Gordon took his hands and helped him to his feet, pulling him into his arms and laying a deep, sweet kiss on him that he knew he’d remember for the rest of his life.
For the rest of the afternoon, Gordon let him wear shorts, simply because Gordon didn’t want to risk making Loren uncomfortable despite her and her husband saying they were okay with it, and despite Doyle keeping Mal naked.
At the end of the day, with the marriage license properly filled out and the leftovers put away, Gordon led Jonah to bed and made love to him.
Well, after he’d taken him into the playroom and laid some well-placed cane marks up and down his ass and the backs of his thighs, but he kept the scene short because they were both tired.
It’d been a big day, emotionally.
And Jonah couldn’t be happier how it played out.
* * * *
Gordon had originally planned to spend their wedding night caning his boy nearly bloody, except he realized that a) they still had over a week before Jonah would have to fly to LA, and b) he didn’t want to burn his boy out that quickly and not be able to do any kind of impact play with him for the rest of Jonah’s time off, and c) they’d stayed up late Friday night talking.
About Gordon’s parents, about his recovery, about their goals together as a couple.
Yes, he’d even admitted to Jonah that part of him hoped Jonah might want to teach next year, because he knew he could get him a position if he applied now.
And Gordon admitted he knew that wasn’t fair to Jonah.
He wasn’t perfect.
He readily admitted that.
And still his boy married him today.
Which was why, right now, he was happy to be curled up on his side, with Jonah in a sixty-nine with him, and taking their time pleasuring each other. There was something to be said about sweet, slow teasing when you knew someone’s body as well as they knew each other.
Finally, after they’d sucked a load of cum out of each other, Jonah turned around and they held each other, face-to-face, forehead-to-forehead, legs entwined.
“Huuuusband,” Jonah whispered in that sweet, playful, sing-song voice he had that charmed Gordon every damn time. “My huuuusbaaaaand.”
Gordon chuckled. “Myyyy huuuuuusbaaaaand.”
They laughed together, and in moments like this, Gordon swore he heard them as kids, at fourteen and eighteen and twenty-one, all the history between them, all the years of love and learning and creating their memories together.
“So which of us is the crazier one, huh?” Jonah teased. “Me for marrying you, or you for marrying me?”
“I think it’s a draw,” Gordon admitted. “Because we’re both pretty damn nuts.”
“This is true.” Jonah nuzzled Gordon’s face. “Myyy olllld maaaan.”
Gordon burst out laughing. “Myyyy old maaaannnnnn.”
Jonah caressed Gordon’s cheek. “I know you always swore back then you’d find a way to marry me, but I honestly never planned to hold you to it. I never thought we’d be able to do it, unless we went to another country or something. Then we could do it, but we didn’t, and then…”
Gordon cupped Jonah’s face in his hands. “Past is past. We’re here, now. Those three years are gone, but we have something even more precious—hindsight.”
“And your parents.” Jonah smiled.
Gordon rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
Chapter Six
Gordon wasn’t sure if he felt resentful or relieved that Sunday dinner with his parents went…not sucky.
Resentful that it felt like they were more happy to see Jonah back than they were to see him at all, and relieved for the obvious reasons.
Still, it was something he knew he’d have to digest and work on. If nothing else, Jonah was happy to spend time with them.
For that reason alone, Gordon ticked the win column. Because keeping his boy happy was his priority.
That first week when Jonah headed back to LA was the hardest on Gordon. They talked as much as they could, but by Wednesday, Gordon felt the deep, aching pangs he’d experienced during their separation during Jonah’s first tour with the band, pangs Gordon had hoped wouldn’t return, now that Jonah was legally his husband.
Alone in his apartment, Gordon sat on his sofa with his guitar in his lap and a notebook at his side. It was almost too quiet without Jonah there, but at least he felt comforted knowing he’d be reunited with his boy in two days, when he flew out to LA to be with him.
