Page 83 of Mr. Naughty List
RJ collapsed against him, face buried in Aaron’s neck and dick thrust deep inside. Aaron’s legs slipped form RJ’s shoulders to wrap around his waist and hold him. The pleasure echoed between them, shivers and trembling taking them both in turns until finally, RJ heaved himself up and off—then carefully out.
Aaron moaned, feeling empty inside. RJ lay down beside him, staring at his face in wonder. He shoved Aaron’s legs apart and pressed his hand down, slipping three fingers inside.
Aaron grunted, shocked at the sudden, fast intrusion, staring in utter amazement as RJ removed his fingers, dragging some come with them. He held it up for Aaron to see.
“My come,” he muttered. “My slut.” Then he pressed his fingers back inside, pushing the come with them. “Mine, Mr. Danvers. Got it? This is mine.”
Aaron swallowed and nodded. He had no idea what he was agreeing to now, but he only knew that he’d never trusted anyone the way he’d trusted RJ tonight, and he’d never been so amply rewarded.
“Yours,” he whispered. “All of it.”
RJ smirked, satisfaction reflecting in his eyes. “That’s what I like to hear.” He kissed Aaron’s mouth before curling around him. “Thank you, baby. This night has changed my life.”
Aaron clung to RJ, shaking and scared, because it had changed his too. All he wanted now was to be RJ’s elf, or slut, or boy orloverforever.
This Christmas fling had turned all too serious.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next morning,RJ woke smiling. He rose before Aaron and went out to the kitchen area. Remembering where Aaron kept Constance’s food, he placed a bowl of it out and watched, amazed, as Constance ate it without complaint for a change.
He poked in the fridge to see what was there for breakfast. He wanted to make something nice for Aaron as a reward and thank you for his amazing submission the night before. Just thinking of it sent shivers racing up and down RJ’s spine, and a puff of pride filled his chest.
He’d played at domination a few times with Pan, but it had never felt entirely right. Pan was never truly into it, only pretending to submit and playing the part like a bad actor in a porn movie.
Then there’d been the training he’d received in a club in Berlin, obtained during his many off-hours from the monthlong studio recording session he’d been hired for at the famous Hansa Tonstudio. While the album took longer to make than he’d liked, RJ had found it fascinating to kill time studying BDSM both by reading and by attending a nightclub that specialized in it.
Pieter was a Dutchman living in Berlin for his day job as a mixing engineer, but at night he wore leather and dominated men at Schmerz, a club for learning pain and pleasure. After discovering RJ’s interest in domination while shooting the shit between takes in the studio, Pieter had taken RJ under his wing for three and a half fun weeks, demonstrating and allowing RJ to practice with a few of his subs.
RJ hadn’t really had a chance after that to explore the way he’d always craved, but he appreciated, he supposed, that Pan had let him try.
Aaron, though. It was beyond his high school fantasy to actually have the man he’d wanted for so long naked and trusting, hurting and pleasured at RJ’s discretion, to know that Aaron wouldn’t say no.
RJ pulled eggs out of the fridge, along with bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, and a can of some sort of artichoke and olive dip that looked like it’d go well in an omelet. Humming under his breath, he set about making breakfast, remembering details of the night before with lightning-strike clarity.
His cock thickened as flashes of lustful images came to mind: Aaron on the coffee table, chills racing over his exposed flesh as he accepted RJ’s comforting hand, having taken the braided belt so well.
RJ made a mental note to check Aaron’s ass and apply arnica from his bag, and possibly cold cream, if Aaron had any. There was no doubt there would be marks this morning. He’d stayed as in control as he could, but watching Aaron surrender and unravel had made him so hot that he’d probably struck him a few times more than he should have.
He shouldn’t feel so proud about that. And yet, knowing the marks would be there on Aaron’s flesh for days, proof of the trust they’d shared (trust is love, RJ)… He couldn’t imagine anything sexier or more beautiful in the world. Falling in love was dumb. And yet…
Here he was.
As he plated the omelet and grabbed glasses for orange juice, he recalled the way he’d managed to piece himself back together last night in order to make sure Aaron was safely brought out of subspace. Before tucking Aaron into bed and letting him sleep the sleep of a properly dominated sub, he’d watered and fed his lover (with both food and praise) and checked him for injury.
Only then had he let himself collapse beside Aaron and sleep curled close by his side, his entire body thrumming with barely satisfied lust and tender feelings. It’d been hard to sleep, despite being exhausted. He’d helped Aaron fly into subspace, but he hadn’t been prepared for flying high as a kite himself from the thrill of dominating a man like Aaron Danvers.
The way he’d just given himself over. Christ.
RJ strove to keep his mind from drifting off into the memories as he found a platter to act as a tray and placed the omelet and two glasses of juice on it. He added a few napkins, wished he had some flowers, and instead grabbed a glittery bird ornament from Aaron’s silver spangle tree to add a splash of color to the presentation. He carefully balanced it as he walked down the hallway to the bedroom.
Aaron was resting on his side, gazing out the window toward the church behind the apartment building. His brows were rucked low and his lips twisted down, and when he stiffened slightly, giving away that he’d heard RJ’s footsteps, he didn’t look toward him or offer up a morning greeting or smile.
RJ’s stomach tensed, and the easy delight of the morning seemed to flee. He sat the platter on the dresser near the doorway and crossed to crouch in Aaron’s line of sight. Blinking, Aaron shifted his gaze from the window to RJ’s face, but his expression didn’t change.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”