Judgment of the Moon and Stars

by Tymber Dalton

  Well, this is what you get for deciding to go passive-aggressive douche Master, instead of just talking to him on the phone like an adult, asshole.

  Yeah, he deserved that.

  But if he went to sleep tonight with things settled between him and Noah…

  Worth it.

  Chapter Ten

  Noah kept an eye on the time, bolting out of the apartment five minutes after Jackson had ended the call with him. He had everything he’d need for tomorrow and barely remembered to lock the door behind him.

  After yelling at his phone to hurry up and map the way to Jackson’s house, upon seeing where the man lived Noah opted to take a different route that the GPS app said was longer, but Noah knew would be shorter timewise that time of night with little traffic.

  It was thirty-nine minutes after Jackson hung up when Noah pulled into his driveway and parked behind an older Nissan parked there. The front light was on and Noah charged out of his car and across the lawn, almost tripping, hitting the button on his key fob to lock the doors as he stumbled up onto the front porch and rang the bell.

  He didn’t ring it a second time, but he was left standing there for nearly five minutes, which gave him time to catch his breath and run a hand through his hair, before the door was yanked open.

  Jackson stood there staring at him, dressed only in shorts, his hair a mess and sticking up like it’d dried wonky from the shower.

  Jackson stared at him for a long moment, Noah not daring to speak first.

  A hand shot out, grabbed Noah by the front of his T-shirt, hauled him inside—

  And then Jackson kissed him.

  Jackson kicked the front door shut without breaking their kiss, locked it, and then shoved Noah back and against it. He took the bag from him—still without ending their kiss—set it on the floor, and grabbed Noah’s hands. Those he pinned against the door over his head.

  And still, Jackson kissed him.

  “I know I said I’d give you only one,” Jackson finally mumbled against his lips, “but how many cane strokes do you think you deserve for making me wait and worry you didn’t want me?”

  “However many Sir wants to give me.”

  The hand pinned his throat against the door, almost faster than Noah could mentally register that Jackson had released his hands. “That’s fucking dangerous. Never give blanket permissions, boy.” He leaned in close again. “Give me a number. Now.”

  “Twenty-five,” he said without thinking, knowing it would likely hurt like fucking hell, but maybe it’d prove to Jackson he was here, and he wanted to be here, and he’d take whatever the man wanted to dish out.

  Jackson’s narrowed gaze softened. This time, he lightly brushed his lips across Noah’s, sweet exploration that had his cock throbbing inside his shorts.

  “Five,” Jackson said. “All hard ones. I want you feeling them when you sit down tomorrow morning so you don’t ever forget me again.”

  Then Jackson smiled. “Deal?”

  Relief washed through Noah, so sharp and keen he almost cried. “Deal, Sir. I’m so sorry! I should have written down your FetLife name, or given you my cell number. Sunday was a literal disaster, and then when I tried to remember—”

  Jackson silenced him with another kiss, this one hard, fierce, demanding.

  “Five and forgiven,” Jackson whispered. “Then I’m putting you in my bed and making love to you so you have no reason to forget me again.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Jackson grabbed his hand and led him through the house and to his bedroom. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “I was busy prepping for this afternoon, and someone had me a little distracted this week.” He smiled as he backed Noah against the bed. “Strip, then facedown, over the end of the bed, feet on the floor.”

  Noah ripped off his clothes as Jackson walked over to the closet and retrieved something. Noah didn’t want to look, didn’t want to see, so he kept his eyes closed and balled his hands into fists, waiting.

  He wanted the pain, wanted it over with, wanted to show this man yes, he was here, and it was the only place he wanted to be.

  Sensing Jackson’s return, Noah struggled to relax, to wait.

  Flinching when Jackson’s left hand settled, splayed in the center of his lower back, Noah sucked in a nervous breath.

  The feel of the cane laid across his ass made him flinch again.

  “Repeat after me,” Jackson said. “(941)555-8229.”