Meanwhile, he’d been playing around with some lyrics to go with music he’d been writing off and on for a while, since Jonah left on the first tour. He’d never claim to be as talented as Mal or Rich when it came to composing, but he wanted to do this for Jonah.
A gift from the heart, something he knew his boy would appreciate.
Summer and winter, survived it again.
Missing you madly, this wasn’t the plan.
To have and to hold, and to find you, and then
Now I know for certain, to lose you’s a sin.
He hadn’t settled on a title for it yet, had only two verses finished and was still waffling on the chorus and bridge. The only thing he did know was he wanted it in three-quarter time, a callback to “Word of Mouth” and playing together on that song.
It would be a belated wedding gift for his boy. Since he’d dumped most of the money he’d earned so far from working with Mal and the band into his savings account, he really didn’t have money for a nice gift for Jonah.
He wanted a house. Their own home, even if they couldn’t build their dream home. When they’d told Doyle and Mal about possibly buying one of the four properties that were still for sale, the two men, who hadn’t realized that many were available, made them an offer—they’d buy the properties and hold on to them as a real estate investment, for now. If or when Gordon and Jonah were going to buy one, they’d sell it to them for what they’d paid for it and closing costs. They’d even finance it for them, if they needed.
That meant all they had to do was earn the money to build their house. Something that, even if Jonah quit the band tomorrow, they could afford the monthly bills on just Gordon’s guaranteed salary.
Before they broke up the first time, one of Gordon’s lingering regrets had been not being able to afford to support Jonah on his own. His boy had a lot of emotional issues, mostly stemming from the way his family had disowned him when he’d come out to them. It hadn’t been easy for them as a young couple, but they’d survived.
Now they were married, and the prospect of finally owning their own home was quickly looming on the horizon.
He studied the lyrics he’d written so far and tweaked them.
All he had to do was to not fuck this up between them, and to trust his boy.
* * * *
Gordon emerged from the terminal and smiled when he spotted Jonah standing there and eagerly awaiting him. When he reached Jonah, Gordon didn’t care who was around or watching. He set his carryons down and pulled Jonah into his arms for a long, sweet kiss. Gordon smiled when he felt the press of Jonah’s cock cage between them, even as his own cock hardened, needy, wanting to be buried in his boy.
“I told you, you didn’t have to wear it if you didn’t want to,” Gordon said when he finally ended their kiss.
Jonah grinned. “But it makes you happy, doesn’t it?”
Gordon smiled. “It does.”
“Then I’m going to wear it.”
Gordon hugged him again. “Missed you, baby.”
“Missed you, too, Master.”
“Let’s go. Sooner you’re finished tonight, the sooner I can take you back to Doyle’s to play.”
And not instruments. He’d be playing with Jonah’s body.
Gordon knew he’d be laying down tracks, too, this weekend, and he would be playing whatever instruments they provided for him, instead of having to haul his own back and forth every trip. At some point, they would buy Gordon guitars to keep out here with Jonah’s so
he’d have his own.
He couldn’t wait to see the studio.
Their driver swung through a Chinese restaurant for them, and they ate in the backseat while he ferried them to their destination.
“Have you been my good boy?” Gordon asked Jonah, already knowing his answer.
“Yes, Master,” he said. He wore a playful smirk. “I like this schedule a lot better than the last time we were apart.”
“I was thinking about maybe getting you pierced,” Gordon said, watching Jonah for his reaction.
He loved the way Jonah’s throat worked as he swallowed. “That’s Master’s choice,” he finally said, a nervous edge to his tone that hardened Gordon’s cock even more.
Gordon felt the evil smirk curling his lips. “Don’t even want to know where?”
“I think I know, Master.”
Gordon grinned. “Then tell me.”
Jonah swallowed again. “A PA?”
“Ah, my good boy.” He nuzzled Jonah’s ear. “Maybe a guiche, too. Then I can lock them together with a short chain. Keep you from having to wear that cage.” Jonah whined but didn’t say anything. “No safeword, boy?”
