by J. M. Dabney
His boy cried, whimpered, and clawed at the thick quilt. He pushed forward, the tip of his thumb slipped in, too, beside his fingers. Fielding’s hole was reddened and swollen around his hand. Fielding bucked and squeezed trying to push his fist from his ass, but he only fisted him harder and faster.
His cock pulsed and leaked profusely as he used his boy, gave him the pain he knew Fielding needed. He jerked his fist from Fielding’s ass and studied the flexing hole that seemed to call for him to fuck it. Fielding’s slim body collapsed and his harsh breaths blended with his.
Without thinking, he took his cock in hand, lined up and took Fielding in one sharp thrust. He’d never taken anyone bare, and his boy was slick and hot. His boy was a virgin before him, and he hadn’t had a fuck in years.
His weight pressed Fielding into the bed, and he pushed his lips to Fielding’s ear.
“Is this what you wanted, boy, your Daddy’s fat cock splitting you wide?”
“Yes, Daddy, make it hurt.”
“Your Daddy will give you just what you need.”
He didn’t think or question; he fucked his boy hard and fast. Imprinting on his memory every cry, the saltiness of his boy’s tears. The clasp of Fielding’s ass around his dick was a silky heat drawing him back in every time he tried to retreat.
The legs of the bed scraped across hardwood. Fabric tore under the pressure of Fielding’s nails. He fucked his boy like the beast he was with no thought of care or gentleness. He wanted to fill his beautiful boy with his cum. He required part of himself inside Fielding.
His right hand curved around the front of Fielding’s throat, loved the gasp and the wheeze as he squeezed just enough.
“You’re Daddy’s boy, aren’t you?” he hissed as he pounded Fielding’s ass.
“Yes.”
Fielding screamed, and he felt his lips tighten into a smile as he shifted, aimed for Fielding’s prostate, and his boy’s high-pitched squeal made his cock jerk. He studied Fielding’s face, red and wet with sweat. His boy’s mouth opened wide, and his breathing was harsh.
He fucked into his boy’s beautiful body. Sweaty skin slapping together. He grunted as he worked his way in and out of Fielding’s swollen hole. Thought about how sore his boy would be.
A choked scream and his boy clawing at his hand signaled that he’d made his boy come. He straightened as he took Fielding’s hips in a bruising grip and pounded at Fielding’s hole.
“Fuck, boy, you make Daddy so fucking happy.” He pushed the words through clenched teeth.
The force of his orgasm took him by surprise, and he pushed and pulled, saw cum and lube coating his dick, saw his seed gathering at Fielding’s rim. He slammed forward one last time and collapsed onto Fielding, then he fisted his hand in his boy’s hair and turned Fielding’s head until his lips met his boy’s softer ones. He kissed his mouth and the tears and sweat from his cheeks.
“Such a good boy.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Fielding’s voice cracked, and he stroked his boy’s hair, he loathed to leave his boy’s body, but they needed to get ready to go. He eased out and listened to his boy’s whimper. Before he straightened, he placed a gentle kiss on Fielding’s lower back, peace and regret were an odd combination.
“Time for you to get cleaned up, we need to leave soon.”
He helped Fielding stand and then Fielding’s arms were around him, a teary face pressed against his chest. Sobs tore at his heart.
“Keep me, Daddy, please.”
“I can’t, boy, I only want what’s best for you and I’m not it.”
The words were a bitter lie on his tongue. Every second Fielding was in his life, he wanted to grab onto him and never let go, but he needed to protect his boy even from himself.
Eighteen
Where was His Pretty At?
He threw his laptop, and it smashed against the wall, the sound of breaking didn’t satisfy him like it should have. The vision of the helicopter taking off from Livingston’s place earlier playing in his head on repeat. He roughly pulled his phone out of his pocket, and then he pulled up the app for the GPS locator he’d planted. He couldn’t get a location which meant the tracker he planted was found or left behind. Fielding could be anywhere.