  “(941)555-8229.” Noah thought it was the number that Jackson had called him from earlier.

  The cane zwhipped through the air and a corresponding line of fire sliced across the crease between his ass and his thighs, making him cry out.

  “One. Again. (941)555-8229.”

  Noah sucked in a shaky breath. “(941)555-8229.”

  Zwhipp!

  That one landed directly across the center of both ass cheeks and he nearly came up off the bed from the pain.

  By the time he endured the fifth and final stroke, tears rolled down his cheeks and he’d fisted the covers.

  “What’s my cell number, boy?”

  “(941)555-8229, Sir.”

  “Excellent. Such a good boy.” The hand on his back disappeared and he felt Jackson move. Then tender lips feathered over his ass, soothing the marks.

  He shouldered Noah’s thighs apart, and then warm breath washed over his balls before Jackson started mouthing them, playing with them. His hands he laid over Noah’s ass, tracing the welts Noah felt there, Jackson’s thumbs sliding down the crack of Noah’s ass and along his taint.

  Somehow, Noah’s cock had gone from hard to wilted and back to throbbing on the edge of release. Jackson worked his way down the underside of Noah’s cock from base to head and back up to his balls. All the while, his hands stroked Noah’s ass, cupped his cheeks, gently squeezed, thumbs teasing his puckered hole without breaching.

  Need rolled through him and he wasn’t too proud to beg. “Please let me come, Sir!”

  “Not yet, baby. You’d better hold it.” And still he explored, until Noah was nearly in tears again, this time with burning need.

  * * * *

  Jackson knew if he so much as moved wrong, he was going to explode in his shorts. Yeah, maybe it made him a twisted fuck that the sounds of Noah’s cries as he took each stroke and recited his cell number made him want to fuck him even more, but…

  Duh. Sadist.

  Only for a willing partner, though. Had Noah sat up and safeworded, of course he would have stopped.

  Except the man was as crazy-willing as Jackson was to pick up where they left off, so he’d be damned if he’d waste another second not claiming him properly and showing him what was in store for him.

  He fully expected to have Noah begging for canings within a couple of months, or sooner. Especially when he started rewiring his boy’s brain to crave pain with sexy pleasure.

  To need it.

  So that by the time he finished receiving a spanking or caning he’d be dripping hard and begging to come. The adorable way he would likely blush when he realized that pain made him horny as fuck.

  When Jackson thought he could stand without exploding, he did, shoving his shorts off and climbing up onto the bed, where he stretched out.

  “Come here, boy.”

  Noah practically levitated up the bed, climbing his body and leaning in for a greedy, hungry kiss that almost stole Jackson’s willpower.

  “Condom,” Jackson hoarsely said, pointing at where he’d left one, and the lube, on the bedside table. “Then you can ride my cock, and I’ll get you off.”

  Noah lunged for it and rolled it down Jackson’s shaft with fumbling, trembling fingers that nearly made him laugh except he was trying too hard not to explode from the other man’s touch.

  Noah lubed himself and then perched, pressing, making Jackson groan as Noah sank the man’s entire length inside his ass in one smooth thrust.

  Jackson stroked Noah’s arms and made him hold still. “Wait, b
aby.” He could barely choke out the words. “I won’t last if you don’t hold still for a minute.”

  Instead he kissed Noah, holding him close and feeling Noah’s erection rubbing between their stomachs.

  He fisted Noah’s hair and made him look him in the eyes. The sweet, blue depths staring back at him nearly finished him.

  “I need to know I’m the only one in your life like this,” Jackson said. “You want out, tell me. But we’re monogamous, meaning we don’t fuck or play with others, we don’t see others. I’m not talking going out with friends, I’m talking dates. You want out, you say that. If I want out, I’ll tell you. You cheat on me, I walk away and don’t look back.”

  “I only want you, Sir. Please.”

  “What’s my number?”

  “(941)555-8229.” No hesitation in his answer.

  Jackson smiled. “You going to forget that?”

