Nate was in the middle of laying his used condom across Bailey's heaving chest when something outside the window caught his attention and he stilled before his brain even caught up to what he was seeing.

They had planned a doozy of a scene for the night. Bailey's chest was not only bruised and bitten, flushed red from the tips of his ears down to his belly, it already had a condom lying across it, which this second one joined.

"That's my little cumslut," Nate had been saying as he trailed the condom across that beautiful flush from Bailey's belly button, between his nipples, up to his neck. It left a smear of lube behind, mixed with the sweat gathering in the dip of Bailey's collarbone.

They'd been at it for an hour at least. Nate needed time after an orgasm to get it up again, which meant plenty of teasing in between. He'd put the first condom on Bailey's chest, then shuffled forward and made Bailey clean his cock off and mouth at it until it filled again.

The second round left them both gasping for breath and dripping sweat. Slightly dazed by his orgasm, Nate brushed the very end of the condom across Bailey's lips and said, "open wide." Bailey did so unthinkingly, eyes glazed and heavily lidded. He had not come yet, kept hard and frustrated by the silicone rings that had become Nate's favorite toy to use on him. He should probably consider using them for himself so he could last longer.

Bailey's cock was so red against his pale skin that Nate was pretty sure all his blood had left his brain to march southwards in a desperate campaign to cum. Which left Bailey fucked stupid and willing to part his lips and stick out his tongue for Nate to brush the end of the used condom across it.

The sight had made him chuckle. "Bet you wish I would dump this out on your tongue, don't you?"

Bailey whined and wiggled, bound hands jerking against the ropes keeping them above his head and thighs squirming on either side of Nate's hips. He was past the point of answering verbally.

"Cumslut," Nate called him again, affectionately. He drew a knuckle up Bailey's cock, chuckling at how violently it jerked. Then Bailey's body went rigid, and his eyes rolled up.

He couldn't ejaculate with the cock rings, but Nate was pretty sure he was orgasming dry regardless. That was the third one he counted, watching his cock leap and his pulse stutter in his throat as he threw his head back on a silent gasp.

Really, Nate should punish Bailey for doing that. But it was so fucking sexy. Besides, he remained hard as granite after each one, so Nate was pretty sure the more he had, the more painful they became. Let him get away with a few dry orgasms and exhaust himself for now. Later, after this scene, they could discuss how Nate might handle them in the future.

That was when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to look out the window, frowning at the rows of corn visible through the narrow gap in Bailey's curtains. They had removed the fan and closed the window for now so that Bailey could make noise if he wanted. The field should have been dark, but two massive spotlights illuminated the first several rows of corn off to the side of the trailer.

Headlights.

"Shit," Nate's breathed. "I think someone just pulled into the driveway."

He crawled over Bailey to part the curtain and take a closer look. Those were headlights, beaming straight into the field from the drive on the side of the house. Nate could even see the shadow of the carport's edge. "Oh fuck."

"What's going on?" Bailey's voice was incredibly small, breathless, and shaky, but for an entirely different reason than it had been for the past hour. Now his tone was tight and breathing shallow. Nate looked him over with wide eyes, taking in the ropes, bruises, and used condoms. Oh fuck.

"Nate!" Bailey tugged on the rope a bit. "What's going on?"

"It's okay," Nate said, but his own voice was shaking, the trickle of adrenaline easing into his veins and making everything swim around him. Bailey plainly did not believe him, tugging harder on the ropes.

"Fucking untie me," he hissed.

"Right." Nate clambered up to the head of the bed to get at the ropes, repeating, "It's okay, it's okay."

"Nate, the scissors," Bailey barked, tone gradually gaining strength and volume. His eyes were no longer lidded. They were bright with thinly veiled panic that reflected the thudding in Nate's chest, but they were still a bit glassy, which was worrying. It was not good to go from flying high on being called a cum slut to having to order Nate, who should be the one handling things, into cutting the ropes off.

"Right!" Nate lunged for the scissors on the bedside table and began hacking at the ropes. He heard a heavy vehicle door slam shut.

"That's my dad," Bailey muttered, several octaves up from his usual baritone. He glanced up at where Nate was furiously working, then down at the condoms on his chest, and paled. Going from having all your blood in a pretty flush and trapped in your erection to that pale was also probably not a wonderful feeling.

Nate finally got his hands free, and Bailey immediately ripped off the bed, grabbing the condoms and chucking them into the trash in the same instant that he yanked open his dresser and pulled out a pair of underwear.

"Get the rope off the bed," he commanded, hopping into the boxers and pawing in another drawer for a shirt. The tremble was still in his voice, but the command snapped Nate into motion. He untangled the ropes from the bed and stuffed them unceremoniously into their bag of toys, which he zipped shut and shoved under the bed.

When he stood up and turned around, a shirt caught him in the face. He poked his arms through it, then looked around desperately for his jeans. The boxers were still tucked inside, but rather than tangling them, he pelted them into Bailey's hamper and pulled the jeans on commando, wincing when the zipper caught some of his pubic hair.

