Short Stories

A Sin for Forgiveness by Liza Star (@LizaStar_)


A Sin for Forgiveness a work of erotic fiction. It contains material of a sexual nature that may not be suitable for our more sensitive of readers. Enjoy!

-A Million and One Staff


A Sin for Forgiveness
By Liza Star

Clyde Yu lives an enviable life. At twenty-five, he’s on the fast track to upper management in his father’s company; one of the biggest insurance providers in the United States. Clyde’s got brains, he’s got ambition, and he’s even got good looks. He stands at six-foot-two. He’s big compared to his genetics, from six months of going to the gym. His black hair is clean-cut, his clothes ooze business professionality, and his deep brown eyes are used to commanding rooms full of powerful people.

The only snag in his perfect image is that his boyfriend hates him now.

“The Bible said Adam and Eve, not fuck me on your yacht and leave!”

“Baby, please,” Clyde says placatingly from the doorway of his boyfriend’s tiny, one-bedroom apartment. “Is now the time to be throwing that Jesus stuff at me?”

“Jesus would never treat me like this!” Jonah yells as he chucked a shot glass engraved with the figure of Jesus at Clyde. Clyde ducks behind the door as the glass shatters against it. Ugly sobs emanate from within.

Clyde opens the door again and creeps inside, shoes crunching over broken glass. Pocketing his copy of the key, he closes the door behind him and locks it, dread and guilt curdling in his gut.

The apartment is decorated in a manner Clyde calls ‘thrift store Christian chic’. It’s cluttered with second-hand items plastered by Christian iconography. At first, it was unsettling for Clyde. He’d learned to be wary about revealing his sexuality to the hyper-religious, but as he got to know Jonah, the apartment became increasingly cozy. Clyde might not understand his religion, but he knows Jonah finds comfort in being surrounded by images of faith in a world that has been nothing but cruel to him. Clyde’s found his own refuge here as an escape from a world of tireless work and underhanded power-plays.

But Clyde had to go and fuck it up.

Jonah seems so delicate, a miserable bundle of slender limbs and shaking shoulders curled up on the couch. Clyde wants to hold him, wants to protect him, wants to wipe away his tears and beg for forgiveness. He comes closer and Jonah looks up, bright green eyes piercing behind his choppy black bangs. He’s wearing a rumpled black tank top, armholes dipping low enough to show off his lean sides. His skin is a luxurious dark olive, kissed by the California sun and blessed by his Brazilian roots. His jeans are baggy and ripped, bare feet peeking from under the frayed hems. Jonah plays the threadbare look off as fashion, but Clyde knows better. Jonah doesn’t have the money for new clothes, but balks when Clyde tries to pay for anything but dinner.

Jonah says it’s because charity hurts his pride, but Clyde suspects it’s because Jonah’s never gotten anything for free without an expectation attached to it. Clyde understands, but it still hurts. Jonah works so hard for so little, and Clyde has more than enough money for the both of them.

However, that’s a discussion for another day.

“Hey,” Clyde says softly as he sits on the other side of the couch. There’s an unopened bottle of whiskey on the coffee table in front of them. Thank goodness Clyde got here before Jonah started drinking. Jonah’s barely scraping twenty-one and hasn’t yet developed a sense for how much alcohol he can handle.

“Go away,” Jonah mumbles into his arms folded atop his knees.

“I’m sorry for leaving you.” Clyde clasps his hands in his lap. “I left a note.”

“A note!” Jonah’s voice is thick with tears, but they don’t dampen his anger. “After three months of dating, all I deserve is a note like some throw-away one night stand? I was scared!”

Clyde was equally as scared when he came back to find no Jonah. Clyde had called Jonah’s cell phone three times before he picked up, hysterical and barely coherent. He thought Clyde had abandoned him, thought Clyde was leaving him like everyone else in his life had. Clyde doesn’t know much of Jonah’s past but he knows, despite the man’s youth, he has a lot of baggage. Baggage Clyde unintentionally triggered.

