Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
KIT
Kit flung himself on his bed and huffed. The afternoon had been quiet. Too quiet.
He was bored.
What did he do with himself?
After his breakdown in the morning, Ronan’s suggestion of the workout had been appreciated. It had given his body something to do and his brain something else to think about.
But now? Sergeant Patrol had checked every fricking window—again—and was talking to the shouty man in CDR, which left Kit with nothing to do. He didn’t have his phone or his tablet, and the TV was in the main room. There wasn’t even a book in here to read.
He could nap. He was tired after his workout.
But he was twenty-three, not eighty-three.
Naps were for old people. If he ever crashed out for the afternoon, he’d wear his fluffiest Oodie, gorging on soda, chips and dip, and binge-watching old seasons of Project Runway or tattooists inking elaborate designs on YouTube.
You know, fun!
B.O.R.E.D!
Red had barely spoken two words to him since Mo and Ronan vanished out the door with a “Laters”.
Kit huffed again. Well, if he had nothing else to do, there was always one thing he could play with.
He slid one hand down his chest, tweaking a nipple ring on the way, then over his belly.
Then he sat up and stripped off his hoodie and T-shirt, and wriggled out of his sweats and underwear.
If he was going to enjoy playtime, he might as well do it properly.
Kit threw the clothes on the floor, not caring where they fell, and lay down again.
He licked his finger and thumb and played with his right nipple.
He followed the path of a merman’s tail around the areola and hummed happily, gasping as he tugged on the ring through his nipple.
Since he’d had the rings put in, his nipples were extraordinarily sensitive, and he could come just by playing with the chain.
He didn’t have that attached as he’d left it on his nightstand.
Kit’s hand stilled as he thought about that. He’d never see that chain again.
Tears filled his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. Dammit, he couldn’t even have a little fun without real life intruding on his fantasy.
Kit lay back again and tugged on the rings more forcefully than he usually did, needing the bite of pain to distract himself. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the feeling of pleasure. He took his time to relax, tugging on each ring until the nubs were sensitized and he needed more.
Smoothing a hand down his belly, following the line of the cobra, Kit dipped a finger into his belly button, then followed the path of the snake, knowing it so well, he didn’t have to open his eyes to look.
He murmured, “So good.”
It was good. Kit knew just how to pleasure himself.
His lips curved into a satisfied smile. His past couple of hook-ups had been more interested in their own pleasure than his.
Maybe he should stick to his right hand.
It always knew what to do. His fingers grazed the rasp of stubble around his cock, and he sighed as he wrapped his hand around the shaft, running a thumb over the head, then a flick at the Prince Albert.
Kit spread his legs to give himself better access.
He cupped his sac, squeezing the two globes gently.
He gasped, sensation running through him to his toes.
Kit sunk into the pleasure as he jacked off, his hips raising off the bed, in time to his hand.
He spread his legs wider to give himself more access and hummed with satisfaction.
This wasn’t going to take long. He was so needy.
Kit tugged harder, gasping with each stroke.
Harder, faster. Flicking the ball. Oh yeah, exercise was good, but this was just what he needed.
He thought of Red’s hand holding him, Red whispering orders in his ear, telling him to hold back, to wait, until he gave permission.
His Daddy wouldn’t let him come. Kit grunted, his release there, coiling in the pit of his stomach.
So close, so close…his balls tightening…
there…spilling frantically over his fist as he humped the bed, disobeying Daddy Red in his head who hadn’t told him to come.
He would get a spanking for that, if it were real.
Kit stretched luxuriously. Maybe he was ready for a nap.
He opened his eyes, it was time to clean up, and looked at Red, who leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded, his expression resigned, but behind that expression was something else.
What was it. Hunger maybe? He stretched again, watching Red’s gaze rake over him.
“Like the show, Daddy?”
He didn’t believe in false modesty, and he didn’t need validation. He knew he looked good and he didn’t mind men taking their fill. Especially men like Red.
“I knocked,” Red said.
Kit shrugged. “I was busy.”
“I can see that. You need to clean up. You’re messy.”
Kit looked down. His belly and chest were covered in his cum. He trailed a finger in the white sticky fluid. “You can clean me,” he suggested brightly, refusing to blush.
Red cocked his head, regarding him for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. Kit held his breath. He hadn’t rejected the idea outright. That was a good thing, yes?
“You want me to clean up your mess?”
