Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
They’d planned to stay at Gilda’s long enough to confirm she and Marjorie were comfortable.
They were shooed off within an hour. While they didn’t talk about what they planned to do next, Roy drove them back toward Charlotte and they checked into a hotel room there.
He should have known DJ would guess what he had in mind.
In the morning, Roy woke to find his client stretched out next to him, head propped on his hand. Roy yawned. “Gazing at me adoringly while I sleep?
DJ made a show of checking under the covers. “No vagina here, so no. I’m waiting for you to wake up so I can pester you about something.”
“Before coffee? I knew I should have booked a separate room.”
“We’re role playing that we’re on a budget,” DJ told him.
“Sexy. Every girl’s fantasy.”
“Isn’t that dungeon Logan told us about tomorrow night? That’s why we came back here, right?”
“You know, I think it is. Nice coincidence that we’re this close to it.”
Roy stretched lazily and laced his fingers behind his head. DJ wore his pajama bottoms with a loose waistband that revealed plenty of hipbone. Roy was getting very fond of them. He still missed the curly hair, but the lack of it made the tempting lips even more noticeable.
Roy brought him down to his mouth and tasted mint. DJ had brushed his teeth for him.
Making an appreciative noise, he crooked an arm around DJ’s neck.
Roy drew DJ’s hand down to his erection and wrapped DJ’s fingers around it, his own over top of them.
He began to move them, getting DJ started on what he wanted from him.
He’d push him down there before long, using his mouth to get Roy slick enough to take his ass, very first thing.
Then he’d make DJ promise to eat a hearty, healthy breakfast in exchange for a mind-blowing orgasm.
He wasn’t above blackmail to take care of his charge.
“So we’re going?” DJ said.
“Did I say that?”
When DJ muttered something uncomplimentary, Roy wrapped his fingers around the back of DJ’s neck, earning a startled but readily interested look.
“Behave. And get me good and wet. I’m bigger in the morning, and I don’t want to hurt you.”
DJ’s gaze flashed with desire. That sternness he’d joked about wasn’t a joke to him when Roy was using it with intent. Roy was also aware that when he coupled it to messages of care as he’d just done, his submissive responded even more strongly.
DJ slid down and put his mouth on Roy’s cock eagerly. The slick heat of it was heaven, and Roy was tempted to empty himself there, but he wanted to do that inside DJ’s beautiful ass.
After DJ got him wet enough, he reversed their positions, putting the kid over pillows and taking him from behind, hands braced on either side of his shoulders. DJ hugged the pillows, his face buried in them to muffle his cries.
When they finished, Roy lay upon him. DJ’s cheek was against his palm. “Will you go as my submissive, DJ?”
DJ’s expression showed surprise and pleasure. “How else would I go?”
While Roy appreciated his response, his job as a Master was to make his less experienced partner aware of the options.
“You could go as a guest, like me. Watch and decide what you want to do or be once you were there. I could be your guide, instead of your Dom.”
DJ tensed. “So if I saw a Dom offering something I want to do more, I could brush you off and go hang with him?”
As Roy considered how to respond to that, DJ abruptly pushed against him. “Get off of me.”
His voice was so raw Roy didn’t hesitate to comply, not wanting to make the kid feel trapped. He had second thoughts when DJ turned on him like a wounded badger. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
Roy slid on his sleep shorts. “I wasn’t suggesting I’d be handing you off to someone. I was about to explain—”
“Gee, thanks.” DJ yanked on his pajama bottoms. “I’m glad you wouldn’t pass me around to any dick that wanted my ass.”
“Dory,” Roy snapped. “Shut up and listen to me.”
DJ’s color was high, eyes flashing, but Roy’s tone got through. He backed up to the dresser and propped against it like a stiff broomstick.
“You told me you haven’t had much of a chance to explore the different options out there,” Roy said evenly.
“What I was about to explain is if there’s a Dom doing something you’re interested in trying, and it’s not something I know how to do, you don’t have to worry I’ll get my shorts in a twist over it.
I’ll make sure they know how to play safe, and I’ll watch over you the whole time. ”
“Oh.” DJ seemed to be waffling over whether he needed to be mad or not.
Then he set his jaw. “No matter how messy or fucked up it gets, I see this as a relationship. I want to go through those doors tomorrow night as yours, okay? When we were at The Zone, you let me feel what it was like to belong to a Master, to you, in that kind of space. I liked it.”