Clyde feels like garbage, but he still tries to defend himself. “We were docked. I got an important work call and I had to grab my laptop from the office.”

“So, when you came back you were going to work and ignore me anyway? You said you were taking me out on your boat for the weekend as an apology for working so much. Did you not mean that?” Jonah sounds even more hurt. Clyde is doing a horrible job of diffusing the situation.

“I’m sorry,” he says for lack of anything else.

Jonah sniffles and sinks back into the couch. “It’s Sunday, you shouldn’t even have to work on a Sunday.”

Clyde doesn’t know how to explain that, yes, he does have to work on weekends if they call him. At least, he does if he wants the promotion he’s angling for, but it feels like such a petty concern now. So, he repeats, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.”

“I’ll do anything to make it up to you,” Clyde says, voice rough.

Jonah’s silent for a long moment and Clyde fidgets under Jonah’s piercing eyes.



Clyde stares at himself in the full-length mirror in Jonah’s bedroom. He’s in white thigh-highs and pink underwear with triangle cat ears peeking from the hem. The underwear ties on the sides for easy removal and cat-paw beads dangle from the cords. His package is barely contained by the skimpy fabric and feels more obscene than if he were naked. Clyde supposes that’s the point. A pink tube-top with ruffled trim strains over his chest. It’s obviously meant to be a bra, and there’s a simplistic cat head cut out of the fabric where his cleavage would be if he was a chick. Instead, it shows off the edges of his muscled pecs.

Clyde sighs, looking away from the mirror with a blush on his cheeks. He has no idea why Jonah has something like this that fits him. Had he planned ahead of time? For someone so into the Bible, Jonah’s sexual preferences are sacrilegious at best. Clyde feels ridiculous.

Jonah slinks from the bathroom, lengths of white rope over his arm. “Is it okay if I tie you up?”

Clyde swallows. “I said I’d do anything.”

Jonah rolls his eyes. “You sure did, but is it okay?”

This isn’t the first time Clyde’s indulged in one of Jonah’s fantasies, but it would be the first time Clyde’s the one getting tied up. Still, he’s not opposed, just nervous. Clyde’s all for Jonah having his way with him, especially if it’ll make Jonah feel less unwanted. “Yeah, yes. It’s fine.”

Clyde watches in the mirror as Jonah folds his arms behind his back and binds them wrist to elbow, but he’s mostly interested in tracing Jonah’s sleek figure with his gaze. Where Clyde is broad and square, Jonah’s svelte and graceful. The cute kitty-cat getup would look way better on him.

“Why do you want me to wear this, anyway?” Clyde speaks up. “It looks weird on me. I’m too manly.”

Jonah snorts behind him, tugging a knot tight. “Just because you’re a big, buff manly-man doesn’t mean you can’t be cute, Clyde.”

He slaps Clyde’s ass and he jumps, arms jerking in their restraints. The rope holds fast.

“Nice,” Jonah murmurs. “Now for the final touch.”

Jonah pulls out a pastel pink leather collar from his pocket. A steel O-ring dangles from the collar’s center. Clyde raises an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Jonah gives him a mischievous smile, so much more like his usual self than the crying mess he was earlier. “Seriously, big guy. You’re gonna be my kitten tonight.”

Something jerks low in Clyde’s gut and he doesn’t know if he’s more embarrassed or turned on. He’s going to find out a lot about himself tonight. Clyde sucks air through his teeth when the thick leather is pulled tight around the sensitive skin of his neck. Jonah buckles it, then loops a finger through the O-ring to tug him into a kiss. It’s a chaste press of lips on lips, but Clyde melts into it nonetheless.

He doesn’t notice Jonah knotting rope through the ring of the collar until he pulls away and Clyde sees the end of the rope looped around his hand.

“C’mon,” Jonah says, voice husky, and Clyde’s glad to see the kiss had just as much of an effect on Jonah as it did him. He tugs Clyde’s makeshift leash. “Bed.”

