Word of Mouth

by Tymber Dalton

  “What?”

  Gordon was already moving. “Pull on your shorts and come on.”

  He hit the bathroom first, got out of Jonah’s way, and was already tuning his guitar when Jonah joined him in the studio a few minutes later.

  “It’s only seven thirty, Master.”

  “I know. Listen to this.” He played the song how Mevi had played it, just the opening and first verse. “Now, listen to this.”

  He played it not just fingerstyle, but like a classical guitar song, and Jonah’s eyes immediately widened.

  “Holy shit!”

  Jonah raced for his mandolin and effortlessly joined him, the same part Jonah was playing now seamlessly integrated with the guitar section.

  They were running through it for the fifth time when a very tired-looking Doyle appeared in the studio doorway. “You guys do realize it’s salaried and not hourly, right?” he joked.

  “Listen!” Jonah said to Mal, who had followed Doyle.

  Immediately, he was wide awake, too. “Holy shit!” Mal said. “You just struck gold.”

  And everyone else thought so, too, when they arrived and Jonah and Gordon played it for them. Now, Gordon was so comfortable with it that he was adding his own emphasis to sections, not even knowing what the lyrics were yet, but it felt right.

  Playing with Jonah, it felt perfect.

  Mevi looked at Rich. “Well, I guess you’d better master the mandolin in under four weeks, or else we need to hire a mandolin player.”

  “What?”

  “You said you can play one, right?”

  “Well, yeah, but it’s been years. I don’t even have one.”

  “Can you play classical style guitar?”

  Rich frowned a little. “Not nearly as good as Jonah, and definitely nowhere near as good as Gord.”

  “It’ll be easier for you to master the mandolin than for me to learn how to play classical-style,” Mal said to Rich. “I can’t play the mandolin or classical-style. My hands are too fricking big. I do good to fingerpick as well as I do. Jonah can play the guitar section classical style, I’ll handle the vocals, and you play mandolin.”

  Rich ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I guess I’m buying a mandolin.”

  * * * *

  During a break for lunch, Gordon asked Doyle to join him and Jonah in Jonah’s room, where he proposed the deal to Doyle.

  Doyle stood there and listened, arms crossed over his chest and slowly nodding.

  “I’ll do it as long as that’s all it entails, and only if Mal’s okay with me doing it. If he says no, it’s no. Or if I think he’s not comfortable with it and just saying yes to make me happy. Normally, I wouldn’t do this at all, but if it’s going to get you two guys playing music like I heard this morning? I consider that a work-related exercise.” He smiled. “And it’s good to see you two both looking sickeningly happy today.”

  “I feel sickeningly happy,” Gord admitted as he looked at Jonah.

  His boy smiled at him.

  Gordon wondered how much smiling Jonah was going to be doing over the eight weeks they were apart, though.

  “How much do I owe you for the cage?” Jonah asked.

  Doyle chuckled. “Consider it an early wedding gift. Enjoy. My boy can’t wear that one, anyway, and I’m damn sure not wearing it.”

  By the time they wrapped that evening’s session, Gordon had managed to find a modicum of peace within his soul over his decision to give Jonah another chance.

  In his mind, he refused to relinquish the dark nugget of doubt, that this might not be permanent.

  To remind himself to enjoy this for what it was, right now, in this moment—a chance to make peace with his past and his pain and to have both a closure as well as a possible new beginning with his boy. To not look forward to a future that might not exist.

  Doyle put out the offer for Gordon to stay with them, too, to make things easier on them logistically. So once Mal declared that evening’s session completed, Jonah rode with Gordon in his SUV to Gordon’s new apartment so he could grab some clothes for work the next day.

  They rode mostly in silence, with Jonah’s hand resting on Gordon’s thigh and Gordon’s hand covering it.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, Master,” Jonah quietly said as Gordon turned into the parking lot at the new place. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

  It was something Jonah had said a variation of all day, any time they had a private moment together.

  But, until now, Gordon really hadn’t responded to him. He understood it was part of Jonah’s process, just as processing this reunion would be part of his own.

