by SE Jakes
“Because you need to.” Derek stroked his biceps, still tasting the man on his tongue. “Show me where your bed is.”
Glen did, and Derek followed him into the bedroom with the king-sized bed covered in a gray comforter and a headboard definitely meant for tying someone up to.
Derek could give Glen the same effect just as well with a command. He pushed the younger man into bed after pulling the covers down, and Glen sat against the pillows, looking uncertain.
Derek stripped his own shirt and knelt between Glen’s legs. The boy looked confused when Derek stroked him and then licked a path along his abs and inner thighs.
“Derek?”
“Yes, Glen.”
“I thought…”
“Don’t think.” With that, he took Glen’s cock deep in his mouth, sucking hard, loving the way the boy’s body arched in surprise.
Derek’s mouth was hot and wet, sucking him in while Glen watched.
There was never any doubt during the entire experience that Derek was in charge.
All he had to do was let Glen’s cock slip from his mouth and say, “Raise your arms above your head and don’t move them until I tell you that you can.”
Glen complied. It was a small step back that left him wanting for more, which was surely part of Derek’s plan. And then Derek began playing with his cock, his balls, spread Glen’s legs where he wanted them, with the unspoken command that Glen was to leave them where Derek positioned them.
“You must look beautiful all tied up,” Derek said finally. “The things I’d do to you…”
“What?” Glen gasped out, because Derek was pressing a finger along his perineum while stroking his cock.
“Don’t come,” Derek warned, and God, that would be hard as hell, but he could do it. “I’d tie you so tightly you couldn’t move. I’d use nipple clamps on you, because you love them. Don’t you, beautiful baby?”
He did. Nodded and closed his eyes for a second, because just looking at the handsome man waiting calmly between his legs could take him over the edge.
“I know you want to be fucked tonight…but you’re not in charge here. I think you’ve already accepted that.”
“Please,” he heard himself whimper, knew that wasn’t always permitted, but there was encouragement in Derek’s eyes. He wanted more, wanted to know how Glen was feeling, and Glen let him know in no uncertain terms when Derek stroked his cock, long, hard strokes, just the way he liked it. Heard himself yelling his head off, because screw his inhibitions and his neighbors.
Getting his cock sucked was an unexpected turn of events and he was reveling in it.
Derek was spreading him, then fingering his ass while using his tongue to delve into Glen’s piss slit, which made him jump practically to the goddamned ceiling. Only Derek’s strong arms kept him in place firmly on the mattress and Glen allowed himself to close his eyes and get lost in the sensations. When Derek told him to come, Glen didn’t hesitate, the orgasm long and drawn-out and so goddamned satisfying.
You’re perfectly safe.
Maybe Derek even murmured that to him. It wouldn’t be the first time a Dom since John had, but Glen finally believed it.
But he was so drained and sleepy, wondered what Derek would do next. Steeled himself for it, even.
The man simply pulled Glen to his chest and said, “Sleep.”
And for the first time in a long time in bed, Glen did as he was told.
Chapter Three
What Glen had needed was a blowjob and sleep, which was what he got. When he woke, he was alone and he wondered if it was a dream. Why the Dom didn’t demand more. And how he’d gotten home, because Glen should’ve at least been the one to call him a cab.
Glen wanted to think less of the man for it but knew he couldn’t. John hadn’t held back their first nights together because he’d known that was what Glen had needed. Derek had held back for the same reason. He’d had Glen’s submission last night, even thought Glen hadn’t thought himself ready or willing to give it.
He stared at the ceiling, knowing the day would pass too damned slowly for him. He’d go back to the club tonight, his last night of leave for a while, because after that he needed to be mission ready. The SEAL team he flew was hunkered down on base and preparing. He would join in, along with his copilot, once they had their shit together.
He’d train the way they did. In order to back them up, he’d come up with several different plans if things went to shit. Which they always seemed to do at the last minute. But Glen was good at his job—he’d run the scenarios a million different ways until he was satisfied he could get all the men out safely.
But tonight was all his.
His cell vibrated. Clint. The man had known Glen had plans to go to the bar last night, and he was no doubt checking up.
“How’d it go? Did you get laid?” Clint asked.
“Jesus, Clint.”
“What? Isn’t that what you were looking for?”
“Maybe.”
“Give me his name.”
“I’m not letting you run a sheet on him.”
“Yeah, you are.”
He gave the name, then said, “I’m thinking former military. If I had to guess, Marine.”
“Guy’s a Marine,” Clint confirmed.
“So you know him.”
“I’ve never fucked him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“You’re both Doms, so I pretty much assumed that,” Glen said.
“You want details, don’t you?”
“Why do you make me pull everything out of you?” Glen had no doubt Clint had already gotten information on Derek.
“More fun that way,” Clint said with a laugh, and his next words confirmed Glen’s suspicions that Clint had checked up on Derek already. “Okay, here’s what my buddy told me about him.”
Clint launched into a few things Derek was into, nothing out of the ordinary, but Glen tucked away several pieces of information that could be very helpful in the future when he wanted to please his Dom.
