Page 133 of Naughty Dreams
DJ’s expression showed surprise and pleasure. “How else would I go?”
While Roy appreciated his response, his job as a Master was to make his less experienced partner aware of the options.
“You could go as a guest, like me. Watch and decide what you want to do or be once you were there. I could be your guide, instead of your Dom.”
DJ tensed. “So if I saw a Dom offering something I want to do more, I could brush you off and go hang with him?”
As Roy considered how to respond to that, DJ abruptly pushed against him. “Get off of me.”
His voice was so raw Roy didn’t hesitate to comply, not wanting to make the kid feel trapped. He had second thoughts when DJ turned on him like a wounded badger. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
Roy slid on his sleep shorts. “I wasn’t suggesting I’d be handing you off to someone. I was about to explain?—”
“Gee, thanks.” DJ yanked on his pajama bottoms. “I’m glad you wouldn’t pass me around to any dick that wanted my ass.”
“Dory,” Roy snapped. “Shut up and listen to me.”
DJ’s color was high, eyes flashing, but Roy’s tone got through. He backed up to the dresser and propped against it like a stiff broomstick.
“You told me you haven’t had much of a chance to explore the different options out there,” Roy said evenly. “What I was about to explain is if there’s a Dom doing something you’re interested in trying, and it’s not something I know how to do, you don’t have to worry I’ll get my shorts in a twist over it. I’ll make surethey know how to play safe, and I’ll watch over you the whole time.”
“Oh.” DJ seemed to be waffling over whether he needed to be mad or not. Then he set his jaw. “No matter how messy or fucked up it gets, I see this as a relationship. I want to go through those doors tomorrow night as yours, okay? When we were at The Zone, you let me feel what it was like to belong to a Master, to you, in that kind of space. I liked it.”
So had Roy.
“Okay?” DJ repeated, with a touch of impatience.
“Don’t be a brat,” Roy said with a mildness he suddenly wasn’t feeling. And when DJ’s gaze lowered and he looked up at Roy through his long lashes, he had the expression that made Roy want that fine, sweet ass all over again, despite the unsettling issues the short argument raised.
“Just tell me when we walk through those doors, I’m there to be your submissive,” DJ persisted. “No one else’s.”
Roy backed him toward the bed with a menacing look. As he shoved him down, he followed him, meeting nose to nose. “I’m about to fuck you for the second time of the morning, before I have myfirstcup of coffee.”
“So you want me more than coffee.” DJ’s lips trembled in a half smile.
Roy considered all the reasons not to say the response that sprang to mind. DJ’s heart was too raw, everything was unbalanced by grief. It would be stupid to go down this road. Irresponsible. Uncontrolled, no telling the outcome. Messy, just as DJ said. Fucked up. They both knew it.
But the vulnerability in DJ’s expression now had been there the first time the Dom and sub vibes had shimmered between them. Long before tragedy had entered DJ’s life.
Roy put his mouth to DJ’s, and spoke against his lips.
“Dory, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole life. Yeah, kid. You’re mine.”
For as long as circumstances allowed it. Roy wouldn’t hold him to more than that. It would ruin the good for now, and there was a lot of good to indulge.
The place Logan’s group used for their dungeon play night was a four-story warehouse in the Charlotte industrial district. When they pulled up, they could see strobing lights on the fourth level, and hear the pump of club music.
“The first three floors are quieter,” Roy said. “The fourth level is for people who want to dance or socialize.”
DJ nodded. Roy was wearing belted black jeans and a white dress shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. The severe monochrome look with his gray eyes, dark hair and intimidating features was in danger of replacing DJ’s biker cop fantasies. Or putting it right alongside them.
Plus he was wearing black cowboy boots under the jeans, which gave him a sauntering, butt-shifting walk that DJ found mesmerizing.
They’d picked up an eye mask for DJ from a costume shop. It was coated with copper-colored glitter, and a short fringe along the bottom edge teased his cheeks and corners of his mouth.
Roy put it on him, adjusting the straps and ribbons to hold it secure. “Not sure you even need it with the hair change, but you look good in it. Draws my attention to your mouth.”
“You’re not wearing one,” DJ said.