  “Never, Sir.”

  “Damn well better not. Ride my cock, and you have permission to come.”

  He fisted Noah’s cock and gently squeezed the head, working with him, trying to time it. He slicked pre-cum along Noah’s shaft as Noah’s lips widened into a gorgeous O-face just before he tipped over the edge and squirted cum into Jackson’s fist.

  Jackson braced his feet against the mattress and started fucking him, wanting to get there now, meet his boy there, join him. And it only took a couple of strokes before he did, grinding up hard and holding him by the hip to keep his cock embedded there.

  His.

  Only his.

  Noah’s head drooped, beads of sweat falling into Jackson’s face. But when he made Noah look at him, he realized it wasn’t sweat.

  It was tears.

  Fear filled him. “Are you okay?”

  Noah leaned in and crushed his lips over Jackson’s, desperation pouring from him. “I have never been so fucking good in my entire life, Master,” he whispered, his breath shaky. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

  Spoogey hand and all, he cupped Noah’s cheeks and made the man focus his gaze on Jackson. “No way in hell was I going to walk away from you without at least talking to you. I found out who you were on Friday when one of the deans told me about the explosion. I honestly hadn’t paid attention to the news last week.”

  His eyes widened. “You knew who I was?”

  “Yeah, but it was Friday night and you wouldn’t have been at work. I didn’t want to call you at work or call your work phone and have there be a record of it.”

  “Why didn’t you contact me Monday?”

  “Because I didn’t know you’d forgotten my info. I thought maybe you chose not to get in touch with me. And I had the hearing to make it through. I wanted to get through that first. I kind of hoped to run into you there, had thought about seeing if I could track you down after, but honestly wasn’t expecting to see you in the meeting.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “Expect to spend most nights here with me. For this week, at least. We’ll talk about staying at your place sometimes, but if you live in an apartment, we can’t be as loud as we want to be.”

  “Loud, Master?”

  If Noah kept calling him that, Jackson was going to drag him down to the courthouse and marry him. “Loud. Tomorrow night you’re going to go to bed with a well-paddled and well-fucked ass, and I want to hear every noise you make, baby. How’s that sound?”

  Noah grinned. “Sounds like heaven, Master.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next week and a half the men spent together every night, and all day on the weekends. Noah told Jackson about his family, including his mother’s religious fervor, and the likelihood that they’d disown him when he finally came out to them.

  Jackson didn’t want to rush that confrontation, though. Not yet. There was no reason to push it. While Jackson had every indication that he was going to spend the rest of his life with this man, he would wait until he actually married him to break the news to Noah’s family.

  Jackson was also in no hurry to have a run-in with homophobic family. It could easily end up killing their relationship, if Noah ended up siding with familiar, conditional contempt instead of honest romantic love.

  He’d only felt this depth of attraction—quickly sliding toward love—once before.

  Having had his heart ripped out and shredded once, Jackson wasn’t in a hurry to repeat that experience, no matter how long ago it had happened.

  Still, this…felt different than back then.

  A lot different, in a lot of ways.

  Noah was coming to him—Jackson wasn’t chasing him.

  There was no hesitation on Noah’s part that he wanted to be with Jackson. At least, none that Jackson could see.

  Jackson wanted to let his guard down and embrace Noah’s enthusiasm about them.

  He wanted to trust.

  He wanted to believe this was for life and not another mistake.

  For now, their first “public” outing as a couple would be a celebratory cookout at Ellen’s house, a pool party for faculty only, the ones on the development and expansion committee, as well as deans and the principal of the school.

  An adults-only party that might seem bawdy to everyone else, but was only G-rated for Jackson and Noah.

  The night before, they lay tangled together in Jackson’s bed after making love. For once, Noah didn’t sport a reddened ass. Jackson had been careful the past couple of days, not wanting there to be marks that would be seen outside Noah’s bathing suit.

  His conservative, baggy swim shorts, not the sexy-as-fuck Speedo Jackson had made Noah model for him.

