Trapped

Chapter 1 The lordling’s eyes were miserable again. Sam had been watching him for a while, quite unnoticed, and saw him pace the bedroom, run a hand around the back of his neck, and then pour two glasses of brandy. It was the good brandy, not the cheap s**t they usually served in the club, which indicated just how important his client was. His client. Sam smiled a little. He was gorgeous. Young, probably only a year or two younger than his own four and twenty years, but smaller than he with a slight, elegant yet willowy build. After the first night that he had visited the club he had only ever wanted Sam and Sam had been more than happy to oblige. When the misery faded from those eyes there was something beautifully boyish about him. Charming, unspoiled, and quite, quite irresistible. He’d thought of him as The Boy for some time. He had no idea of his real name, and beneath those aristocratic clothes that probably cost more than he would earn in ten years, he was most certainly all man, but that elusive boyishness called to something lost within Sam. His heartbeat picked up and he swallowed before speaking and drawing attention to his presence. Today was important. Today was the day. He had spent the last couple of weeks planning his escape, his future, his new life. All he had to do was persuade his boy, his lordling with sadness in his eyes, that he was going to help him. “Henri,” the boy said with a smile. The misery lifted to be replaced with something warm for a moment. Henri was the name Sam used when working and the boy went by Maurice to protect his identity. He strode to where his boy stood, took his face in his hands, and kissed him. Hard. The boy moaned into his mouth and clung to his shoulders. Given the disparity in their sizes he sometimes worried about hurting him, but Maurice never complained. The kiss became bruising, and as usual, Sam was as hard as iron in moments. He could never really fathom the effect the boy had on him, but he liked it. He was the only client that made him so hard so fast. The only client he ached to be with. As he was visiting the brothel three times a week, he was with him a lot. Sam dragged his mouth away, but held the boy’s face in his hands. “Maurice, my beautiful Maurice.” He was beautiful, too. Fair skin, light blue eyes, and fair hair that, in candlelight, sometimes had an auburn cast to it. He looked ethereal. Ethereal. Sam liked that word and since he had heard it, and learned what it meant, he decided it embodied Maurice. Ethereal. Those light blue eyes were burning now. Wide, unblinking, flicking back and forth as he looked into Sam’s eyes. “Clothes off.” Sam used his commanding tone. The boy liked to be commanded, and tonight he needed him to be as compliant as usual, if not more compliant. “I think I will f**k you fully clothed today.” He knew the boy liked the feel of his rough clothes against his skin to begin with, but afterwards he loved nothing more than to lie on Sam’s naked chest and rub his face in the dark hair that grew there. Sam stood back as the boy peeled off his clothing and folded it. He was always tidy. He was clean, too, and in Sam’s profession that was definitely something to appreciate. His own size and weight usually meant that he was pulled for the men who liked to be mastered and rogered hard, but not many of them thought to present themselves clean, bathed, and fragrant like Maurice did. As the clothes came off, Sam could smell the soap from his skin. A waft of sandalwood and a hint of leather. He was slender, but surprisingly muscled when he took his clothes off. All lean and hard without a spare inch on him, and exactly how Sam liked his men. When Maurice finally stood naked before him, c**k jutting and weeping, Sam wanted to kneel and take it into his mouth, but that wasn’t part of the game. Instead, he stood tall, shoulders back, unbuttoned the fall of his breeches and pulled out his own rock hard c**k. He always returned the favour, and made sure he was clean and bathed, so he thrust his hips a little and rubbed himself. The boy’s mouth was open; his eyes riveted. “On your knees.” He dropped to his knees before him and looked up. Sam pushed out his c**k towards him. “Suck me.” His breath caught when the boy’s cool, slim hands took hold of him, still shy even after all these weeks, caressed him gently, and then took him eagerly into his mouth. He was incredibly inexperienced. He still gagged if he got too much in, and tended to nibble and lick rather than giving a good hard suck, but it was wonderful and Sam loved it. Loved that tentative, shy touch that was somehow moving. After a moment he took the boy’s head in one palm and started thrusting gently. Maurice had asked for this, paid for this, but Sam could never quite bring himself to do it hard. He thrust until the boy’s eyes watered and then pulled off. “Get up.” The boy stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “On the bed.” The boy scrambled up and Sam’s c**k ached at the sight of him when he got onto all fours. His back curved and as Sam got up onto the bed behind him he ran his fingers down its length and enjoyed the shudder it elicited. He took the oil from the bedside and poured a little into his hands and rubbed them together. What he really wanted to do was kiss him again, lick him all over until he was a quivering mess, then suck him until he almost came but what the boy wanted was his c**k, and the boy was paying. Sam teased his hole a little and watched him tense. He pushed and heard the boy gasp. He noted that his hands were bunched into fists, and his head hung a little low and wondered if there was anything amiss, but this was hardly the time to bring it up, so to speak. Instead he focused on pleasing him. He circled again and this time pushed harder until he got the entrance he sought. The boy moaned and pushed back so Sam plunged harder, swirling his finger around, opening him until he could add another finger and thrust deeper. The boy shouted aloud and Sam curled his fingers until he found his sweet spot and Maurice threw back his head and let out a long sobbing moan. “Hard.” He panted. “I need it hard tonight, Henri. Hard.” The boy was sweating and shaking. Sam got more of the oil and ran it all over his c**k that still poked through his clothes, added more to the boy and then lined up. He hesitated; he was big and the boy was terribly tight. “Now, for God’s sake, now.” He was panting and pushing back, so Sam took hold of his shoulder and pushed in. The moans he had been making had been of pleasure, but the sound he was making now sounded more like pain so Sam paused and rocked a little to ease the way, then pressed in slowly until he was fully seated. He brought his legs up so that the boy would feel the roughness of his breeches and he grasped his hips so he would feel the edge of his coat and shirt. With a growl he withdrew, pushed back in, and when the sounds were of genuine pleasure he set up a deep, slow, rhythmic thrust that made him push back with sobbing breaths; then he f****d him as hard as he dared. He was so damned beautiful; tight and hot. Sam had to concentrate on not spending immediately. He thrust hard, but held him close. The high-pitched keening sound interspersed with harsh pants suggested he was hitting the right spot so he kept it up. Hips snapping in short, harder thrusts, and then long and deep. The boy moved to take his c**k in his hand and Sam slapped his arse. “No touching until I say.” The hand moved immediately but the imbalance made his other arm buckle so Sam pushed him down so his face was in the pillow, arse still canted upward, and held him tight as he rode him. He didn’t think he could last much longer, his boy was simply too much, so he pulled up his hips until he could get his own hand around and grabbed his c**k. It was hard and wet so Sam used one hand to hold him and maintain his balance and one hand to pump him as hard as he could whilst he pounded into him relentlessly. The boy howled and bucked and writhed as he spent and Sam f****d him through every second of it, hammering out his own release which contorted his entire body. He collapsed on top of the boy. As his senses returned he had to admit that was probably one of their best goes. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. He moved as the boy squirmed beneath him. “Undress please,” the boy said, not looking at him. Sam rolled off the bed and his head swam. He hesitated before unbuttoning himself, hesitated for just a moment, but then took a breath and went ahead.