Street of Dreams
by Lasha Lee

Gage's POV:

He steps behind me and his arms curl around my waist, and for the longest time he doesn't say or do anything else, just stands there cradling me, his cheek pressed against my hair, and then he whispers "You're trying so hard to keep it all under control. Let it go tonight, Gage. Let me take care of everything. Let me take care of you."

I have to consider it for a second, because I know exactly what he means, what he's asking for, and it's not something that I'm always willing or able to give him, any more than he can always give it to me upon command. It goes far beyond the basic who-fucks-who dynamic, and if all he wanted was to be on top he wouldn't even need to ask.

He waits, letting me take my time, before I nod. He knows me better than I know myself; he knows that right now I need this. His fingers move to the waistband of my boxers and lower them down for me to step out of, and then he pulls my shirt up over my head, tossing it aside.

He steps away from me, and I don't move because he hasn't told me that I can. I can hear him opening the closet and rummaging around, before I feel his heat behind me again, and I feel him gently moving the hair out of my eyes before he ties a soft cloth over them instead.

All I hear is the sound of my breath, and Shan's breath, and the rain against the window.

He takes my hand and I expect him to lead me to the bed, but instead a moment later I feel the hard cool tile of the bathroom floor under my feet. The water runs for a minute, and then I feel a warm washcloth being dragged across my body, and I smell the lemon soap we both use as he rubs a handful over my chest and begins to work downward.

Shan's POV:

My sweet prince stands there with his head bowed, not saying a word, as I continue to bathe him, causing the soap to foam and bubble across the dampness of his skin.

I kneel to run the cloth up and down his legs, watching the water bead in the fine pale hairs there, and he sucks in air, waiting for me to go higher still. Instead I move behind him, washing his back, kissing the tattoo. I put more hot water on the cloth, and run it over his ass, kneading the hard muscle, and he sighs.

He's so aroused it must be painful, when I return to my position in front of him. His sex juts up between thick white curls and soft, creased testicles. I put more soap on the washcloth, and wrap it around his cock. He makes a tiny noise of acceptance and I began to rotate my hand, bringing up from the tip to the base over and over, the soap making the cloth slide easily over him.

Gage's POV:

I come hard, my knees buckling and a cry ripping itself out of my throat. The air is thick with the smell of lemon and semen and water and the cleanser we use on the shower, and I start to sag to the floor, but he catches me, his arm around my middle again.

He dries me off with a towel, and then kisses me, moving away before I can really respond. "Okay?" He asks, and I nod, my heart still racing.

This time when he takes my hand he does lead me over to the bed, pushing me down onto it, and I feel it sag under his own weight, and the bedside drawer opening.

"Lie back, put you hands up against the headboard." He tells me, and I comply. A moment later, I feel satin cords being wrapped around my wrists, and then tied tightly to the headboard.

Everything else in my life fades away, even my name. What name? I have no name; I am no one. My only purpose in existence is to be right here, belonging to this man, letting him do what he will with me.

Shan's POV:

We've gone much heavier than this before, my prince and I, but tonight we're both tired, and I think this will be enough. He doesn't need to be totally dominated right now, just cared for, loved, cherished. He needs me to make it all go away for a while.

We play hard, Gage and I, when we're both in the mood. We've tried just about everything. Things I won't mention here because they are things others might find sick or wrong or disgusting. But there is something totally pure about the state I know he's in now, because I've been there. Complete surrender, unwavering trust. Undying love. I remove my own clothing, and ease him into a sitting position against the board, sliding his ties up to accommodate, and I straddle his chest.

"Open your mouth." I command, and guide myself into it, groaning as his lips close around me. I tangle my hands into his hair, and pump in and out slowly, gasping as his tongue dances, and then his mouth closes tighter and he begins to blow, softly, creating a cushion of air between my foreskin and the head of my cock, and then sucking it back out again. He claims he invented that, and I don't think I believe him, but even if he didn't invent it he's damn well perfected it.

