Burn (Songs of Submission #5)(17)
Author: C.D. Reiss

“Indeed.”

I put on headphones and watched Darren’s computer screen, listening for a flaw that might be part of the hardware or a tiny blip on track thirty-two of forty.

The plane took off. The tiny thing felt shaky, unsure, too fast. My stomach fell between my feet, but I tried to keep a straight face, even when I gripped Darren’s forearm. We had to start the loop again when the laptop slid across the table. There was no one there to tell us to put our stuff away, and it didn’t seem to be a requirement anyway. Jonathan pretended to work, but I knew he was watching me.

I glued my eyes to Darren’s screen when the plane evened out and I could swallow again. I’d heard the music for the B.C. Mod piece a hundred times, but in only a few minutes, I was listening with my whole brain for a click that may or may not have been there. I watched the wavy lines flow across the screen like heartbeats until my phone buzzed and lit up. A text. From the guy sitting across from me.

—Is it hot in here? Or are you just gorgeous?—

He was looking at me over his computer screen, lips curled in a smile.

—That’s so unpoetic. Even for you—

—Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?—

—In Los Angeles? Yuck. Is there a shower in this tin can?—

He leaned back, a smile creeping across his face. He ignored his computer in favor of the phone. The cold, electronic blue lit his face while the soft light from above warmed his brow and hair.

“Mon?” I barely heard Darren through my headphones. “Did you hear the click?”

“Uh, no. Can you run the loop again?”

—I feel your hands on the phone—

My heart skipped a beat. Or stopped. Or did the thing where I felt its presence in my chest.

—How, exactly?—

—As if they were on my body—

—We have a no touching rule in effect—

—Only until you commit yourself to me—

I knew where this was going, and I wanted it, dangerous as it was.

—What if I don’t commit myself?—

—You will—

—Then what?—

—Then I’m going to take those touchy little hands and tie them to your knees—

—No kissing first?—

—No—

—Not even your cock?—

He pursed his lips and looked at me. His hands slid over the glass. Fuck that, he was not taking control of this conversation. I put my elbows on the table, leaning over it toward him.

—What if I crawled at your feet, kneeled before you, looking up at you as you pulled out that piece of meat between your legs—

He glanced at Darren, who sat in the dark, eyes glued to his computer screen and unaware of our bloops and dings. Then Jonathan leaned forward, mirroring my position on the table, as he texted.

—When I’m done tying your hands, I’m going to bend you over and press your cheek to the mattress. Then tie your ankles to the bed’s legs, holding them spread for me as you stand—

—What if I kissed the tip of your cock? And you took me at the back of my head while you rubbed it along my closed lips, and I opened them—

Our forearms rested on the table, lateral, not touching, as we watched each other and our little glowing screens. Our phones dinged and blooped and buzzed rapid fire, like electronic jumping beans.

—I’m going to put my thumb on your clit, then move it up to your ass**le until it’s wet—

— In one move, you put your whole shaft down my throat—

—I’ll lean my wet thumb on your ass**le until it yields to me—

—I flatten my tongue on the base of you as you pull out of my mouth—

—My thumb will enter you and you’ll groan and strain against your ties—

—I look up at you and open my mouth for you to f**k it again—

—I’ll kneel and lick your cunt until you beg for me to f**k you—

—You tighten your grip on the hair at the back of my head—

—I won’t—

—and press your c**k into me until my tongue touches your balls—

—I’ll spank you until you can’t do more than sob—

—Cruelly, you f**k my mouth and I love it because it pleases you—

—When you least expect it I will enter you and f**k you. Hard. Two strokes, then pull out and rub my wet dick all over—

—Spit drips down my chin and onto my chest—

—Your ass**le will be fresh and wet and ready for me to slide into it. You will scream—

—oh—

—Then you will moan—

“I heard it,” I said, pulling off my headphones. “The click.”

“Me too,” said Darren. “Okay, all I have to do is—”

“Slide over, I have to get out.” I bumped him, and when he didn’t move fast enough because he was wound around the equipment, I stood on the back of his seat and climbed over him.

The bathroom was probably nicer than anything I’d ever seen, and I didn’t care. I didn’t have to pee. I slapped open the door and Jonathan was right behind me, closing it behind us. I put my arms around him.

“Behind your back,” he growled and laced my hands behind me. My back was against some kind of counter, I felt more than saw cabinets, a toilet to my left, and a tile floor. Mostly, I saw Jonathan. His hands were on the cabinets, his face an inch from mine.

“Touch me, Jonathan. Please.”

“Commit yourself to me.”

“Oh, God. Don’t—”

“Commit. Yourself. To. Me.” He said it softly and firmly, half whisper, half scream.

“I’m yours. Touch me.”

“You don’t even know what you’re promising.”

“Yes, I—”

“I cannot watch you walk away again. If you commit yourself, you’re mine. You will set your limits, and I will honor them. You will be exclusive to me. You will submit yourself to me sexually. Completely.”

“Yes.”

“People will know.”

I thought I would have agreed to do anything for him, but that stopped me dead in my tracks. “Why can’t we be discreet?”

“I want everything. I want to take you out. I want us to be tied without worrying about who sees us, and I don’t want men looking at you like you’re single.”

“Fine, then Carnival’s going to put me on stage in a collar.”

He raised an eyebrow as if he found that interesting, not repulsive. “You crossed that off your list.”