Page 69 of Naughty Dreams
“Oh, fuck…” He turned his head, looking for something, and found Roy’s braced arm, just barely within reach. He pushed his forehead against it, and exposed the side of his neck, his pounding carotid, to Roy’s teeth and lips, the stroke of his tongue. DJ’s hips jerked upward, and he groaned. “Hell…please…”
“Hold,” Roy said. There was a strain in his voice, as well as a calmness that gave DJ everything he wanted. A Master holding the reins, even as he revealed his fierce desire to see what his sub would give him, wanting more and more and more. Wanting all of him.
“You’ll ask permission, DJ. Your orgasms don’t belong to you, do they?”
“No…Sir. I’m trying. But I’m not you.” He quaked at the thought of Roy’s self-control. Fuck, he might never get to climax. What was stranger, he wanted Roy to require that of him. To demand that, as proof of…his devotion. Roywantedhis devotion. To his desires, his command. He wanted toimmersehimself in DJ belonging to him.
DJ could leave the worries behind. Tal, all of it.
Roy moved his hand to the back of DJ’s neck, pressed his forehead to the floor and started to plow, long strokes that were not punishing but agonizing all the same, holding him at the screaming heights of pleasure.
“Now, Dory.”
He spurted into the towel as a whooshing gasp exploded from his lips, like he’d been holding his breath. His hips jerked violently but his body was held in Roy’s strong grip. The cry breaking from his throat was raw. He wanted to feel Roy come too, so he tightened his muscles on that demanding cock. Roy made an approving growl before he began to release, shoving against DJ, the two of them moving together.
He pressed his teeth against Roy’s arm, felt his hot palm against his nape, the slap of his pelvis against his ass, thighs rubbing against him. It took a wonderfully long time before they stopped, because Roy seemed to know just how good it felt to DJ. Or maybe it was just that it felt that damn good to both of them.
When he did stop, DJ was breathing hard, and Roy’s chest was expanding and contracting against his back.
Roy gently toppled them to their sides, his cock still inside DJ. He kept it there, legs up under DJ’s, his ass in the cradle of Roy’s lap. When he reached around to fondle DJ’s sensitive cock, resting against his thigh, DJ nearly whimpered. Roy’s teeth were on his neck again, small bites that would leave temporary marks, but DJ would feel them for a long time afterward. Feel him all over and inside.
He’d had sex plenty of times. This was way beyond that. He knew it was more, even if it was too soon and not advisable to acknowledge it. But he wanted to. Maybe that was stupid, maybe Roy would think that was stupid. Maybe it was…
“Stop thinking. You’re tensing up.” Roy slid his arm around DJ, his other arm beneath his head, giving DJ a pillow. “It’s not just sex, Dory. I don’t do that. But it’s okay. I’ve got you. You don’t need to tell someone what the sky is when you’re both looking at it.”
A pregnant pause ensued as DJ rolled that over in his mind and put it to music. Roy chuckled, the rumble of it vibratingthrough DJ. “I’ll remember that line for you to write down later. Sleep. Take a break.”
DJ pressed his cheek harder against Roy’s firm biceps. The ache he’d carried from the airport was easier. When it returned, as he fully expected it would, he’d go to the studio. Maybe Roy would go with him in an off-duty capacity. That would make it even better.
Either way, it would be all right.
The studio space had the drum kit he’d requested, plus guitar stands for the two he’d brought.
A mini fridge held a few drinks and snacks. A TV mounted in an upper corner was on, but muted and had subtitles for the decades old sitcom it was showing, the kind that ran back-to-back for daytime TV watchers.
Maybe Cole, the sound engineer, had been watching it. He gave DJ a wave through the control booth viewing glass as DJ entered the live room. DJ wasn’t planning on putting anything down, but having an engineer was useful if DJ wanted to hear a playback, or have him add in some sounds.
Roy went into the sound booth and took his usual spot there, leaning against the back wall in that position he seemingly could hold for decades, nothing moving but his eyes. Total attention on his one focus. DJ.
It’s not just sex, Dory.
The best news he’d gotten all day.
DJ sat down behind the drums. There were several types of sticks to choose from. As he picked up a set, he remembered the first time Tal had played with him, Steve and Pete. Back when the gigs they played mainly wanted covers of existing songs.
Cole was already set up for the music Survival liked to use for warm-ups, so DJ didn’t anticipate a problem with his request.
“Give me everything but the drums from ‘Where The Streets Have No Name?’ U2?”
“You want the vocals, too?”
“Yeah. I’m just doing drums.”
“You got it.”
DJ’s fingers twitched over the guitar riff so well executed by The Edge, U2’s lead guitarist, but then his hands closed on the sticks, and he started in on the opening drum fill. He closed his eyes, and let his mind join the flow of the music, carrying the memories it brought.
Tal had shown up before their gig at a dive bar in Wadesboro, North Carolina. The bartender had known they were looking for a drummer and recommended Tal, so DJ told him to tell Tal to meet them there.