Even if he wasn’t tethered to him, Clyde would have no choice but to follow.

Jonah’s bed is full sized. The headboard is made of horizontal wooden slats suspended between the bedposts. The gaps between each slat are big enough to thread the rope through; a fact which Jonah takes advantage of often. Clyde’s pretty sure it’s why he bought the bed.

Jonah slides onto it and Clyde clumsily climbs after him without the use of his hands. He ends up kneeling next to Jonah near the head of the bed when Jonah kisses him again, deeper, prying Clyde’s lips open and running his tongue over his teeth. Clyde groans and presses back with equal fervor, eyes sliding shut. He’s dimly aware of a tug to the rope on his collar but writes it off as Jonah shifting his position.

Then Jonah pulls away, and when Clyde tries to follow, he’s stopped short by the collar. He huffs in annoyance, eyes cracking open to register the rope looped around the bottom slat of the headboard before Jonah yanks it, hard, and Clyde’s brought down face-first by his collar.

Clyde’s noise of alarm is muffled by the bedsheets as he tries to get back up, but Jonah loops the rope around the slat one more time and ties it off, leaving barely any slack and keeping Clyde in his compromising position. He’s on his knees with his back arched prettily and his arms snugly helpless against the curve of his spine, face down and ass up.

Clyde turns his head to the side and gives Jonah a sullen look, cheek squished against the bed. He’s dangerously close to pouting. “Did you have to do that?”

Jonah ruffles his hair and grins. “It’s cute to see you struggle.” He pauses and bites his lip, gaze crawling over Clyde. Devouring him. “This is a good look for you.”

Overcome by embarrassment, Clyde starts to slide his knees back, but Jonah tsks and grabs his hips. “Nu-uh, don’t even try it.”

Clyde mumbles a weak protest but keeps his ass up, face burning. He’s not used to being the one on display. It’s both flattering and terrifying and he thinks he likes it. Which is also terrifying.

“Did you have something to say?” Jonah asks in a teasing tone.

Clyde takes a deep breath, nerves showing in the shudder of his voice, “Are you going to fuck me?”

Jonah hums, hand trailing up his side. “Are you against it?”

“No! I just… I’ve never…” Clyde’s thought about it before, but because he’s so big everyone assumes he tops, and Clyde has always been happy to deliver.

“Well,” Jonah says casually, shifting behind him. “I think I can be a little more creative than just fucking you.”

“What do you mean, more creative?”

Clyde can hear the grin in Jonah’s voice when he says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Clyde is very worried.

Jonah runs his hands over Clyde’s ass, fingers creeping down and dipping under the hems of his stockings. Clyde shivers, breath picking up in anticipation. What does he do? Is he supposed to just lay here?

Jonah drags his nails across Clyde’s inner thighs and Clyde flinches upward with a startled gasp, only to be jerked back down by the collar.

Guess he has no other options.

Jonah laughs as Clyde grumbles, but softly pets his thighs in apology. Clyde huffs and his legs ease farther apart as Jonah gets tantalizingly close to his dick. It perks up in interest, pressing against the panties he was already spilling out of. He wants to adjust himself, wants to hide his response, but he can’t.

Hot breath tickles Clyde’s neck as Jonah leans over him, hands moving to stroke up and down his muscled sides. A bulge presses against his ass, the fabric of Jonah’s jeans rubbing raw against Clyde’s hyper-sensitive skin. Clyde squirms and grits his teeth. They’ve barely done anything and he’s itching to touch, to hold, but his hands twist uselessly in the rope keeping them behind his back.

Jonah’s so much smaller than him, so much weaker, but it doesn’t matter, because the ropes hold Clyde tight.

Jonah’s fingers creep under the cutesy top to tweak his nipples and Clyde groans, burying his face in the bedsheets.

