Page 130 of Naughty Dreams
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?”
“You…the condom. Made me remember...” DJ realized he was breathless, and paused to take a necessary inhale before continuing. “Marjorie sits us down all together in the kitchen, says that when we’re in our rooms by ourselves, we’ll do what boys do. So she’d be leaving hand towels and condoms in each of our rooms and expect them to be used so the sheets weren’t having to be washed every day.
“She also said putting on the condoms would be good practice, to make sure we didn’t get some girl pregnant or spread disease. I remember our ears looked redder than that marinara sauce we had tonight.”
Roy stroked his abdomen, brushing DJ’s spent cock with his knuckles. “I can hear her doing it, all practical and straightforward.”
“Oh yeah. Understatement. She said if we forgot more than once, she’d give us extra chores on a day when we had plans to do other, far more fun things. And since that was pretty much every day, we learned the lesson fast. Well, Steve and I did. Pete was never our sharpest pencil in the drawer. Took him three times.”
DJ tilted his head back, brushing Roy’s mouth with his ear. “Want to sit on the roof with me?”
“Naked?”
“I guess we can wear clothes. If you’re feeling shy. Not a lot out there this time of night other than sleepy owls.”
“And mosquitoes that can suck the blood out of your balls.”
“Okay, clothes work.”
They pulled on jeans. Roy decided to wear a shirt while DJ predictably didn’t. He showed Roy how he ducked out of his bedroom window and stepped onto the roof, moving to sit down on the slope and lie back to look up at the stars.
“We did this a lot in the summer. Even slept out here sometimes. One night, Steve had a nightmare and came out of it with a screech that scared all of us. We rolled right off. Just bruised, nothing broken.”
Gauging the steepness of the roof, Roy had to suppress the automatic desire to keep DJ inside, but seeing how familiar DJ was with the terrain, he followed him. It wasn’t a hardship, lying shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the stars. As they did, Roy thought of the night DJ had sung “Stand By Me.”
When he turned his head toward DJ, Roy smelled the scent of their recent love making, plus Roy’s aftershave on DJ’s neck. He noted an abrasion there from his five o’clock shadow, a hint of teeth on DJ’s throat.
At a rat-tat-tat, DJ turned his attention toward the elm tree whose branches shaded a portion of the roof. “Look, a red headed woodpecker. Don’t usually see them foraging after dark.”
“Maybe he wanted a midnight snack.”
“Yeah.” DJ studied the tree. “We carved our band name into the trunk of that one. The full thing. Survival in Grace.”
“Don’t tell your fans. They’ll plan pilgrimages out here and steal pieces of the tree. Marjorie will murder you.”
“We’ve kept her a pretty guarded secret.” DJ looked back toward him. “Though she doesn’t foster anymore, she does occasionally provide a temporary place for a kid who’s been pulled from a bad home.”
Roy was aware Marjorie’s identity was well buried, which was why he’d had few security concerns about coming here. The origin story for the fans and media had always focused on the foster kid angle, not the foster parent. Moss excelled at throwing the press other bones related to their childhood to chase down.
Though they’d talked about her with Leann during the interview, it had been with the understanding that the comments that might point to Marjorie’s identity wouldn’t be used, and Moss and DJ had had final review approval before publication.
