ServingSimon Read online

  “There are rules, Max,” Simon said, trailing his warm fingers over the band of Max’s pants. He tucked his fingers inside for a second, making Max jump, before he pulled them back out again. He continued this game, teasing him as he touched Max’s heated skin.

  “What rules?” Max gasped out as Simon lowered his hand and began stroking the hardened ridge of his cock through his pants.

  Simon squeezed him through his pants and Max couldn’t stop his moan in time before it slipped past his lips. “First of all, you have to tell me when you like something, but much more importantly, when you don’t. I’m not a mind reader. I won’t assume that you enjoy something without knowing for sure.”

  Max nodded quickly. He could agree to this. He’d agree to pretty much anything Simon wanted, as long as he kept touching him.

  “Secondly, I want to give you this release because you need it. I’ve seen you over the past few months. Head of the surgical unit was a big move for you. It was a good promotion. But long weeks and late hours have taken their toll. You’ve stopped taking care of yourself. That ends tonight. You have to be in control of everything all day, all the time. You aren’t made for that.”

  Max opened his mouth to argue but Simon shook his head.

  “Tell me, and be honest here, Max, tell me that you honestly enjoy having to keep order at the hospital? That you like having all those people under you, that you don’t hate being responsible for every little detail that happens in your wing?” Simon pressed him.

  Max would have loved to lie to him, would have given anything to tell Simon that he didn’t know what the hell he was talking about because Max loved his job and enjoyed every damn minute of it. But he didn’t. He hung his head, ashamed that he couldn’t be as strong as the hospital needed him to be, even as his chin trembled with unspent emotion.

  Simon gently kissed his cheek. “Not enjoying it isn’t a sign of weakness. Some people simply cannot handle that environment.”

  Max snorted. “I don’t really have a choice. What do you expect me to do? Quit? That’s not going to happen. This is a dream job. I’m not walking out on it.”

  With quick, sure movements Simon undid the button on Max’s pants. “I never said that I expected you to quit, now did I?”

  Max shook his head, staring at Simon’s fingers as they toyed with his zipper.

  “I’m simply offering a solution. A distraction, if you will. Where you can release all of this pent up stress and hand control over to someone else.”

  Max’s heart jumped. “Who?” he whispered, not believing his ears even as he saw Simon form the words.

  “Me, of course.”

  Max nodded as if it all made sense. “Of course. So your solution is what? Sex?” Please let it be sex, he thought, his gaze travelling over Simon’s naked chest and back.

  Simon laughed. “Well it certainly isn’t ice cream. So, do you agree to try my solution out? Just once?”

  “Yes,” Max said, eager to get started.

  “Good,” Simon said, grinning. He reached into his pocket and brought out two long pieces of material. Before Max could protest, Simon had already strapped one of his wrists to the slats in his headboard. Max was too surprised to fight him off as he secured the second.

  “What the hell?” Max tried to struggle, shaking his wrists and pulling his arm until he thought the slats might break. But his efforts did nothing to loosen the ties on his wrists.

  Simon tsked at him. “I said that I would control you. What did you think I meant?”

  Max continued to struggle, despite the way his muscles ached as he worked his already tired arms. “I thought you’d spank me or something,” he admitted, falling back against his pillows with a sigh. He was held too tightly and he was much too exhausted to keep fighting. As much as it sucked, he’d just have to admit defeat. “When do the ties come off?”

  “When we’re done. You’ll be asleep within an hour. I promise you this. You’ll have plenty of time to catch up on your rest. I won’t let our activities interfere with your time off any more than necessary. A good Dom takes care of his submissive,” Simon said as he unzipped Max’s pants and began sliding them over his hips.

  “And are you?” Max asked, lifting himself off the bed to help Simon undress him.

  Simon tossed his pants aside and began working on his socks. “Am I what?”

  Max swallowed, realizing Simon had him completely naked and exposed. He didn’t mind. Not as much as he thought he would anyway. “A good Dom?”

