Hey! This is the oneshot sequel to my story 'Stalker', which is currently for sale. The first chapter, and details are in the second chapter here :)
Who Stalks the Stalker?
Pacer sat at his office desk, absent-mindedly spinning the ring on his finger in slow loops. With a sigh, he sat back and folded his hands behind his head, tapping his foot lightly on his desk. Outside, the sun shined brightly against the sides of the high rise tower, glinting off the windows. Pacer glanced down to the street below, watching the ant-sized dots meander on the sidewalk.
It was such a shame that he had to spend his birthday at the office.
Waking up that morning wasn't so bad. He was pulled from sleep by the tickling sensation of a warm, wet tongue flicking at his cock. He had looked down his body to find Abel coiled up like a cat between his legs, his eyes glinting up deviously at Pacer, water dripping from the brown locks of his just-showered hair.
Yeah— that was pretty great. Less great was Abel finishing Pacer off without letting him get at that cute ass, and then kicking Pacer out of bed with a sharp "You have an important meeting today!" before flopping down deep under the covers. Pacer was inclined to grab the pink toes peeking out from under the blanket in a sneak attack.
"It's my birthday, you know," he said, looking down at the Abel-sized lump.
"You're gonna be late," the lump replied. Pacer glanced at the clock, and swore. It was a half hour later than he usually woke up. He thought he had set the alarm?
Grumbling, he walked to the closet, pulling it open to find an entire outfit all prepared on a hanger, including the tie and undershirt. He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk, but the lump remained motionless. "I see," he said, grabbing the clothes, "You got this all ready so you could have enough time to enjoy yourself on my dick, huh?"
The lump apparently had no comment.
Pacer chuckled, slipping on the pants. "Ballsy move, baby, ballsy move." He may have heard a faint giggle come from the bed, but one could never tell with Abel-sized lumps. He grinned, buttoning up the starched white dress shirt.
When he was finished dressing, he turned to look back at Abel, but Abel was still hiding. "You usually like watching me put a suit on," Pacer said, lowering his tone a little with a curl of his lip. Abel also liked deep, manly voices. However, neither seemed convincing enough this time.
"Fine," Pacer said, making his disappointment audible. He walked through their small apartment to the kitchen, and stopped short. There was a full breakfast waiting on the table, steam still rising from a bowl of oatmeal. So, that little pain-in-the-ass had turned off Pacer's alarm, took a shower, set up an outfit for Pacer, and made breakfast.
"Hey," Pacer shouted back towards the room, "Get your ass out of bed. You want me to eat alone?" He heard a thud, and shook his head. "I'm only gonna give you to the count of three, baby."
There was another thud, and then stomping, and Pacer crossed his arms as the lump appeared from the hallway, with a head sticking out of it. Abel was pouting at him, comforter folded around his body like an overstuffed cape.
"What's with the attitude?" Pacer asked, cocking an eyebrow. Abel blushed, and pulled the comforter over his head as a hood. "That— " Pacer said, with a bark of laughter, "That thing's not gonna save you if you carry on like this any longer." He held his arms out wide, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
Abel only stalled for a second more, shifting on his feet, and then padded over to Pacer. "I did all this stuff for you," Abel said in an extra whiny voice, which had Pacer rolling his eyes as he gathered Abel up in his arms. He sat down at the table, Abel ensconced on his lap. His lips twitched when Abel suddenly nuzzled into his neck, making soft mewling noises.
"Oh, I get it," Pacer said, snorting. "You're being cute." There was a pause, and then he winced at a sudden, sharp bite at his neck. In the next second, Pacer had one arm around Abel's chest, lifting Abel up enough to expose his underwear-clad bottom, and Pacer laid in a hard smack. Whimpering, Abel threw his arms around Pacer's neck. Pacer lowered him back down on his lap.
"Alright," Pacer said, rubbing Abel's back, "I like cute." A frustrated sigh blew against his neck, and he smirked. "You don't even have to try that hard."
"You— " Abel started to growl at him, leaning back to scowl at Pacer. He stopped when he saw Pacer's grin. There was a flash in his brown eyes, and then his cheeks puffed up into a stubborn pout again. He curled himself into Pacer's chest, playing with Pacer's tie with slender fingers. "I love you," he murmured in a soft voice.
Blinking, Pacer opened his mouth to tease Abel even more about the cutesy act, but paused. He definitely didn't want push Abel so much that he would stop the charade. It usually took several rounds with the paddle to make Abel this precious.
