“That was amazing, baby.” Hunter rolled to the side, nuzzling into the pillow as he let out a breath. There was cum leaking from his ass and dripping between his thighs in pale rivulets. Elliot reached for it, smearing it until the slickness turned tacky. It clung to his fingers, thick and smelling almost purely of him.

“Ew, gross. Why would you do that?” Hunter turned his head, making a face as he shuffled away.

Letting out a sigh, Elliot bit back the urge to growl out exactly why he wanted to see his husband marked with his cum. Instead, he pressed his dirtied fingers together, watching the cum slowly start to flake away.

There were two reasons really, and he knew Hunter didn’t want to hear either of them. He had tried to tell him before, stuttering through his answers before Hunter had turned his nose up.

Turning on his back, Elliot stared at the ceiling and the small silver fan making slow laps in an attempt to dry the sweat from his soaked skin. His flesh prickled as his heart started beating normally again, his thighs still burning from the workout.

“You okay?” asked Hunter, reaching for the cloth by the nightstand that he’d put there in advance. It was dark and probably cold, still ready to wipe away every trace of their love in a few quick strokes.

Always the planner.

Hunter wasn’t one to let them sit and just steam after sex. He seemed to hate the feeling of cum on his skin or inside him. Most days he asked Elliot to use a condom, treating it like going bare was some kind of special occasion.

Elliot let out a grunt, rolling to watch his husband. Hunter started with the cloth between his thighs, where the smeared layer was mostly dry. In a few moments, there was no evidence except the slight redness to his hole and a softness that Elliot longed to reach out and touch.

He wondered if he could slide right back in there, soft cock and all. Too bad it’s off-limits.

Hunter leveled him with a look, his dark hair sticking to his skin. A few strands had come loose in their lovemaking, lost in the bedsheets, only to tickle them later. “What is it? Was it not good? I thought it was great—your best yet—and that’s saying something.”

What is this? A pep rally? Elliot really didn’t want to be one of those guys who said ‘it is what it is’, but that was the only thing that came to mind. He wasn’t boasting when he said he had the stamina of a champ. And he always made sure he kept up his two-to-one ratio—for every orgasm he had, he made sure Hunter had two.

“Uh…yeah.” Elliot looked to the side. There was a picture of them on the nightstand from their last trip to Disney. Their smiles had been brighter than the fireworks that night, and he’d felt like a kid again for the first time in years. They’d made love on the balcony of their room when darkness had fallen, the stars and the creepy guy two floors up, their only company.

“Wow, thanks,” Hunter deadpanned, dropping his feet to the ground and marching to the bathroom. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a rave review before. If you weren’t in the mood, you could have just said so.”

The funny thing was, Elliot had been in the mood, almost voraciously so. He couldn’t seem to get enough, and no matter how many times he came, he always craved more.

But each time he thrust home with Hunter beneath him or riding him, the joy and expected pleasure dulled to a faded whisp of something that never quite lived up to what it was supposed to be.

“It’s not you, Hunt. You’re beautiful and amazing. I just…” He couldn’t say it. Their sex life was active, if not a touch on the boring side, but it lacked everything that he wanted and needed. “Maybe you could top next time?” And every time after?

Hunter made a face from the doorway to the bathroom before running a hand through his messy hair. It only looked wilder when he was done, sticking up in directions that defied physics. He really was the most beautiful man Elliot had ever seen.

He often wondered why Hunter hadn’t taken the modeling gig he’d been offered years before when they had just been starting a life together. He belonged on the cover of magazines, not working from home and hidden away in an expensive condo.

“You know I’m not really into that,” said Hunter, shrugging his naked shoulders. There was a love bite on his pec that was quickly turning from red to purple, a vivid reminder of what was left of their passion. “I have a hard time topping you, baby. Even thinking about it gives me weird vibes. I can try, though.”

Elliot’s stomach sank like it so often did after they were intimate. Hunter didn’t have to explain the weird vibes because it was the same thing he felt every time. It wasn’t supposed to be a chore, but that was exactly what sex had become. Yet, somehow, he craved it.

“I don’t want to push you to do something you aren’t comfortable with.” Elliot turned away as his chest went tight, trying to hide his face. The truth was, Hunter topping him was only the tip of the iceberg of his sexual desires.

The sheets rustled and the bed dipped as Hunter returned, leaning over and placing a kiss on Elliot’s cheek. “Tell me what’s bugging you, baby. I can’t help if you won’t tell me. It’s you and me against the world, right?”

“Yeah.” Threading their fingers together, Elliot closed his eyes, forcing his tears back. He was tall and built, and some guys mistook him for a gym rat, but he was really a huge softie. The simplest insult could ruin his month, and Hunter had been the only steady thing throughout his adult life. Hunter had picked up the pieces so many times he’d lost count.

He owed him everything.

“I need more,” said Elliot, biting his lip as everything threatened to come pouring out of his mouth. He could barely hold it back. It had been building for so long, that he was surprised it hadn’t burst free already. The images were there, though, plaguing him at night when he was supposed to be sleeping.

