by Lynn Stark
“I think I can stand here and not be seen,” he told Deacon with a giggle. “You couldn’t. You’re too tall. If people can see me, they’ll just think I’m not wearing a shirt.”
“Or they could guess you’re naked. They might not be able to prove it, but their imaginations will be going wild.” Deacon knew his was, and he was able to see Neville fully from his distinct vantage point of being in the apartment with the delectable man.
A frown dipped Neville’s brows. “I guess I could wear a shirt.”
Deacon didn’t know if he should laugh or groan. Imagining Neville wearing nothing but a shirt was actually naughtier than him being naked. “You do whatever makes you feel comfortable, baby. It is your apartment. Now, I’m going to go wash up. Then I’ll help you move the rest of your stuff from the studio.” They had talked about what needed to be moved as they had carted all of his belongings from the house.
“No hurry. You know, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me, so if you want to go naked, too, that’s fine by me.”
That sounded like a good idea to Deacon. First, however, he was going to walk around the square to be certain no one could see Neville as he enjoyed his personal freedom in his apartment. There were only two buildings across the square of the same height, but they weren’t directly across from the gallery.
“It’s fine by me, too,” Deacon told him, giving him one last admiring glance before heading to the bathroom. He washed away the sleep and dried his face. Then he was walking back out into the main living area and heading to where his coat was hung on a peg by the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t be mooning anyone.”
“Or shaking the pickle?” Neville snickered and waved as Deacon opened the door.
“Someone needs a spanking.”
When Neville went spontaneously red all over, Deacon knew he’d just discovered something. His little love had a kinky side.
“I’ll be back,” he repeated and left the apartment and then the building, pleased when the doors closed and locked behind him.
Deacon crossed the square and went from one end to the other, looking at the top floor apartment from all angles. Once he had finished that, he walked across the green by way of one of the cleared sidewalks. He stopped at the edge of the green and looked up at the loft windows. He grinned when he saw Neville standing there, waving excitedly as he did so. Deacon lifted a hand and waved back. Fortunately from this angle, nothing below Neville’s mid-chest was visible.
“Does he have any clothes on?” a deep voice asked beside him.
Shit. It was his boss, the sheriff. “Hey, Tim, how’s it going?”
“It’s going well. You didn’t answer my question. Is Neville wearing anything below the waist?”
“Does it make a difference? Nobody can see anything, unless they were sitting in one of the larger trees, and you know as well as anybody that it’s illegal to climb them.”
There was a pause, and then Tim asked, “Is it true you moved from your house to the loft with Neville last night?”
“It’s true. The furnace croaked and the water lines burst. That was it for me. Neville very kindly offered to let me stay with him, until I find somewhere else to live.”
They crossed the street, careful to stay between the lines. Jaywalking was frowned upon. When they reached the other side, Deacon and Tim faced each other. “Do you really believe you’ll be moving out? Neville’s as perfect for you as Bobby and Ruby are for me.”
“Better, probably,” Deacon teased. “Neville doesn’t need his nails done every day. Nor does he need a paddle covered in crystals.”
Tim wasn’t offended. One of his two partners was a high-maintenance drag queen and something of a diva at times. Everyone knew it. Still, Ruby Sullivan had a heart of gold, and everyone loved her. Laughing, Tim nodded. “I wouldn’t have either of my men any different. I doubt there’s anything you would change about Neville.”
“Not a thing,” he agreed. “Tell Bobby and Ruby I said hi. Now, I better get back before he does find some trouble to get into.”
What Deacon discovered was that while he was gone, Neville had done a portrait in watercolors of his erect cock and hairless balls.
“Suitable for framing, don’t you think?” Neville asked, standing back as if he was admiring his own junk.
“Suitable to earn you a spanking, you mean. Come here, Neville. Put yourself across my lap.” Deacon sat down and waited, wondering if Neville would be bold enough to take it to the next step. The portrait of his dick was a huge clue that he might want more with Deacon, but making actual physical contact was what Deacon needed as proof. “Come here, now. Don’t disobey me. You might not like the punishment.”
