Rick: (Joey - Part 2)

by Angelique Jurd

  Rick won’t deny he likes to be in charge in the bedroom - and out of it when possible - but it’s more important for him that he be able to care for his boys. Take away their fears and struggles when they walk through the door at the end of the day. Spoil and cuddle them as often as possible; correct and punish them when needed. The word punish sends a chill through him as he thinks of what Joey endured. Spanking is clearly off the menu for now at least. For Rick, spanking has never been something he’s used as punishment, preferring to use it for fun or if his boy is more of a physical sub, needing the subspace to let go. No, he prefers to use corner time or denial; not that either of those will work with Joey either. He gulps down a mouthful of bourbon, wincing at the burn.

  Since moving in with Rick, Joey’s eyes seem less haunted and he’s gained a few pounds. He’s sleeping better. Even so, his insecurities and fears are never far beneath the surface, as Saturday had shown. If Rick could just get him to name the bastard who hurt him but the younger man has been unmovable on the topic and Rick is determined to respect that, no matter how infuriating he finds it. God it would be so easy to just hire someone to find out, track the fucker down, and make sure he pays. It’s not like Rick can’t afford it. His gut tells him though that going behind Joey’s back like that might come with a high price. He might be a controlling son of a bitch - hell he’s not above a little manipulation when he feels it’s warranted - but Rick Southwell doesn’t break promises. Especially not to young men with worried, hazel eyes.

  A light rain has begun to spatter across the window, blurring his view of the city. Bill Harper, he thinks. That’s who he needs to call. He’s been meaning to do it for weeks; he wants to ask the doctor if anything can be done about Joey’s damaged fingers. Maybe he’ll have some suggestions on how to get the worry out of those eyes Rick loves so much.

  Draining the last of the bourbon, Rick turns back from the window and pulls his cell phone from his pocket. He has one last appointment to attend today but if he calls Bill now, he might have time to see him first.

  ♦♦♦

  From the box on the empty passenger seat comes a soft squeak. Without taking his eyes off the road, Rick slips his hand inside and strokes the silky fur within. God, he hopes he’s right with this idea. That he’s not going to regret it. Or have to buy new rugs and furniture. Didn’t he read somewhere that cats could cause as much damage as dogs? Of course, it’s too late to be worrying about it now but he makes a note to call Anne at his insurance company tomorrow to see where he stands for pet damage. Nowhere, he imagines, but it’s always worth asking.

  Once he’s parked in the underground garage, Rick picks up the box, snags his laptop bag with this free hand, and bumps the door shut with his hip. Who the hell knew you needed so much crap for one small kitten? Litter, a tray for said litter, food bowls, food, toys. Speaking of toys, that’s a conversation he and Joey need to have. Not cat toys of course. Obviously cages and rings are out, Rick thinks with a frown, but does that mean everything is out? Adds this to the growing mental list he has of things to talk about with Joey. Bill had been as bad as Charlotte on that subject: talk to him. Just talk to him. As if it was that simple. Muttering to himself, he makes his way upstairs.

  In the lobby he juggles the box, trying to pull his key fob from his pocket, until Derek comes out from behind his desk to help. Grateful, Rick waits while he swipes his card, then holds the door open. As he steps into the elevator another squeak rises from the basket.

  “For Mr. Harkin?”

  Is it Rick’s imagination or is his concierge, normally so taciturn he makes a fucking rock look friendly, smiling? Surprised, Rick nods and returns the smile.

  “Have a nice evening sir.”

  He’s still mulling over the change in Derek, when the doors open again, and he’s hit by a wall of violin music. Rick bites back a groan. On the screen in the living area, The Shirtless Violinist is playing but Joey is nowhere to be seen. Calling out that he’s home, Rick puts the box on the floor and shrugs off his jacket. He’s pulling at his tie when Joey appears at the top of the stairs.

  “Hey you.” The small twitch of pleasure he gets whenever Joey walks in a room still amazes him; he keeps expecting it to stop but it doesn’t. “What were you up to up there?”

  “Nothing.” Joey’s typical breathless reply, before he seems to remember it doesn’t matter what he was doing. “Just getting changed.”

  “You sure you weren’t jerking off to the music?”