“Okay? Like more sex? We can do that, baby. As much as you need.” Hunter placed another kiss on his cheek, and Elliot fought the urge to flinch. There was no warmth to the touch, only bleak helplessness.

“No, not like that. I need you more. Some days I just need you to just take over and look after things. You know what I mean?” God, he wasn’t saying anything right, but he couldn’t make sense when everything was a jumble in his mind.

Hunter paused, flexing his hand. Elliot could only wonder what he was thinking and what the look on his face was. Disgust? Confusion? Or the ‘no’ that he really feared? None of it would be new. They’d gone down this path a dozen times, Elliot testing the waters and Hunter screaming ‘shark’ before they’d even put a toe in.

“Like the banking and stuff? I can do that, too. I know you have a lot more responsibilities at work than I do, so I can definitely take care of some extra things around the house. If you need more free time or ‘you’ time, then I can help you with that.”

We are getting nowhere. He gritted his teeth in frustration, wishing he had something to bite down on. It was almost terrifying how quickly the rage came on lately. “I need you to take control,” said Elliot, his voice almost a growl. “In sex…in everything.”

He blinked his eyes open as he felt Hunter pull away. When he turned his head, he met Hunter’s confused and hurt gaze. The beautiful blue he’d fallen in love with was there, distorted beneath the fresh glaze of tears.

He’d promised himself never to hurt Hunter or be the cause of any pain, but it was plain as day in front of him.

“Never mind.” He forced a smile on his face, pulling the covers up to his chin. He was exposed and naked, suddenly afraid of what Hunter would see if he looked too hard. “Forget I said anything. I’ll make breakfast if you do the dishes.”

“You sure?” Hunter scratched at a flake of something on his stomach that he’d obviously missed. His relief was almost palpable.

Sitting up, Elliot brought their lips together in a brief kiss. “I’m sure. Sorry… I shouldn’t have brought that up. You’re perfect, Hunt. A man wouldn’t ask for more unless he were crazy.”

There was that cute flush across Hunter’s cheeks that made him look ten years younger. Sometimes, he still looked the same as he did during their college days. It was only when he smiled that Elliot could really track the differences.

“Can I have French toast?” Hunter perked up, grabbing his robe and throwing it over his shoulders. The front draped open, showing off his abs and his perfectly soft cock.

Elliot’s cock stirred again, and he pressed the heel of his hand to his groin, squishing it into submission as he rolled out of bed. He grabbed boxers and jeans, jamming his cock up along the waistband so Hunter wouldn’t see. If they rolled back into bed now, they’d get nothing done all day.

He swept his hands inside Hunter’s robe one last time, trailing down his smooth skin that had him fully hard in moments. Letting out a shuddering breath, he placed a kiss against the side of his neck, licking the sweat that was still lingering there. Hunter let out a giggle, squirming in his hold.

“I’ll make you whatever you want as long as I can have this,” said Elliot as he grasped the robe’s tie and tugged it free before tossing it on the bed. “You get the juice and I’ll get the rest.”

It was domestic bliss at its finest, even with a gaping hole in his gut and an unsatisfied arousal that thrummed beneath his skin. Hunter lounged on one of the stools at the end of the kitchen island, his housecoat open and his naked ass on the leather surface. He scrolled through his phone as Elliot gathered ingredients and started up the stove.

The kitchen was small for the two of them, especially since the price tag of the condo had been so large, but Elliot secretly loved it. There was no elbow room to speak of and some of the cupboards didn’t open because the handles would have run into an adjacent drawer, but it kept everyone in the kitchen close. He only had to reach out and he’d be able to touch Hunter, who would send him a smile with every caress.

He cracked an egg into a bowl, grumbling at the shell that escaped and slipped right to the bottom. He dragged his nail against it, but it foiled him until he promptly gave up. Nothing a little cinnamon won’t fix.

Hunter made a choking sound behind him, the chair squelching as he shifted. “Oh my God. Look at this, baby. Can you believe it?”

He spun his phone to Elliot who grabbed it, turning the stove down a touch before he looked to the screen. His jaw almost hit the floor as his heart came to a brief stop. This is… It’s…

“Some kind of swingers club or something? Alice sent me an invite to the open house.” Hunter chuckled, leaning his cheek on his hand. “I don’t understand how people are into that kind of thing. All that leather and skin, and people getting spanked and stuff? How humiliating.”

The crackling of the toast in the pan dimmed to a quiet haze as Elliot stared at the invite on the screen. His palms were suddenly slick, fresh sweat breaking out along his spine. It was no swingers club.

Unkinked. Of course, he recognized the name of the place hosting the open house. The dim picture of a white unmarked door that Alice had included didn’t do the place justice from what he’d heard.

He’d been dreaming about it for the last year—everything from the supposed leather attire, mysterious rooms and the people within its soundproofed walls. When he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine the smell and the taste that would roll across his tongue.

He’d learned about the kink club almost by accident when a co-worker had mentioned that they were into BDSM after they’d gotten a little tipsy at an office party. One Google search had left him hard and wanting, fresh dreams haunting him about the kind of life and dynamic that he’d never have.

The hole in his chest was suddenly gaping, its maw open wide and ready to swallow him whole. His mouth was dry, his eyes burning as he struggled to look away. There was no information—not really—only a time and a date, when he craved so much more.