  Simon chuckled and quickly took off his own clothes. He placed a few items next to Max’s hip and Max gulped loudly as he realized they were a small bottle of lube and a condom. “I am an excellent Dom. Though I can go get references for you if you’d like.”

  Max shook his head. “No. That’s not necessary.”

  “Sure you don’t want to see my resume?” Simon teased as he knelt on the bed next to him. He moved toward him and Max spread his legs, opening himself up for Simon as he crawled on top of his body.

  “No, no I don’t.” Max frowned, hating the bit of jealousy he heard creep into his voice. But it was there all the same, and now that it was out his overworked mind began picking at that emotion. Sure, he found Simon attractive, and he was more than willing to play guinea pig to his desires. But he didn’t think he’d become jealous of the idea of Simon having lovers before him. He was a rational adult, fully capable of realizing that—

  “Ow!” he yelped, shifting away from Simon’s mouth as he raised his head from the red mark he’d left on Max’s hip. “You bit me!”

  Simon nodded. “Yes. I did. And do you know why?”

  Max glowered at him. “Because you’re a fucking cannibal?”

  Laughing, Simon shook his head. “No. I bit you to keep your mind with me, grounded in the here and now. Let’s try this again. You are?”

  “Getting annoyed.”

  “No, what’s your name?” Simon continued, not missing a beat.

  Max blew out an irritated breath. “You know my damn name, Simon. If all you’re going to do is play mind games with me for an hour I’d like to just skip this and go to bed.”

  Simon shook his head. “Nope, no games. Just answer the question. It’s a grounding exercise. I know you’ve done these before. You did take a few psychology courses after all. So humor me. What’s your name?”

  With a sigh Max relented. If this would get Simon off the stupid topic of what his name was he’d play along. For now. “Maxwell Peterson.”

  “And what did you have to eat last?” Simon continued.

  Max pursed his lips. “You’re supposed to go through the whole list including what I do for a living and where I live. You don’t get to jump around.”

  Simon shrugged. “I know that you’re a surgeon and since I’ve been living with you for a while now, I know where you live. Those answers don’t interest me. What I care about though is that I’ve seen how poorly you take care of yourself when you’re stressed. And it’s only getting worse. Now, answer my question. What did you last eat?”

  He couldn’t remember and that sucked. It wasn’t that the meal had just been boring to the point of not being memorable for him. He had that kind of food all the time. No, this was the kind of day where he had been so worked up in his own stuff that he couldn’t remember the last thing he ate because it had been that long.

  “Food wasn’t really a priority for me today,” Max replied quietly. He closed his eyes and tilted his head away before he could see any sort of disapproval in Simon’s clear gaze. He tried not to care what his roommate would think about him not eating, after all he was an adult and if he wanted to go around skipping meals that was his business. But for some reason it mattered to him. Just a little though. He wasn’t going to go overboard with this whole new desire to please Simon.

  Max felt the bed shift as Simon moved and frowned at the instant loss of contact. He’d liked having the other man laying next to him, feeling his bare chest and stomach pr
essed against his leg. It’d been nice. Like they were connected somehow.

  “I’ll be back in a minute. Call out if you need me.”

  Max opened his eyes quickly, shocked to see Simon walking out of his bedroom. “Hey!” he yelled, shaking his wrists in an effort to get them free. “You can’t just leave me here!”

  “I said I’d be right back,” Simon called, lifting his hand to give Max a little wave that just served to piss him off even more.

  Grumbling, Max tilted his chin down to rest his head on his bare chest. He glared at his hard cock as it stood proudly against his stomach. Simon had pretty much guaranteed him sex. Hadn’t he? So why was he taking off now like Max wasn’t all tied up and waiting for him? Literally.

  After a minute of impatiently waiting, Max yelled, “Simon!”

  The microwave beeped and Max pressed his lips together in annoyance. Surely Simon couldn’t be getting something to eat. How rude could one guy get?