Jonah licked his lips. “Since when have I ever safeworded for anything you’ve done to me, Master?”
Never. The answer would be never, unless Gordon counted Jonah begging him that one night to get into recovery. Over eight years sober now, and some of those years had included white-knuckling his sobriety, especially after Jonah had left him.
Gordon squeezed his hand over Jonah’s caged bulge, his own cock thickening when Jonah softly whimpered. “Such a good boy. I haven’t decided yet for sure if I want you to get it or not. I might make you beg one way or the other.”
He loved the way the tip of Jonah’s tongue flicked out and ran over his lips before disappearing again. “I’ll beg however Master wants me to beg.”
Gordon leaned in for a kiss. “Then I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”
Would he force-force Jonah to get pierced if Jonah really didn’t want to? No, but Jonah tended to throw himself headlong into whatever tortures Gordon devised for him.
Sometimes, it was the act of being ordered to do something that Jonah truly got off on, being obedient to Gordon.
That was a heady power to have over someone, and no way did Gordon want to abuse it.
* * * *
While Gordon had never asked this of him specifically—although there had been a period before Jonah had left him the first time when Gordon teased that he was going to make Jonah pierce his nipples—Jonah had fantasized about a scenario like this.
Of Gordon taking him to a piercer and telling the guy what to do to him, and Jonah standing there, obediently letting it happen.
A shiver washed through Jonah. Combined with the way his cock ached inside the cage and the delightfully evil look Gordon had worn when talking about getting him pierced, Jonah knew he was leaking pre-cum all over the place inside the cage.
How could he not? His hubby was haaaaawt and sometimes seemed to know his mind even better than Jonah did.
That’s what made them so damn good together, and always had.
Even from when they were younger and first met way back in middle school, it seemed Gordon had always known Jonah better than Jonah knew himself.
Which was ironic, considering Jonah had to give Gordon the ultimatum to get sober.
Meanwhile, Jonah was eager for Gordon to see the studio and take part in what they were doing. In some ways, it didn’t feel fair to Jonah that Gordon wasn’t there with them, all the time.
Sure, he understood why Gordon didn’t want to quit his job, but being together—being a team—that had always factored into Jonah’s dreams before he’d so stupidly smashed them to pieces.
He wanted it back, all of it, even though he knew Gordon still needed time. Even with the ring on his hand, even with the piece of paper stating they were married, Gordon would need time to fully heal from what Jonah had done to him, and to them. To rebuild the trust Jonah had so carelessly shattered.
No matter how long it took, or what Gordon required of him, Jonah would do it, too. He would never lose Gordon again.
When they arrived at the studio, Jonah couldn’t wait to show Gordon around. Mal and Bonnie were there.
“Where’s the others?” Jonah asked.
“They’re out grabbing dinner,” Bonnie said. “Troy was going a little stir-crazy. His hand’s really hurting today. He’s trying to push his recovery too fast. Pasch and Garth took him out to eat.”
“Actually,” Mal said, “it’s great that you’re here, Gord. I promise we won’t work you non-stop this weekend, but would you mind laying down some tracks for us right now?”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Jonah had anticipated Gordon having to do some work while he was here this weekend, and it wasn’t exactly a hardship to play with the love of his life.
They set Gordon up in one of the booths, with a headset for playback and one of Jonah’s guitars. After he had a few minutes to warm up, he listened to the track a couple of times, playing along, until he was ready to record.
“Okay,” he said to Mal through the mic. “Go hot and start the backing track.”
Mal did, and Jonah stood there in the control booth, watching as Gordon made magic.
Jonah crossed his arms over his chest as the shiver raced through him, and it wasn’t just because of how the AC was cranked down in the studio. Mal flipped a switch to allow them to hear both the backing and Gord’s playing in the booth, and Bonnie let out a low whistle.
“I don’t care how many times I hear him play,” she said, “it gives me goosebumps.”
“Me, too,” Jonah said.