"I love you too, Abel," Pacer said, placing a kiss on the top of Abel's head. "So, what did you make me?"
"Chocolate chip pancakes."
Pacer laughed. "I asked what you made for me."
Grabbing a pancake from one of the plates in front of them, Abel tore off a piece and shoved it in his mouth. "Bacon, eggs, and hash browns."
"Good boy," Pacer replied, picking up a fork and pushing it into the potatoes. He kept an arm around Abel's waist, holding Abel tightly to his chest.
"Have you listened to one word I've said?"
Pacer looked up from the pasta he was toying with, and stared at his coworker with a blank expression. "Sure."
His co-worker, Todd something, gave Pacer a skeptical raise of his eyebrows, and then tapped the report laying on their table. "This is important, Daringer, we can't fuck this up."
Nodding, Pacer stuffed a forkful of noodles in his mouth, his eyes trailing after a couple of women who had just sashayed by the restaurant he and Todd were sitting outside of. Their tight-fitting skirts reminded Pacer that it had been awhile since he made Abel wear lacy underwear.
Maybe that would be Pacer's birthday wish.
"You know any lingerie stores 'round here?" Pacer asked with a nod, taking a chug from his water. Todd gave him an exasperated look, and Pacer laughed. "Ok, ok," he said, "let's talk about the report."
"Ah," Todd said, a curious expression passing over his face. "Actually … Pacer … " He lowered his head slightly, shielding his mouth. "I think someone is taking pictures of you." He nodded towards the other side of the street. "Maybe been following you too, since the office."
Pacer stared at Todd for a second, and then let out a long, and weary sigh. Glancing across the street, he caught the glint of a camera lense. "Yep," he said, "That would be my husband."
"Nothing," Pacer replied quickly, his lip curling up with amusement. He could see the top of Abel's mousy brown hair sticking up behind a car parked at the curb. "That little shit," he muttered, turning back to his food.
Someone was certainly asking for a well-deserved turn over Pacer's knee.
Abel crouched down behind the car, and flipped through the pictures, savoring each image. He had dozens of Pacer walking into his office building, walking back out, heading to the restaurant, sitting outside, eating, and ogling women.
Abel frowned at the last one.
A shadow fell over him. "You wanna to get bent over this car right now and get your hide tanned, or do you wanna delete that picture?"
Standing up with a gasp, Abel almost dropped his camera, but Pacer scooped it up just as it fell from Abel's fingers. Pacer stared at the screen for a moment, muttering under his breath as he pressed buttons. "How the hell do you work this thing?" he asked, and Abel reached for it, worried that Pacer would just chuck it at the ground.
Pacer gave him a dark look, and Abel retraced his hands. "Don't delete them," Abel said with a small voice.
"They're pictures of you on your birthday."
He looked to the ground, and knew Pacer was staring at him. He tried to make himself look as pathetic as possible, shifting from one foot to the other. "They're stalker pictures," Pacer said from above him, "I want ones of us together."
"I was gonna do that too!" Abel whined, looked back up at Pacer. When Pacer just stared at him with a dubious expression, Abel huffed. "But you look so cool in your suit, and I knew you were having a work lunch with your co-worker, so I wanted a picture of that. Oh! And today is your meeting, so I wanted to see what you looked like doing that, and— "
Abel shut his mouth. There was a faint blush tinging Pacer's cheeks, and immediately Abel's stomach twisted with guilt. He was usually much better at hiding his idolizing side, but with Pacer becoming more and more mature each day he worked at his job, Abel felt overwhelmed— his need to watch and document Pacer was ten times stronger than it ever was with Eric.
"Abel," Pacer said again, looking down at the camera. He paused. "You make it very hard to justify disciplining you, when you sound so excited just by the idea of taking pictures of me."
Abel shivered, his nerves tingling. "You think I deserve discipline?"
"I know you do," Pacer said with a sterner tone, "You're interrupting me at work … that's bad."
"Yes, sir." Abel replied quickly, tucking his chin down. His heart was racing in his chest. When Pacer didn't say anything for an extended moment, Abel ventured a glance upwards. Pacer was staring at him with raised eyebrows, his lips curled with amusement. He handed the camera back to Abel.
"I look cool, huh?"
Abel bobbed his head up and down excitedly. "You always look cool," he said without thinking.