“We should go.” The words were out of his mouth before he even knew he was saying them. Elliot flushed, dropping the phone on the table before turning to the fridge and grabbing a few more slices of bread. “It sounds fun, I mean. They have a dress code and everything. It would be like Halloween.”

He was sure that if a kinkster ever heard him say that, they’d be insulted. If their thoughts were anything like his, it wasn’t so much dressing up as revealing a part of themselves that they’d kept hidden at their nine-to-five. He’d figured that out when he’d splurged on a pair of leather underwear. He still had them, hidden at the bottom of his filing cabinet beneath their old mortgage papers.

Hunter stared at him, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. His cheeks had flushed, the rosy blush creeping down his neck. “You want to go to a sex party?”

Oh fuck. “It’s not a sex party, and look… It says that the public is welcome for one night only, and they have a demonstration about Dominance and submission. You’re always looking to try new things, so why not go out on a limb?” Please, please, please.

Hunter leveled him with a look, pulling his lips back over his teeth. He could probably see right through Elliot’s lie. Elliot was the one who was always on the search for new things, like his tropical garden, which he’d moved to his office after Hunter had complained.

“I mean, I like new foods and stuff. I’m in love with that Indonesian restaurant we found, but I don’t know if we’re going to fit in with this kind of crowd. It doesn’t seem exactly natural.” Hunter took his phone back, squinting down at the screen.

Elliot had heard that one before more times than he could count, but never from Hunter. It stung, lancing into the coolness of his chest like an open wound.

“You’re sounding a lot like your mom there,” said Elliot, his heart sinking even lower. “It hasn’t been that long since your family considered you and me ‘unnatural’. Hell, some of them still do, even if we get a Christmas invite. It’s like they think I woke up one morning and said ‘hey, I want to be homosexual now so people can tell jokes about me and threaten me with bodily harm’.” Elliot shook his head, trying not to grit his teeth. At the rate he was going, he would wear them down. “I love you, and you happen to have a penis.” Penises are the best.

Hunter flushed, biting his lip. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean it that way, and that was terrible of me. If you want to go, we can absolutely go. I’ll even dress up.”

Elliot looked up as something on the stove started to burn, black smoke puffing into the air. Grabbing the spatula, he flipped the toast out of the pan, the charcoaled side landing face-up on the counter. Shit.

“When is it? I didn’t even look.” His heart pounded, his hands shaking as he pulled a few paper towels free from the roll to clean up his mess. Egg and cinnamon swirled under his hand as he tried to wipe them away.

“This Friday. Oh, don’t you have that work thing?” asked Hunter, seeming almost relieved.

“Nope. That’s next Friday.” It’s absolutely this Friday. He could miss one meeting without any sort of penalty, especially when it was an after-hours one. It was one benefit of being one of the best in the company.

“Oh.” Hunter’s face fell and he clutched at the edge of the robe, tightening it across his chest. “I guess we can go then.”

“We don’t have to.” Elliot cracked a fresh egg into the French toast mix, not even trying to retrieve the shell this time. His hands were so unsteady that he wouldn’t have been able to pull it out, even if he managed to trap the tiny piece against the wall of the bowl.

“No, I want to. I’m really excited,” said Hunter with the enthusiasm of someone marching to their doom. Running his hand through his hair, he let out a long sigh. “Just help me pick out something to wear. I’m terrible at that kind of thing.”

Chuckling, Elliot placed a fresh piece of bread into the pan, the egg mixture sizzling as it hit the surface. The sharp scent of cinnamon and vanilla almost covered the burnt charcoal still clinging to the air.

“You are right about that,” said Elliot, his smile real for the first time in ages. “You wore a plain gray T-shirt to a concert. I mean, come on, it’s a concert! It’s the only time you can wear all black with a spiky collar and do your hair in a pink mohawk and people don’t give you a second look.”

Hunter stuck his tongue out, shifting on the chair with another wet sound. His ass must’ve still been leaking. Luckily the chair would wipe clean easily, not that Elliot really cared. As far as he was concerned, he was okay with a bit of cum on every surface except for the table, and even that could be bargained for.

“Or, you could just wear this,” said Elliot, sliding his hands back into Hunter’s robe. “Put on a little G-string and maybe tape some Xs over your titties.” He pinched Hunter’s nipples, grinning at his squeak. “Sounds like a perfect dress code to me.”

Hunter slapped him playfully on the hand when he pinched him a second time. “You are insatiable, baby. Maybe a sex party is exactly what you need.”

Elliot wasn’t going to bother correcting him again, not when he was finally going to Unkinked in the near future. “Oh, but I have you all to myself until Friday. What am I going to do with all that time?”

He mouthed at Hunter’s neck, sucking a bruise in the same spot he had before breakfast. Hunter shivered, no longer trying to push him away.

“I think your toast is burning,” Hunter whispered, tilting his head back to give him better access.

“No, it’s not—oh shit.” Elliot lunged for the pan, dousing it under cold water as smoke rolled from it. He sent Hunter a wink, trying to play off every bit of nervousness. “Saved by the pan.”