Christ, he still had cum drying on his cock. He glanced at Bailey, who was hopping into a pair of sweatpants, lighting a stick of incense, and complaining about how much it smelled like sex. There was so much lube on his thighs and in his hole that it had to be running down his leg. The thought both horrified Nate and made him feel hot under the collar.

Then the front door opened.

"Here!" Bailey shoved his bong into Nate's hand and tossed the grinder onto the bed beside him. "Pack a bowl. Oh fuck."

He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before whipping his door open and leaning out. Nate caught a whiff of normal house smell—part incense and part just comfortable old things—and realized it really did smell overwhelmingly of sex in the bedroom. He leaned back, nudged the window open a crack, then unscrewed the grinder to do as Bailey instructed.

His fingers were shaking so bad that more bud ended up on his lap and the quilt than in the bowl.

"Hey, Dad!" Bailey called, sounding casual as could be, if not a little bit out of breath. Nate winced. He couldn't hear Bailey's dad say anything, but the sound of boots crossing from the living room carpet to the kitchen linoleum carried down the hallway. He must have waved or something because Bailey walked a little further into the hallway. "Must have gotten my days mixed up. Thought you were getting back this weekend."

"You know how it is sometimes." A pause. "Almost seems like you'd rather I wasn't back." Nate listened to Bailey start token protests as he mechanically packed the bowl. Bailey's dad cut him off with a hearty chuckle. "Shoulda warned you, kid. Sorry about that. Who're you hiding back there?"

Nate's fingers froze. Bailey let out a nervous chuckle, then backed up until Nate could see him in the doorway again. He made meaningful eye contact with Nate and jerked his head. Nate raised his eyebrows.

"Christ," Bailey hissed, "Put that down and get out here."

Nate capped the grinder and set it and the bong aside. He brushed off his pants, then the bed, then stepped into the hallway behind Bailey. He was tall enough to see over Bailey's tufts of pink hair, to where his father stood in the kitchen, unloading his pockets and making a pile next to a small red cooler on the table. He caught sight of Nate and nodded, then did a double take and scratched the stubble on his cheek with a startled, 'Huh.'

"It's...uh...Nate," Bailey offered unnecessarily, walking out into the living room.

"I can see that," Bailey's dad said. "Thought you two didn't get along so good."

"Well," Bailey glanced over his shoulder. Nate's voice was glued in his throat, so he could only offer a weak smile. "That was in high school."

Bailey's dad—Charles, Nate reminded himself—grunted. "Glad my house has been getting some use while I was gone."

Nate slowly followed Bailey into the living room, eyes flicking between Charles and the fine tremble in Bailey's shoulders. Two minutes ago, Nate had been calling him a needy cumslut and now he was crossing the room and hugging his dad.

He pulled back and asked how his trip had been, listening to the response with a big smile that did not quite reach his eyes. His hands shook when he put them behind his back, fingers twisting together. The pink rope marks stood out against his smooth forearms from the blood rushing back into them.

Fuck.

Bailey's dad turned his attention to Nate as they finished their pleasantries. "Hey, kid." He offered a hand. "How have you been?"

"Just fine, sir." Nate crossed the living room to give him a firm shake, receiving a warm smile. He was glad he had managed to wipe most of the lube off his fingers when he was getting dressed, but the realization that he had not exactly washed his hands made heat creep up the back of his neck.

"Heard from Chris Jenkins a while back that you were in the welding program over at the community college. How's that been going?" He backed a little further into the kitchen to sit at one of the wooden chairs around the table with a little groan. Then he kicked his legs out and sighed down at his boots.

Nate cleared his throat. "That's right. Got my certification a couple of months ago."

"That's good. Good career." He said absently, then he looked between the two of them with a far sharper gaze. "Glad you two finally decided to start getting along."

The emphasis on the words getting along was not lost on Nate. The blush crept from the back of his neck over his cheeks. Bailey was as red as a firetruck, his tongue seemingly stuck to the top of his mouth. This time when they shared eye contact, it was him who offered a weak smile. His dad just chuckled and looked back down at his boots.

"Sorry to interrupt you boys, but I'm dead on my feet, and my bed is calling me."
He leaned down to start untying his boots with another groan. "You're welcome to keep watching some TV..." The TV was conspicuously dark and quiet. "...or whatever it was you were up to but keep it down so I can sleep."

Bailey finally unglued his tongue. "We were just leaving, actually."

His dad looked up from his boots, brow lifted. Nate gave him an innocent smile and nodded, pulling his keys out of his pocket and jingling them. "Midnight snack. We wouldn't want to stay and inconvenience you anyway."

"Alright," he said. "Well, Bailey, you'll have to bring him around for dinner one night this week while I'm in town, you hear?"

"Aw, come on, Dad," Bailey's lips managed to lift in a small, embarrassed smile. "It's not like that."

"Oh?" He kicked his boot off and started on the other one with a heavy sigh. "Kids these days."

Bailey grabbed Nate's arm and started dragging him toward the door. "See you later, Dad! I'll call you so we can get together!"

"See you, Mr. Alexander," Nate said.