  “Please try to remember not to call me Master tomorrow,” Jackson teased. “Sir will be more than enough.”

  “Yes, Master.” He flicked his tongue across Jackson’s right nipple, making Jackson tug his hair in response.

  “Behave, boy. We need to sleep.”

  “This feels too easy. All of this. I have a feeling it’s going to be a shit-storm when I tell my family.”

  It relieved Jackson to hear Noah say that, to voice his own fears. To know he was thinking and not just blindly reacting to their attraction. “It’ll suck, probably. Not going to lie to you. Based on what you’ve told me, and my own personal experience, they won’t be happy.”

  Noah tipped his head back to look at him. “I thought you said your parents were okay with you being out?”

  Dark memories tried to flood in, and Jackson shoved them away. They had no place here, with Noah in his arms.

  “Not them I meant. Not a story I want to relive tonight, either.” He nuzzled Noah’s forehead. “It’s in the distant past. And you need to remember something.”

  “What?”

  “Doesn’t matter what your family thinks, or how they judge you. Might as well be the judgment of the moon and the stars for all the impact it will have on your immediate life. You’re forty-two years old, you don’t live at home, you support yourself.” He stroked Noah’s head. “I’m in this for life,” he quietly said. “It’s only been a couple of weeks, but this feels more right than any other relationship I’ve ever had.”

  “It feels perfect,” Noah said. “Especially when I think about Meg. I never should have married her. I knew I wasn’t in love with her, but I thought loving her as a friend would be enough.”

  “You can’t change that. Maybe if it hadn’t been for marrying and divorcing you, she wouldn’t have met and married her husband, had kids.”

  “True.” Noah nuzzled his head against Jackson’s chest, a gentle gesture Jackson had come to crave, playing with Noah’s hair as he did it, snuggling.

  Perfection.

  “I want to marry you,” Jackson quietly said. “I know we just met. I’m not saying tomorrow. But I am saying that’s where my head’s at.”

  Noah looked at him again for a long moment before speaking. “I have one condition, Sir.”

  “Yes?”

  He smiled. “I get to change my name to Noah Crowder. I
haaaate Immanuel.”

  Jackson chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Sounds like a plan to me, baby.”

  * * * *

  Saturday afternoon, Noah rode with Jackson to the cookout. He was trying to stay calm, to trust Jackson.

  Noah knew the man wouldn’t do anything to put him in harm’s way. He was a teacher, for chrissake. For all that had already passed between them in a very short amount of time, this was a man Noah knew had his best interests at heart. Doubly so, because what benefitted Noah benefitted Jackson as well.

  The past couple of weeks had been the best of Noah’s life. The more time he spent with Jackson, the more…right this felt.

  The more perfect.

  He didn’t dare let himself fantasize about maybe, one day, marrying the guy. Noah didn’t want to jinx this despite what Jackson had already plainly stated his intentions were. They’d had a scary enough close call at the beginning of their relationship. Best to let it follow its natural progression.

  The future lay open-ended, even with that goal awaiting him.

  To be Jackson’s husband.

  And that he was Jackson’s slave. Even though Jackson hadn’t officially collared him, it felt comfortable calling him Master. Felt…right.

  Better than anything had ever felt before in his damn life. Like he was finally where he belonged.

  Didn’t that mean something?

  This was the first event they’d attended as a “couple.”

  Hell, it was the first event Noah had ever attended, other than going to the Toucan, as an openly gay man. The events at the Toucan didn’t really count, to him, because everyone there was gay.

  This was the first time he was admitting to others—vanilla strangers—that he was gay.

  And taken.

  Happily taken.

  Once they arrived and settled in, Noah quickly found himself relaxing. Everyone was nice and no one seemed to give a crap he and Jackson were gay. As the beer and wine flowed before the grill was fired up, Noah and Jackson both enjoyed a couple of beers, because they’d be there until that evening and would have plenty of time to get it out of their systems.