His Dom. Your Dom. He felt a little dizzy at those words.
“Hey, you still there?” Clint asked.
“Yeah. Just a little…freaked out.”
“Guess you like him, then.”
“Maybe.”
“If he hurts you, I’ll kill him.”
Clint’s wasn’t an empty promise. Glen muttered something about overbearing CIA guys and said, “Gotta run.”
He meant it literally. Had to get the energy out so he wouldn’t be a mess. Clint just snorted and told him to keep in touch before he hung up.
A long run, a longer shower, complete with jacking off helped to take a little of the edge off, but it wasn’t enough. Derek probably expected him to be nervous, but Glen hated being off his game this way.
The Dom hadn’t left a number or a note, but the care the man had taken with him… It had been a long time since someone cared. And as stupid as it sounded, as fast as it had happened, Glen knew he wasn’t wrong.
Now he just had to decide how far he was going to let things go, how ready he was to really let someone else in beyond a quick fuck.
“How’d it go?” James asked when Derek settled in next to him at the bar and ordered a beer on tap.
“If he comes back, I guess it went well.” Derek ran a hand through his hair and played with the beer glass instead of actually drinking. Sounded calmer than he felt. “He and John must’ve been something together.”
“They never did public scenes but yeah, they were good for each other,” James acknowledged. “John had a few different subs, but he was closest with Glen. Even when the boy enlisted, they stayed together.”
Derek tucked than information away, since it differed slightly from what Glen had told him.
James continued, “Big age difference, though. Glen was twenty-two when John died. John was forty-seven when the emphysema killed him.”
Derek was thirty-seven. He’d never liked the young ones. Glen was a perfe
ct age. A perfect fuck. And so much more…
Which meant the whole damned thing would blow up in his face.
“He tried once before, you know,” James said. “With Mark.”
Derek was familiar with Mark. The man used pain for pain’s sake, liked his whips and blood play, and God, that must’ve been a massive miscalculation on Glen’s part. Because, although the boy had a wild streak a mile wide, he didn’t need to be beaten in order to be tamed. Just the opposite—he needed gentling.
Derek had recognized it immediately. Glen would bolt if ridden too hard right now. He needed complete safety—that’s what he got off on. From there, it would be one of the wildest rides ever.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous.” James tapped Derek’s beer and Derek downed half of it.
“That obvious?”
“Probably only to me.” James smiled, and then nodded toward the front door.
His heart beating wildly, Derek watched Glen walk in, the same thing happening as last night, with men greeting him, although several of the Doms glanced back toward Derek to see what he’d do.
Glen looked, too, and Derek motioned for the boy to come to him, suddenly feeling way more settled than he had minutes before, especially because of Glen’s small smile, meant only for him.
“Nice job.” James gave him a clap on the shoulder as Glen walked toward them. Went to Derek and nodded and then turned and did the same to James, before the man hugged him.
“Didn’t get to talk to you last night,” James said. “You’re looking good.”
“Thanks.”
“I hope this means you’re not going to be a stranger anymore.”
Glen flicked a glance at Derek. A shy smile that couldn’t have been any more effective if the boy crawled directly inside his fucking heart, and he was done. “I think you’ll see me around.”
“Come on.” Derek slid off the stool and brought Glen to the back, found an empty couch in a quiet corner. For a while, the men simply talked. Sports. Pop culture. Navy life.
“I was a Marine,” Derek said finally.
“Like I couldn’t tell,” Glen muttered, although he had a smile on his face. And yes, Derek still did have the countenance of a military man, but he knew Glen had done some checking on him as well.
“Want me to take you over my knee right here?” Derek’s words came out as more of a growl than he intended, but Glen drew in a sharp breath and his cock hardened in the soft cotton of his jeans. “I’ll keep that in mind. For later.”
Glen nodded, his eyes bright. “About what happened…last night…”
“Problem?”
“No.” The boy shifted. “I didn’t mean to disappoint you.”
“If you had, I wouldn’t have called you over. I wouldn’t have tucked you in and let you drool on my shoulder until dawn.”
“I don’t drool.”
“No, you don’t.” He looked at the boy. “I was hoping you’d come back tonight. That’s why I’m here—for you.”
“Me too.”
“Do you have to work tomorrow?”
“I have weekend leave.”
“My house, then.” Derek began walking, giving Glen no choice but to follow. “Is your car here?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll follow you—drop it off and we’ll have dinner first.”
Pride flooded Glen when he realized Derek had been waiting for him. He watched the Dom stride through the back exit, stared at his wide shoulders and back, and as his gaze dropped lower, Derek turned suddenly.
“Like what you see?”
Glen nodded, and Derek shook his head and continued walking, pointed to his truck. Glen got into his car to follow, had to force himself to concentrate on the road and Derek’s taillights, because his mind was racing. He wanted this—wanted Derek—but he had his own set of rules.
What if Derek didn’t want to hear them? Or worse, deal with them?