They had to come out of hiding sooner or later because he’d grown tired of this town and the game. It was supposed to be so easy. The phone calls he’d recorded told him exactly who would watch Fielding and his research extensive enough to make a cover story believable. A family long-gone from town. Who wouldn’t believe someone who just wanted to reconnect with their family roots?
Fielding had always been his since their eyes met ten years ago. He’d kissed those lips once and then the moment was ruined by gossip. Fielding never came near him again. His acting career was over, but he’d never stopped thinking Fielding was his. It was easy enough to make it appear to be a crazy fan.
Now he just needed to find out where his pretty was at, but being on the run complicated his plan but didn’t make it impossible. He just needed to be patient. They couldn’t keep Fielding locked away forever.
All he needed was the heat to die down.
His phone ringing made him jump, and he checked the display. He’d thrown away his pre-paid phone after the incident at the hospital. His first thought had been to keep Francis alive, but as soon as he’d looked down at the ugly bastard, he’d changed his mind. Francis should be dead, and he would’ve been if that doctor hadn’t almost caught him. His only choice was to run, and he had.
The ringing stopped then immediately began again.
“Hello, mother.”
“Nigel, weren’t you and your fiancé supposed to be here by now?”
“We’re only delayed. I’ll bring him to meet you as soon as I can. How are you feeling?”
He kept his voice sweet, and he smiled, no matter how much the woman disgusted him as long as he smiled she wouldn’t notice the change in his voice. His mother had driven his father away. If she’d just been the partner his father deserved.
“I’m well. The doctors are positive that the treatment worked. I miss you, though. You’ve stayed away so long this time.”
“I’m sorry, mother, I assure you I’ll be home soon.”
“I was so happy to hear that your young man said yes.”
“I am too.”
“Is he around? May I speak with him?”
He strode across the room to the window and fisted his hand in the curtain, eased it aside slightly to look outside. He’d had to move motels. The new place was as dirty and disgusting, but it fit his purpose for now.
“He ran out to the store. I’ll call you on my way there, I promise.”
“Okay, dear, when should I tell the staff that you’re arriving home.”
“I don’t know yet. I said I’d call when we left.”
“Yes, yes, dear, I think I need a nap. I love you and hope to see you soon.”
They spoke a few more minutes, and he disconnected the call. He squeezed his hand around the phone until the edges cut into his hand.
Oh, where, oh, where was his pretty hiding?
Nineteen
Who Were These People?
All he could see were the scars and the deadness of eyes as he nervously stood and waited for Livingston to get their packs out of the helicopter. The two men weren’t overly tall, shorter than Livingston, but their sheer mass was frightening. They didn’t approach just simply stood there staring with rifles in their right hands aimed at the ground.
The whir of the blades almost drowned out Livingston thanking Sin and Saint for the lift. A strong hand was placed on the small of his back, and he was nudged forward. He glanced back as Livingston grabbed their bags and he slowly walked forward. The wind died down, and it slowly grew quiet.
“Freddie, Horace, been awhile,” Livingston greeted the men, but he noticed Livingston didn’t reach out to shake.
“Not long enough.”
“You still hold
ing a grudge, Freddie?”
“You took me through four states locked in your fucking trunk, yeah, man, I’m still holding a fucking grudge.”
“Murder is a serious charge to jump bail on.”
“Justifiable.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before, Peaches worked miracles to get that charge dropped.”
“Why the fuck are you here?” Horace asked.
He wasn’t trained, but even he noticed the tightening of Horace’s hand around the butt of the gun.
“My boy is in danger and where better to hide out than in your camp.”
“Doesn’t look like your pretty, city boy has ever squatted in the woods to shit before. You going to need to hold his hand out in the big bad woods?”
“Horace, quit being jealous my ugly mug got him first.”
He shifted nervously as Horace and Freddie looked him up and down with a little too much interest. He stepped closer to Livingston.
“No accounting for fucking taste.”
He jumped as back pounding hugs commenced and three booming laughs echoed through the forest. Who were these people? He’d assumed the Trenton team were as crazy as he’d ever come across.