"Jesus," Pacer replied with a sharp laugh. Abel was mortified, and he felt even worse when Pacer then said, "You really can't do this to me right now." Abel was about to open his mouth to apologize profusely when Pacer suddenly wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulled Abel close, and leaned in to whisper into his ear, "You're making me horny, you little slut."
Mouth running dry, Abel decided to push his luck, and pressed a kiss against Pacer's neck. The arm around his shoulders tightened, and then there was hand at his ass, trying to slip under his waistband. "God damnit," Pacer growled, "You've had it too easy lately, you selfish little prince." His voice was tight with arousal.
"You probably shouldn't molest me on the street," Abel replied, falling against the car. He arched his back up a little, grazing his fingers down his stomach. He brought his hand back up to his mouth, licking down his ring finger, sucking on his wedding ring.
Pacer stared at him, eyes wide. "Your ass has a death wish."
Smiling coyly, Abel tried to hide the shudder that ran down his spine. He definitely wasn't going to say it, but if Pacer tried to bend him over the hood of that car and spank him right there in public, Abel would let him. The very thought had Abel flushed, and he wondered if he should just get into position himself. Would Pacer say no?
"Don't test me," Pacer said. Abel blinked up at him. "Come on." Grabbing Abel's arm, Pacer dragged him down the street towards a department store.
"What about your job?" Abel said, tugging back half-heartedly.
"I still have a half hour of lunch," Pacer replied. "Long enough to get— " He stopped mid-sentence as they walked into the department store, and were surrounded by shoppers. Pacer's hand slipped down from Abel's arm to his hand, their fingers weaving together. Pacer tugged Abel onwards, and Abel followed with a meek gait.
He shouldn't have been surprised when they ended up in the lingerie section. He looked up at Pacer, who was leering at him with a predatory smile. Abel sighed.
"I was thinking lacy," Pacer said, "Unless you want try something different?"
Abel glanced around the section. "Are we talking underwear or … "
"I want something that'll be fun to take off you."
Nodding, Abel pulled away from Pacer's grip and walked slowly through the rows of silk and lace, his eyebrows creased together in a thoughtful expression. Something fun to take off … That would probably include string or buckles, right? What was the word …
Abel turned to look at Pacer. "You want me to wear something with garters, don't you?"
"Hell yeah," Pacer replied, grinning. He crossed his arms. "The pantyhose too."
Glowering at him, Abel returned to browsing through the lingerie. After rejecting several rows, he stopped when something caught his eye— a pair of boy shorts, rose red with ruffles on the rump, and oblique lace on the front. A set of garter attachments dangled from the front and back. He pulled them off the rack.
Pacer was sifting through a pile of thongs when Abel came up to him, and thrust the boy shorts under Pacer's nose. Pacer turned his head to Abel, and grinned.
"And the pantyhose?" he asked, grabbing the underwear and pulling out his wallet.
Abel stared at himself in the mirror. His slender chest was bare, but below that— below that, the deep red boy shorts clung to him like a second skin. He turned his hips slightly, looking at the bustle-like wave of ruffles on the rump, and sighed. The cut was certainly interesting, sloping up so that his ass cheeks were exposed at the bottom.
Shrugging, he bent down to roll the pantyhose up his legs. They were red to match the underwear, and they had little bows for the garter clips. After he snapped the clips into place, he took another look at himself.
What about this was appealing to Pacer? Abel tried to imagine Pacer in garters, and snorted. There was probably someone else out there who would think Pacer in lingerie was hot, but Abel liked picturing Pacer in things like fireman outfits and army uniforms. Preferably with some chest showing.
Which made Abel blush at the memory of his last birthday, when Pacer walked into the room wearing nothing but a leather swatch of fabric around his waist, his chest slicked up with oil. "This is what you like, right?" Pacer had said, "This He-Man shit?"
Abel barely had time to squeak out a yes before Pacer was manhandling him towards the bed.
Sighing, Abel took another look in the mirror. Well, this is what Pacer liked. This lingerie shit. Abel smirked, bending over the way he'd seen women do in music videos, with his ass curving out.
Straightening back up, a thought crossed his mind, and he trotted over to his dresser. Pulling open the top drawer, he dug through his briefs until his hand hit leather. He pulled out the collar Pacer had given to him their junior year at college, and buckled it around his neck. It was a little worn, but still very pretty. His fingers grazed over the inscription on the tag.