  “I would prefer you show me instead of telling me,” Gordon quietly said as he pulled into his assigned parking space. “I need to see you dedicated to making this right between us.” He met Jonah’s gaze. “I will give you every opportunity to make this right as long as your actions keep meeting your words. Show me.”

  Jonah nodded. “I will.”

  * * * *

  It felt…weird being in Gordon’s apartment. They’d lived together for so long, before Jonah blew it all up. This was a space Jonah was unfamiliar with, even though many of the things in it were familiar to him.

  He saw books and DVDs he’d read or watched in the past, music CDs. Pictures on shelves and on the wall.

  Gordon now owned a small four-person dinette set they hadn’t had, but the couch was the same. It’d been a gift to them from a buddy they’d helped move, and he couldn’t take it with him. Older, and leather, but comfortable, and in great shape.

  A lot of memories had been made between them on that couch.

  Jonah sank onto it while Gordon headed into the bedroom to pack. Meanwhile, Jonah stared at the coffee table he’d been tied over more than once.

  He finally made himself stand and walk into the bedroom. Gordon was in the closet and digging out clothes to wear. Jonah walked over to the right side of the bed and sank to his knees, head bowed, waiting. Even though the chastity cage dug into his balls a little like this, he didn’t care.

  Small price to pay, and one he would willingly pay, over and over again, as often as he needed to.

  He was watching Gordon’s feet and spotted it when he froze after he stepped out of the closet and saw him kneeling there.

  His old spot.

  Before bed, part of their rituals.

  That’s when his Master sighed. “Please don’t break my heart again, boy.” Gordon’s choked tone broke Jonah’s heart. “I can’t survive losing you again.”

  Gordon walked over to the bed and dumped an armful of clothes onto it before he headed to the battered dresser that used to be half Jonah’s.

  Jonah refused to look up or break his position before Gordon told him to, so he didn’t see whatever it was that Gordon retrieved from the dresser drawer before he returned to stand in front of Jonah.

  Gordon remained quiet for several painfully long moments. “I didn’t know what I did wrong. I hoped that, one day, you’d allow me to make amends. I knew after a few months that wouldn’t happen, but I still had to do what I needed to, emotionally, to survive.

  “I white-knuckled my sobriety there for a while, no lie. But when I’d really seriously think about buying a bottle, I’d remember that night when you begged me to choose you over the alcohol. I remembered how you cried, and you never cried. I remembered how you were the first person who wanted to fight for me. And even as much pain as I was in, I knew I couldn’t go back on my promise to choose you first. Look at me.”

  Jonah did, his vision doubling and tripling as tears filled his eyes when he realized what Gordon held in his hands.

  His collar.

  “If you want it, you need to ask me for it,” Gordon said.

  Jonah nodded. “I want to wear your collar, Master.”

  Gordon held it out to him. “Then you need to put it on. I know you can’t wear it on stage, or in public, but while we’re here in Florida and practicing, and when you�
��re alone on tour, you’ll wear it. If you’re serious about being mine.”

  With trembling fingers, Jonah took it from him and buckled it around his throat, closing his eyes as he felt the cool leather nestle against his flesh and quickly begin to warm. A shiver raced through him at the familiar sensation.

  One he’d missed so fucking much.

  He blinked away the tears before looking up at Gordon. “I’ve never belonged to anyone but you, Master.”

  * * * *

  Gordon struggled against the urge to say fuck it and throw out the rules he’d already laid down for Jonah and throw himself into a full-on relationship with Jonah, to pick up where they left off.

  But that wasn’t healthy, and he knew it. It damn sure wasn’t smart, either.

  For a whole host of reasons, including his own sobriety being at risk.

  Instead, he held out a hand to Jonah. Jonah took it, and Gordon helped him to his feet.

  “Help me get packed,” he said. “We have a stop to make on the way back to Doyle’s.”

  “Yes, Master.” While Jonah helped him pack, Gordon tried to stay present and focused in the moment.