“How the fuck y’all been?”
“Getting fucking old, man, gets harder every year. Feel eighty on some cold mornings.”
“Shit, you two are the same age as me. Move back to town and live among the civilized people.”
“That shit ain’t for us. We do just fine out here. We’re almost done with that cabin we’ve been building.”
“You two been working on that for what, two years now?”
“Not much else to do out here and I heard kidnapping a man from town was illegal.”
“When has a little something like laws stopped y’all from doing whatever the fuck y’all want to do?”
Horace shrugged his bulky mile-wide shoulders. “I can’t deny that, but I kinda like consent.”
“Come on, let’s get to camp before it gets dark.” Freddie turned as he talked and headed off into the trees.
“They’re crazy, but they’re perfectly safe,” Livingston whispered as he bent to pick the bags back up.
He stepped in front of Livingston and followed behind the two men.
“How’s the team?”
“Linus is married to a local deputy and a bartender, got kids now.”
“Shit, Linus went domestic on us? Fuck, never thought that day would happen, but the two-husband thing I can see though. I bet Lily is loving the grandkids thing.”
He kept his eyes on the ground, stepping over exposed roots and fallen limbs. Except for the other men’s voices, all he could hear was the sounds of nature. Songs of birds and animals scurrying around in the shadows of the trees.
“Yeah. You know Lily.”
“She was up here dropping off supplies several months ago, but never mentioned it. She was trying to get us to leave. What about the rest?”
“Pure is Pure, Little’s barely keeping himself alive, and you know Gage.”
“Still got that hard-on for that boy he’s not supposed to?”
“I think he’s given up on that one, maybe, who the fuck knows. I ain’t seen Gage go on a date in years now.”
He zoned out and walked along as the day was slowly dying. He was sore, he smiled to himself, he’d never complain about Livingston taking him however and whenever he wanted. The upward tilt of his mouth fell at the only painful part. Livingston was going to let him go, and he’d be strong when the time came. The memories would carry him through the lonely times ahead of him. He’d rather belong to Livingston temporarily than not at all.
The forest broke, and they walked into a clearing with three tents that surrounded a fire pit in front of a simple log cabin.
“Still got plans for that cabin?”
“Stupid dreams, that’s all it is.”
“Freddie might be playing it off, but that place is for when they start courting to trick some men into coming up here.”
“We’ve been hiding up here a long time, Liv, I think the time of finding men for ourselves has passed.” Freddie didn’t glance back as he spoke.
Horace and Freddie leaned their rifles against the side of the porch. He frowned as the two men looked at each other. There was something there, a shared sadness that they felt so oppressively their shoulders slumped.
“Did you warn your boy about roughing it?” Horace asked with a deceptively friendly smile.
Livingston led him to a tent, pulled the flap aside and stowed their bags inside. The man took his hand and helped him sit on a low camp chair around the fire. All three men took the other chairs.
“No, but he’ll be fine. Everyone should go camping at least once.”
Over the night he listened to stories some that were funny and more than frightened him about being stuck with Horace and Freddie. He slowly relaxed as he studied the two men and recognized a lot of Livingston’s quirks in them. One of them or both would look off into space and seem lost for a few minutes before they pulled themselves back from their thoughts. Their loneliness was palatable.
“Your boy is beautiful, Liv,” Freddie quietly muttered, but didn’t look at him. “You’re a lucky man.”
Freddie sounded envious and sad, he glanced at Livingston and back to Freddie to find both of Livingston’s friends watching him.
“Yes, he is. Y’all will find yours.”
“Naw, man, we do just fine with jerking off. Best not get used to men who will run from us, ya know?”
“Freddie and me been alone so long we don’t even know what to say to get ourselves a pretty boy.”
He jumped as Livingston’s hand stroked from his knee to his groin, he jerked his gaze to Livingston’s. The man watched him with hunger in his gaze. He shot a glance out of the corner of his eye to catch Horace and Freddie staring before they brought their attention to the fire.
