Chapter 12: Bedding Down
Robert’s hands, which had been cupping Eddie’s face, stilled. He pulled back just an inch, a new, practical thought slicing through the heavy arousal fogging his mind. “Oh,” he breathed, his brow furrowing. “Before you do that,” he said, nodding toward the en-suite, “let’s get your car properly parked. And I can show you the other entrance, which you can use when coming here if you prefer, on non-date nights.”
Eddie blinked, the shift in focus almost disorienting. But the excited gleam in Robert’s eyes was contagious. “Yeah, okay,” he said, sliding off the bed, his own arousal a persistent, happy thrum between his legs.
Robert found a pair of battered sneakers kicked under the chaise and slipped them on without socks. Eddie led the way back through the hidden bookcase door, through the study, and out into the cool night air of the front driveway. The street was silent. Robert climbed into the passenger side of Eddie’s car, his large frame making the compact vehicle seem suddenly smaller.
“Head around the back of the property,” Robert instructed, his voice low. “The lane that runs behind the gardens.”
Eddie did as he was told, driving slowly past the dark, sleeping houses. Robert pointed to a section of tall wooden fencing that looked no different from any other. “There. See where the chicken wire ends? That wooden post sticking out just a bit farther than the rest?”
Eddie squinted. “Barely.”
“Another little secret thing I had installed,” Robert said, and his voice took on a giddy, childlike quality, a man showing off a favourite trick. “Park on the left of the fence, and pull up so that post is right by your driver’s window.”
Eddie maneuvered the car carefully, aligning it as instructed. The wooden post, rough-hewn and knotted, was inches from the glass.
“Now, roll down your window and push on that big knot right there. Firmly.”
Eddie did. With a soft click, a small, perfectly disguised panel on the post sprang open, revealing a sleek, backlit keypad.
“The code is 0712,” Robert said softly.
Eddie punched in the numbers. There was a low hum and a series of mechanical clunks. Directly in front of the car, a wide section of the wooden fence lifted silently upward, like a garage door, revealing a neat, clean carport with two marked spaces illuminated by subtle ground lights. Eddie let out a shocked, delighted laugh.
“No way!”
“Drive in,” Robert said, grinning. “Take the left space.”
Eddie eased the car forward into the concealed space. The door closed behind them with a muffled thump, sealing them in private, soundless gloom. They got out. Robert took Eddie’s hand and led him through a door set into the side wall, which from the outside was a masterful illusion—thick, cultivated ivy that hid any seam.
“Release catch is here,” Robert said, guiding Eddie’s hand to the floor. His fingers found a smooth, cool stone carved into the shape of a frog. “Turn it clockwise.”
Eddie twisted it. The door swung closed behind them. In front of them was a narrow, paved path winding through a dense thicket of ornamental shrubs, completely hidden from the neighbouring properties. It led directly to the French doors at the back of Robert’s study. Another keypad was embedded discreetly in the brickwork.
“This one’s my birthdate reversed,” Robert murmured. “2107.”
Eddie entered the code. The lock disengaged with a solid thunk. They stumbled into the dark study, laughing quietly, grabbing onto each other for balance.
“That is so cool!” Eddie exclaimed, his voice a hushed shout. “It’s like the Batcave but, you know, above ground.”
Robert was blushing, a faint pink on his weathered cheeks. “A childish indulgence,” he admitted, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “But a useful one nonetheless.” He took a steadying breath, his expression growing more serious, though the excited energy still buzzed beneath his skin. “Ah. One more thing to talk to you about before we… continue with our plans.” He was clearly trying to contain himself, to do this right. “And it relates to why I have that entrance. I’ve mentioned to you about two of Mary-Jane’s previous suitors who didn’t work out because, through our work, discovered their homosexuality. They do still visit on a regular basis. Also, there is one young man whom I have mentored who I deemed right for this programme, who I also see for sexual purposes on occasion. These relationships are nothing like the one we are developing. More like regular hook ups, I think you would call them. I hope this doesn’t change things between us, but I want to be as honest about my situation as I can remember to be.”
Eddie absorbed this, his head tilted. There was no jealousy, only a burning curiosity. “Can you tell me more about these guys? What you do with them, how often?”
