Chapter 12 #4
“If you want a taste of home and end up near Charlotte, Sy and Trey will be playing a three-day gig at The Rocking Duck soon. I’ll shoot you the dates.”
DJ treasured the memories of their early gig days. Maybe visiting one of those small music venues would help him.
“Thanks, Mick. I’ll keep it in mind. My phone is secure, so let me know what you find. Give my best to your Mistress.”
Mick paused as Roy heard a muffled voice in the background. “She said if you were really interested in giving her your best, you’d be stripped and chained to a wall.”
“In her sociopathic dreams. Plus, I’m calling her on that bullshit. You’re the only one she wants now, Mick. You poor bastard.”
“If by ‘poor’ you mean the luckiest man alive, you’re abso-fucking-lutely right. Yell if you need us.”
Roy disconnected. The call had helped reinforce his plans from a security angle. Now he needed to ease the ache in his gut.
Don’t get trapped in the manure pile of woulda, shoulda, couldas. Once you’re on the other side, you’ll get your ass-kicking for the sins that mattered.
Warren’s wisdom, with G’s expected follow up.
Where do I sign up for the ass-kicking job?
Time for a punishing run. After he changed into workout clothes, Roy took the road off the grounds, giving the gatehouse security detail a two-finger salute before challenging himself on the steep and twisting mountain roads.
By the time he returned, he’d done ten miles and was soaked.
He decided to do a cooldown loop through the garden, which would let him put eyes on all angles of the house and see where Warren’s people were positioned.
DJ’s curtain was pulled, but the flickering TV light suggested he was watching the nature webcam, or had fallen asleep to it.
A team member had checked on him thirty minutes ago, sending Roy that notification.
He was about a hundred yards past the sliding glass door when he heard the scream.
He set a new record for backtracking, while barking an order into his mic.
“Stand down, I’ve got this. It’s not a threat.”
Deciphering scream language was in the lesser-known catalog of a bodyguard’s skills. The kid was having a nightmare.
The sliding glass door was unlocked. He was going to bust someone’s ass for that, but it saved him time.
He wore a tactical harness with a front holster to carry his weapon while jogging, but he unlatched and left it hanging on the back of a chair before he approached.
DJ was in a corner, eyes staring at the monster in his dreams. The terror-filled scream had become a heartrending, helpless whimper.
A child’s plea that made Roy wish he could go back in time and tear apart whoever had caused it.
“No…no…”
Roy dropped to his heels, close but not touching. “Dory, come back to me. You’re having a nightmare. It’s not real. Wake up. Wake up, kid.”
DJ’s head was thrashing from side to side, but at Roy’s voice, it stilled. He stared into space, but he’d heard him.
“Dory, I’m here. It’s gone. It’s not there.”
His expression cleared. He was naked, so Roy pulled an extra blanket off the end of the bed and eased it over his shaking body, letting him feel the softness, inhale the freshly laundered scent. “We’re okay. You’re here. You’re home.”
The brown eyes were wet, and his chest was rising and falling as if he’d been running for his life. DJ clutched the blanket. “Roy?”
The young, lost voice sent a chill down Roy’s spine.
The past still had its claws in him. So he leaned forward, touched DJ’s face, and put his mouth on his damp lips.
A slow kiss that eased toward sensual, drawing forth the man again.
His tongue stroked and explored as his lips played over DJ’s, tasting him.
The kid needed to brush his teeth. Roy could tease him about that later.
DJ’s arm rose, his hand clasping Roy’s on his face. That grip strengthened as DJ returned to him. Roy moved in, kneeling with one planted foot on the outside of DJ’s leg, his knee between his blanket-covered thighs. DJ’s cock was hardening, responding to the demand of Roy’s mouth.
Up to now, DJ had been hiding behind a wall. Roy wasn’t above taking advantage of DJ’s vulnerable state to let him know he was alive, that he would get through the grief and feel joy again. Even if it felt like a lie, or worse, that he didn’t deserve to hope for it.
Roy pushed the blanket away and brought them both to their feet, holding DJ against the wall.
He moved from his mouth to cruising over the tear-streaked cheeks, temples, ear, then throat.
He gripped DJ’s hair, tilting his head away from him to give him better access, and a raw sound came from DJ as Roy bit and tasted.
He gripped his ass, squeezing, bringing DJ’s thigh up against his side so Roy could reach and find the weight of his testicles, stroke with long fingers.
DJ’s hips jerked, pushing his erection against Roy.