Finally, he pulled into his garage. Got out and closed the door behind him and took a deep breath before getting into the passenger’s side of Derek’s truck. Sat and stared straight ahead, and finally realized that Derek wasn’t pulling out.
If Derek wanted to know his bottom line, better to tell him now. If he didn’t want to stick around after that, so be it.
Damn, he wanted Derek to stick around, though.
Before he could stop himself, he told the Dom, “I like being a submissive. I don’t like rules and regs, all that master shit. I give myself to you not only because I want to, but because you deserve it. I want the pleasure. I want to be tied up. I’m not into any of that sit in a corner because you were bad shit. And I can’t stay tied up all night, sleep on floors, wear collars or be ordered all night, because I have a job flying Navy helos and if I’m not alert, people die.” It all came out in a big breath and he shifted, his body tight from the confession.
He hadn’t looked at Derek at all while he’d spoken, not because of any D/s rules, but because he didn’t want to see disapproval. But Derek’s hand cupped his chin and tugged until Glen did look him in the eye.
He saw exactly what he’d hoped to in Derek’s gaze. “That all works for me. I’m not looking for a traditional sub. Just someone who likes to let me do what I do best, which is dominate.”
“I just…needed you to know my bottom line. Because you don’t know me and—”
Derek interrupted him, his tone firm but gentle. “You have nothing to prove to me, boy. If you were John’s, you’re special. But I knew that about you from the second you walked into the club.”
He released Glen’s chin, touched his lips with his thumb, tracing the bottom one until Glen felt himself harden.
“You don’t trust me fully yet,” he continued and Glen nodded. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Why not?”
“You’ve been hanging around with the wrong people if you have to ask that.”
“John wasn’t wrong.” Glen heard the defensiveness in his own tone and wondered what that was all about.
“No, but you were young. You should know better now. This isn’t about one night of play. This is about building something between us. At least that’s what I’m looking for.”
“It…I don’t…” Fuck. He hadn’t expected anything like this. But it sounded like he should be expecting a lot more for himself. “Me too.”
Derek smiled. “Good. Let’s grab some dinner and we can talk more.”
As he pulled out into the street, Glen wondered if it could really be this easy. He didn’t know if it was supposed to be.
Certain things had been. When the world was too much, he’d head over to John’s and let him work his magic. There were no questions asked. No negotiation. John would do whatever he wanted and Glen would tell himself that’s what he wanted.
At the time, it might’ve been. But now, his life—everything about him—had changed. He supposed it was time for the rules to change as well.
Derek picked a Chinese restaurant close to his house. They ordered Yuengling beers and dishes to share, and Derek settled back against the rounded, private booth and put his feet on either side of Glen’s under the table in an obvious show of possessiveness. Thought about grabbing the boy and kissing the shit out of him, but hell, he wouldn’t do that to anyone with an active-duty military career.
As if Glen knew what he was thinking, he shook his head and bit his bottom lip.
“I’ll do that for you later myself,” Derek told him.
As they settled into dinner, Derek knew he needed to move past the lighter topics they’d discussed earlier back at the bar. They’d covered some good ground in the car—Derek was more than pleased to see Glen looking out for himself, stating his wants and needs. But there were still more questions to be asked. “Are you still suicidal?”
Glen worked his chopsticks around a piece of chicken and looked Derek right in the eyes before answering, “Anyone who flies military choppers has a death wish, but you knew that already.”
>
Derek had his answers—the boy liked danger and adrenaline, but mentally, he was stable. He wouldn’t have been able to fool the military docs all these years. “I didn’t think they’d let you in with all those tats.”
“If you’re good enough, they’ll let you do anything,” Glen said. “I cover them.”
Derek wanted him naked for long enough to go over all of them—with his lips, tongue, fingertips. “You gave up swimming long before John died.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “Just wanted to see how serious you were.”
“I guess I passed your test.”
Glen just gave a half grin at that. “Did you know John?”
“By his reputation, mostly. I met him a few times in passing, but I was active duty then so I wasn’t frequenting the bar much.” Derek pushed the remaining food toward Glen—the boy would need to keep up his reserves for the job he did. He probably still had the appetite of a teenager and worked out enough to be able to eat a great deal of calories per day.
Glen predictably gave no argument, finished the food and settled back in obvious contentment. “That’s good. I didn’t eat much today.”
“Why not?”
He gave a sheepish shrug and Derek knew the answer—the same case of nerves that had kept Derek himself on edge all day as well. So he let Glen off the hook with that one, but continued, “I’m guessing you met John at the bar.”
“Yeah. I snuck in there one night with a fake ID. Had no clue what I was doing. Everything happened the way it did last night—all these guys came up to me and I thought I was going to lose it. I was just about to turn and leave when John took my arm and brought me to the bar. Sat me down and asked my real age.”
“You were nowhere near twenty-one, I’m guessing.”
“Seventeen. I was with John from seventeen,” he said. “No one knew that. I told him I had no idea what I was doing—Christ, I was a total fucking innocent, and he had every right to turn me away and let me find the trouble I’d gone in looking for. But he took me on instead.”