by Sean Michael
“I want to go home,” he cried. Too bad he didn’t know where that was exactly.
“Can I take you to my home instead of the apartment you live in? I don’t want you to be alone. I don’t want you to be in a place that Marc has made unsafe.”
He caught himself nodding. “Do you think he’ll be okay after work? He’s a turd, but he’s my friend.”
“As long as I’m the only one he’s told the address to, probably. Does he have somewhere else he can stay?” Champ raised his hand as a taxi approached, and it stopped in front of them.
“Our buddy Jamie. He and his husband Alan are good friends.” He let Champ put him in the taxi.
“Then call him and tell him to go to their place.” Champ offered over his phone before giving the taxi driver an address.
“I’ve got my phone, but thank you.” He texted Marc a few quick lines.
Damn it, why was Marc still being an idiot?
He sighed and put his phone down. “He won’t listen to me. I’m going to have to head to the apartment at nine.” Dammit.
“Hrm. I have a couple of friends I had to fend off when I first read Marc’s ad. A couple of Daddies who are looking for a boy of their own. We could send them instead.”
“I—I don’t know. Can I think about it?” His heart was going a million miles a minute.
“Of course. It’s hours away from now. I can even introduce you to Berny and France before then. After Daddy takes care of you.” Champ tugged him close again, holding him.
“I’m sorry. I just…” He squeezed his eyes closed. What was wrong with him?
“Shh. I have you, boy. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.” A gentle kiss landed on the top of his head.
“This has been the strangest afternoon.” That was the biggest understatement of the year.
“I’m hoping it’s going to be the best afternoon you’ve ever had, but that every day after is even better.”
“I can’t believe I—” He shook his head and hid his face in his hands.
“What? That you trusted your instincts and came with me? I’m glad you did.”
“I just don’t know how I— This isn’t like me.” Not at all. None.
“But we have a special bond. You shine to me. Like literally.”
“We don’t know each other yet. You don’t know if I like pizza or if I fart in bed.”
“You glow, boy. Literally.”
“I don’t. I mean, I’m a little pale, but not glowing.”
Champ shook his head. “You don’t understand. In my eyes, you glow. You’re special.”
And Stephen would bet this beautiful man said that to every new sub, believed it. He knew better.
“You look skeptical. I still want to know who hurt you so badly.” Champagne leaned forward as the taxi pulled up in front of a very ritzy-looking apartment building, and gave the driver money. “Come on, boy. Let me show you my home.”
“It’s gorgeous on the outside.” He smiled, telling himself that this wasn’t like a Criminal Minds episode.
“Thank you. I own it with a couple of friends—the ones that I’m going to introduce you to in order to send them to look after Marc later today.”
Definitely like Criminal Minds. And still, he found Champ comforting, beautiful.
In other words, he’d lost his mind.
“Daddy’s not going to hurt you, boy.” Champ opened the door for him.
“I’m too old and too willful for anyone to be my daddy.” Too broad across the shoulders. Too determined. Too him.
“There’s no such thing. Being a challenge isn’t a problem.”
He shrugged, not sure what to say. He’d been told, in no uncertain terms, and his ego simply wasn’t strong enough to handle it again.
Champ growled, but it didn’t feel like it was directed at him. Of course, it totally could have been.
“I’m on the thirteenth floor. Well, technically the thirteenth and fourteenth. Yes, we have a thirteenth floor. It’s my lucky number.”
“Mine too. My birthday is on the thirteenth. So is Marc’s.” He was January thirteenth; Marc was February.
“Well then, you know how good a number it can be. And I’ll remember that—about your birthday.” Champ led him to an elevator that needed a key to open. He’d seen that on television, but it was cooler in reality.
The key was needed on the inside of the elevator too. And he wasn’t sure, but it seemed like the fixtures and decorations were covered in gold.
“It’s lovely. I mean, seriously. This is gorgeous.”
“Thank you. My place has one super-fancy room like this and the rest is far more homey. I think you’ll like it. I hope you will.”
“If you’re happy, that’s what’s important. It’s your home. I’m sure it’s beautiful.”
“It is. But I want you to like it too. It’s important to me.”
What on earth do you say to that? Seriously?
The elevator came to a stop and opened up into not a hall with a lot of apartments, but a front hall, and the hall was as fancy as the elevator. There was a single door that opened into what was indeed super-fancy.
“Do you share with your friends?” It was lovely and perfect, but not uncomfortable.
“We each have our own floors. The thirteenth and fourteenth are mine.” They walked through the elegant room Champ had talked about—it was all whites and golds with fancy furniture that seemed to be for looking at rather than sitting in.
“I’d be scared to touch any of that. I’m always dyeing something or painting something and I’d hate to leave paint or dye on any of it.”
“You’ll like the rest of the place better. As I said, there’s only one fancy room for show.” They went through a door on the other side of the room and it opened up into a lovely room that had high ceilings and windows running from the floor to the ceiling. The furniture was solid and leather and covered in heavy blankets. There was a fireplace, a wet bar, and a great view.