“Yeah, you need me right now, Dory. You’ll submit and take what I’m offering.”
DJ shook his head, but it wasn’t no. It was something deeper, more despairing.
Roy hiked him up against his body, cradling both his legs.
DJ’s arms fell around him, and then gripped him hard, like he was afraid to let him go.
The kid was strong, and tall. Roy’s strength and balance barely got them to the bed.
He laid him down there, though DJ’s tight hold required Roy to follow.
He stretched out on DJ and slid his arms around him, holding him just as tight, their bodies pushed against one another.
Roy went back to teasing his throat, his mouth, and began to work his hips against DJ, stroking his erection with his own, only Roy’s shorts between them. He held him down to make that sensation build, take over whatever other crap was in his head. Drive it out.
“I’m the only scary thing allowed in here right now,” he whispered in DJ’s ear.
DJ held him tighter. Roy shoved his running shorts down and reached between them, gripping both of their cocks in the same hand.
Even his hand wasn’t big enough to get around both, but he was able to stroke up and down, using the thick pre-cum at the top to lubricate the slide, their two bodies moving in a tidal rhythm with the stroke of his hand.
DJ’s legs locked around him, lifting his hips off the bed.
Whether he intended it as an invitation or surrender, Roy was taking it.
He slicked himself up with some of his saliva before putting the head of his cock at the opening of that tight ass. He returned to stroking DJ’s cock with his other hand as he worked his way in. DJ let out a little groan and his testicles convulsed under Roy’s fingertips.
“That’s my boy. Give me everything.”
DJ squeezed his eyes tight, those tears continuing to fall, but he wasn’t rejecting Roy’s words. He was being destroyed by everything that wasn’t part of Roy’s demands.
Once fully seated, Roy pushed DJ’s face into Roy’s throat, wrapped his arms around his back and started pushing, deep, short, intense thrusts, feeling DJ’s cock against his belly, the kid’s arms and legs around him.
“You come,” he ordered. “Let me feel you against my stomach.”
It took a lot for a man’s emotions to interfere with his orgasm, but DJ was mired in the sea dedicated to it. Roy wouldn’t be refused, though. He recaptured DJ’s mouth, kissed him, played with his tongue, and slowed down. Denial, prolonging the pleasure, was the key to his release.
DJ’s fingers dug into Roy’s back, wet gasps against his neck. “Roy…help…”
“I’ve got you. It’s okay.”
He repeated it as DJ began to come, a hard, strangled kind of orgasm, pushing past so much shit in his head and heart, but when it happened, the dam broke.
DJ moaned against him, long and rough. Roy let himself follow, working himself deep in his submissive, letting him feel that he was owned. Cherished. Needed. Not alone.
As they slowed down and stopped, holding onto one another, Roy felt when tension started to enter DJ’s muscles, a hint that he was coming back to the present shitty reality.
“No.” A firm, quiet order. “Not tonight, Dory. Leave it be. It’s just us.”
A little sigh. When DJ’s body went limp again, Roy adjusted them so he had his head back on his pillow, Roy behind him.
He stroked DJ’s hair. He didn’t intend to ask him anything, just wanted to let him drift off to sleep, but he’d stay until then, in case DJ needed to say anything. Or needed anything at all from him.
“You know what it is to be really alone, Roy?” DJ’s voice broke the current of their mingled breaths.
The TV had been muted, but the flickering light bathed his skin.
“Those moments when something awful is happening, and you realize no help is coming, that whatever is going to happen, you can’t stop it. ”
“I’ve been there. It sucks.”
“When it happens often enough, you learn not to expect anything better than that to last. I made that mistake.”
“No, you didn’t. You can’t live your life in fear, DJ. That’s what you figured out when you came to Marjorie and met Steve and Pete. Bad shit will always happen. It makes the good shit matter even more.”
“Yeah, maybe.” DJ gripped his hand, flat against his chest. Roy was monitoring his heartbeat. It was slowing down, headed toward sleep rhythm. “I’m okay now. Thanks.”
Roy put his mouth against his nape. “For what? I was finishing my run and wanted a piece of ass. You were convenient.”
“A booty call. That explains the sweaty, smelly body.”
“You’re one to talk, death breath.”
A half chuckle shook DJ, then caught on a sob. “It’s okay,” Roy murmured, holding him closer. “Just sleep, Dory. No more bad dreams.”
The waking hours were going to be tough enough. If there were sleep gods out there, Roy sent them a strong message.
Give the kid a goddamn break.