“Absolutely,” Robert said, relieved by the question. “A brief summary would be that the first man discovered a love of being pissed on and likes to come to me for that maybe every two or three months. The other discovered a fetish for fisting, again he visits regularly but more like every six weeks. The one I mentored likes to wear a cock cage and get fucked by large cocks, but I see him maybe two or three times per year. It’s all arranged in advance. You wouldn’t have to know about it or be involved. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
Eddie’s grin returned, wider and more wicked than before. He closed the distance between them, his hands finding Robert’s hips. “And if I want to be involved?” he said, his voice dropping to a low, provocative hum before he kissed him.
Robert moaned into the kiss, his hands flying to Eddie’s hair, all attempted seriousness shattered. The kiss was a wildfire, all the pent-up anticipation from the interrupted moment in the bedroom now roaring back, amplified by shared secrets and hidden doors. Eddie could taste the whiskey, the night air, the faint, metallic tang of his own want on Robert’s tongue.
“Fuck,” Robert gasped, tearing his mouth away. “The en-suite. Now. I need you clean. I need to taste you so bad my teeth ache.”
Eddie pulled back from the kiss, his breath hitching. He didn’t move toward the bathroom, just stared at Robert, his intense brown eyes searching the older man’s face.
Robert looked at him questioningly, his hands still tangled in Eddie’s dark curls. “Everything ok?”
“Yeah, more than,” Eddie said, his voice husky. He chewed his lip for a second. “Everything we’ve done so far has been reciprocal. So, will you be douching as well?” he asked hopefully.
Robert beamed at him, his whole expression softening with profound affection. He cupped Eddie’s face, his thumbs stroking the stubble on his cheeks. “I would be honoured to. I hate the idea that I might be pushing you too far or expecting too much, but you are right. This is the way. And I absolutely want you to reciprocate.”
A fierce, proud joy surged through Eddie. He grinned, a flash of white in the dim study. “And so,” he added, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “am I right in thinking that you have taken big cocks in the past? And that means that maybe I could fuck you after?”
Robert groaned, a deep, shuddering sound that seemed to start in his balls. He pulled Eddie to him, crushing their bodies together. “You’re going to make me scream the fucking house down,” he rasped into Eddie’s ear.
Eddie’s hands slid under Robert’s henley, finding his thick, hairy chest. His fingers located Robert’s nipples, pebbled and tight, and twisted them firmly. “I am going to fucking try,” he said, his voice thick with lust.
“I’ll take the study en-suite,” Robert said, stepping back with visible reluctance. “You take the bedroom one. Take your time. Don’t force it.”
They separated, moving through the hidden doorway into the bedroom suite with a new, focused purpose. Eddie veered into the luxurious bathroom attached to the bedroom, closing the door on glistening tile and chrome. Robert disappeared through another door, likely the one Eddie had guessed led to a closet or a second bath.
Alone, Eddie’s hands trembled slightly as he found the polished chrome douche hanging discreetly on a hook. The normalcy of the object here, in this masculine sanctuary, was intensely erotic. He took his time, following the clean, methodical process with the focus of a devotee preparing for a sacrament. He flushed three times, the water running clear, hoping he’d done enough.
He emerged first, padding back into the bedroom. The air was cool on his skin. He climbed onto the massive bed, lounging at its edge, his feet brushing the thick rug. His cock, thick and heavy, stood straight up from its thatch of dark hair, the head glistening.
Robert was not far behind. The other door opened and he stepped out, a tower of naked muscle and coarse hair. Seeing Eddie waiting—the casual pose, the blatant offering of his body—made Robert’s half-hard cock complete its rigidity in one breathtaking surge. It curved up against his stomach, veined and formidable.
Without a word, Robert stalked towards the bed. His movements were predatory, utterly focused. He didn’t kneel. He simply leaned over, his big hands seizing Eddie behind the knees, and in one smooth, powerful motion, lifted his legs up and over his head.
“Whoa—fuck!” Eddie shouted, laughing in breathless surprise, his backside now presented in the air.
Robert didn’t hesitate. He dove in, his broad tongue flattening against Eddie’s hole.
He would usually caution patience and slowness, but there were always exceptional circumstances. His need was a living thing, clawing behind his ribs.
For Eddie, the sensation was a shocking flood. The hot, wet, relentless pressure of Robert’s tongue against his most private place was a sensory overload. It was invasive, immense, and utterly profound. His brain scrambled, short-circuited by the direct line of pleasure being forged.
Then it processed. The pleasure ignited, a white-hot wire of bliss spearing up from his ass, branching through his gut, coiling around his throbbing cock. A broken moan tore from his throat. He became a squirming, writhing being of pure sensation, his fingers clutching fistfuls of the duvet.
