Chapter 16 #2
Being someone’s bodyguard when they were under an active threat was an intense but time-limited experience. Always. Navel gazing was a distorted form of narcissism Roy had no patience for. It didn’t serve a purpose.
Roy would serve a purpose, always.
But getting DJ back on his feet hadn’t been Roy’s purpose, his job. He’d taken it on because…
Because he was in love with the kid.
Whether it was forever love, or spawned by the dangerous circumstances and intimate proximity they created, didn’t matter.
The feeling was real. You could love someone and not be the right person for them.
Or love them for the time you were given and not fuck it up by counting on more.
There were more important priorities than his feelings.
So that was that.
Eventually, he slept, with one foot propped on the end of the couch below Dory’s shoulder. A change woke him early in the morning, and he saw DJ had moved his hand and was resting it on Roy’s foot, holding onto him as he slept.
He didn’t remember when he drifted off again, but when he woke, it was morning. DJ was on his feet, stretching in that appealing way he had, his morning erection pressing against his pajama bottoms as he arched back, then shook like a dog getting up from a nap.
On stage, he was one of Lucifer’s dark-eyed demons. In the morning, he was a sleepy angel with rumpled feathers and crooked halo. He glanced at Roy in his chair.
“That doesn’t look like a comfortable way to sleep.”
“Who says I was sleeping? I never sleep.”
DJ’s lips curved. “Can you come help me with something in the bathroom?”
“Before coffee?”
DJ’s eyes did an echo of their usual sparkle. “Aha. You do have a weakness. Morning coffee.”
And an appealing, skinny kid with a smart mouth.
Since DJ seemed determined about whatever it was that he needed, Roy followed him to the bathroom. DJ reached into Roy’s open toiletry bag and pulled out the electric clippers.
“You do your own hair,” DJ noted.
“I do.” Roy shrugged. “Easy enough to use the clippers to keep it trimmed, and one of Warren’s women taught me how to scissor cut the parts that need it. His weakness is hairdressers.”
“One of Warren’s women?”
“They’re legion. And they all know about each other.” A pussy hound yes, but always an honest one.
“It’s got to be the Sam Elliott voice thing. They just fall into bed with him.” DJ reached out to do a quick stroke of the longer strands of hair feathered across Roy’s forehead. “I figured you went to one of those old-timey barbers.”
“Well, I had a team of stylists and makeup artists like you do, but they got so damn cranky about all the travel.”
“I’ll bet.” DJ lifted the clippers. “Will you cut my hair off?”
Roy blinked. “Say what?”
“A buzz cut. No curls.” The hat Roy had picked up yesterday sat on the counter, and DJ nodded to it. “I assume that’s for me. This and cheaper sunglasses will make it a better disguise. I can probably do it myself if you show me, but they’re your clippers and I’d like you to do it. Will you?”
“The hair’s part of your brand.”
DJ snorted. “If my fans can’t handle a different look, my songs aren’t really worth shit, are they?”
He offered Roy the clippers again. When he took them, he turned toward the mirror, gazing at Roy in the reflection.
“What will I tug on when you’re taking my cock in your mouth?” Roy asked.
DJ’s gaze darkened. “If you wanted to make me rethink my decision, you just found a damn good way to do it.”
But as much as he loved the kid’s hair, Roy knew DJ had found a solution to the concern about him being recognized and captured on someone’s cell phone for a social media shot. So Roy would adapt.
“I guess I’ll just wrap my fingers around the back of your neck, here,” he slid his grip to DJ’s nape and caressed the occipital bone, “and push you down on me harder that way.”
“Okay, that works.” DJ cleared a thick throat.
Roy used his knuckle to tip his chin up. “Go get the desk chair and bring it in here. It’ll work better if you sit down.”
DJ obeyed. Roy enjoyed watching the tight ass shifting under the pajama bottoms as he crossed the room, the bare back and wide shoulders. Strong, but vulnerable. To him, the Master that Dory was trusting.
When DJ brought the chair back and sat down, knees parted, he was facing Roy, not the mirror. His gaze was on Roy’s bare chest and the waistband of the cotton sleep shorts. “Can I put my hands on you, Sir?”
The clear shift back into Dom and sub mode had a noticeable effect on what was not far from DJ’s tempting mouth. Roy wondered if the kid had done it on purpose, or if he just needed to touch his Master. Maybe both.
“On my hips, yes. Start moving them around and I’ll take off an eyebrow.”