I have to back away, because that's not how I want to come, and he looks disappointed. He's also hard again, and he's straining against his bonds, his tongue circling his lips to capture a last taste of me.

"Relax." I whisper to him.

Gage's POV:

I have to obey him. I can't do anything else; I have no choice but to do as he says, but I wanted to finish him off like that, to give him that, to please him. He's sliding back down my body now, his cock leaving a wet trail across my chest and my belly. He trails a fiery line of kisses over my pecs, licks my navel, strokes the slit of my cock with just the tip of his tongue, and then...

He moves away again.

"I'll be right back." He promises, and I hear the door of the bedroom open and shut.

I lie there for what feels like hours, still hard as a rock, begging mentally for him to come back and finish what he started, and then I hear him return, and feel the mattress dip again.

The edge of a glass is pushed against my lips, and as I sip I taste cold cranberry juice. He has it imported for me, knowing how much I love it, and how cranberries just don't want to grow on this world. He takes the glass away, and then something solid is forced between my lips, and I moan in pleasure at the burst of chocolate on my tongue, the sweet blending with the sour of the juice.

His mouth seals itself to mine, and he shares his own sip of the cranberry juice with me in that manner, and as I swallow, he offers me the chocolate in the same manner.

Shan feeds me like this, from his mouth to mine, like a mother robin to her baby, the heat of his lower body pressed hard against my crotch, rubbing me every time I start to go soft. "Just be patient." He says. "Just trust me."

The bed shifts, and the drawer opens again, and this time I hear the click of a cap. A second later a slick finger is pushing into me.

Shan's POV:

He once complained that I always took too long prepping him, that he didn't need that much time and attention. It only made me more determined that he get it. Before me, I don't think anyone ever really cared if he enjoyed sex or not, so long as they got what they wanted. He may have been fucked before, but I'm the only person who has ever made love to him. And I intend to do it right. I continue to flex my fingers inside of him, pushing and stretching, until I'm convinced he's had enough.

I take away my hand and slick myself up, and put his legs over my shoulders, guiding the head of my cock to his opening, and easing inside.

Gage's POV:

Finally... finally he's inside of me, both cock and tongue, kissing my head against the pillow as his hips jerk in a old, old rhythm. He controls the pace, faster and slower, still tasting like candy and berries, his balls slapping me with every stroke. I wish I could see his face right now, but I can imagine it, the black fire in his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Men always look so angry when they're about to come, I've noticed. I think I'm the same, because when you're that close to spilling it you revert back to that primitive beast inside of you, when sexual release is more about claiming than anything else. Marking, being marked. I'm his property, his slave, his fuck-toy, his best friend, his lover, his lifemate. His. It's all I can think about; all I want to be.

I come again, almost as hard as the last time, and with a final slam he stops moving, and I feel the jets of his semen shooting up inside me, warm and wet, filled with tadpoles about to become very confused should they go out looking for an egg to fertilize.

He drops himself forward, his head over my heart, slowly and carefully pulling his cock out of me. I'm nearly asleep as I feel him untie my wrists. I bring down my arms, wincing at the flush of blood, and wrap them tightly around him as he removes my blindfold. The dim light of the room makes me jerk again as my eyes try and adjust.

He reaches over and turns out the light, and then pauses for a moment when we hear something scratching at the bedroom door.

"Go back to bed, Flour." I call, the first I've spoken in a long time. "Go on."

The scratching increases.

He gets up with a sigh and opens the door. I hear nothing for a minute and I assume he's put the bonatar back in his box, but a moment he's back in bed and something furry is cuddling up between us.

"Just tonight." Shan says. "Just because he's never been alone before."

I lean over and kiss him deeply. "Do you have even the slightly clue of how much I love you?"

"A pretty good one." He puts his arm around both the animal and me. "I love you too, Gage. Sweet dreams."

In spite of everything going in my life, I slept like a child again.

On to part twenty-one. Back to part nineteen.