The wet, slurping noises were obscenely loud in the quiet room. Robert’s hungry grunts and guttural groans vibrated against Eddie’s flesh. Eddie could only gasp and cry out, each flick and press of that talented tongue a surprise and a delight.
After a long, dizzying moment, Robert pulled back, panting harshly. He gently lowered Eddie’s trembling legs. “Christ, I’m sorry for attacking so fast,” he rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “My need was just… too fucking great.”
Eddie lay dazed and breathless, his chest heaving. He blinked up at the velvet canopy, a slow, sated smile spreading across his face. “Sometimes you just gotta get in there,” he managed, his voice wrecked.
Robert could tell Eddie liked it, loved it even, but he needed the words. He needed the map. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice rough with concern and want.
Eddie turned his head on the pillow. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with arousal. “I feel like I want your tongue back in my hole, Daddy,” he said with utter seriousness.
He then hooked his own hands behind his knees, pulling his legs back to fully reveal himself to Robert’s gaze, an offering more eloquent than any prayer.
Eddie scooted further back on the bed, settling against the mountain of pillows. Robert sat at the bed’s edge, his own cock jutting angrily. For the first time, under the steady glow of the sconces, Robert could properly look.
He took a long, silent moment. Eddie’s hole was a furled, dark pink pucker, glistening from Robert’s saliva. The skin around it was flushed, and the muscles quivered faintly with Eddie’s rapid heartbeat. It was framed by a thatch of tight, dark curls, and the view stretched down to Eddie’s heavy, tight balls and the formidable shaft of his cock resting on his stomach. Robert’s reaction was a sharp intake of breath, a reverent stillness. It was vulnerable, powerful, and beautifully, uniquely Eddie’s.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Robert breathed, almost to himself.
He reached out, not with his mouth, but with his hand. He let the pad of his thumb, calloused and warm, stroke gently around the rim. He watched the muscle twitch in response. He watched Eddie’s mouth fall open on a silent gasp.
Robert spat, a thick glob of saliva landing directly on the centre of that quivering ring. He used his thumb to rub it in, circling, spreading the slick. The pressure increased incrementally, and then the very tip of his thumb pushed gently inside, just past the first tight resistance.
Eddie jerked, a full-body shudder. “Oh, god,” he choked out, his head pushing back into the pillows. “Yes. Just like that.”
Robert withdrew his thumb, drawing another needy whimper from Eddie. He leaned forward now, but he didn’t give him what he begged for. Not yet. He kissed the inside of Eddie’s thigh, biting the corded muscle there gently. He licked a searing path along his perineum, avoiding the centre. He nibbled the flesh of Eddie’s ass cheek, his stubble scratching deliciously.
“Robert, please,” Eddie begged, his voice a ragged thing. He was shaking, his cock leaking a steady bead of pre-come onto his abdomen. “Please, your mouth. Your tongue. I need it.”
“You need it?” Robert murmured against his skin, his breath hot.
“I need you to eat my ass,” Eddie moaned, completely shameless. “I need your tongue in my fucking hole. Now.”
Robert gave a low, approving growl. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He finally, mercifully, returned his mouth to that aching centre. This time, it was not a frenzied dive, but a deliberate, worshipful feast. His tongue traced the rim with agonizing slowness before pressing inward, licking into him with deep, penetrating strokes. Every flick, every suck, was calculated to drag a new sound from Eddie’s throat—a sob, a curse, a guttural plea for more.
It was impossible. Every flick, every suck, was calculated to drag a new sound from Eddie’s throat—a sob, a curse, a guttural plea for more. Yet Robert was addicted to the taste, the texture, the primal submission on display. He alternated between the deep, boring thrusts of his tongue and ruthless, pinpoint flicks against the sensitive rim. Eddie’s body was an instrument of raw feedback, trembling one second, arching violently the next. “Oh God, Robert—right there, yes, fuck!”
The switch, when it happened, was barely perceptible at first, a tightening of Eddie’s fingers in the duvet.A sharper breath. Then, through the haze of moans, the words cracked. “Wait… wait,” Eddie panted, his voice strained. “Just a second… I need… I need to catch my breath.”
Robert immediately pulled back, his mouth slick and chin wet. He looked up, concerned. “Okay, just breathe, baby.”
Eddie’s chest heaved, his face a mask of overwhelmed bliss. His cock pulsed against his stomach, neglected but achingly hard. This was the limit, the moment where the nervous system screamed enough. Robert understood it. He’d seen it before. But with Eddie, he saw something else fighting through the daze in his eyes—not surrender, but a desperate, profound curiosity about what lay beyond that signal.
