Page 117 of Naughty Dreams
“Am I…hiding inside you?”
“No. Not hiding. Finding shelter.”
Dory’s gaze fastened onto his. “I’m afraid of what’s inside me, Roy. What will come out if too much is opened up. It will hurt so bad…”
“Wounds don’t heal until they hurt as bad as they need to hurt. But getting through it is why you have me.”
DJ’s fingers curled over Roy’s knuckles. “I want you to fuck me so hard it hurts more than the other things that are hurting.”
“No. I may spank or strap your ass, but I will never hurt you while I’m inside you. I will hurt what I know can bear it, and take care of what I know can’t. Understand?”
Slowly, DJ nodded. “Can I put one hand on your chest?”
“Yes. Just don’t pull any hair out.”
Dory managed his sweet half-smile, and put his hand over Roy’s heart. “Your heart’s beating pretty fast.”
Roy’s gaze landed on his throat pulse. “Not the only one.”
He’d put lube in DJ’s ass, but he added some to his cock. When he began to enter DJ, holding his gaze the whole time, he relished the tightening of muscles, how DJ’s eyes darkened, the taut need of his mouth, the way his ass gripped Roy and pulled him in.
“Oh God,” he said softly. “Please…Sir…”
Roy set a slow pace, just as he’d threatened. He bent his head and kissed DJ’s chest, his throat, his shoulder. While he pushed against him, rhythmically pumping in and out, Dory’s fingers dug into his chest. The orgasm was starting to build. Roy decided he didn’t mind losing some hair.
But afterward, he would tell DJ that was why he was getting his ass whipped. The kid liked to know the reason for things. Because he knew how many things didn’t have a reason anyone could understand.
For Roy, the reason he and DJ had come together was for Roy to protect and care for him, and help him through this. Falling in love with DJ fell in the understandable column as well. Since Roy couldn’t imagine it any other way.
“Now, Dory,” he said, and DJ convulsed around him, a groan bursting from his lips. When his head dropped back, Roy cupped it, bringing it up again, their gazes locked together as DJ shattered. Roy stared into those beautiful eyes, allowing him no escape, proving to him that he didn’t need it, that Roy could handle any darkness inside him. He shoved into DJ, again and again, until his own climax jetted into that perfect male body.
When DJ came out of the bathroom later, showered and dressed, Roy paused, his second cup of coffee of the morning poised at his lips. “That will work,” he said.
Last night they’d picked up a few more clothes from a Walmart. DJ wore Wranglers, a blue T-shirt with a fishing logo on it, plus the Peterbilt cap Roy had bought at the convenience store. The Wranglers were loose, which was good, since DJ had an unforgettable ass. He wore sneakers that didn’t cost more than thirty bucks.
Just a skinny good old boy, like the young men who went fishing on lazy Sunday afternoons in Roy’s Louisiana childhood. Roy and his brother Redding had been two of them, a long time ago.
DJ’s eyes were haunted and tired, but he seemed on a decent keel today. He glanced at the trash can. “Pete suggested I sell my hair for charity.”
“I take it you didn’t agree?”
“It seemed creepy, knowing my hair was in the possession of a bunch of people I don’t really know. My DNA.”
“Probably a good call.”
“Where are we going today?”
“Figure we’d just juke around a bit. There’s a good botanical garden outside Charlotte. With your love of nature, you’ll like it. We can pick up some lunch there. We’ll find another hotel to keep moving around. Tonight we’re going here.” Roy handed him his phone so DJ could take a look.
“The Rocking Duck?”
“Two friends of mine are playing there. It’s a hole in the wall place, kind of like your early gigs.”
Roy could tell the “push away” part of DJ wanted to suggest something else, but a promising hint of interest was pulling him toward the idea.
“Are they any good, or is this a ‘show up to support a friend’ kind of thing?”
“I’ll let you decide.”