He licks and kisses over Clyde’s neck and shoulders, scrapes his nails down Clyde’s stomach, and teases the beginning of his happy trail. Jonah’s fingers go everywhere but where it matters, and Clyde twitches under the gentle assault, panting against the bed.

“Hey,” Jonah’s voice is thick with arousal. “Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Clyde turns his face to the side. Jonah’s eyes are inches away from his.

“Wow, you’re really worked up, huh?” Jonah murmurs.

“Yeah.” Clyde’s words come out rougher, more desperate than he intended. “Please…whatever you’re going to do, just do it.”

Jonah purses his lips, considering, and Clyde resists the urge to beg any more than he already has. Finally, Jonah says, “Alright then.”

And the way he says it makes Clyde think maybe he shouldn’t have asked.

Clyde’s allowed off his knees and he’s grateful because his neck was getting sore. A pillow props up his hips and he lays flat on his stomach. He’s supposed to be a kitten, but it’s all he can do not to rut against the pillow like a dog.

Jonah unties one of the bows on the side of the underwear and peels it back while he pops the cap of a bottle of lube. Clyde turns to stone at the sound.

“Relax, Mr. Businessman,” Jonah’s voice is pitched to be soothing, but it’s distant over the squirt of lube. “This isn’t a board meeting. You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.”

Clyde takes a deep breath and tries to unwind the tension in his muscles. He has marginal success. “I don’t think this is a board meeting, I’m just-”

Something akin to a squeal mangles the rest of Clyde’s sentence as Jonah’s finger slides between his asscheeks.

“Don’t even start,” Jonah snaps, and Clyde doesn’t because Jonah rubs over his hole, his taint, so close to his aching cock, and it’s all he can do to swallow the pleas clawing up his throat.

“You’re always thinking about work, even when you say you’re not.” Jonah doesn’t sound angry, just bitter. Maybe a little sad. He starts pressing a finger into Clyde. “You work like sixty hours a week, and when you’re not at work, you’re at the gym.”

The sensation of being penetrated is so strange and overwhelming it almost distracts Clyde from the guilt. Almost.

“You’re so young and you’re driving yourself into the ground for a corporate machine that doesn’t care about you,” he says softly, even as he worms a second finger into Clyde. “I’m worried about you, but you don’t listen to me.”

Clyde opens his mouth to reply, but a guttural noise comes out instead. Both fingers are all the way in and Jonah scissors them, stretching Clyde out. It’s too much, too fast and Clyde tries to push away, stockinged toes digging into the bed. Jonah belatedly notices and he stutters to a stop.

“Sorry, sorry.” Jonah starts again gentler, more considerately. The tension melts out of Clyde and he sags against the bed, breathing hard.

“S’okay, mnn… You’re right, you’re right. Sorry.” Clyde chokes up and it only has half to do with the fingers inside of him. “I’m really sorry for leaving you.”

“It’s alright,” Jonah says with a sigh that means they’ll talk about it more later. His other hand smoothes over Clyde’s lower back. “Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

Jonah shoves his fingers in deep and crooks them just right and the uncomfortable feeling of being penetrated explodes into pure pleasure. Clyde gasps out a moan, stutters into another one as Jonah hits that spot again, and rises into a helpless keen when Jonah doesn’t stop. Clyde rocks against the pillow, hard dick poking out from the front of the panties, fabric bunching. Jonah whacks him on the ass.


“Control yourself.”

Clyde bites the sheets and growls but obeys. He trembles with restraint as Jonah finger-fucks him, nails digging deep into his palms. It feels so good, but it’s not enough.

And then Jonah’s fingers slide out of Clyde with a squelch and it’s even less than not-enough. It’s nothing, and he feels so empty. There’s the sound of Jonah rummaging through the nightstand drawer and Clyde waits for the crinkle of a condom wrapper, but it never comes. Instead, he feels the press of silicon against his asshole.

“What’re you doing?” Clyde demands, breathless. He tries to look behind him, but the damn leash makes it impossible. “Is that a dildo?”