“Deep breaths,” Robert soothed, stroking Eddie’s shaking thigh. “Feel it. Don’t fight it. Let the feeling happen.”
He didn’t wait long. He leaned back in, not with the brutal tongue, but with his lips. He placed a soft, almost chaste kiss directly on Eddie’s fluttering hole. He kissed it again, gently suckling just the rim. He traced it with the very tip of his nose, inhaling the clean, intimate scent. Eddie broke. A sound came from his chest that was neither a moan nor a word—it was a raw, punched-out oohgh. His head thrashed on the pillow. His spine curled. It wasn’t a signal to stop. It was the sound of the barrier beginning to splinter. "Daddy… please,” he rasped, the meaning unclear, a plea for both mercy and deeper trespass.
Robert was on fire, a sublime torment pulsing in his own thick cock as he watched the transformation. Eddie’s hole, flushed a deep, pretty pink, was now visibly more open than when he’d begun. It no longer cinched shut tightly the second his mouth withdrew. It seemed to breathe, a soft, hungry pulse. The memory of that earlier eager question, the confident request—"maybe I could fuck you after?"—danced in Robert’s mind, sparking a deep need to bury himself inside.
The urge to just pin Eddie down and fuck him was a seismic pressure in Robert’s balls. He acknowledged it, named it, and pushed the current of it away. This was for Eddie. His own needs could wait.
Reaching blindly to the nightstand, he yanked the drawer open, his fingers closing around a familiar, cool bottle of lubricant. He tugged the cap open with his teeth, his other hand still stroking Eddie’s heated skin. He loomed closer, dribbling the clear, slick fluid directly onto Eddie’s vulnerable opening, watching it gleam. Then, tossing the bottle aside, he lowered his head once more.
His mouth went south this time. He lapped up the sticky trail of pre-come that had pooled on Eddie’s taut lower stomach. He sucked Eddie’s shaft into his mouth for three heavy pulls, wetting it thoroughly, teasing the swollen head with his tongue. He engulfed one of Eddie’s drawn-tight balls, rolling the weight of it, soothing it. All the while, his hand moved back between Eddie’s cheeks.
One slicked finger pressed, not against, but just barely into, that glistening centre. The muscle gave way with a shocking lack of resistance, swallowing the first digit to the knuckle.
Eddie screamed, a wordless cry of exquisite violation. His hips bucked.
“Easy,” Robert mumbled, his mouth against Eddie’s hip bone. “Just breathe through it. It’s good, see? You're taking me so well.”
He began to move his finger, a slow, shallow thrust. The internal heat and tightness were unbelievable, but what truly startled Robert was Eddie’s body’s response. After a moment, the clenching muscle around his finger seemed to relax independently. It didn’t just yield to his movement—it seemed to pull him deeper, a soft, rhythmic pulsing. He added a second finger alongside the first, twisting them gently to stretch. Again, a fleeting burn that melted into a needy quiver. No young man he’d ever initiated had shown this kind of eager physical intelligence.
He was lost. Lost in the petal-soft heat. Lost in the slick, wet noises. Lost in the sheer rightness of it. He almost missed the sound, the words pushed past Eddie’s lips on a tide of desperate exhalation.
“…please?”
Robert startled, stopping the gentle scissor of his fingers. “Sorry, baby,” he rasped, lifting his head. His mouth was a mess, his eyes glazed. “Say that again.”
Eddie’s intense brown eyes, pupils wide as pits, fixed on his. His voice was clear, shaking only with raw need. “Fuck me, Daddy.” He swallowed, adding with heartbreaking clarity, “Please fuck me. I need it so bad.”
A fierce wave of nerves, as sharp as the lust, crashed through Robert. This was the precipice. He held Eddie’s gaze and gave a single, slow nod. The easygoing man vanished; in his place was a stern guardian, his face a mask of absolute focus. He would protect this.
With a reverence close to religious, he slicked himself. He spread more lube generously over Eddie’s hole and his own throbbing length. He positioned himself, the heavy head of his cock pressing against the now-slick, pulsing entrance.
“Look at me, Eddie,” he commanded softly.
Eddie dragged his gaze from the canopy and held Robert’s.
Slowly—slowly—he pushed. The head breached, a firm, blunt intrusion. Eddie gasped, sharp, pain clear in the scrunch of his face. His channel clamped down hard, a vise of new, hot pressure.