  Joey, finally on the bottom step and within kissing distance, blushes but punches Rick’s shoulder.

  “No! I was not.”

  Amused by the reaction, Rick can’t resist teasing a little more. “I think he doth protest too much.”

  “Shut up.” Joey punches his shoulder again then points over it at the box. “What’s that?”

  That he’s confident enough to ask questions now sends another little spark of happiness through Rick as he steps aside.

  “Why don’t you open it and find out?”

  Joey bites his lip, looking from Rick to the box and back again. Curiosity finally wins over caution and he takes a step toward it. A frantic scratching and shuffling comes from within, followed by a soft thud as something falls to the ground. When a frantic miaow is heard Joey lunges for the box, eyes wide.

  Still watching him Rick crosses the room and pours himself a bourbon. Turns and leans against the drinks cabinet as Joey straightens up, holding his find at arm's length. The small bundle of white and gray - “excuse me, but her points are blue,” the breeder had said not bothering to hide her disdain - twisting in his grip, tail whipping and small paws batting the air. Joey cradles the kitten to his chest and turns to Rick.

  “Whose is she? Why is she here?”

  Rick can hear the hope in Joey’s voice. Knows he doesn’t dare ask in case the answer is no. He places his glass on the coffee table and wraps his arms around Joey’s waist. The kitten squirms and mewls between them, making Joey press his lips to her head to calm her.

  “Well, baby boy, she’s yours. That is, if you want her.”

  “Really? She’s mine?”

  “Yeah, she’s all yours. What are you going to call her?”

  “Finn.” There’s no hesitation. “I had a teacher I really liked, Miss Pawloski, and she used to tell us about her cat called Finn.” He looks up from beneath his overlong bangs, eyes filled with wonder. “Is she really mine?”

  Rick chuckles, realizing he’s probably going to hear that question a few more times before the evening is out.

  “Why don’t you feed Finn and I’ll organize some food for us. Everything you need is in the box.”

  Eyes sparkling, Joey pulls away then turns back.

  “Wha - mmmmph?” Rick’s words are cut short by a firm, warm kiss planted on his mouth. Joey mumbles ‘thank you’ against his lips then is gone.

  Humming to himself, Rick goes into the kitchen to start dinner.

  ♦♦♦

  Joey

  On the bed, waiting for Rick to finish up in the bathroom, Joey rubs his nose against Finn's. Runs his finger down her back. She's so soft and silky. Joey spent the evening reading Tonkinese sites and pointing out the differing varieties to Rick. He's never had a pet before. Hell, he's only had his first teddy bear for less than a year and now he has a kitten. He lifts her paw up with one finger. Finn snuffles, presses out tiny claws, and twists into a ball at the top of his pillow.

  Rick comes out of the ensuite, towel slung around his hips, and smiles at him. Climbs up the bed next to them and kisses Joey gently.

  "Feeling good?"

  Biting his lip, Joey nods. Yeah. Like this here on the bed, with the kitten purring, and Rick's skin warm from the shower pressed against his own, Joey can almost believe he might be allowed this.

  "Good." Rick stands up, tosses the towel toward the ensuite, and goes to the walk-in closet. Joey frowns. What's he doing? That isn't where he keeps his sleep wear. Puzzled, he watche
s as Rick reappears, dragging the full-length dress mirror out into the room.

  "What are you doing?"

  Rick doesn't answer. He places the mirror by the dresser. Comes over to the bed and studies it. Frowns and goes back. Adjusts the placement. Nods and comes back to the bed. Squinting, he lifts Finn's pillow and puts it down gently on the floor. The little bundle of gray and white fluff covers her nose with her tail but doesn't wake.

  "Rick, what's going on?" Joey tries to swallow down the budding apprehension he's feeling. Rick won't do anything he, Joey, doesn't want. Right? Without a word, Rick turns Joey onto his side, facing the mirror, and stretches out behind him.

  "Do you trust me?" Rick asks.

  "I…"

  "I promise I won't hurt you and if you want to stop, you just have to say stop."

  Rick's breath is warm on Joey's neck and he's drawing small, lazy circles over his belly that are very distracting.

  "I trust you."