“Oh, no. It’s an egg vibrator,” Jonah says, squeezing out more lube. It dribbles cold down Clyde’s asscrack and he grimaces.

“Are those things supposed to go inside of you?”

“It has a cord attached so I can pull it out after, so why not?” Jonah sounds way too casual for someone who’s about to shove an egg up Clyde’s ass. “I’ve wanted to try this on you for a while. I think you’ll love it.”

That answers the question as to whether Jonah planned this in advance. Has he been stockpiling kinky shit to use on Clyde and waiting for an excuse? He could have just asked. Clyde doesn’t mind trying new things, especially when they involve Jonah.

“Alright.” Clyde’s not getting any better at trying to relax. “Go for it,” he says anyway.

“Here we go, big guy.”

“O-oh, fuck, fuck!”

By the time the thing is in, Clyde is a whimpering mess. He never thought he’d be the kind of guy to whimper, but here he is. Jonah sits cross-legged next to him and pets his hair, still fully clothed. “Shh, it’s okay. It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

Clyde shakes his head, breath ragged. It doesn’t hurt, but he feels heavy in a place he shouldn’t, and the raw stretch has him shaking. Jonah nudges the egg up to his prostate and Clyde makes another pathetic, shuddery, sound in a high-pitched voice he doesn’t recognize. Maybe the cute lingerie does suit him.

Jonah takes his finger out and Clyde’s hole closes completely around the toy except for the cord leading to the little pink remote Jonah holds. Clyde tries not to think about getting the egg out again.

Then Jonah clicks it on and Clyde can’t think about anything.

He convulses. Vibrations hum against his prostate and pleasure electrifies his whole body. Hitching moans tear from his throat. Jonah tucks the remote into one of his thigh-highs and straightens out Clyde’s panties, tying the side closed once again.

“Turn over so I can see your pretty face,” Jonah says, voice low. Clyde would do anything for Jonah when he says it like that, but-

“Can’t, I can’t,” he wheezes as he curls in on himself, rubbing against the pillow. His hands wrench against the rope. He wants to touch himself so badly.

Jonah smacks his ass and Clyde’s moan turns into a sob from oversensitivity as it jostles the toy inside of him.

“Yes, you can,” Jonah says. “If you can hump a pillow, then you can flip over so you’re not tempted.”

Clyde whines, but though he can’t lift his head, he can roll over. He manages to push himself onto his back with shaking legs, rope tied to his collar twisting and rubbing against his cheek. Jonah rewards him by turning the vibrator up another level.

Clyde’s eyes go wide, pupils rolling back and slack-jawed bliss hazing over his face.

“You’re so hot,” Jonah whispers like a prayer. “You need to see yourself. Can I take a picture?”

Clyde has the fleeting thought of what would happen if a picture like this got out. What if his coworkers saw him tied up in pretty pink lingerie? How would anyone ever take him seriously again? But Jonah’s looking at him like he’s a god—which is probably blasphemy or something—and Clyde is weak.

“Y-yeah, yes, yes.”

Jonah fumbles his phone from his pocket and stands on the bed. Clyde squirms in embarrassment, looking away from the camera as Jonah holds it above him to get a good shot. His chest heaves under the ruffled top as the vibrations hum through him, involuntary contractions shuddering through his abdominals.

Jonah takes the picture and crouches next to Clyde, holding the phone in front of his face. “Look.”

The picture is lewd. Clyde looks to the side with a glassy gaze, drool smearing down his chin. His face is flushed, short hair sticking out at all angles, lips parted in a gasp. The cat cut-out top isn’t on straight, and it shows the dusky edge of one of his nipples. His dick is barely covered by the panties, thin fabric clinging to its girth and the head leaking precum onto his stomach. The remote peeks from the edge of the thigh-high on his left leg, cord disappearing between them. His knees are pressed together, toes curling in his sheets.

His head falls back with a groan, hips gyrating against nothing. “F-fuck, Jonah, please. I-it’s not enough.”