  To not think about the past.

  To not let fear—or irrational hope—steer his decisions.

  Before they left the apartment, Gordon stopped Jonah at the front door, smiling as he pointed at the collar.

  Another familiar memory Gordon could now smile about.

  As always, Jonah looked momentarily confused, until he reached up to his neck and felt the collar buckled there.

  Gordon couldn’t count the number of times Jonah almost—or sometimes even did—walked out wearing it. To the point that they kept a sticky note on the back of the door at the old apartment to remind him to check if he was wearing his collar.

  Something else Gordon couldn’t bear to get rid of. It was still tucked into a photo album, next to an old picture of them.

  Gordon’s smile widened. “Let’s not scare the ’nillas,” he said. “You can put it back on in the car, after our errand is complete.”

  He thought Jonah would ask where they were going, but he didn’t. When Gordon pulled into the parking lot at Walmart and shut the engine off, Jonah still didn’t ask.

  Part of Gordon’s soul wanted to soften, to relent and wipe the slate clean.

  But every time he felt that way, he remembered the countless hours of tears, of hating himself, of remembering the angry words Jonah said to him when he moved out.

  Once again, he hardened his heart.

  Actions, not words.

  “Let’s go.” He got out, not even waiting to see if Jonah followed.

  Behind him, he heard Jonah open the passenger door, and once Gordon heard it shut, he held up his hand and hit the lock button on his key fob until the horn chirped.

  Inside the store, he handed Jonah a hand basket and led the way to the health and beauty section, where he loaded up with condoms, lube, gloves…and supplies for Jonah to clean himself out.

  “You got the money to pay for that?” Gordon asked. “Or do I need to pay?”

  Jonah’s cheeks had turned a gorgeous shade of beet red. “I can pay, Master,” he softly said.

  “Excellent.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Then I’ll see you out in the car.” He headed out of the store, not even glancing back.

  Part of him did want to stand there and watch him stammer and stutter his way through the checkout process.

  Part of him wanted to sit out there and…breathe.

  Process.

  And fight against the teeny little part of him that wanted to drive off and leave Jonah there.

  About five minutes later, Jonah emerged from the store and hurried over to the SUV.

  Before he even fastened his seat belt, Jonah grabbed his collar and buckled it around his neck, then looked over at Gordon.

  Gordon leaned in, fisted Jonah’s hair, and slanted his lips over Jonah’s in a hard, crushing kiss. The way Jonah softly whimpered and reached for him hardened Gordon’s cock.

  “Time for my boy to start making good on his promise,” Gordon said when he finally ended their kiss and sat back so he could start the engine.

  Jonah tried to follow him, pulled up short by his seat belt. “Yes, Master.”

  Gordon smiled, and for the first time in years, he allowed himself to feel a little hope. “Good boy.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Back at Doyle’s, Gordon sent Jonah into the bathroom to take care of business. Meanwhile, he stripped and stretched out on the bed to channel-surf while he awaited Jonah’s return.

  He also reached down and gave his cock a long squeeze. Part of him still wanted to free Jonah from the chastity cage and make love to him all night long.

  The sadist quickly clawing his way back to the surface of Gordon’s psyche said fuck that noise and wanted to reinstall his boy in his proper place as quickly as possible.

  Before, they hadn’t had a lot of rules and protocols, but the ones they did have, Jonah expected Gordon to enforce them. Would sometimes push deliberately, butt against Gordon to test him, wanting to be taken in hand.

  In retrospect, Gordon knew it was likely due to how Jonah’s family had abandoned him when he’d come out. Maybe partly due to testing Gordon’s resolve, wanting to know he still cared.

  No doubt, some of it due to the times Gordon had failed Jonah before finding sobriety.

  Wanting to reassure himself Gordon was still strong enough to catch him if he fell.

  But Gordon had never wanted to be a controlling asshole, either, which was why he hadn’t forbidden Jonah from having contact with Josh despite how much Gordon hadn’t liked the guy.

  Won’t make that mistake again.

