Judgment of the Moon and Stars [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations ManLove)

by Tymber Dalton

  This felt…

  Automatic.

  Natural.

  The boy in his perfect place beneath and under his Sir, ready, willing, and eager to serve him and be used.

  Not just a hot sexual fantasy—an extremely possible reality.

  While Jackson caught his breath he lay there, one hand draped over Noah’s shoulders to keep him in place, the other playing with Noah’s hair. Soft and straight, fine, feeling so perfect between his fingers or between his thighs. The guy wasn’t super hairy, either, just a fine patch across his chest, a faint treasure trail, and he’d apparently shaved his bush and balls.

  Even better.

  He preferred that, because he liked to go down on a guy without spitting out hair. If Jackson shaved too often, he ended up with ingrown hairs, so he’d learned the secret for him was to use clippers and keep it trimmed short enough to be comfortable for all parties.

  If he sat here too long, he was going to fall asleep, and he didn’t want to do that. Not yet.

  He had a sweet virgin ass to spank and fuck. For a split second, the thought of stopping, backing up, and negotiating bareback crossed his mind, but he shoved that out. Not only was it stupid and reckless, it was poor Domming, in his mind. Never change the parameters mid-scene, unless it was to take things off the table. Especially not with a new partner.

  Doubly especially with a new partner who was a newbie to BDSM.

  He patted Noah on the back. “Sit up, baby, and drape yourself over Sir’s lap. Head to my left.”

  Noah’s sweet blue eyes, hints of aqua and grey swirling within them, looked glazed and subspacey. His hard cock bobbed in front of him, brushing against Jackson’s thighs as he stretched out across him.

  Perfect.

  Once the man was positioned, Jackson ran his fingers over his back, squeezed his ass cheeks. “Going to take it easy on you tonight. Next time we play, you’re going to take at least one cane stroke from me, one hard enough to leave a mark across your ass. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Every time we play after this, I expect you to take at least one stroke from an implement that will leave you with a reminder of whose ass this is. If your tolerance builds quickly, you can take more. But I want you to be able to look in the mirror the next morning and see Me on you.”

  Noah’s body undulated against his. “Yes, Sir!”

  “Good boy.” Jackson’s left hand stroked down Noah’s back, up again, finally loosely cupping the back of the man’s neck. “Remember, you can tell me red if you need me to stop.”

  That was the only warning Noah received before Jackson brought down the first smack across the middle of Noah’s right ass cheek, not quite the hardest he could manage, but he wanted to set a tone.

  He eased up a little for the next couple of minutes, mostly lighter strokes that had Noah moaning with need, especially when Jackson moved his left hand and let Noah suck his fingers.

  He picked up the pace, dropping a few impacts along the sensitive crease where ass met thighs, down the backs of his thighs, up again.

  Jackson paused, squeezing his left ass cheek, then his right, digging fingers into his red flesh and soaking up his pitiful sounds that went straight to his own cock and finished hardening him.

  From the way Noah kept trying to rock his hips against him to get traction on his cock, he could tell the guy was enjoying it.

  Holy fuck. He’s perfect.

  Some guys liked a little slap and tickle to spice up the pleasure. Some guys enjoyed a deep level of masochistic pain for their own reasons. That level was achieved either naturally, because something inside them craved it, or they were trained to take it over time, their tolerance slowly built up.

  Then there were the guys who’d never realized what was missing from their lives until they were an adult and felt another adult male’s palm smack their flesh and awaken a dormant, hidden hunger within them.

  From the way Noah was moaning and trying to deep throat Jackson’s hand up to his elbow, he suspected that descriptor fit Noah to a T.

  He easily rolled the man off him and onto his back, and Jackson went down on him, firmly encircling the base of Noah’s cock with his fingers and pressing against the underside to help him hold back his release.

  “Don’t you dare come yet, boy. This is just a reward for being so good for your first spanking.”