  "Okay. I want us to try something." Rick pulls at the blue sleep pants Joey is wearing, easing them over his hips to his thighs, down over his knees, and finally discards them at the end of the bed.

  When he scoots back up, he reaches over and takes Joey's hand. Laces their fingers together. Kisses a line along Joey's collar bone. When he feels Rick's hard length press against him, Joey shivers. His own cock is half hard already and he wishes Rick would kiss him properly.

  "You are the most beautiful boy," Rick murmurs in his ear and this is one of those rare times that the word boy doesn't make Joey want to curl in on himself. Rick is still speaking. "Nothing about you is wrong or bad, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "I want you to look at the mirror, baby."

  Joey drags his gaze up until he's looking into the reflection of Rick's eyes.

  "Do you see how beautiful you are?"

  Joey shakes his head. No. All he sees is too white skin stretched over angular points and knobs of bone. Scars. Memories of pain. Nothing beautiful.

  "But you are." Rick kisses the spot beneath his ear. Sucks at the skin for a second. "So beautiful. I love everything about you. Your eyes, your sweet smile. Your scars." Joey shuts his eyes, opening them again when he gets a sharp nip on the edge of his ear. "No. You have to keep your eyes open for this."

  Slowly, Rick lowers their clasped hands toward Joey's thigh. Brushes his knuckles over Joey's growing erection.

  "I want you to know that nothing you do is bad. You can touch yourself whenever you want to. You can come whenever you want to. I will never be angry with you for enjoying your own body. I will never hurt you."

  "Rick."

  "It's okay," Rick continues. "I'm here. I've got you. I'm going to help and if you want to stop, we can stop. But I want you to know that nobody has ever excited me the way you do. I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. You bring me so much pleasure baby boy, and I want to give that to you."

  "You do." Joey swallows, eyes locked on their joined hands resting beside his cock.

  "I want to know what you like. I want to see how you touch yourself, so I know how to touch you.

  "You do know."

  Another line of kisses is dotted along his collar bone.

  "When I go out of town on business, I want to be able to call you and play games with you."

  That idea leaves Joey's mouth dry. He hates the idea of Rick going away but the idea of … of phone sex … with him. Of being allowed to do that… Without thinking he rocks his hips and Rick hisses, grinding his cock against Joey's crease.

  "Rick," he whispers. "I don't know if I can."

  "Just trust me baby. I know you can."

  Joey watches in the mirror as Rick unwinds their fingers and curls Joey's around himself.

  "It's okay. I promise. I want to see."

  Joey drags his hand up the dry skin of his length as Rick pushes up onto his elbow, reaches over Joey to the nightstand and opens the drawer. After a moment he pulls out a bottle of lube, and dribbles some over Joey's cock. He shivers at the cold sensation but when he slides his hand up this time, the sensation is better.

  "I’m right here baby. I want this. I want to see you."

  Joey moans and twists his hand as he strokes, smearing the pre-cum that has formed at the head over his length. Rick shifts slightly and slips one hand between Joey's legs. His fingertips brush over his taint and curl around his balls. Joey's hips jerk at the sensation and he sweeps his hand up again.

  "Look at how beautiful you are. How fucking hot you are baby."

  In the mirror, Joey watches the head of his cock emerge from his fist then disappear again. He squeezes it with a whimper, thrilling at the jolt of sensation that rushes him. Rick moves, pulling his hand free of Joey's thighs and second's later he feels fingers brushing over his hole, pressing and probing. He groans when Rick presses one finger inside him, searching.

  "Rick," he moans. He can feel his orgasm building and with it the apprehension once more. He doesn’t know how to ask Rick what to do, how to stop. Isn't sure he wants to stop but isn't sure if he's allowed to keep going. If he's allowed to come.

  "Show me baby. I want to see it all." The words come out in what Joey thinks of as Rick's daddy voice but this time it's wrecked with arousal. In the back of his mind, Joey hears Blakes voice rebuking him for ejaculating. Accusing him of being disgusting.

  "But… I… I'll make a mess." Pressure is building in his groin, sensation sparking through him.

  Rick eases his finger free and Joey hears the frantic slap of skin on skin. Feels the damp head of Rick's cock against his ass.