Neville tipped his head to one side and looked at him curiously. “What kind of punishment?”
Deacon would never do anything to physically hurt Neville. He would enjoy giving the man an occasional spanking, maybe tie him up and fuck him, but not much more than that. Just enough to add a little spice to their sex lives—when they got one.
“I could get you up, keep you up for hours, and never let you come.”
“That wouldn’t be any fun. But, what else you got?”
Ballsy little fellow, Deacon thought, pleased. He doubted a life with Neville would ever be boring. It was something he hoped for.
“We’re wasting time, Neville. If you don’t want to find out what else I’ve got, and you really don’t, put yourself over my knee.”
The pause was a short one. Neville put aside those things he was holding and walked barefoot across the space between them. Deacon admired the man’s erect dick. It had been hard since they had begun talking about punishments. Clear liquid glistened as it slid from the slit in the plump, purplish head. Neville had expertly captured his aroused flesh in the portrait. Deacon wanted to stroke the shaft and trace the thick veins winding around it, but knew that would have to wait.
Deacon patted his thigh. “What’s it to be, baby? Pleasure or punishment?” Neville’s cock jumped toward his flat belly, and pre-cum leaked from the tip. “If you choose to be a good boy, we can go to Totally Discreet and choose some toys we can play with together.”
The man didn’t waste any more time. Neville draped himself over Deacon’s lap, offering up the twin rounded globes of his sexy ass. Deacon’s cock, already hard and throbbing by this time, began to hurt in a way he’d never experienced. It seemed this man could take him to a new level. That wasn’t a bad thing. It made Neville special.
The flat of his hand connected with Neville’s ass. A howl of shock rent the air. Deacon chuckled and sharply slapped the other mound before Neville could recover. He watched as the prints of his hand turned bright red. The skin was warming as he smoothed each mound with his palm. Neville moaned and pushed his ass up and against Deacon’s hand.
“The sheriff wanted to know if you were naked up here.”
“What’s it matter to him? He couldn’t see anything.”
Deacon’s lips twitched. Neville was purposely continuing to be a brat. It told Deacon he wanted more and that they were on the right track. Instead of continuing the spanking, he held off for a moment. Using the tip of his finger, he traced the groove between the mounds, laughing softly as Neville groaned and began to hump his erection against Deacon’s thigh.
He pressed his left hand between Neville’s shoulder blades. “Settle down. Let me play.” A whimper reached his ears as Deacon found the tight rosette of the man’s asshole. “I think the first thing we’ll buy is a dildo. After I spank you, I’ll keep you here on my lap and fuck you with it until you’re begging me to let you come.”
More whimpers. Almost a steady stream of them. Neville tried to push back against Deacon’s finger, but he held him down firmly. As he felt the muscles loosen slightly, he pushed a finger in to the first knuckle. It was no more than another tease.
“Oh! You’re an evil, evil man!” Neville shouted when Deacon continued to tease without penetrating his dar
k channel any farther. Hands gripped his leg, pulled at it, desperately trying to convey how needy he was. “More! Deacon! Please!”
The shouting continued. Deacon swirled the tip of his finger around in the ring of muscles. It took every bit of control he possessed to not pull his jeans down to his knees and plant Neville on his cock. There had to be some finesse. He wasn’t an animal, and he was beyond fucking without thinking of anyone but himself. And Neville was like no other man he had been with before. Neville had a place in Deacon’s heart.
“Oh, hell!” Neville wailed as he came, his body jerking, the muscles of his hole clamping tight around Deacon’s finger. It went on for several seconds. The scent of cum reached his nose. Neville moaned and shuddered, finally becoming quiet and still.
Deacon pulled his finger free and turned Neville over on his lap. He held him close, cuddling as he recovered. By this time Neville was as limp as a noodle. His eyes were closed, and there was a smile curving his lips.