She smiled up at Jonah from where she sat in a chair next to Mal in front of the control panel. “You talk him into quitting teaching yet?”
Jonah shook his head. “I won’t do that to him. I still have a long ways to go fully re-earning his trust. I mean, I know he married me, and I know he trusts me, but I can’t stop showing him now. Part of his healing is he needs the financial security teaching gives him. I won’t pressure him. Remember, if he tells me to quit the band and stay home, I will.”
Bonnie tsked. “That would suck to lose both of you.” She focused on the booth, where Gordon’s eyes were closed as his fingers raced across the strings. “Damn, he’s good. You know, he reminds me a lot of Tommy Emmanuel’s style. We really need to get back to Florida and record more tracks. I’d love to have some of you, him, and Rich together doing an unplugged album of our greatest hits.”
“Hey,” Mal playfully joked. “What about me?”
She poked his shoulder. “Compared to those three, you, my dear, are a ham-fisted chimpanzee.”
Mal snorted. “You aren’t wrong. I wish I could fingerstyle a fraction as well as you three.” He looked up at Jonah. “Seriously, I’d love to do an acoustic album with you guys. You on mandolin, Rich on acoustic, and Gord on classical. Maybe even have Gord play banjo on a few. Guy’s fricking talented.”
Jonah felt a rush of heat in his cheeks. “That’s up to Sir,” he quietly said. “I won’t pressure him.”
“Well, I will,” Bonnie teased. “Seriously. Include classics, add ‘Word of Mouth,’ some of Rich’s songs—it’ll go platinum. And it’ll give Troy’s hand a rest. He’s pushing himself too damned hard and he’s no kid anymore. We don’t need him for guitar right now. He can do vocals.”
“Troy feels kind of useless,” Mal gently said. “Go easy on him, huh?” Through a random, stupid accident, Troy, their guitarist, had tripped going down his stairs at home and broke his wrist, which was why Jonah had been asked to play with the band in the first place.
“But he’s core band. He knows he’s always got a place with us. If it was me, and I’d hurt my hand, I wouldn’t begrudge having a keyboardist playing while I sang.”
“Yeah, but you’re the only woman in the band, hon. He’s never been through something like
this before.”
She slowly shook her head as they listened to Gord play. “Damn, that man has golden fingers. I’m so glad everything worked out for you and him,” she said to Jonah, “but I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was even more glad they worked out in our favor.”
* * * *
The three-hour time difference normally wouldn’t be an issue for Gordon, except he hadn’t slept well the night before, in anticipation of today’s reunion with Jonah. And he’d been up since six a.m. Florida time.
At one point, Pasch, Bonnie, Garth, and Troy got into the booth to lay down backing tracks while Mal ran the control panel, giving Jonah and Gordon a break. So Gordon and Jonah curled up together on the comfortable sofa in the back of the darkened control booth and watched from their relatively cozy vantage while Mal ran the board.
Jonah had come up with a large fleece blanket to drape over them, too.
That’s when Gord had an evil thought he knew he couldn’t contain.
He shifted Jonah so his body was spooned against him on the sofa and dug the key to the chastity cage’s lock out of his pocket. Working by feel, he slipped both hands down the front of Jonah’s shorts and into his briefs, where he unlocked it.
“Shh,” he breathed into Jonah’s ear.
Jonah softly whimpered, but Mevi, who now wore headphones as he directed the session and talked to the other band members in the booth, had his full focus directed on what he was doing.
Although Mal was in the lifestyle and wouldn’t blink an eye at their activities, even if he did figure out what they were doing.
Now freed from the cage, Jonah’s cock immediately inflated in Gordon’s hands.
“Don’t come, boy,” he whispered, one hand cupping Jonah’s sac and the other wrapping around his cock. “Not until I tell you to.”
Gordon’s cock now ached and throbbed, but he could wait. His boy had been good all week for him and had earned this dangerously naughty reward.
My Old Man Page 5
