DEREK #2
“Can I touch it?” asked Kieran, in awe.
Derek had always been happy with his cock. It was a solid eight inches, with a nice girth, but he’d also been told it was one of those cocks you couldn’t stop looking at. Based on Kieran’s expression, it looked like he had another fan.
Kieran didn’t wait for permission before stroking Derek’s cock. If he wanted to be Derek’s submissive, then he’d need to wait for permission in the future, but he could indulge him this time. Kieran slid Derek’s foreskin back and licked his lips.
“Turn over, Kieran.”
“But I wanted to see if I could get it all down my throat.”
Jesus! He was testing all of Derek’s restraint.
“You know what would make me happy? You turning over so I can enjoy my favourite meal.”
Kieran’s eyes darkened, and he flipped over, sticking his gorgeous arse in the air. Derek dropped to his knees and realised he should probably stop doing that at his age. Not caring about the twinge he’d felt, he dived in, intending to draw at least one more orgasm out of Kieran.
Even though Kieran had slept in his bed every night he’d been here, this was the first time Derek could keep the man in his arms without worrying he was overstepping.
He’d pulled three orgasms out of Kieran yesterday, before he’d allowed him to bring Derek to climax.
The things Kieran could do with his mouth meant it hadn’t taken long.
Kieran hadn’t asked to take things further, and Derek was pleased about that.
He hadn’t wanted Kieran to feel rejected, but there was no chance they were doing that so soon.
Kieran hadn’t fully processed what had happened to him yet, and Derek still wasn’t sure what all this meant.
He knew Kieran could have just reached out to him, as he was there, and he needed to take back control when it came to sex, making his own choices.
Derek hoped it could be more than that, but for now he could bring the boy pleasure without them going all the way.
He wasn’t sure if his heart could take it if Kieran rejected him after they’d connected in that way.
What they were doing kept some emotional distance and protected them both, for now at least.
He’d finished making bacon sandwiches when Kieran walked in looking sleepy and cute. He had his own jogging bottoms on, since Hassan had brought him some of his stuff. That’s all he was wearing, though, showing off the artwork on his body.
“Did you mean it when you said you wanted to tattoo me?”
“Definitely. Do you know what you want?”
“Can you do portraits?”
Kieran nodded. “I do those in black, grey, and white.”
Derek went over to the bookcase and picked up a picture of his old dog, Gary.
He’d gotten him when he’d bought this place after divorcing Kieran’s mum.
He’d been a rescue and had a few health problems, but they’d had seven amazing years together.
This was his favourite picture of him. He passed it to Kieran.
“Yeah, I can do this, no problem. Where do you want it?”
“Where do you recommend?”
“Pull your pants down.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, your arms are out as they’re already covered. Some of those need fixing, by the way. I can do you mate’s rates.”
Derek chuckled.
“I thought your thigh could work, but I need to check the surface area I’ve got.”
Derek wasn’t wearing any underwear, but he did as he was told. Kieran’s mouth opened, and his eyes looked like they’d glazed over.
“That’s not where I want the tattoo, Kieran.”
“Oh, sorry. Right, let me check.”
Kieran got on his knees, his face right in front of Derek’s cock, which thickened immediately. Kieran gave a devilish grin and then looked at Derek’s thigh. As soon as his fingers connected with Derek’s skin, he was fully hard, with the head pressed against Kieran’s cheek.
“Kieran, what are you doing?”
“A tattoo consultation.”
Derek chuckled. “I’ve never had one like this before.”
“Well, I have my own style.”
Before Derek could say anything else, Kieran was licking the end of his cock. He’d never seen someone look so perfect on their knees. As Kieran slid Derek’s cock down his throat, all he could do was throw his head back and try not to cum too quickly.
After spending another day in bed with Kieran, Derek wasn’t expecting to be at the docks on the Thames Estuary, but when Grant Kincaid summons you, it’s easier to go.
Kieran had gone to his flat to get some more clothes.
Hassan was there, and Derek was going to pick him up on the way back.
He hadn’t told Kieran he was going to meet Grant.
He’d tell him everything when he saw him later, but there was no point in worrying him unnecessarily.
He got out of the car that had been sent for him and was escorted into the warehouse by a guy who could probably snap him in half without breaking a sweat.
He had to be close to seven feet tall. Once inside, the door slammed shut behind him.
Why he’d come here, telling no one, was something he could castigate himself for later, if that was an option.
“Derek, so pleased you could make it,” said Grant, walking towards him and shaking his hand.
It was the first time Derek had seen him not wearing a suit. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, showing muscular forearms, and his collar was open, with some chest hair showing. Even dressed casually, the guy was annoyingly handsome.
“Did I have a choice in coming here?” asked Derek.
“There’s always a choice, Derek. And all choices have consequences.”
Derek snorted, and Grant chuckled.
“Follow me,” said Grant.
Derek walked through a corridor into the main warehouse and saw someone he’d been expecting. What surprised him was that Carl was bound to a chair and gagged. He’d been badly beaten but still had a defiant look in his eyes.
“I know he hurt your boy, Derek, and I can’t apologise enough that someone I thought was family would do that to anyone, let alone someone as sweet as Kieran. Is he okay?”
“He’s . . . getting there.”
“I know he won’t want to go back to the shop, but I’d like to compensate him enough so he can set up on his own. It’s the least I can do.”
“I’ll talk to him about it. Why am I here, Grant?”
“The reason it took the full two days of your . . . deadline is because I needed to have a little chat with Carl first and then check on some things. Kieran wasn’t the only one.”
“Fuck. How many?”
“A dozen that we know of. I’ll see that they’re all compensated. I know it heals nothing, but it’s all I can do, other than making sure he doesn’t touch anyone else again.”
Derek had suspected that there might not be a happy ending for Carl, given the ultimatum he’d given Grant. That he’d done it before, and not been caught, made Derek furious. If Grant had known he had a fucking monster in his organisation sooner, then Kieran wouldn’t have had to suffer.
“I know you probably want to punch the crap out of me right now, which I don’t advise. I like you, Derek, and I’d hate to have to break your face.”
Derek snorted. “That’s . . . honest.”
“Now, I have plans for Carl here, but I’d be happy to pass that pleasure on to you, should you wish? It would be my way of apologising.”
Derek looked to Grant’s right and saw a selection of knives on the table, and his stomach churned. Was this really happening? The most drama he’d ever had to deal with was someone’s zimmer frame slipping on lube in the club and a customer breaking his good hip.
“I think the best thing I can do is be with Kieran.”
“Of course. I appreciate Kieran may never want to speak to me again, and I will respect that choice if he wishes. I’ll liaise with you about his compensation.”
“Of course. I’ll take Kieran’s lead.”
“You look after that boy, Derek. You’ve got a good one there.”
Derek couldn’t help smiling.
“Now, make yourself scarce. I don’t get to play as often as I used to, and I do like to make a mess.”
He picked up one of the knives and smiled at Carl. The guy looked terrified, and he wasn’t the only one. Derek couldn’t get out of the place quickly enough. He needed to get to Kieran.