“It’s not so much what you say.”
“Bullshit, it’s all about being smooth and a good looking bastard.” Horace’s voice was harsh and filled with bitterness.
“If good looking was a factor, you think I’d have Fielding? It’s about touching—how you make them feel.”
“How do you touch him?”
The longing clear in Freddie’s words and his chest tightened with empathy. Wasn’t that all he wanted? A chance for love and touch—to belong.
“Like he’s mine.”
Livingston’s gaze held his, and he was helpless, he couldn’t look away. The big man took his hand and tugged until he stood, he eased down onto Livingston’s lap. Livingston’s thick cock was under his sore ass, but he involuntarily clenched as he thought about taking Livingston again. It was never enough.
“It isn’t just about fucking. Your focus needs to be on them and their pleasure. Their trust and consent your greatest treasure, but you have to earn it. You let them know you care and you want nothing but to take care of them.”
Livingston’s lips nipped at his earlobe as the big man’s hands slipped under his jacket and t-shirt. He couldn’t help it when he arched into Livingston’s rough hands on his stomach.
“We don’t know anything about being gentle. We’re going to bed. We get up pretty early around here.” Horace shared a look with Freddie.
Freddie and Horace stood so quickly that he pushed back to Livingston’s chest. They roughly tore the flaps back on their tents and disappeared inside.
“Are they—”
“Undo your fucking pants.” The dangerous edge of Livingston’s voice had him moving before he could think about it. He was uneasy about the sound of Livingston’s tone. He shyly pushed his pants down just enough to expose his ass and kept glancing at the tents.
“You’re safe. Daddy will always make sure of that.”
He trusted Livingston above anyone else. The broken men who’d disappeared into the tents appeared so miserable. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to give them something. Voyeurism was innocent enough. No one
else’s hands would touch him but his Daddy’s.
Livingston worked his own pants undone. He lifted his hips, and the wide head of Livingston’s cock was at his hole. He bit off a scream as he was impaled. The burn made him lightheaded. Livingston’s dick was slick, but he hadn’t even noticed any lube. His ass was on fire. Livingston’s teeth bit into his shoulder. His cock rested on his exposed stomach as he rode Livingston.
“Daddy’s bad boy likes that people are watching him ride his Daddy’s cock. They can look all they want, but who do you belong to?”
“You, Daddy, only you.”
“Don’t be quiet, let them hear how my dirty boy loves his Daddy’s dick.”
He opened his thighs as far as his jeans would allow, placed his hands on the arms of the chair and bounced on Livingston’s cock.
“Daddy,” he screamed as Livingston’s hand wrapped around his length and squeezed.
He frantically pushed his jeans down his legs so he could open his thighs wider. Livingston grunted under him, but those weren’t the only masculine sounds of pleasure he heard. He forced his eyes open and turned to the tents, the flaps were open, and the two men stared at him, barely illuminated by the fire. He could almost pretend they weren’t there at all. Their shirts were gone to expose hairy chest and bellies.
Embarrassment stole through him at what he was doing.
“Let them have something, boy, show them they can have a boy of their own, but you only belong to me.”
He couldn’t look away from them, looking at one then the other as they stared at him. They worked their dicks in a brutal rhythm, they almost seemed in sync, and he matched his ride to the pace of their strokes. He groaned and whimpered, loud even to himself. He didn’t know how he felt about being jerk-off material, but the silent misery that surrounded the two lonely men made him push it aside.
“Fuck, boy, I’m gonna cum,” Livingston growled against his ear.
He batted Livingston’s hand away from his cock and stroked himself closer and closer. Every muscle in his body seized up as a painful grip slammed him down on Livingston’s cock. The heat of Livingston’s cum filled his ass, and he screamed as he released onto his thighs. He collapsed bonelessly onto his Daddy’s chest, clenching around Livingston as the big man kissed his neck, cheek, and temple. Soothing him with gentle strokes of Livingston’s calloused hands.