So had Roy.
“Okay?” DJ repeated, with a touch of impatience.
“Don’t be a brat,” Roy said with a mildness he suddenly wasn’t feeling. And when DJ’s gaze lowered and he looked up at Roy through his long lashes, he had the expression that made Roy want that fine, sweet ass all over again, despite the unsettling issues the short argument raised.
“Just tell me when we walk through those doors, I’m there to be your submissive,” DJ persisted. “No one else’s.”
Roy backed him toward the bed with a menacing look. As he shoved him down, he followed him, meeting nose to nose. “I’m about to fuck you for the second time of the morning, before I have my first cup of coffee.”
“So you want me more than coffee.” DJ’s lips trembled in a half smile.
Roy considered all the reasons not to say the response that sprang to mind. DJ’s heart was too raw, everything was unbalanced by grief. It would be stupid to go down this road. Irresponsible. Uncontrolled, no telling the outcome. Messy, just as DJ said. Fucked up. They both knew it.
But the vulnerability in DJ’s expression now had been there the first time the Dom and sub vibes had shimmered between them. Long before tragedy had entered DJ’s life.
Roy put his mouth to DJ’s, and spoke against his lips.
“Dory, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life. Yeah, kid. You’re mine.”
For as long as circumstances allowed it. Roy wouldn’t hold him to more than that. It would ruin the good for now, and there was a lot of good to indulge.
The place Logan’s group used for their dungeon play night was a four-story warehouse in the Charlotte industrial district. When they pulled up, they could see strobing lights on the fourth level, and hear the pump of club music.
“The first three floors are quieter,” Roy said. “The fourth level is for people who want to dance or socialize.”
DJ nodded. Roy was wearing belted black jeans and a white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. The severe monochrome look with his gray eyes, dark hair and intimidating features was in danger of replacing DJ’s biker cop fantasies. Or putting it right alongside them.
Plus he was wearing black cowboy boots under the jeans, which gave him a sauntering, butt-shifting walk that DJ found mesmerizing.
They’d picked up an eye mask for DJ from a costume shop. It was coated with copper-colored glitter, and a short fringe along the bottom edge teased his cheeks and corners of his mouth.
Roy put it on him, adjusting the straps and ribbons to hold it secure. “Not sure you even need it with the hair change, but you look good in it. Draws my attention to your mouth.”
“You’re not wearing one,” DJ said.
“This is a local group, catering to middle and working-class incomes. Miami had more high power, high dollar players, where I was more likely to be recognized when I didn’t want to be.”
His gaze coursed over DJ. He’d worn black jeans, too, though his were stressed to silver gray in places and strategically torn in others.
The fabric was shot with silver threads that worked with his pewter studded black belt.
His shirt was blue, a flowing fabric. It had only one button, a silver and black fleur de lis that held the shirt closed a few inches above his waistband.
The open upper part showed his ichthys, and a strand of jet beads.
Very Jim Morrison, Steve would have said.
Roy curled his finger in the ichthys chain. “Anything makes you nervous tonight, you tell me. There are no wrong moves here, DJ, except dishonesty and disrespect. Got it?”
“I have been to places like this before.”
“You haven’t been the way you’re coming to it tonight.” Roy’s gray eyes were metallic in the shadows of the SUV. “As a submissive in the company of a Master. It’s my job to make sure you know the rules, and you stay safe.”
“That last part is always your job.”
His mouth eased. “Yes, it is.”
Roy left the vehicle and came around, checking their surroundings before putting his hand on the door and opening it. DJ stood beside him and looked up at the building. “These places always look so skeevy and abandoned. Where you’d go if you were making a drug deal, or dumping a body.”
Roy’s firm mouth twitched with a faint smile. “Zoning relegates them to skeevy locations, but outside appearances can be deceiving. Not for all of them, but this one is definitely not skeevy, I promise.”
They came to the scarred metal door, where a bald man in a Dr. Who T-shirt and blue jeans was checking IDs.
When Roy showed his, the man checked a list on his tablet.
“You’re a guest with permanent privileges, and your plus one is vetted, courtesy of Master Logan,” he noted.
“Welcome back. Would you like your sub to have your stamp?”
“I would. Thank you.”
The man turned to the podium next to him and plucked a stamp out of a small basket. He had several stamp pads.
“Do you think you could give me the silver ink?” DJ asked. “It goes better with my outfit.”