Property of Pacer Daringer.
Pacer had certainly made good on that threat, Abel thought idly, holding up his hand and staring at the ring. He still wasn't used to wearing a ring yet, but he was getting better at remembering to put it on in the morning, what with Pacer paddling him to the point of tears every single time he forgot.
Hearing the ding of the alarm, Abel looked over at the clock. Pacer would be home in two hours, or so, giving Abel enough time to make the birthday cake. He padded to the kitchen, his hips swaying slightly. The underwear was certainly going to his head.
He grabbed for the cake mix, and then frowned. He shouldn't get the underwear dirty … just yet. Spinning around, he grabbed his apron from the hook and dropped it over his head, tying the string around his back in a bow. Returning to the mix, he read the instructions, and quickly pulled out the ingredients.
Cooking didn't used to be his strong suit, but when Pacer asked him to play housewife for at least a little while, he decided to jump into the whole thing with gusto.
It was another thing he wondered if he should be embarrassed about— but he wasn't. He never had any particular thing he wanted to do in life. Whenever he felt a little guilty about not contributing money to the marriage, and pulled out the job listings, Pacer would snatch the paper from his hands and throw it in the recycling.
Of course, after that happened one too many times, Pacer sat Abel down and asked if he was upset that Pacer wanted him to stay at home.
… and, of course, the wording he used got on Abel's nerves, so Abel said yes, he was upset. Which then led to Pacer detailing how he loved the idea of his little housewife Abel taking care of the home and prancing around in an apron, but if Abel was lonely and bored, then fuck that, they would find Abel a job.
Abel didn't look at job listings after that. He did sign up for afternoon pottery, and he did join the cycling club, and he also enrolled in a home ec class at the adult education center near their apartment complex.
Sometimes he would follow Pacer. Usually he was pretty good at not getting caught, but when he was … those were some of the worst spankings. Real discipline.
He groaned at just the thought of it, his ass tingling. That kind of thing had taken awhile to build up to— for Abel to trust Pacer enough, for Pacer to trust himself enough. Over the past few years, they had navigated several sharp turns with their fetish, the biggest being how much it was involved in their daily lives, and how much was just sex.
By the time Pacer had proposed, they had basically come to the conclusion that Pacer was dominant, Abel was submissive, and that was the end of it. Abel would do as he was told.
Except for the following Pacer thing. He couldn't control that.
With a sigh, he put the cake into the oven, and checked the clock. Pacer would be home in an hour and a half. Abel figured he had a punishment coming, so the cake could cool while his ass got burned, and then he would frost it.
He plopped down in front of the TV. He knew what would be on if he turned to a certain channel, he knew who he would see.
There was one thing Pacer got petty and stubborn about, and even he admitted it. That thing was Eric Holden. Pacer would hang out with Eric, or talk to him on the phone, but Abel was expressly forbidden from going anywhere near him. Pacer didn't budge on that rule an inch, and when Eric had unexpectedly showed up at their apartment once, Pacer had even sent Abel to their room. Eric read the situation pretty quickly, and left, shouting an apology to Abel.
Switching on the TV, Abel settled further down on the couch. It wasn't like he felt compelled to stalk Eric anymore, but there was that lingering feeling. Some old thing in himself that told him he had betrayed Eric grievously.
So, he watched Eric on Eric's sports talk show.
Almost as soon as he turned on the TV, his cell phone buzzed with a text message. He flipped it open, and stared at the words.
You better not be watching him on my birthday.
Abel dropped his head back with a huff of annoyance, but he quickly turned the channel.
Pacer was hit with the acrid scent of burnt food the second he stepped into the apartment. With a sigh, he set his briefcase and keys on the small table by the door, and loosened his tie. "Abel?" he asked down the hallway, and he heard a clatter. He snorted, shaking his head.
Walking into the living room, he saw Abel standing in the kitchen. There were tear streaks lining down his flour-covered cheeks, and when Abel looked up at Pacer, a low whine escaped from the back of his throat, and he dropped down, disappearing behind the counter. Pacer crossed his arms. "Abel?"
Pacer's eyebrow twitched. "Excuse me?" His tone was short, and too the point.
A head of messy brown hair and a pair of doe eyes peeked up at him from over the counter. "Don't be mean," Abel said, his fingers curling on the edge of the granite. Pacer's lips pressed together at the sight, heat pooling down towards his groin.