  “Yes, Max?” Simon asked as he came back into the bedroom. He sat down on the bed next to Max, getting comfortable against his side.

  “What’s that?” he asked, barely able to make out the shape of a bowl in Simon’s long fingers.

  “Oatmeal.”

  Max frowned. “You hate oatmeal.”

  Chuckling, Simon scooped some out and brought it to his own lips. He blew on it loudly before putting the spoon in front of Max’s mouth. “You’re right. I can’t stand the gooey stuff. But you seem to be fascinated by it. So open up.”

  Max shook his head. Though the oatmeal smelled amazing and he could feel his stomach churning by the temptation that was his favorite food, something inside of him refused to give up that easily. He was competitive by nature and letting Simon get his way felt a bit like losing to Max. And he hated to lose.

  “I’d rather have a burger,” Max said, turning his mouth away from the oatmeal in case Simon decided to try spoon feeding him like a baby. If he did, that would be the end of this. Max could handle being tied up. In fact, when he wasn’t struggling it was kind of kinky. And his hard cock was evidence enough that he was turned on by Simon’s games. But he absolutely drew the line at being treated like a child.

  Simon pulled the spoon back and shook his head. “You probably haven’t eaten all that much today. And while I’d like to get some food into you, I know what’s likely to happen if I make up one of those rich bison burgers for you. It’ll taste good going down but probably not so much coming back up. So, to settle your stomach and make sure that you have something in your system, you’ve got your choice of oatmeal or, well, more oatmeal. We’re out of grits.”

  Max sighed and leaned his head back, staring at his dark ceiling above him. He knew Simon was right. Of course he did. He was a doctor. But knowing something and admitting it were two completely different things. Especially where Max was concerned.

  “I love that you’re not shy around me,” Simon remarked. He dropped his hand and let it linger against Max’s side.

  He tried to hold still, to not let Simon know just how much this simple touch affected him. But he quickly realized that any effort was wasted as a high-pitched giggle came out of his mouth. He quickly cleared his throat, hoping that the added noise would cancel out the first, but Simon was already staring down at him.

  “Did you just…giggle?” he asked, sounding amazed.

  Max glared at him. “No. I don’t giggle. Never have and certainly never will.”

  Of course Simon the bastard just had to wiggle his fingers against Max’s side, tickling him again. Max squirmed, trying his best not to let out another sound, but the more he fought it the worse the tickling got until he was wiggling on the bed, trying to get away from Simon’s long fingers as he laughed.

  Mercifully Simon pulled his hand back a moment later. “Alright, enough games for tonight, Max. You’ve got to eat. This oatmeal will get cold soon if you don’t.”

  “Tell me about being a Dom first,” Max said.

  Simon smiled and his dark eyes glittered in the moonlight. “I’ll tell you one thing for each bite you take. Deal?”

  Chapter Three

  Max nodded, eager to learn more about his roommate now that the man had seemed to want to open up to him. When Simon lifted the spoon to his mouth, Max obediently ate. He frowned though as the familiar taste coated his tongue. It was rich and creamy with just a bit of spice. The oatmeal was very nearly perfect. “How did you know how I like my oatmeal?” he asked, suddenly suspicious of him.

  Simon rolled his eyes. “You think you’re the only one watching his roommate in this place? You’re precise with everything you do. Most people wouldn’t bother measuring the milk for their oatmeal, let alone the spices they use. After a while of wondering why you had so many measuring spoons I started to realize that you used them every morning you ate oatmeal. Having multiples meant you don’t have to wait to eat oatmeal while the set was being washed. Everything is neatly organized. It didn’t take me long to figure out why you have that little bundle of spices next to the oatmeal box on the counter.”

  He put the bowl aside and leaned down, gently kissing Max’s full lips. He leaned forward, lifting his head up to meet Simon’s as much as he could before the other man pulled away. “You fascinate me,” Simon whispered, his mouth mere inches from Max’s. “Everything about you. From the lavender soap you use in the shower, to the way you make a mess of your clothes in the drawers. Outside of your home you’re organized beyond belief, but here, in your room you’re a mess. Does it hurt you to have to play so many different parts?”