“How are you doing?” he asked after a couple of minutes.
“Good.” Neville sighed. “Real good. I hope we can have more fun later. Right now, I need to take a nap.”
Chuckling, Deacon stood with Neville in his arms. “I’ll tuck you into bed. You can take a nap while I start lunch.” They hadn’t eaten that long ago, but he was hungry again.
He also needed to change his jeans. Simply wiping the cum off of them wasn’t an option. Deacon carried Neville to his room and placed him on the bed.
Lids opened and bright green eyes looked up at him. “What about you? You had some serious wood going on.”
“Later, baby. After lunch, we’ll visit Totally Discreet. Have you been there before?”
“No, but I’ve heard things. There’s a lot of kinky stuff, isn’t there?”
Deacon nodded and grinned. “Yeah, there is. We’ll look around, get a couple of things, and then we’ll take care of my wood tonight.”
“The waiting is going to kill me,” Neville said before yawning hugely. He flopped back on the bed he had made when he’d gotten up. Deacon had noticed how neat Neville liked things. It was something they had in common. “Wake me up in about twenty minutes. A power nap is all I need.”
As he left the room and closed the door, Deacon shook his head. His brat was a lightweight. Well, that was okay. Deacon had plans that would make Neville want to stay awake all night.
When Deacon returned to Neville’s bedroom twenty minutes later, it was to find the man flat out on his back, with his arms and legs spread wide. His mouth was open, and he was snoring softly.
Deacon hated to wake him. He obviously needed the sleep. But as Deacon stood there and debated whether he should give Neville another twenty minutes, his eyes opened and he sat up, stretching and yawning as he did so. It was as if someone had flipped a switch. Neville turned his head and looked at Deacon, smiling as he did so.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“I came in to wake you, but you did a pretty good job of it yourself.”
Neville nodded as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Deacon took advantage of the moment, admiring the man from head to toe. “I usually do. You were my backup. I didn’t want to be late for a visit to a sex store. So, why don’t I go take a shower before we go out?”
“There’s no rush. The food is almost done. Is there anything else to be moved from the studio?”
“There’s only what I left in the closet. That consists of two or three boxes of supplies. And I want to clean. Once everything is out, it’ll free some space for someone else.” He looked around the open loft space. “It’s going to be so nice to be able to live and work in the same place.”
“I’m glad you got the chance to do this. Now, are you planning to put some pants on for lunch?” Deacon repeated dryly, earning a giggle from the brat. He would never be able to forget the hastily painted watercolor of Neville’s penis.
He swatted Neville’s ass as the man tried to hurry past him. There was a squawk and a laugh, telling Deacon that Neville enjoyed this kind of play. It was a good thing, because Deacon liked it, too.
Neville was showered and dressed within ten minutes. They ate the grilled chicken salad Deacon had prepared, along with a hunk of a French baguette. Deacon loved freshly made bread and had called over to the bakery for it. One of the employees had delivered to the rear entry door of the gallery. The scent of the fresh bread had brought Marley from her office, along with her youngest child, a three-year-old boy. Deacon had grinned as he saw their hopeful expressions. The boy’s tiny hands lifted, and he tore off a piece of the bread and handed it to him. Then it was Marley’s turn.
“Thank you, Deacon. Tell Deacon thank you, Mikey.”
“Thank you.” The words were mumbled around a mouthful of bread. Pieces of bread were sticking between his teeth as he smiled up at Deacon.
“See you around, cowboy.”
Deacon headed to the stairs. “Not a cowboy. I’m the sheriff,” Mikey shouted after him.
“Hush, Mikey. We have to use our indoor voice.”
Yeah, he could see Mikey becoming sheriff in two or three decades. One of Mikey’s fathers, Grayson Evans, had been the sheriff of Silver and the surrounding area for over twenty years. He had only recently retired, so he could fully enjoy life with his wife, husband, and their half-dozen children. Deacon couldn’t blame him. When Grayson was bored he either helped at the gallery or at the toy store his husband owned.