"The cute act's not gonna work, baby," he said, holding his hand out and gesturing for Abel to come closer. "Now get your ass over here before I give you something real to cry about."
Stalling for a second, like he always did, Abel stared at Pacer. Finally, he stood up and dragged his feet as he moped towards Pacer. The second Abel was out from behind the counter, Pacer was transfixed. Abel was not only wearing his apron shirtless, his cute bare shoulders tempting Pacer, he was also wearing the underwear and pantyhose.
"Now," Pacer said, forcing himself to just look at Abel's eyes, "Tell me what happened." He brushed a thumb over Abel's cheek, pushing away some of the flour. Abel nuzzled against his hand.
"I ruined the cake." Abel said with a small voice. Fresh tears started to slide down his face. "I ruined your birthday cake."
Pacer quirked an eyebrow. "What's with the flour? I told you to use a mix."
"I thought I could make something from scratch when the first one was ruined."
The pout was killing Pacer. With a sigh, he clasped Abel's wrist and pulled him back to the kitchen. Hooking Abel under the arms, Pacer lifted him up onto the counter next to the sink, and pulled a washcloth out of a drawer. Abel sat, watching Pacer as he wet the cloth, sniffing quietly.
"What kind of cake was it supposed to be?" Pacer asked gently, turning to Abel, and rubbing at his cheek with the washcloth.
"Chocolate," Abel gurgled, still choked up a little from crying.
Pacer breathed out, shaking his head with a smile. "You do this stuff on purpose," he said, sliding his thumb between Abel's eyebrows, kneading away the creases.
"Not this time," Abel replied, his eyes downcast. Pacer paused, frowning. So, Abel was pretty upset by this, and it wasn't a game. Leaning forward, Pacer placed a light kiss on Abel's forehead, and then pushed one arm under Abel's knees, the other at his back, lifting him up. Abel automatically circled his arms around Pacer's neck.
Pacer carried Abel to their room, and dropped down on the bed with Abel sprawled out over his chest. He let out a slow sigh, and closed his eyes. When he felt Abel start to shift on top of him, he grunted and wrapped his arm around Abel's waist. With one, swift jerk, Pacer had Abel on his back, Pacer looming over him. "Didn't say you could move," he murmured.
Abel was staring up at him with wet eyes and a crumpled expression. Small hands grabbed at Pacer's tie, clutching it like a security blanket. "I disappointed you today, didn't I?"
"Disappointed?" Pacer replied, his eyebrows rising. Oh … Abel meant the stalking. Pacer turned his head, breathing out through his nose. After a second, he grabbed Abel's waist, twisting him slightly so that his bottom was accessible, and swatted him lightly. "There," Pacer said, pushing Abel's hip back down, "We're all good."
Abel stared at him, and blushed. "That— "
"I don't want do anything harsh on my birthday," Pacer said, cutting over Abel. He licked his lips. " … Come on."
"You don't want to spank me?" Abel replied.
Pacer buckled slightly, resting his head against Abel's chest. "Uh, yes," he said, laughter clear in his voice, "Don't worry about that, I'm definitely going to be teaching you a lesson." He looked back up again, catching Abel's gaze. He pushed a hand through Abel's hair. "I just don't want to … "
He knew Abel would know what he meant. Discipline for stalking took a toll on both of them, and it meant no sex afterwards. Abel was always too worn out— and resentful, at least for a little while. Pacer had hated that, and one time declared that he wouldn't do it again, but Abel reassured him that it was just heightened emotions in the moment.
Just another one of those sharp turns they had to navigate.
"Ok," he said suddenly, "Here's your punishment. I get to be completely selfish, and do this exactly the way I want to."
Abel shivered under him. "Do what?"
Leering, Pacer sat up on his knees, sliding his hand up Abel's thigh, feeling the silky fabric of the pantyhose under his palm. Abel's leg rose up to meet him, and Abel arched up a little, pushing his head back against the pillow. "Good boy," Pacer muttered, quickly fumbling for his belt buckle with his other hand.
"Nnnn," Abel whined suddenly in protest, and Pacer paused.
"You're such a brat," he said, laughing. "You didn't even last three seconds." Abel jutted his lip out, his cheeks puffing up, and Pacer sighed. He fingered the apron covering Abel, and then started to slowly push it up, revealing Abel bit by bit. "Alright," he said, "Sit up."