“Breathe out,” Robert instructed, holding perfectly still, sweat beading on his forehead. He felt that deliciously tight ring of muscle hugging just the tip. “That’s it. Breathe through it. I’m right here. We can stop.” Eddie complied, a shuddering exhale. The intense, strangling pressure loosened, just a fraction. “There you go. So damn good.”
Robert inched forward another fraction, a sliver more swallowed into that unbelievably tight heat. Each subsequent gain was a monumental conquest, requiring a pause for Eddie’s frantic panting to calm. Discomfort radiated from the younger man, a line etched between his brows.
He was perhaps halfway, maybe a little more, when Robert saw the change. Eddie’s jaw clenched. His eyes, which had been wide with strain, locked onto Robert’s. With a soft, pained cry, Eddie’s hands flew from the duvet and grabbed Robert’s hairy forearms, digging his nails in.
“No,” Eddie hissed, shaking his head. “Stop waiting. Put it in. Fucking give it to me.”
He deliberately rolled his hips downward and pulled with his arms.
The last brilliant, burning stretch was a shared, grunted exertion as Eddie took Robert fully into himself. Then it was done. Robert was buried. He was seated inside Eddie, every thick inch from root to tip completely sheathed.
Eddie let out a long, shattered groan of ultimate relief, his body going boneless beneath Robert’s. His insides gave one last full-body clench before blooming into a deep, perfect heat.
For Robert, the sensation transcended the merely physical. It was a convergence. The soundproofed room, the surrender of his burdens, the haunting story he had just shared, the stunning, honest need this beautiful young man was showing—it all gathered at the point where their bodies were joined. A union. Not just sexual, but of purpose and understanding.
He stayed motionless for a time that felt infinite, just feeling the pulse of Eddie around him, watching tears of overwhelming emotion leak from the corners of Eddie’s closed eyes. He lowered himself carefully, bracing on his forearms, chest hair brushing against Eddie’s damp torso. He kissed his lips, gently. When Eddie’s eyes fluttered open, they were shining. Not with pain, but with a piercing clarity. They knew each other, fully, now.
Robert began to move. Tentative strokes at first, each a new, deep caress. He could hold back no longer. The obscene slap of skin filled the quiet as his rhythm grew steady and deep, punctuated by Eddie’s punched-out moans. Robert chased it, not his own orgasm, but that perfect feeling of total interlocking. A need roared up his spine, undeniable, unstoppable.
“I’m gonna come,” he choked out, his thrusts becoming faster, losing their formal rhythm. “Jesus, Eddie. Fuck.”
Eddie wrapped his arms around Robert’s broad back, pulling him impossibly closer. “Do it,” he urged, whispering in Robert’s ear, words filthier than lube. “Fill my hole up. Put all your fucking cum in me.”
That was it. A torrent boiled up from Robert’s testicles. He plunged deep and buried his cry against Eddie’s throat as he spurted. Thick, hot ropes of his spend flooded inside Eddie, each pulse a white-hot lance of release that seemed to go on for an age. “Oh my God,” he practically screamed, shuddering.
He slumped, spent, but the connection didn’t dissipate. The fierce intimacy remained, fortified. He softened slowly but stayed inside that blissful, messy warmth, kissing Eddie’s jaw, his temple. Minutes passed. Their breathing calmed.
Robert shifted slightly, rested his forehead against Eddie’s. He whispered, “Was that okay?”
A slow, radiant smile spread across Eddie’s face. He pressed up into another kiss. “Yeah, Daddy,” he murmured. “It was.”
Robert felt the question in his lips, the sensual exploration. Inside him, the prolonged contact, the aftershocks of pleasure, and the sheer thought of this man wrapped around him, now his, stirred something alchemical. His blood shifted from sluggish, satisfied simmer back to a low, gathering boil.
His cock, still nestled deep within Eddie, began a lazy, thick slide towards hardening again. An ache returned, distinct and familiar, pooling under the first release.
He pulled back, his face slack with a mix of awe and renewed hunger. “Unbelievable,” he mumbled.
He didn’t wait for questioning, but his movements spoke for him. Slowly, with a precise, rocking grind, he began to move inside Eddie again. This time, it wasn’t an act of chaotic passion. It was slippery, deep, filthily deliberate, pressing on over sensitized nerves slicked with his own previous spending, the mess making the act lewd and spectacular.
Eddie’s eyes rolled back. “Again? Fucking hell.”