“Welcome to my home, boy.” Champ held his hand and led him toward the amazing couch. Huge cushions, solid, comfy-looking.
“It’s lovely.” Champ sat and pulled him down on the sofa, tucking him right in next to Champ’s side. He tried not to think about how he seemed to fit absolutely perfectly right there.
Champ leaned down and brushed his lips against Stephen’s hair, and it was the strangest sensation, and he felt it along his spine.
“You really are lovely. Now, tell me how I can help. Tell me who hurt you.”
“It doesn’t matter. Honestly. It was…I just…It’s embarrassing.”
“I promise not to laugh.” Champ looked so serious, like this was important.
Okay, just fess up, for fuck’s sake. “My last two Doms, plus my then-current one, showed up at my house for an intervention. When it was over, I was alone, packing my room, and looking for an affordable place to stay.”
Champ’s jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open for a moment. “That is a terrible thing to do to anyone, let alone your sub. What on earth could they have needed to ‘intervene’ about?”
“They wanted me to know that I wasn’t the kind of boy that was satisfying, that they had discussed me, and I wasn’t fixable.” And now he wanted to go home. “Can you please point me toward your restroom?”
He could call an Uber from there.
“Of course—but first you have to know that that was not acceptable behavior from a Daddy. That was cruel and uncalled for and was in no way meant to help you but to cover their own faults.”
“For one man, sure, but all three? If everyone sa
ys the same thing, then it’s me.” He sighed, then shook himself. “The lifestyle’s not for me. I’m not a good boy.”
“You just didn’t have the right Daddy,” Champ insisted. “Were any of your Doms Daddies? Or were they just Doms?”
“They were Doms, I guess? I mean…I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m just sick about it.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you, Stephen.” Champ gathered him close, giving him a strong, warm hug. Then Champ kissed him, lips pressing against his.
Stephen blinked up, shocked as hell. Seriously, was this happening? It wasn’t brutal or rough, just a sweet, slow, gentle kiss, and he relaxed into it. Champ hummed, lips moving against his. Eventually, his tongue slid along Stephen’s lips, wet and warm. Maybe it was okay—not to have a relationship or a scene, but some mutual snuggles.
He opened up when Champ’s tongue slid across his lips again, letting Champ in.
“Good boy.” The whisper seemed to fill his mind. “My good, good boy.”
A low moan followed the words, Champ’s tongue sliding along his, leaving behind the taste of sweet and tart, and finding him wanting more.
“Oh. That was…thank you.” He moaned and leaned in.
“It was my pleasure, boy.” Champ slid a hand down along Stephen’s back, eliciting warm tingles all the way down.
Talk about calming him down in a breath. He sighed, his eyelids going heavy. Champ kissed the top of his head.
“I’m so glad you confided in me. You need to know you aren’t at fault. It was totally on those men and their insecurities.”
He nodded and leaned in, suddenly exhausted, like someone had eased a huge pain from his heart.
“I have you,” Champ told him, letting him lean, tugging him in closer and holding him.
“Sorry. I’m not sleepy. I’m not.” But he was, and he was sinking.
“If you need to rest, you’re safe here, boy. Daddy has you.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” He was safe and warm and there was this song, everywhere.
Safe and warm and asleep.
Chapter Three
Champ held his boy while he slept, gently stroking his back over and over. Meanwhile, inside, he was seething. How dare anyone who called themselves a Dom be so cruel and mean to a sub. Ganging up on him, making him feel less than. Just because they couldn’t give Stephen what he needed didn’t mean the fault lay with Stephen. Just the opposite in fact.
He managed not to growl or tense, but only because he didn’t want to interrupt Stephen’s healing.
He could hear Stephen’s dreams, the soft thoughts easy and happy, filling the air around them.
He closed his eyes and took one breath after another, letting those dreams ease his anger, bring him the same peace. His boy might fight it, but his unconscious mind knew.
He couldn’t believe that he’d found someone who sang to him, finally. He had been with many men, but he’d only seen men who called to him a few times. And never like this, with such clarity, such brightness.
He hummed, singing with the music that danced between them.
Stephen crawled into his lap, murmuring in his sleep. Sweet, sweet boy.
He held Stephen against him, cheek on his boy’s head. Oh, the things they would do together.
Stephen’s dreams turned dark, embarrassment and shame tinging his boy’s song. He growled, pushing his happiness at finding Stephen toward his boy, attempting to ease his dreams again.
Stephen gasped, breath speeding. “Oh please.”
“Daddy has you, Stephen. I have you.” He pressed kisses over Stephen’s face.
His boy woke, mismatched eyes fascinating him, so unique except that he had the same different colored eyes.
He offered Stephen a warm smile. “Welcome back, boy.”
“Did I fall asleep on you? I’m…I’m in your lap.”
“You are. I didn’t do it, I swear. I did, however, let you.”
“I don’t mean to be so forward.” Still, Stephen didn’t shift away.
“I’m not in the least bit upset about where you’ve wound up.” He slid his hands up and down along Stephen’s back, loving the way that seemed to intensify the feelings of closeness between them—there was something tying them together and this just made it stronger. He wished that Stephen could see how they fit, how Stephen’s aura shone for him.