“Yes.”
But Red didn’t move. He seemed to be waiting for something.
Kit wrinkled his brows. He’d given Red a show and an open invitation to touch him. What more did Red want? Then he huffed. “Please.”
“Please?”
“Please clean me up, Daddy.”
Red grunted. “Better. I expect my boy to be polite.” He vanished from the doorway, presumably heading to the bathroom.
Kit’s heart gave an unexpected leap. His boy?
He beamed up at the ceiling. Had Red finally quit fighting with his new role.
Kit certainly hoped so. He had a Daddy on tap to take care of him.
Would Red fuck him? Kit wasn’t sure about that.
There was the whole big brother issue. Tony had given Red the ‘do it and die’ speech, except Tony wasn’t here.
He felt the familiar pang when he thought about the situation, but you know, rules were made to be broken when your big bro was potentially hundreds of miles away.
He plucked at the drying cum, relieved when he heard footsteps and Red appeared with a washcloth and a towel. Kit lay back, legs spread, and waited.
“Your body is truly a canvas,” Red murmured as he studied him for a moment.
“Do you like it?”
Red held his breath, anxious for his answer. Not all men had liked the ink and piercings. Kit didn’t much care for their opinion, but for some reason, Red’s was important.
“I do. It suits you. I can’t imagine you without your art.”
Kit preened at the praise, not effusive but sincere. Most men he met wanted to trace the ink with their tongue and fingers, but it was all about them and their pleasure, not him. Red just regarded him with quiet intensity.
“Jack did exactly as I asked and more,” he said.
Red raised an eyebrow. “Jack? Jack Booker?”
“You know him?”
Kit wasn’t surprised. Jack Booker was the ConC of tattoo artists. Everyone knew him and longed to own one of his pieces on their body.
“He’s Quinn Ryder’s brother-in-law. I haven’t met him, but Cade has his ink too.”
“It’s a small world,” Kit murmured, hoping at some point he could look at the ink on Cade. It had to be special.
He wrinkled his brows. “Booker. Is he related to Craig Booker?”
Red hummed. “Rumor says they’re cousins, but don’t quote me on this.”
Kit stretched and grimaced as the small hairs on his belly tugged with cum drying on his belly.
“Let’s clean you up.” Red noticed Kit’s discomfort and sat on the bed.
Kit held his breath, waiting for the first swipe of the washcloth. It was warm. Red had taken the time to warm it up for him. Tears prickled at the back of Kit’s eyes. He was so thoughtful.
He was also thorough, cleaning every inch of Kit’s belly and chest, then wiped his cock and balls with the same intensity.
Kit’s dick reacted enthusiastically to Red’s attention, his shaft hardening in Red’s hand, but Red didn’t react as he dropped the washcloth and picked up the towel.
Kit pouted, but Red just dried him off and stood, looking down at him.
“Get dressed and come back to the kitchen. You can help me cook dinner.”
Kit’s pout deepened. “You want me to cook? We could be doing something far more interesting.” He wiggled his hips, hoping he was making the universal sign for ‘fuck me through the mattress, Daddy,’ but Red picked up the washcloth, turned on his heel, and headed out of the bedroom.
Kit huffed. Red was no fun. If they were going to be locked up in something not much bigger than a giant chicken coop, they could at least have fun.
Then his stomach rumbled. He looked down at it.
“Traitor.” He gave it an accusing scowl, but it just gave another rumble.
If he wanted to get fed, maybe he should go help Red.
He could help naked. Kit thought about that for a moment, then discarded the idea.
What if Mo or any of the CDR men walked in?
Mo probably wouldn’t care, but yeah, showing his junk off to the others didn’t appeal.
Kit heaved himself off the bed and dressed, then sashayed out of the bedroom in search of torturing his jailor with his moves, only to screech to a halt as he spotted a delicious sight.
He let out a wolf whistle in appreciation.
Red had the refrigerator door open, regarding something on the bottom shelf, his taut ass on display for Kit’s greedy eyes.
Red looked over his shoulder, rolling his eyes when he saw where Kit’s eyes were fixed. “Like the view?”
“Very nice,” Kit agreed, not tearing his eyes away because the view was perfect.
“Glad you’re happy.”
Red pulled out steak and salad, stretched as he stood, then closed the refrigerator door with one foot, and brought over everything to the counter.
Kit surveyed the food on the counter. “Is this for the entire team?”