  Noah didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. Jackson chuckled when they finally settled on his head and gripped his hair, trying to coax him into going harder, faster.

  But he refused to be rushed. The guy was obviously enjoying his first time, and Jackson wanted this memory so deeply seared in the man’s mind that, when they talked in the morning, Noah would want more of him.

  Please let him live south of St. Pete.

  If the guy was from up in Pasco, or father north, or lived over in Orlando or something, that would suck and limit their time together to the weekends.

  And Jackson wanted more from this man.

  He wanted all of him, all to himself.

  That scared the hell out of him.

  * * * *

  Noah gasped, needy and desperate, when Jackson released his cock and sat up wearing that sexy-ass smile. “Let’s see how tight you are.” He grabbed the lube and shoved Noah’s thighs wider apart, one finger easily spearing his technically virgin rim and slowly fucking him.

  He pulled his legs back for Jackson, holding them behind his knees as Jackson smiled down at him.

  “You have been playing with yourself.”

  “I have a couple of butt plugs I use.”

  “Excellent.” He worked him up to two fingers, scissoring them inside him, a little bit of pleasant, pinchy burn that quickly dissolved when Jackson slowly stroked his cock for him with not quite enough pressure to give him traction to come.

  Three fingers made Noah gasp and whine, but again, Jackson took his time and made it pleasurable, until Noah found himself begging to be fucked.

  Jackson wiped his hand and grabbed a condom, ripping the pouch open and deftly rolling it down his shaft. “You don’t come before I tell you to, boy,” he said as he slathered it with lube.

  He nudged in between Noah’s thighs, one hand holding Noah’s knee, the other the base of his cock as he pressed against his rim.

  “You want it?” Jackson asked, his heavy-lidded gaze pinning Noah in place.

  “Yes, Sir! Please fuck me!”

  He pressed forward, the head slowly breaching Noah’s ass. Jackson let go of his cock and held Noah’s other knee, pressing them back and apart, toward Noah’s chest, opening him even further and rolling his spine as his hips tipped back.

  “We are going to have so much fun together,” Jackson promised. “I’m going to teach you everything and keep you so satisfied you’ll never want to leave.”

  Noah believed it, too. He groaned as his ass stretched to accommodate Jackson’s cock, about as big as his largest butt plug at its widest point, but Jackson’s cock was that thick all the way down his eight inches, head to root. And as every inch of that gorgeous hunk of meat slowly impaled him, the world disappeared. He no longer heard the dance music or the noise of the crowd outside. All he heard was the sound of Jackson’s breath as he sucked in, gritting his teeth.

  “Damn, baby, you are fucking tight.”

  Noah wanted all of him, now.

  Needed him, needed this, the promise of everything he could have with this man if only it worked out between them.

  Noah gasped, needy, wanting to come and his throbbing cock leaking a steady stream of pre-cum all over his stomach as Jackson took his time seating his cock balls-deep inside him. Only when Noah felt the man’s thighs pressed against his still-stinging asscheeks did he gulp in another full breath.

  Jackson sat up and pulled Noah’s feet over his shoulders, smiling down at him. “Part of me wants to take my time and make this last for hours with you. Part of me wants to plow you hard and make you totally mine so I n
ever have to share you.”

  He found himself nodding. One of his hottest fantasies had been his first guy pounding him into the mattress as he begged to come. “Please, Sir!”

  Jackson leaned in and kissed him, slowly taking a stroke out and in again. “Beg me, baby.”

  He begged as if his life depended on it, not even sure what he was saying, caught up in Jackson’s pleased gaze as the man slowly stroked his cock inside Noah’s ass.

  Finally, Jackson braced his hands on the mattress, on either side of Noah’s head, and picked up the pace. “Grab your cock and let me hear you come for me.”

  Noah snaked a hand between them, wrapped his fingers around his cock, and pounded it as hard and fast as he could in the tight space between them. It didn’t take him long, either, with Jackson now really fucking him, every jolt driving him a little up the bed and shaking his whole body with pleasure.