“Oooh?” Jonah tosses his phone to the other side of the bed, undoing the button of his pants. “Do you want to cum, is that it?”

Clyde nods, nearly choking himself on the collar. He’s close, but he doesn’t know if he can finish from just this. Jonah slips out of his jeans and kicks them off the bed before taking off his boxers, dick bouncing free. He hisses in relief.

“I think-” Jonah starts as he clicks the vibrator back to the lowest setting. Clyde lets out a panicked whine. “-that before the kitten can cum-” Jonah moves up the bed and swings his leg over Clyde’s shoulders to straddle his face. “-he needs to drink his milk.”

He smiles sweetly as he presses the head of his cock against Clyde’s lips. “What do you think?”

Clyde can’t think, he doesn’t think.

He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.

Clyde’s never been good at oral because he never bothered to practice, more focused on the finer things in life like fucking. But he does his best, mostly because doing his best involves laying there and taking it. He can’t move his head.

Jonah holds onto the headboard for leverage as he shallowly fucks into Clyde’s mouth. Clyde’s moans are muffled as he drools around Jonah’s dick. It—just like the rest of Jonah—is mostly length and not so much girth. Each thrust tickles Clyde’s gag-reflex, and he concentrates on relaxing his throat as tears bead in the corners of his eyes. The vibrator is still going against his prostate, but since Clyde got a taste of the higher setting it’s nothing but a tease. His feet ruck up the sheets as he twists in his bonds. He wishes he was getting fucked so he’d have something to grind against. Maybe next time.

Jonah curls a hand in his hair, tight, possessive. “Good,” he pants out. “You’re being so good for me, kitten. Hang in there.”

Clyde might not like giving blowjobs much, but he loves seeing Jonah like this. Jonah’s breathing heavily, eyes half-lidded as he stares at Clyde behind his long lashes. His shaggy hair is a rumpled mess, Clyde doesn’t know how. Jonah’s not the one who’s been rolling around in the bedsheets. It’s cute, though. Jonah always looks cute, but especially when he’s about to cum.

“Swallow for me.” Jonah’s voice is strained, breaking at the edges. The salty taste of precum smears over Clyde’s tongue and he gurgles as saliva pools in his throat. Jonah bites his lip, but it doesn’t smother the hiccupping moans as his eyes slide shut and his nails dig into Clyde’s scalp.

“Ngh, o-oh!

Clyde swallows every last drop.

When Jonah pulls out and Clyde can breathe again, every gasp is punctuated by a please. Jonah clicks the vibrator up to max, and Clyde cums untouched as he whites out from the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had.

Later, much later, when Clyde’s been untied and the toys have been put away, when they’ve showered and changed the sheets, exchanged kisses and cuddled up together, Jonah asks, “Could we do that again sometime?”

“God, yes,” Clyde answers.

Jonah swats him in mock-offense. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

Clyde chuckles and squeezes Jonah closer, nuzzling against the nape of his neck. “Oh, I’ll take him in vain alright. I’ll take him in vain all night long.”

Jonah giggles. “That doesn’t even make sense. Go to sleep.”

“What doesn’t make sense,” Clyde murmurs drowsily into his ear. “Is why you think you need to coerce me into subbing for you, when you know I’m happy to please you in any way you want. You just gotta ask.”

Jonah goes still in his arms. “…Do you mean that?”


“God, I love you.”

“Hey! Now who’s taking-”

Clyde does not finish his sentence because Jonah attempts to smother him with a pillow. “Sleep! Now!”

“Augh, fine, fine!”

But Clyde manages to get the last word in, right before they both drift off. It’s quiet, so quiet Jonah could pretend not to hear it if he wanted to.

“I love you too.”


Liza Star is as ridiculous and ridiculously gay as the things she writes. Currently, she’s serially publishing a comedy sci-fi detective novel titled Alan Fisting P.D. on the Radish Fiction app.

Liza Star


Edited by Katherine J Marshall

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.