Now Deacon finished off his salad and bread. He got up and carried the dishes to the sink. He scraped off the remnants and placed the dishes in the dishwasher. He jumped in surprise when he felt his ass being gripped firmly.
“You do know how to fill out a pair of jeans,” Neville told him, his voice sounding strained.
Deacon turned, encircling the smaller man with his arms so he could hold him close. “Later, I’ll show you how I can fill something else.”
Chapter Seven
Neville peered through the window at the display of books. He frowned, because they seemed pretty tame to be sold at a sex store. There were heavy gold-and-black striped drapes behind, which he thought were very classy. The glass on the front door was painted gold with the name of the store in three-inch-high, bold black letters on it, along with the hours, as well as a notice that private appointments could be made, in smaller lettering.
Anticipation shivered over Neville’s skin. Deacon didn’t try the door handle. He’d already explained that the door was locked. No one could just walk in off the street. His fingers curled around the driver’s license in his pocket, suspecting that his age would be checked before he was allowed inside. Knowing he appeared younger, he would have to prove he was twenty-three.
The door opened seconds after Deacon pushed the gold buzzer beside it. A tall woman stood there, a smile on her beautiful face. Neville handed her his license when she looked at him with a raised brow. One glance and a nod and she backed up, allowing them entrance to the store. She closed the door behind them. Both Neville and Deacon waited politely until she walked ahead of them, then they followed.
Neville’s head was on a swivel as he looked around at the displays in the store. The farther in they got, the hotter his skin became. Another ten feet and he was sure to spontaneously combust.
“I’m Jessica and, if you like, I can take you through the store. Or you can explore on your own. I’m here to answer any questions. And if you have something specific in mind, and we don’t have it, we can get it for you.”
“What if I want a clear glass butt plug with diamonds and rubies inside of it?”
Jessica smiled. “Entirely possible. Now, do you want the tour?”
“I think we’d like to browse on our own, thank you,” Deacon told her. The hand on Neville’s shoulder urged him forward.
“Thank you, Jessica.” They smiled at each other. A sudden idea occurred to him. “Are you hiring?” Despite wanting to paint full time, he had to work to support his art and he didn’t get
nearly enough hours at the stationary store.
“As a matter of fact, we are. We need someone to stock and to work on the sales floor. Would you like to fill out an application?”
“Yes, I would.”
“When you’re finished shopping, I’ll have it ready for you.”
Neville liked Jessica more with each passing second, which was the exact opposite of how he felt about his present boss. The charming stationary store appeared as if it might be owned by a sweet little old lady, when it was actually owned by a jerk. Almost daily his boss liked to see if he could make Neville miserable. It happened more than Neville liked to admit. It wasn’t in him to stand up to the guy and tell him to shove his crappy job up his ass. Yep, he was a wimp.
Once Neville’s full attention was on what they were doing, he began to turn red again. Deacon didn’t fail to notice. “How are you going to work here, if you look like you’re getting the worst sunburn in history?”
“I’ll manage. It’s better than where I’m working now. Jessica seems nice.”
“Neville, if you’re having problems, I can…”
He lifted his hand as he stared at a pair of itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny boy shorts. They were ice blue and had bright yellow lace panels both front and back. They were beautiful.
“No thank you. As much as I’d like to have you take care of my asshole boss, I just want to move on. I don’t like the job, and I have no plans on allowing someone, or something, to make me miserable. Been there, done that, have the T-shirt.”
When Deacon’s long fingers touched his cheek, Neville couldn’t resist leaning into the caress. “I know you have, baby. Okay, but if anyone lays a hand on you, you’ll let me know, right?” Neville smiled and nodded. “Fine. Now, let’s get down to business. I think you should pick out a couple pairs of those. I like the blue. How about we get the pair in bright raspberry red?”
It was obvious by the time they had made their way around the store, Neville seeing things he had never known existed before, Deacon was determined to encourage Neville’s newly discovered naughty side.