Abel scrambled to his knees, and struggled out of the apron, throwing it to the side. Pacer watched it drop to the ground with some disappointment, but then he looked back at Abel, and his cock reacted immediately. Kneeling in front of him, Abel was pink and cute, his red, frilly underwear tight at his groin. He was staring at Pacer like a hungry kitten.
"Come on," Pacer said with a resigned sigh. Abel lunged at him.
Pacer caught Abel, and smiled as Abel buried his face in Pacer's chest, pushing his arms under Pacer's suit jacket. "I think you have more weird things than I do," Pacer said, pressing his lips against the top of Abel's head. "Is it really that fun to be naked while I'm still wearing a suit?"
"I'm not naked," Abel said, muffled by Pacer's dress shirt, "I'm wearing this stupid thing." He stuck his ass out to prove his point, and Pacer took the opportunity to lay in another smack, harder this time. Abel breathed in, and clung tighter against Pacer's chest. "I just like it, ok?" he whined.
"Yeah, yeah," Pacer replied quietly, his fingers skimming down Abel's back. He liked it too, truth be told. Cute, little naked Abel squirming under Pacer, who was fully dressed in a nice suit. Yeah, that was fun. Pacer smirked. "Ok," he said, "That's all you get." He dislodged Abel from his front, and shoved him down on the bed. "Stay," he said flatly, and then turned to the closet.
As he was hanging his tie, he looked over his shoulder. Abel was watching Pacer, flat on his stomach, his chin resting on his palms. His pantyhose-covered feet were crisscrossing back and forth in the air.
"Happy birthday," Abel said, smiling at him.
Pacer turned back to the closet, and dropped his jacket on the hangar. "I love you too much," he muttered under his breath.
Turning back to Abel, Pacer walked up to the bed. He was still wearing his pants, and he
looked down at Abel expectantly. On cue, Abel reached out and undid the button, zipping down the fly. He was licking his lips. Pacer snorted, grabbing Abel's wrist just as Abel was about to slip a hand into Pacer's boxers. "Nope," Pacer said, and Abel gave him a disappointed frown.
Pacer pulled away from Abel, and went to the hamper, and pulled his pants off, tugging them over his feet. "Get into position," he said over his shoulder.
After stuffing his clothes into the hamper, he went to the dresser they shared between them, and opened the middle drawer. There were a few paddles and a leather strap, but he frowned, not really drawn to any of them. He closed the drawer, and opened the next one down. Right on top was a slick riding crop.
"Perfect," he said, picking up the crop. He slid it along his palm, and then brought it down, feeling the sharp sting. His fingers curled around it.
Turning back to the bed, he paused to take in the view. Abel was on his knees and elbows, his back arched, sloping up to his perky bottom. He had his face buried in a pillow, and his feet were dangling slightly off the end of the bed. Pacer walked up to him, and nudged his legs a little farther apart.
He slid a hand down Abel's spine, resting it at Abel's neck, rubbing gently with his thumb. "You're ok, baby," he said softly, "You're ok." He placed the crop next to Abel, where Abel could see it, and then he brought his hand down on Abel's ass. The ruffles of the underwear softened the blow somewhat, but he did see Abel tense.
"The first one's always scary, huh?" he murmured, still rubbing Abel's neck with his other hand. Abel turned to look up at Pacer.
His eyes were glassy, clouded with lust.
"Hmm," Pacer said, smirking at Abel. He ran a finger up the middle of Abel's ass cheeks, and then laid in a sharp smack. Abel grimaced. "Tell me why you're being disciplined."
"I followed you," Abel whispered, shifting his hips a little.
Pacer quirked an eyebrow. "And?"
"And … " Abel replied, "I took pictures. And I bothered you at work."
"Yes," Pacer said with a sigh. "Now, I'm going to go brush my teeth. You stay in position, and think about what you've done today."
Abel listened to Pacer leave the room. Everything felt tight, the underwear, the pantyhose— even his own skin felt tight around him. He kept position, his stomach taut and his ass in the air. His heart was thundering.
From this position, he couldn't see the door. He knew that Pacer liked to keep him there and leave the room to amp up Abel's anticipation, and it worked. He never knew if Pacer actually left, or had returned, or where the hell he was. He could be in the doorway, arms crossed, smirk on his face, watching Abel kneeling there in position.
The unfairness of it had Abel's stomach roiling with indignation. Maybe he would get a little rebellious tonight. His toes curled at the thought of what Pacer would do if he did.