DJ snorted, but he wrapped his fingers over Roy’s hips. The pressure pushed the waistband down enough he was touching flesh. He sent Roy an innocent look, and Roy pressed his lips against a smile.
It was just hair, and it would grow back.
But it was more difficult than expected, shaving all those curls off.
As they tumbled to the floor, Roy focused on doing the buzz cut evenly, changing out the guard to cut out the ears, folding them forward.
He removed the guard to clean up the neck, caressing the two straight tendons with his fingers.
When he at last set the clippers aside, he ran his hand over the peach fuzz. “Look up at me, Dory.”
He was looking at the same man, but the shorn scalp emphasized the pain and grief in his face. The protectiveness Roy always felt around DJ, had felt since day one, surged. He wanted to lock DJ in a secure place and keep him there until he found this asshole.
And he didn’t want the stalker in jail. He wanted to put him down like a rabid animal. Except Roy wouldn’t be doing it as an act of mercy.
He reined it all back. DJ needed something different from him right now. Those sensitive hands were flexing on Roy’s hips, wanting to move. Stepping back, Roy arrested the flash of disappointment on DJ’s face by retrieving a pillow from the bed and dropping it on the floor between them.
“Take off the pajama bottoms. I want you naked as the day you were born. Get on your knees in front of me, put your hands on your head, fingers laced. Back straight and chin up.”
DJ’s lips parted, tongue wetting them, and he complied, setting the flannel aside before he dropped to the cushion.
Roy ran his hand over the shorn scalp again.
He spent time teasing the occipital bone, teaching DJ how responsive that area could be.
He traced his lips, his eyebrows, his cheek.
“You’re going to please me with your mouth, Dory.
Will being allowed to serve me give you pleasure? ”
DJ’s gaze rose, brown eyes kindled with fire.
Though it wasn’t the first time he’d had his mouth on Roy’s cock, trust and value needed continual reinforcement in a power exchange.
Roy would never use the power DJ gave him to demean him, or cause him harm.
He would always remind DJ, in whatever way it presented itself, that his Master cherished him.
“Yes,” DJ said huskily. “I really want to do that, Roy. I need…to do that.”
“Okay.” Roy shed the shorts, his cock stretching out thick and ready. DJ’s lips were already parted and wet. The look Roy had seen plenty of times in a submissive’s eyes had him in a much stronger grip. Need wasn’t enough of a word to capture all of it.
“Keep your hands on your head. You do this at my pace.”
He fed his cock in between those clever lips.
The bliss of that wet, heated mouth was something he relished.
The suction, the lash of DJ’s tongue against his shaft, licking him in a strong spiral of sensation, sucking on the ridge, taking him deeper when Roy overlapped DJ’s laced fingers with his palm and pushed him down on him, was sheer fucking bliss.
As was looking down the slope of DJ’s back, seeing that narrow ass flexing on his heels.
When Roy was ready, he was going to bend DJ over the hotel room desk and be balls deep inside of him. There was a mirror there, too, and he’d be able to watch his face, the helpless pleasure, while DJ would see the fierce possession on Roy’s.
He’d finish up with another belt lashing on DJ’s delectable ass before Roy gripped his cock and allowed him to come. DJ thrived on denial, and getting some punishment closer to the end seemed to center him. Roy liked knowing he'd left marks on his submissive, inside and out.
He tightened his grip on DJ’s hands as he pushed into his mouth, drew back.
Pushed again, this time to the hilt. There was a little cough as Dory adjusted.
Roy did the aggressive move sparingly. DJ needed to excel to feel balanced, but he didn’t get off on having a Dom making him gag over and over.
It would overwhelm him, leaving him feeling used in the wrong way. Some subs enjoyed that. Dory didn’t.
But fuck, he did have a glorious mouth. Roy almost let him go too long, it felt too damn good. He forced himself to step back before another lash of that flexible tongue would have sent him over. Caught in the moment, Dory pushed against his hold on his wrists. He wanted to finish.
It was an effort to keep the strain out of his tone, but when Roy spoke, his voice was stern. “Go get my belt, Dory. And the lube I used last night. It’s by the bed.”
Roy watched DJ get to his feet. His cock was hard against his belly, balls tight.
Roy let his gaze linger here, showing a Master’s proprietary appreciation.
DJ’s gait was careful, the walk a little unsteady.
Roy suppressed the desire to tackle him, drive him to his knees and fuck him like an animal.
He stepped out of the bathroom, watching DJ get the lube and coiled belt. When he turned toward Roy again, the lack of hair was a renewed surprise. It would take some getting used to.