Jim.”
“Isn't he?”
“No, Scott has a good, strong survival instinct. Look at how he made you pay attention when he needed you. And you aren't the same now, Jim.”
“Aren't I?”
“Of course not. You know more. And"— Paul grinned to himself—"if you get it wrong, Brian'll be right there to tell you so.”
Something like a smile appeared beneath Jim's beard. “He's really something.”
“Scary little shit.”
“He'll be running our lives in a few years.”
“If we're lucky.” Paul laughed, head back, big booming laugh. “Hey, Brian!” he yelled.
Brian came skidding into the living room at a run. “Yes, sir?”
Curls all around his head, down to his shoulders now. Cheeks pink and flushed. His boxers were covered with smiley faces.
“Jim and you and I and Scott need something special to celebrate. How would you like to have those cute little nipples pierced?”
Brian's hands flew to said nipples. He squeaked.
Jim's eyes went hot. “I'll tell Scott.”
“Next thing you know, he'll be tattooing his name across Brian's butt,” growled Scott, slipping a T-shirt over his head.
“If Brian wants that, I'm sure he'll let Paul know.”
Scott slid a glance sideways, watched Jim as he buttoned his shirt. “If you think I'm going to just roll over and let you do things to me... ”
Jim frowned. “Of course not.”
“I'm not your dog.”
“I never said you were.”
“Brian might need somebody bossing him around, but I sure as hell don't.”
Jim chose not to respond to this. He turned away, opening a dresser drawer. Scott narrowed his eyes at that turned back and clenched his jaw.
“Did you hear me, Jim?” he said.
Jim sighed. “Of course I heard you, Scott.”
“And you don't have to take that tone with me, either.” Scott's arms folded across his chest. “I'm not an idiot.”
Jim closed the drawer and rested his hands for a moment on the dresser. “No,” he said, after several minutes of silence. “You're not an idiot. But... you do want someone to tell you what to do.”
“Fuck that,” said Scott.
Jim turned. They eyed each other. “Scott,” said Jim, “it isn't like you to use foul language. Please stop cursing.”
“Fuck you too,” said Scott.
Jim's lips compressed, his eyes went dark. “Go back to bed, Scott.”
Scott planted his feet firmly where he stood.
“Fine,” said Jim.
A few minutes later, a bound Scott's eyeballs were rolling to the ceiling as Jim's hands and mouth worked his cock and balls. His protests and curses had rapidly turned to entreaties and moans, and now he only whimpered as his belly tensed, his balls jerked, and ropey come sprayed Jim's face.
Jim stood, went to the bathroom, and washed his face. He came out with a warm wet washcloth and cleansed Scott. He drew the coverlet up and covered his lover carefully.
“Gotta pee,” said Scott.
“You should have thought of that,” said Jim calmly. He patted Scott's leg. “I'll let you go in a few minutes, hon. I want you to think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” Scott watched Jim stand and walk toward the bedroom doorway. “Hey!” he said, as Jim was about to leave.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Jim took a breath. Exhaled and took another. Blinked his eyes fiercely. “I love you too, Scott,” he whispered.
“Studio City Tattoo.” Brian read the engraved window backward. “Hey.” He nudged Scott playfully. “Do you want one?”
Scott was peering into the case of piercing jewelry like a girl looking at solitaire diamonds. He looked up at Brian and shook his head.
“Nah. Not into pain, my little endorphin bunny.”
Jim's big hand was on Scott's shoulder. It seemed Jim was always there of late. “It really doesn't hurt that much.”
Scott didn't comment. Jim's hand slid up Scott's neck to cup the close-cropped head. Scott's head rolled a little into the caress. His eyes lifted to meet Jim's and some sort of communication seemed to be happening between them. They were mostly
“Isn't he?”
“No, Scott has a good, strong survival instinct. Look at how he made you pay attention when he needed you. And you aren't the same now, Jim.”
“Aren't I?”
“Of course not. You know more. And"— Paul grinned to himself—"if you get it wrong, Brian'll be right there to tell you so.”
Something like a smile appeared beneath Jim's beard. “He's really something.”
“Scary little shit.”
“He'll be running our lives in a few years.”
“If we're lucky.” Paul laughed, head back, big booming laugh. “Hey, Brian!” he yelled.
Brian came skidding into the living room at a run. “Yes, sir?”
Curls all around his head, down to his shoulders now. Cheeks pink and flushed. His boxers were covered with smiley faces.
“Jim and you and I and Scott need something special to celebrate. How would you like to have those cute little nipples pierced?”
Brian's hands flew to said nipples. He squeaked.
Jim's eyes went hot. “I'll tell Scott.”
“Next thing you know, he'll be tattooing his name across Brian's butt,” growled Scott, slipping a T-shirt over his head.
“If Brian wants that, I'm sure he'll let Paul know.”
Scott slid a glance sideways, watched Jim as he buttoned his shirt. “If you think I'm going to just roll over and let you do things to me... ”
Jim frowned. “Of course not.”
“I'm not your dog.”
“I never said you were.”
“Brian might need somebody bossing him around, but I sure as hell don't.”
Jim chose not to respond to this. He turned away, opening a dresser drawer. Scott narrowed his eyes at that turned back and clenched his jaw.
“Did you hear me, Jim?” he said.
Jim sighed. “Of course I heard you, Scott.”
“And you don't have to take that tone with me, either.” Scott's arms folded across his chest. “I'm not an idiot.”
Jim closed the drawer and rested his hands for a moment on the dresser. “No,” he said, after several minutes of silence. “You're not an idiot. But... you do want someone to tell you what to do.”
“Fuck that,” said Scott.
Jim turned. They eyed each other. “Scott,” said Jim, “it isn't like you to use foul language. Please stop cursing.”
“Fuck you too,” said Scott.
Jim's lips compressed, his eyes went dark. “Go back to bed, Scott.”
Scott planted his feet firmly where he stood.
“Fine,” said Jim.
A few minutes later, a bound Scott's eyeballs were rolling to the ceiling as Jim's hands and mouth worked his cock and balls. His protests and curses had rapidly turned to entreaties and moans, and now he only whimpered as his belly tensed, his balls jerked, and ropey come sprayed Jim's face.
Jim stood, went to the bathroom, and washed his face. He came out with a warm wet washcloth and cleansed Scott. He drew the coverlet up and covered his lover carefully.
“Gotta pee,” said Scott.
“You should have thought of that,” said Jim calmly. He patted Scott's leg. “I'll let you go in a few minutes, hon. I want you to think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” Scott watched Jim stand and walk toward the bedroom doorway. “Hey!” he said, as Jim was about to leave.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Jim took a breath. Exhaled and took another. Blinked his eyes fiercely. “I love you too, Scott,” he whispered.
“Studio City Tattoo.” Brian read the engraved window backward. “Hey.” He nudged Scott playfully. “Do you want one?”
Scott was peering into the case of piercing jewelry like a girl looking at solitaire diamonds. He looked up at Brian and shook his head.
“Nah. Not into pain, my little endorphin bunny.”
Jim's big hand was on Scott's shoulder. It seemed Jim was always there of late. “It really doesn't hurt that much.”
Scott didn't comment. Jim's hand slid up Scott's neck to cup the close-cropped head. Scott's head rolled a little into the caress. His eyes lifted to meet Jim's and some sort of communication seemed to be happening between them. They were mostly
Similar Books
