy. I imagine it would feel pretty sexy on. Wait. What? I shake my head and let it drop. I’m not going to change into this flimsy bit of fabric, right?

Right.

I strip my jeans off and start cleaning them, standing there with my cock and balls just swinging in the breeze.

The door opens, and he’s there, leaning against the jamb. “Put the pants on, boy. You don’t want to put those nasty jeans back on.”

“The door was closed.”

He grabs my shirt, tugs it off, leaving me bare. Then he grabs the gauzy things from the floor where they dropped and hands them over.

“Put them on, boy.”

“I can’t go outside in these.”

“You’re not going out in anything. Your jeans will be cleaned for when you’re ready to leave. But you’re not ready to leave yet.” He doesn’t even pretend to say it as a question.

The gauzy things are incredibly soft, so comfortable, so erotic. Ridiculous. And I can’t believe I’m wearing them, but I am. Hell, I can’t believe I’m staying, but here I am, holding his hand as he leads me back into the other room.

“Sweet boy. I do love your ass in those.”

“Who are you? What is this place?”

“I’m Blaze. And this is the Giving Place.” He sits in a big chair I hadn’t noticed and again pulls me into his lap.

“I—”

“Shh. Stay, boy.”

His words give me ease somehow. Has he hypnotized me? I know he hasn’t though. I’m just drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

I let my eyes close as he wraps around me, holds me. I’ve always been the one who plays the bigger spoon, who holds my lover. This is… I like it. I like it a lot.