  He felt every stroke as his body tightened around the cock plowing his ass, pleasure drawing up into his balls before his cock erupted. Hot cum filled his hand, splashed and smeared between them.

  Jackson gasped. “Fuck yeah, I felt that!” He dug in, fucking him even harder and moaning as he fell still buried deep inside him. His lips covered Noah’s, kissing him, sucking, licking, his breath warm across Noah’s flesh.

  After catching their breaths, they cleaned up in the shower, and then Jackson shoved him back onto the bed and showed him what receiving a blowjob from another guy felt like.

  Drained and fully sated, and draped across this man, Noah fell asleep with Jackson’s pulse throbbing in his ear and wondering if he’d just found his soul mate.

  Chapter Five

  Jackson wasn’t sure what time it was, but Noah lay draped over his chest when the noise of a goddamned cell phone going off rousted him from a sound sleep. Immediately, Noah stumbled out of bed and tripped his way through the darkened room over to the dresser.

  “What’s going on?” Jackson asked.

  “Work. And it’s probably bad if they’re calling me.” Noah got his hands on the glowing, screeching, vibrating cell and answered. “Mayes.”

  Now barely conscious, Jackson reached, fumbled, and finally put hands on the bedside light, snapping it on and squinting in the sudden brightness as Noah stood there, horror washing over his features, one hand rubbing at his forehead.

  My boy.

  “Dammit. How many casualties? …Oh, no. Oh, god, no…”

  Noah started moving, asking other questions in a clipped, professional tone and now sounding wide awake. He held the phone propped between his cheek and shoulder as he grabbed clothes from his bag and started pulling on briefs, jeans, one-handedly donning a collared, short-sleeved pullover with an embroidered logo on it as he swapped his phone from one ear to the other, grabbing other stuff off the dresser and shoving it into his bag.

  The jingle of car keys.

  “I’m on my way to Ringling now. ETA about forty-five minutes. Call me back with updated stats ASAP. Especially casualty updates.”

  He hung up and rushed over to the bathroom, not even shutting the door as Jackson heard him peeing. Then Noah was at the vanity, turning on the light there, washing his hands and splashing water on his face.

  Jackson struggled to wake up and process. “What’s wrong?”

  “Explosion. Gotta go, sorry. At least four confirmed dead, two dozen injured, and over a dozen missing. It took out a nearby electrical substation. Everyone else is up in Tallahassee this weekend, and I’m on call.”

  He hurried over to the bed and kissed Jackson. “Thank you. Last night was amazing, Sir. I’ll send you my info so we—” His phone went off again and he answered it, keys in his hand and bag over his shoulder as he ran for the door.

  “Mayes. Where’s my updates? Did someone page out Public Works’ communications department? … Do we have the Red Cross spokesman—”

  And…

  The door was already slamming shut behind Noah before Jackson thought to call out to him.

  Jackson sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, trying to process, trying to think.

  Dammit.

  He was not a morning person.

  At all.

  He sat there rubbing at his eyes before staggering to his feet and to the bathroom to pee.

  He didn’t know what the hell Noah did for a living, but if what little Jackson had heard from this end of things wasn’t garbled in his brain because of sleep, it sounded like he was an important guy and it was a fucking emergency.

  He found his own cell and realized it was only four a.m.

  Motherfucker.

  No wonder he couldn’t brain yet.

  He turned off the lights and lay back down, exhausted and sleepy and no way he was going to try to stumble to his own room…

  * * * *

  Fortunately, Noah didn’t need gas. He put his phone in speaker mode as he aimed for the entrance ramp to I-275 at the south end of US 19 so he could talk while he drove. As the deputy county administrator for Sarasota County, and with everyone else out of town, this was now his shitshow to manage and run.

