Free Bound Guardian Angel by Donya Lynne

seen
him come during their twisted love-triangle trysts. But never had
he been the one to provide the friction to get Trace off. Sam had
assisted doing those honors only once, but Micah had never felt for
himself how turgid and thick Trace was. And Trace was very thick,
his erection’s circumference big enough to hurt someone if he
wasn’t careful.
    He set down the candle and reached up to
grip the back of Trace’s neck as he began working his other hand up
and down the length of Trace’s hard-on.
    The reaction was instantaneous. Trace’s dick
swelled even more, and a powerful, intense shudder jolted his
entire body. Then his hips jerked forcefully as a harsh, guttural
groan vibrated from deep inside his chest. His cock kicked in
Micah’s hand as the muscles in his ass and thighs convulsed.
    “Fuuuuuck.” The syllable breathed from
Trace’s mouth more like a robust exhale than an expletive as his
body continued to forcefully contract and release, his cock
grinding against both Micah’s hand and the blanket covering the
massage table. He was coming hard as potent convulsions pulsed
through his body in time with every vigorous kick of his dick.
    For at least thirty seconds, Micah massaged
the base of Trace’s cock through his orgasm, which seemed reluctant
to end and was one of the most erotic episodes of sexual release
Micah had ever witnessed from one of his subs.
    Then Trace’s body went limp. He didn’t even
seem to care that he was lying on his own spunk.
    Micah gently drew his hand from between
Trace’s legs, caressed his smooth, wax-speckled ass, and took a few
long moments to compose himself as Trace’s body rose and fell as he
breathed through the aftereffects of his orgasm. The only thing
that would have made the experience better was if Micah could have
connected with Trace’s thoughts the way he did with Sam’s when she
came. There was nothing like riding out her orgasms with her. He
had a feeling sharing Trace’s would be just as good, if not better.
Well, maybe not better, but certainly different.
    In time. One day, Trace would open to him,
and he would have what he wanted. Micah refused to accept this was
as close as he would ever get to his friend. His submissive. His last submissive. He already knew he would never take another
if Trace ever ceased to be his. From now on, they were linked at
least in that respect. But Micah wanted more. He wanted all of
Trace. Not just body and soul, but mind, too.
    Micah took a deep breath and gathered
himself then placed his hand on the back of Trace’s head. Trace
purred low and deep within his chest with every exhale.
    “Time to clean you up, buddy,” Micah said
quietly. Without taking his hand off Trace’s head, he turned and
blew out the candles then shut off his small Crock-Pot before
unplugging it. “You were amazing, Trace. You did such a good job.”
He removed the blindfold and stroked his friend’s head, beginning
his aftercare, which was his favorite part of a scene. The tending
and caring that came after a session completed the circle and
always sparked the deepest emotional response inside him. The love
he felt before and during a scene magnified in the crucial steps
afterward, when he released his sub, wiped him down, bathed him,
held him, and ensured his mental well-being and safety. Any worthy
Dom always provided this crucial coming-down phase to ensure his
submissive didn’t free fall into darkness and feelings of
incompleteness and confusion.
    Moving quietly, he stepped in front of the
table, untied Trace’s wrists, then gently laid his arms alongside
his body.
    “You were perfect.” He caressed Trace’s
shoulder and arm as he moved back to his bench. “I couldn’t be more
pleased with your performance.”
    He picked up the knife Sam had set out for
him. It was one of his favorites. Not his Bowie, but one made of
black steel, with a charcoal-colored handle.
    Turning back toward Trace, he said, “I’m
going to remove the wax