Free Don't... by Jack L. Pyke

allowing more access.
    “Fuck,” he mumbled, and I murmured something back, a low purr against his throat. He smelt good, but he felt so much bloody better, body against mine.
    I made the pull on his coverall zip long and slow, disturbing the heat, the silence of reception. My hands slipped inside, and I traced up his body, running a gentle touch under the fabric, easing them off his shoulders. He took the encouragement as material gathered at his wrists and pulled his arms free. A soft smile, I ran a touch instantly under his T-shirt and pushed it up his body, thumbs brushed both his nipples, but he didn’t hiss until I tongued at one, then teased a bite on the bud, nipping gently.
    “Christ, Jan.”
    Giving a murmur, I slipped his T-shirt over his head and a soft sound of material hitting floor was heard somewhere in the distance.
    Coveralls gathered at his waist, leaving his abs, pecs, and shoulders all on display. Jack was, was—“Fuck, Jack,” I breathed, my kiss more heated. My hands looked at his body: the run over toned sides, chest, down to the V of his abdomen, over the line where coverall and jean were a tangle at his waist. “Just fucking look at you. Just so bloody... sexy.”
    “Nothing special,” I heard him mumble, and part of me tucked that away for now. His breathing was deep, controlled, so well practised it seemed almost second nature for him to stop getting hard. Hands ghosted my hips, coming to rest on my ass, and I smiled hearing him mumble something about a ten-pointer.
    “Like my ass, Jack?”
    “Mmmm.” A tug pulled my groin tighter against Jack’s thigh, and he groaned. “How the hell do you fit all that into those slim trousers, Breakdown?”
    I wasn’t porn-star huge, but what I did have got me by. I rutted against him, smiling into the kiss. “Wanna find out?”
    A sharp breath, a grunt, Jack pushed me away.
    “Hurts,” he breathed, and I could see it in his face, his hand on my chest keeping me at a safe distance.
    “Uh-huh,” I said, loving how his lips were roughed-up from the intensity I’d felt rough my own. “Need to see it, Jack. I need to see you tamed. Please.” His eyes—Christ, those eyes were everything that cage on his dick tried in such desperation to tame. Maybe I could understand the why; I wouldn’t want that look straying from me.
    I meant what I said; I didn’t want to hurt him, but I needed to see.
    I slipped down his body, knelt, and Jack glanced down and lost control of his breathing for a moment.
    “Easy,” I murmured, feeling him tense as if expecting the inevitable pull of pain. “I’m not here to hurt you, Jack.”
    A tug at the coveralls took them a few inches over his hips; I kissed the left, then right curve of hipbone. Reaching around to his ass, I inched the jeans down a little further, exposing a small portion of his ass to the cold of the blinds and loving how he jerked into me from the onslaught. I let my breath brush against his thin line of exposed pubes.
    “Jan, please,” Jack forced between teeth. He sounded torn between pushing me off and throwing me to the floor. “Stop.”
    “Why lock you up?” I pulled his jeans down a little further and saw what looked like a round clip with a lock. Christ. I ran a tongue over the silver and heard him hiss. “Did you do something wrong? Is it to stop you having sex?”
    “Huh?”
    “Jack, fuck. Have you seen this on you?” I’d pulled his cock free and the silver crisscross casing covering his cock was nearly bulging at the silver seams. Painful, yeah, but so.... “Jesus, Jack.” I ran a finger over the silver criss-crosses, sometimes catching a nail on the exposed areas of his cock. “Looks so good. What?” I tilted my head to look at it from every angle. “What did you do?”
    “Punishment.”
    I glanced up. “Why? For doing what?”
    “Christ, Jan, don’t, don’t look at me like that.”
    I lifted the cock cage almost to the point of mimicking a hard-on, just testing