  From what the sheriff’s office could piece together, a group of asshole illegal street racers had an accident. One of the cars flipped and rolled, right through the fence of a propane company, which set off an explosion that flattened several nearby buildings, including a bakery that had thirty employees busy at work on their morning shift. It also sent large pieces of debris flying into a nearby electrical substation, knocking out power to over ten thousand customers. In addition, a hydrant had been sheared off by the accident, disrupting water to a chunk of people and hampering fire-fighting efforts.

  That was all the info he had.

  The county PIO was up in Tallahassee at the conference, along with two other senior communications managers. Noah called and woke up their C-team guy, who usually handled press releases and comms for Planning and Zoning, and told him to get his ass into the office ASAP. They’d be assembling there instead of at the new EOC on Cattleman because this was a limited-scope accidental mass casualty, not a widespread natural disaster, like a hurricane or tornado.

  They needed the phone tree lit up like Christmas and all hands on deck. It’d be maybe an hour or less before media from all over the state started converging on them, the local stations pooling for affiliates, but calls and e-mails would start flying like crazy and he needed every department head on the same page.

  They also needed good info to get out to the public. People were going to be pissed off they couldn’t make coffee or take a shower before church, or work, or wherever it was they had to go, and when they couldn’t get through to FPL, they were going to start calling the county’s main information line. He needed info to tell them.

  When he hit the Fruitville exit he zipped through an open McDonald’s and got himself three large, black coffees, and a couple of breakfast burritos.

  It might be the only food he’d get to eat for quite a while, and he was damn sure going to need the caffeine.

  This is going to be a long and shitty day.

  * * * *

  The sound of a door slamming shut somewhere nearby awoke Jackson.

  At least it’s goddamned light outside now.

  He found his cell and checked the time. 9:13 was a far more reasonable time to seize the day on a Sunday than—

  He glanced around. Noah had grabbed all his stuff when he left, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Jackson’s room was a double full and not a single king, he would have been wondering if the encounter even happened at all.

  Holy shit.

  After another bathroom trip, he pulled on his clothes and made his way out and around the building to his room. Nope, there was his shit, unmoved, exactly where he’d left it.

  After a quick shower to finish waking up, he logged into Fet from his phone, just in case.

  Nothing.

  Although from what he thought he remembered overhearing, it seemed like Noah was going to be
busy for a while.

  Shit. I don’t even know his last name, or his FetLife handle.

  Hays? Kaye?

  He really hadn’t heard him, hadn’t been awake enough to process anything other than the fact that his boy had been jolted out of bed instead of being comfortably snuggled against him.

  What if Noah wasn’t even his real first name?

  Although, if someone was going to make up a name, he figured they would go for something a little less distinctive than that.

  Right?

  He finally gathered his things and, leaving the key in the room, headed for his car. There really wasn’t anything he could do until Noah contacted him. Besides, this week he had several committee meetings, to finish prepping for his appearance before the Sarasota county commission at their meeting the following Tuesday. He wasn’t going to consider the expansion a slam-dunk until the commission had ruled on it and approved it.

  Until then, he was still approaching it like they had a fight on their hands.

  But how was he going to find his boy?

  Or what if Noah didn’t reach out to him? What if Noah couldn’t remember his FetLife handle?

  He started the car.

  Stop it. Stop driving yourself crazy. You had a great night last night, and either he’ll get ahold of you, or he won’t.

  He headed south toward home.

  * * * *

  By the time Noah collapsed into bed a little after midnight that night, he felt like he’d been run through an emotional meat grinder. Usually, he didn’t have to handle crises like this. Not as the front man. He normally handled second-tier issues, made sure all the ducks were in a row and waddling as ordered.

  But with everyone out of town, he’d been the one trying to deal with comms and coordinating information between emergency services, the media, public works—and he’d had to go on-site to coordinate with the PIOs from the sheriff’s office and county fire rescue, Public Works, FPL, and the media.