"Just try it," he heard from the doorway. He shuddered, his fingers curling into his palms.
"Please— " he whispered, not even sure what he was begging for. He wanted Pacer to stop dicking around, and start paying attention him! He arched his back more, widened his legs more, and looked around at the door. Pacer was there, watching him with a tilted head.
"Say you belong to me." Pacer ordered, his voice low.
Abel huffed. "You can see the collar, can't you?"
There wasn't even a moment for him to prepare for Pacer suddenly marching across the room and looping an arm around Abel's waist, bringing his hand up to lay in spank after spank. Abel gasped, his knees wobbling as he felt Pacer's hand connect with his underwear-clad bottom over and over. The little shockwaves of pain already had him moaning with arousal, his voice whispery and high.
"Smartass, huh?" Pacer said tightly, aiming his blows for the exposed part of Abel's butt cheeks. Abel cursed his choice in lingerie. He winced as Pacer landed a particularly sharp smack on his left cheek.
Moaning, Abel rolled his back up, and then collapsed on his chest, Pacer's arm around his waist the only thing keeping his ass in the air. It felt so good. There were live-wire shots of heat coursing through his veins, starting from his bottom where Pacer was spanking mercilessly.
It had been awhile since Pacer had just … gone to town using his hand. Usually he had a set number, but this time it was a rain of slaps, and all Abel could hear was skin connecting skin, and all he could feel was stinging heat. "Pacer!" he breathed, his voice still heady with lust.
"What?" Pacer growled sharply, "You hungry for something?"
The next thing Abel knew, he was dragged to the ground, his knees hitting the carpet. Pacer sat on the bed, and dragged Abel in between his knees. "I expect something better than that weak performance from this morning," Pacer said, tapping Abel on the cheek. Abel stared up at him, dizzy and lost for a moment, his ass sending waves of pain along his body.
"Yes, sir," he said after a second, and slipped his hand into Pacer's boxers. He rubbed his hand over the tip of Pacer's cock, licking his lips. He had expected much more spanking … but, oh well. It was Pacer's call.
He flicked his tongue forward, getting a taste, and then he opened his mouth wide, devouring the tip first. Pacer moaned quietly, his hand running over Abel's head. Pumping the base of the shaft, Abel sucked and licked, bobbing his head and up and down. "Cute," Pacer muttered above him. Sliding his hand up Pacer's chest, Abel closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Pacer growing hard because of what Abel was doing to him.
But then there were fingers curling into his hair, and pulling his head away. "Ok," Pacer said, "Back up."
Abel stared— for too long, apparently, because Pacer hooked him under the arms, and pulled him back on the bed. Before he had time to comprehend what was happening, he was pushed on his stomach, and the sharp sting of the riding crop landed just above his thigh. He hissed, curling up involuntarily, his hand covering his ass.
Looking up, he found Pacer staring at him expectantly. Breathing out, he clambered quickly to his knees, and resumed the position. His entire body was tingling. He felt a hand grab his ass, squeezing, and then Pacer hooked a finger on the waist of Abel's underwear. Pacer started to pull it down slightly.
"I like this look," he said, sliding his hand back up Abel's bottom. "With the underwear around your thighs." He leaned down so that his mouth was near Abel's ear. "Maybe I should take a picture?"
Abel shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard Pacer chuckle. "Calm down," Pacer said, "It's ok."
Abel barely heard him. All he could think about was the riding crop in Pacer's hand. When was the last time Pacer had used it? Abel couldn't remember. He breathed in, a slight sheen of sweat covering his forehead. There was a tick of silence, and then another, and Pacer's presence behind him seemed to loom bigger and bigger. Abel hated and he loved this part, when Pacer made him wait.
Then there was a crack of leather hitting his ass, and he sucked in a breath. "God," he groaned, voice shaky with excitement. "Stop teasing me!"
"You asked for it," was the thick response, and then Abel was crying out as the crop slapped across his ass several times, each stroke coming from a different direction. What was before just a gentle sting was starting to build up into actual pain, and he whimpered, clutching onto the bed sheets.
"Sorry— sorry," he started whispering in high whines, barely realizing he was saying it. His bottom was on fire, and his entire body was shaking. "No … "
There were several more strokes, each laying in another layer of sting. Abel's face was scrunched, and he bit down on his wrist. There was a pause. "Hey," Pacer said, "Take your arm out of your mouth." Abel whimpered, shaking his head.