“You’re warm. I mean, you know you’re warm, but…you are.”
“I’m glad you think so.” He pressed a kiss on Stephen’s nose and slid one hand beneath the pert little ass.
Stephen took a deep breath, responding beautifully. “Tell me I can stay right here for a minute.”
“You can stay right here as long as you like. I think you fit perfectly.” He squeezed Stephen’s ass gently.
Instead of pulling away, Stephen eased down into his hands. He brought their mouths together again, eager for a taste, but keeping it easy, giving his boy love.
They had eons to discover things, right now, his boy needed to be built up, defended, adored, made to feel as amazing and wonderful as he was.
He licked his way into Stephen’s mouth, tasting the sweetness there. Stephen opened up, his boy eager and wanting him. It was gratifying that no matter what else was going on, Stephen was attracted to him.
He slid their tongues together, humming and pleased. His boy sighed for him, eyelids going heavy.
Groaning, he tugged Stephen into him, their cocks pressing together. Stephen’s heat felt perfect against his own.
Stephen searched his eyes, the look curious, then his boy relaxed against him. Smiling, he rolled his hips, glad to have passed whatever test Stephen had put him through.
“You’re big. You make me hungry.”
“You can eat me any time you like, boy.”
He could see Stephen trying to decide what to do, whether to take him up on his offer. He rolled their hips together. If his boy didn’t want a taste, they could rub off together instead. Either way, they were both going to come this afternoon.
Stephen pulled away from him, easing next to him on the sofa. Smart boy, because the sofa was too tall to kneel and suck him.
He slid his hand around the back of Stephen’s head, bringing their mouths together again, groaning deep in his chest as Stephen dared to cup his cock.
It felt like electricity was shooting through him, lighting up his entire body just from that single touch. He might not survive Stephen’s mouth. He opened his slacks but left it to Stephen to work him free of his silk boxers.
His boy’s touch made him shudder and whimper. It felt so fucking good, like nothing he’d ever felt before—and he’d felt a lot.
“This is okay? You’re good.” Stephen rubbed him, base to tip.
“Uh-huh.” He licked his lips, his breath huffing from him.
“If I do it wrong, I’ll stop.” Stephen leaned down, opening wide to take him in, tongue sliding over his slit.
“Fuck!” He bucked as sensation exploded through him. He sat back, panting. Stephen’s tongue flicked and pushed, his boy almost demanding his need.
He had been planning to ask if there was such a thing as doing a blowjob wrong, but now that Stephen’s mouth was in contact with his cock, all he could do was moan and groan.
His boy bobbed over him, fingers working at the base, jacking him as he sucked.
He dropped a hand to Stephen’s head, stroking through the silky, heavy hair. The touch made Stephen groaned, and he felt that, all through his prick.
His toes curled, his fingers tugging on Stephen’s hair for a moment before he managed to catch his breath again. “How… how do I taste, boy?”
Stephen’s answer was a hard, firm suck, right at the tip. That had him moaning again, a shiver going through him. His balls were up tight against his body, aching.
Stephen groaned, fingers working his sac, rolling and rubbing.
“Gonna make me shoot,” he warned. He’d never been so quick off the mark, but he’
d also never experienced the tingles that Stephen’s fingers left behind.
Stephen took him as deep as he could, and then he swallowed, over and over.
“Stephen!” he shouted, stars sparking behind his eyes as he came down Stephen’s throat.
Stephen took him in, groaning around his cock, the suction gradually easing.
He purred and petted Stephen’s head. “So good, boy.”
He watched Stephen’s cheek heat, saw the mix of pleasure, need, and confusion.
“You’re needing. What do you want?” He would suck his boy off. He believed in rewards for good behavior.
“I can take care of myself, Sir. Thank you.” His boy rubbed himself through his jeans.
“No. That belongs to Daddy.”
Stephen stared up at him, wide-eyed, arousal flashing in his eyes. “Oh.”
“That’s right. I’ll take care of you.” He carefully worked down Stephen’s zipper.
“Oh. Oh thank you.” Stephen groaned and licked his lips, staring up at him.
Bending, he licked those same lips, groaning at the hint of himself in Stephen’s mouth.
Stephen gasped and arched into him, sweet cock hard as a rock. He slid his fingers along it, tracing the hot head, the skin tight around the swollen bulb. Then, because of how Stephen had worked him, he started dragging his thumb through the slit.
The sweet cries that filled the air made him hard again, Stephen’s need arousing, addictive.
“Hungry boy,” he growled, rubbing in again. He pressed his thumb harder, scraping the edge of his nail along Stephen’s slit-lip.
Stephen gasped, arching under his touch.
“You like a little zing with your pleasure.” It wasn’t a question. He knew, so it didn’t matter that Stephen didn’t actually answer.
He hit that sweet little bit of skin with his nail again.
“I—” Stephen almost crawled into his lap, eyes wide and burning with need.
He brought their mouths together, wanting to feel that need wrapped in Stephen’s lips. His boy moaned for him, sounds shared between them.