Chapter 18 #3
“He knew he should have. But when you’re trained to defuse threats, you feel obligated to do it, because you don’t want it to happen when you’re not around.” He paused. “Though in that case, he let his emotions get involved.”
DJ looked down and rolled the hem of his shirt over his hands, the cotton absorbing the sudden dampness of his palms. “Are your emotions involved with protecting me?”
“Yes. Which is why I make protecting you more important than anything. Including my feelings or yours.”
Even without looking his way, DJ could feel Roy’s gaze upon him intensifying.
That, and the feelings that had been simmering for the past several hours, directed his next actions.
DJ slid off the bed to kneel on the floor in the position Roy had taught him.
He laced his fingers behind his bowed head, keeping his spine straight and elbows back.
He saw Roy’s shoes and well-fitted jeans come into his field of vision. He closed a hand over DJ’s laced fingers, the strength of his grip pressing them together.
“What are you doing, boy?” The southern came out when Roy called him that. How was it that Roy could make him tremble so easily?
“Waiting to see what my Master wants from me.”
Roy slid his hand over the short hair and into the collar of his shirt, gripping the fabric from the inside and twisting it so he brought DJ up off his heels.
Roy held him tight against him, face to his pelvis, rubbing the erection that had become temptingly evident beneath the jeans against DJ’s cheekbone and damp, parted lips.
“Tell me what you want me to want from you, Dory.”
“It’s difficult to put it in words. My mouth, on you… But I think…your mouth, on me. Because when you go down on me, it doesn’t feel like it does when I do it to you. It’s like you’re owning me with your mouth, not serving me with it, if that makes sense.”
“It makes sense. Get on the bed. On your back, legs bent over the side.”
DJ scrambled up, but Roy shook his head before he could remove his jeans. “Leave them.”
When DJ was positioned where he wanted him, Roy braced his fists on either side of his hips and leaned over him, staring him down. DJ dropped his gaze, his lips pressing together. He had his palms flat on the bed, pushing because the extra effort was needed to keep them there.
Roy put his mouth on denim, lips pressing against the DJ’s erection. When teeth came into play, DJ jerked, and Roy lifted his head.
“If I own your dick, what do you not do?”
“I don’t move, Sir. I don’t thrust up against your mouth. You’re not serving me.”
“Correct. You stay still and wait for me to give you permission to do anything. Even breathe.” His gaze flickered. “And yes, you’re allowed to do that. For now.”
That welcome spurt of humor was an invitation to immerse himself in his desire for Roy. DJ wanted to give his Master what he needed, while he thrived in the shelter of his control. Taking care of someone could mean a lot of things.
Roy explored DJ’s throbbing cock behind straining cloth with his mouth, fingers, and the firm heel of his hand.
Stroking, making it ever more difficult for DJ not to move, not to thrust. The approval in Roy’s face rewarded the effort, but fuck, DJ was going to come if he didn’t stop.
Not moving just made it even more intense, the edge right there, no more than a twitch to reach it, but by doing that, he would be disobeying.
When Roy at last straightened, DJ was making harsh noises through clenched teeth.
He opened DJ’s jeans, pushed them and his shorts down enough to free his cock, then stood over DJ.
DJ was wearing a belt studded with pewter squares.
Roy unbuckled it, slid it free, then threaded it back under DJ’s ass and wrapped both ends around his knuckles.
As a gasp left DJ, he lifted DJ’s hips a foot off the bed before bending to put his mouth over his cock. DJ’s back was arched, toes off the floor as Roy sucked him deep. Then he began to work up and down the shaft.
Before DJ’s head dropped, he'd glimpsed the bunching of Roy’s impressive biceps. He imagined the tightness of Roy’s ass, the muscles across his back as he managed the feat of strength. Roy was sucking on him so strong and tight, DJ’s balls convulsed in warning.
“Oh, God…Master, Sir…I’m…”
Roy let him down, a slow, wet slide of his mouth off the length of DJ’s cock. He unwrapped the belt from his hands and slid it from beneath DJ’s body, though he held it for a few portentous moments, sliding it between his fingers as if considering other ways to use it.
DJ knew naked hunger was in his expression. A belt in Roy’s hands would always make him yearn for his Master’s attention.
Roy laid it next to DJ and backed off, only to pull another belt from his suitcase before he stripped off his own and added it to the pile. Then he removed his shirt with a powerful shrug of his upper body. DJ tried not to salivate like a labrador.