"You need something?" Abel nodded quickly. There was some riffling from the dresser, and then Pacer was gently pulling Abel's wrist out of his mouth, and pushing a soft strap of leather in between his teeth. "Abel," Pacer said, his voice soft, "Come on, we've talked about this." He was rubbing the bite marks on Abel's wrist. "Tell me if you need something."
Abel nodded, looking for eye contact. Pacer gave it to him, looking at Abel warmly. He disappeared again, but then there was a gentle hand at Abel's thigh for a minute, stroking him slowly. "Ok," Pacer said, "We're not done yet."
Bracing himself, Abel bit down on the leather as Pacer continued to spank him with the crop. Abel's face even felt hot, flushed with embarrassment and pain. Tears started to flow down freely, and as when really vicious stroke landed on his ass, he cried from the back of his throat, and moved to block his bottom with his hand.
Pacer wasn't being as harsh as he could have been, but it was obvious he was teaching Abel a lesson, and not just ramping them up for fucking. Abel felt better this way. The guilt of following Pacer that afternoon had been gnawing at him.
But there was a line, and as another stroke landed on his ass, his legs started shaking, and he collapsed on his stomach. He tried to curl into a ball, but Pacer grabbed his waist, and pushed him flat. "One more," Pacer said, "Just— " He laid in the last stroke, and Abel went boneless, the pain cascading through his body.
The next thing he knew, Pacer's hand was stroking his cock, and he arched around on his back, breathing in. When his ass hit the sheets, he yelped and turned back on his knees. Pacer chuckled. "You're rock hard after that."
Abel looked down between his legs, and saw his erection. "It still really hurts," he panted, glancing back up at Pacer.
Pacer nodded, but he didn't seem all too concerned as he wrapped his arm around Abel's waist, and pulled him backwards. Abel looked to the head of the bed, and then breathed in when he felt a pair of spit-slicked fingers nudging at his opening. Pacer spread Abel's cheeks with his other hand, earning another yelp as the rough pads of his fingers dug into Abel's stinging flesh.
The pain was amplified for Abel when Pacer thrust his fingers in, pushing in and out. Abel went rigid, and Pacer let out a hum of concentration. He re-angled his fingers, and pressed, hitting Abel's sweet spot.
Abel's vision went white, his hearing flickering out. "Pacer," he said, and then repeated with a scream when Pacer started thrusting against the spot. He bucked back against the hand, but Pacer's arm steadied him. Abel tried to reach for his erection, but then Pacer pulled his fingers out.
"Not yet," Pacer growled, flipping Abel on his back. He grabbed Abel's legs, and pushed them over his head before his ass made contact with the sheets. He was breathing heavily, a line of sweat dripping down from his neck, trailing between his pecs. Abel stared up at Pacer's impressively cut form, and his mouth went dry. "God— " he stuttered when Pacer held up a bottle of their lube, and poured it between Abel's ass cheeks, the slick coolness seeping over him.
"Fuck me," he whined suddenly, pounding his fists on the bed. "Do it!"
Pacer grinned at him, and then pushed his cock into Abel, thrusting forward roughly. Abel arched back, saying Pacer's name again in a quiet, tense whimper, his hands curling around Pacer's wrists. "Yeah," he breathed.
"Yeah?" Pacer replied, leaning forward to press a kiss against Abel's forehead. He kept thrusting, pound and pounding, and just hitting the right spot every time. He brushed Abel's hair away from his forehead. "Sweet Abel," he said, "You've been so bad."
Abel's stomach twisted with pleasure, and he was caught in Pacer's gaze. "I belong to you," he panted, and Pacer started thrusting harder.
"You better believe it," Pacer growled, his voice tight. He went rigid just as Abel felt his own orgasm tear threw him, and they both shouted in unison. Abel bent up to clutch on to Pacer, and Pacer wrapped him in strong arms.
They both crawled farther up the bed, and Pacer drew Abel up so that he was laying belly down on Pacer's chest. They stayed like that, sweaty and panting, for some time, and Abel listened to Pacer's heartbeat as it slowed down to a normal rhythm. He pressed a kiss against Pacer's warm skin, and shivered when he felt a hand languidly pet his back.
"Abel," Pacer said.
"You'll belong to me forever, right?"
Abel folded his arms, and rested his chin on them, looking up at Pacer. He grinned. "You see the collar, don't you?"