  Max closed his eyes, refusing to look at him. “You’re guessing,” he said, hoping his voice was strong enough to make the truth of what Simon was saying go away. “And you’re wrong. I enjoy being neat and organized.” A lie. He hated it. “And it doesn’t bother me it at all.”

  After a moment of silence he opened his eyes, surprised to see Simon still looking down at him.

  “You can lie to me all you want, Max. But try not to do it to yourself so much.” He sat back, picked up the bowl of oatmeal and brought another spoonful to Max’s lips.

  Max ate quickly, wanting to know more.

  “I don’t enjoy giving people pain,” Simon said, filling the spoon again. “I don’t own toys and I won’t be spanking you. What I do like is—”

  “Control, I know, you told me,” Max quickly interrupted. “But what does that even mean?”

  Knowing that Simon was going to give him another bite he opened his mouth, ready for more oatmeal. He ate it as Simon answered him.

  “These past few months, I’ve seen you struggling. Last week when you came home hours after you should have, you were pale, and your hands were shaking. You didn’t tell me about it. You might not have even known that I was getting a glass of water from the kitchen as you stumbled into your bedroom. But you were a mess. When you didn’t look any better the next morning I decided that I had to intervene. You can call this night the start of your intervention. If you want it.”

  Max snorted and shook his head. “Tying me up and making sure that I eat something isn’t really going to change anything, Simon. There will still be people on my operating table. Children…little girls that…”

  “Is that what happened tonight?” Simon asked.

  “Yes. She was…” he shook his head and pursed his lips. “I don’t want to go over it with you. You weren’t a part of her healthcare team. Telling you about her surgery would be wrong.”

  Simon nodded, though Max had the suspicion that he didn’t believe his excuse for not telling him what had happened. He took the bite that Simon gave him. His spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and Max knew there wasn’t much left. He wondered what would happen when there was no more oatmeal. Would Simon untie him and go to his own bedroom, leaving him alone for the night? Or would he pay attention to the fact that Max was naked under him?

  “My thought, as I started planning this little ambush for tonight, was that you could see what it was l
ike to give control to someone else. This is a small task of letting me feed you, but it’s a start,” Simon said quietly.

  “So then why am I naked?” Max asked.

  Smiling, Simon brought the spoon to Max’s lips. “Because I wanted you to be vulnerable. I had to see if you trusted me enough not to hurt you while you were helpless.” His smile spread into a grin. “And because I got tired of trying to catch glimpses of you when you got out of the shower. It took me nearly two months to figure out that you left the bathroom door open when you showered so that you didn’t have a buildup of steam to deal with when you were trying to get ready.”

  Max should have felt something with the news that Simon had been spying on him. He did, a little, but it wasn’t as if he felt violated or upset by it. But more like it made his heart speed up and his breath catch to know that Simon had been watching him as much as Max had looked at him.

  “I want more than oatmeal tonight,” Max quietly admitted. Simon nodded, though he didn’t say anything more as he brought the last of the oatmeal to his lips. Max ate quickly, his mind swirling with all the possibilities of what Simon might want to do to him now that he’d eaten.

  “I’ll be right back,” Simon said, standing up.

  Max frowned. “Where are you going?”

  He shook the bowl, showing Max it was empty with the sound of the metal spoon clanging against the sides. “This has to go into the dishwasher.”

  “No it doesn’t. Leave it on my dresser and then come do something to me,” Max demanded.

  Laughing, Simon shook his head and walked away. A moment later he was back and sitting down on the bed next to Max’s side.

  “You didn’t have to clean up.” Max knew he was being impatient but he was eager to find out just what Simon planned to do to him.

  “Yes I did.” Simon shifted on the bed, moving between Max’s thighs. He put a hand on either side of his chest, balancing himself as he leaned down to kiss him.