Roy slipped the button of his jeans, but didn’t remove them. Instead, he picked up DJ’s belt and looped it around the base of DJ’s cock. “Grip your cock in both hands, Dory.”
When DJ did, the remainder of the belt went around his wrists, Roy twisting it to form a loose hold. He’d kept the pewter squares on the outside when he collared DJ’s cock, but DJ could feel their roughness against his wrists.
Roy moved DJ to his side so he was curled around that grip in a semi-fetal position, his dick in his hands, the belt tight around the base.
Now Roy used the other two belts, connecting and wrapping them around DJ’s thighs, taking the end between them to attach it to the binding around DJ’s wrists.
He cinched it to keep DJ’s knees up, his body in a crescent shape.
Since it was just a belt tie, he could struggle free if he wanted, but getting free was the last thing on DJ’s mind.
Roy slid onto the bed behind him. He had the lube out and was working it over his cock.
He did what he always did, putting fingers inside DJ to make sure he was good and slick, taking care of him while making him bite back a near shout at the sensation.
Fuck, he was going to come. No. No, he wasn’t.
His Master said no. He wanted to please Roy.
Over and over and over again.
Roy’s big cock slid into him, stretching his rim, moving slow to cut down the burn, make the discomfort an erotic pleasure. DJ’s body jerked, which meant the belt pulled against his wrists, cock and thighs. Every slow thrust Roy made into him did the same, reminding him he was serving his Master.
“Your pleasure comes from the privilege of serving me,” Roy said, a furnace against his ear. “Doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir.” God, he was going to die from it, too. The need to come was overwhelming, but the hold of the belt was tight, and Roy wrapped his fist over DJ’s grip on it. His knuckles brushed DJ’s testicles, feather light contacts.
The lack of ability to do anything was explosive, emotionally and physically, and exactly what DJ needed. How was it what could destroy him, what felt unbearable, emotionally, could also help him, when he was tied and had no choice but to safeword or take it?
Roy whispered how good he was, how well he was serving his Master, and how he knew DJ wouldn’t come until he was told he was allowed to do so. He seemed to know just when to do that, every time DJ was about to fall over the edge.
What was it that made him want to be such a smart ass with Roy when they weren’t like this, and just the opposite when they were? He guessed the answer didn’t matter. Roy seemed to understand. That was what was important.
Roy finally climaxed, jetting into DJ, his hand moving up to his throat to hold him.
DJ wanted to see the flexing of Roy’s buttocks as he shoved into his ass.
He would kill for the right to grip them, but had to settle for the mental image, and for feeling Roy’s cock taking full ownership of DJ’s ass. Probably his heart and soul as well.
When Roy had his full measure of satisfaction and made sure DJ knew he lingered over it, he slid a hand back to DJ’s cock. “Move your hands out of my way.”
Roy gripped DJ’s cock, stroked, played. “Beg.” His voice was rough, a man who’d just spent himself in his submissive and enjoyed the hell out of it.
“Please, Master. I need to come. I really do.”
“I can tell. I’ve never seen you this big, felt you this thick.
” Roy freed DJ’s cock and wrists from the belt, and rolled a condom over his cock.
Protecting Marjorie’s sheets, which made him considerate.
Taking his time rolling it over DJ’s cock, teasing his testicles some more, flicking them with strong fingers, made him a considerate bastard.
He wrapped his hand around DJ’s cock again. “Put your hands over mine.”
DJ did it, and when Roy squeezed him, he groaned, his own fingers digging into Roy’s grip. “Come for me. Let me see it.” He slid his other arm around DJ’s chest and waist, holding him tight as DJ’s body convulsed, bucked and his cock spewed.
“Oh, God…fucking hell…” DJ dropped his head back on Roy’s shoulder, body twitching as Roy continued to play with his dick, squeezing and stroking.
Every tiny convulsion and noise of protest, because he was so sensitive, only seemed to make Roy intent on proving DJ’s dick was his toy as long as he wanted to play with it.
DJ didn’t safeword, so he must agree.
He glanced down as Roy removed the condom. His Master left him to dispose of it, then he was back, giving DJ his warmth, as well as pulling the blanket up over both of them, sliding the pillows into place for their heads.
“Shit,” DJ murmured.
“What?”