  There would be a whole new set of rules for his boy, tighter restrictions, harsher penalties.

  If he denied there were any punitive reasons behind the new world order, he’d be lying.

  And if his boy was as serious about winning Gordon’s trust back as he claimed he was, he wouldn’t balk at any of those rules, either.

  It was tempting—sooo tempting—to call in sick in the morning and spend a few extra hours lying there and making love to his boy.

  Not an option, though. He had a job to do, a job he had to keep doing, because there were no guarantees Jonah would hang around. He could rely on himself, and couldn’t fuck his own hard-won progress.

  Still, his breath caught a few minutes later when the bathroom door opened and Jonah emerged. His boy’s green eyes immediately sought Gordon’s gaze, holding it as he crossed the room and knelt next to the bed, where he waited.

  * * * *

  Gordon rolled onto his side to face Jonah, sending Jonah’s pulse racing as he spotted the man’s cock, already hard.

  It made his own cock painfully throb inside the confining cage locked onto him.

  I can do this. I will do this.

  This was nothing compared to the self-inflicted pain he’d endured since leaving Gordon.

  Or the pain he now realized Gordon had endured.

  Now…he waited. Waited, while Gordon reached out and stroked Jonah’s beard, his hand drifting up to his hair, all while his gaze remained focused on Jonah’s.

  Those intense, gorgeous blue eyes.

  Blue eyes Jonah had always looked for in someone else, yet never found.

  Never tried very hard, either.

  Not when his heart ached, and he realized he obviously wasn’t good relationship material, if he could so stupidly throw away the perfection he’d already had.

  “Stay.” That was all Gordon said before he climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom.

  Jonah heard him in there, and a moment later, Gordon returned. He carried a towel and spread it out on the bed, then pointed. “On your back.”

  Jonah scrambled to get into position, wincing as the cage pinched him when he moved the wrong way.

  Gordon knelt between Jonah’s legs and pulled on a nitrile glove. “I meant what I said.”
He stared down at Jonah after he’d liberally coated two fingers with lube. “The next three months are going to be hell on you, boy.”

  “I know, Master. Worth it.”

  “Hold your legs back.”

  Jonah pulled his knees back, biting down on his lower lip to stifle the low, deep, needy moan that rolled from him at the feel of Gordon’s fingers pressing for entrance. Tonight, the man wasted no time. Gordon quickly found Jonah’s sweet spot and worked it, driving him hard and fast to the edge and making him come.

  It was anything but a satisfying orgasm, though, without having his cock stroked. The only thing that relieved him was the brief respite his softening cock received, even as his own cum now coated the inside of the cage.

  Gordon’s gaze narrowed as he smiled. “Want to go for another one?”

  Jonah shook his head. “No, Master.” Because he knew damn well it’d take forever, and Gordon would torture him in the process…which might be fun under other circumstances.

  He didn’t want to keep Gordon up that late tonight, didn’t want to interfere with his job.

  Gordon withdrew his fingers and stripped the glove off, inside out, and dropped it onto the floor. Then he took his time rolling a condom down his shaft and lubing himself. He nudged into position between Jonah’s legs, and Jonah struggled to hold still and not rock his hips, try to encourage him to fuck him.

  He wanted to feel Gordon’s cock owning him again. Had actually hoped Gordon would want to fuck him raw tonight.

  Gordon paused, watching him with a dark, hooded gaze. “Ask me for it.”

  “Please, Ma—”

  He didn’t even get it all out before Gordon thrust, hard and deep, a vicious stroke that sucked the wind out of Jonah’s lungs and re-hardened his cock all at the same time.

  Gordon’s gaze narrowed, the sadist’s smile returning to his lips. A smile Jonah used to know well. “Regretting turning down that second one now?”

  Jonah nodded.

  His smile widened. “Too bad, boy. You’re done for the night.” Gordon fell on him, caging Jonah with his body as he fucked him. And this was no loving, sweet reunion—it was a brutal fuck with Gordon’s mouth crushing Jonah’s.