  "Baby, I want you to." Rick groans as hand moving over his cock faster against Joey's back. "Show me."

  Every muscle feels as though it's spasming; his balls tighten and the first spurts of cum spill over his fingers. Shuddering and whimpering, Joey bucks forward as his cock twitches and pulses. Behind him, Rick stiffens and curses, then the wet warmth of his release hits Joey in the small of his back.

  As the last shudders fade, Joey can't take his eyes from their reflection. His softening cock, rests against his thigh, sticky and spent. His belly is splattered with cum. Over his shoulder, Rick watches him, eyes sated and sleepy.

  "Okay, baby boy?"

  Joey nods, nibbling his lower lip. Rick's lips graze the back of his neck as he settles in behind him and before long his breathing deepens and evens out. Running his finger back and forth over Rick's arm, slung over his chest, he lies there for a long time, just looking at their reflection.

  ♦♦♦

  Rick

  At six o’clock the alarm’s angry buzz scatters the last remaining fragments of Rick’s dream. Something about trying to bathe a lion. He props himself up on his elbow and peers over Joey’s shoulder. Finn is curled up, tail over her nose, on Joey’s teddy bear. Some lion. He kisses the back of Joey’s neck and slips from the bed.

  Rick doesn’t notice the mess on the bathroom floor until the cat litter crunches beneath his bare feet. With a yelp he hops from foot to foot, trying and failing to avoid a small puddle of kitten pee, finally dropping onto the toilet seat to survey the mess. He could be wrong but there appears to be more mess out of the litter box than it - and it’s not just litter either. There’s at least one other puddle and two or three clumps that Rick decides he doesn’t want to know about.

  “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up. Stay there.” Joey – Rick hadn't even heard him get up - whirls away before Rick can say anything and he hears him running down the stairs mumbling to himself.

  “Slow down or you’ll fall and break something,” he calls. He slumps back on the toilet and scratches at his beard. It’s one way to wake up, he supposes. From the bedroom comes the sound of something jumping from the bed and a moment later a small gray face with long whiskers and black button eyes appears around the bathroom door.

  “Hello Trouble.” Seemingly encouraged by his tone, Finn creeps into the bathroom. Halfway across the floor she stops and scratches at the s
cattered bits of litter. Rick dives to scoop her up and deposit her in the middle of the litter tray. “Oh no you don’t. You’ve made quite enough mess this morning.”

  Smiling and shaking his head, he returns his attention to brushing off the soles of his feet.

  “I’m really sorry.” Joey’s back with the broom and a dustpan. “It’s because she’s so little and doesn’t know. I saw online last night there are these litter boxes that are like igloos and cats like them because they’re private and -”

  Rick grips Joey’s shoulders. “Calm down. Breathe. That’s better.” He kisses Joey’s forehead. “It’s just a bit of cat litter, not the end of the world.”

  Joey bites his lip. “So, she can stay?”

  “Of course she can stay. I’m sure she’s going to make much more mess -” Ricks words are cut off by a thick, pungent odor rising around them and the sound of litter being scratched at.

  “I’ll get her an igloo litter box,” Joey mumbles as he grabs the broom and starts sweeping up the mess. “It should help with the smell too.”

  Nodding, Rick pats his shoulder. “You do that. I’m going to shower downstairs where the air is pure.”

  “Great, now both bathrooms will be unusable.” Joey stops sweeping and cocks his head to one side. His eyes glimmer with amusement. “Maybe I should get you an igloo too.”

  “Look at that, he thinks he can be sassy at this hour of the day.” Rick leans forward and points a finger at Joey. “I’m not above making plain oatmeal and coffee for breakfast.”

  Joey whips his head from side to side. He hates oatmeal and has stopped even drinking coffee at the office, opting for hot chocolate or tea instead.

  “Yeah that’s what I thought.”

  ♦♦♦

  "It'll be good for you. Both of you.” Rick pitches his voice lower and crosses his arms. Since Finn’s arrival, things have settled down somewhat. The bathroom floor is no longer a minefield of feline waste and even Rick is starting to like waking up to what sounds like a high-pitched miniature engine on the pillow next to him. He’s not sure why the kitten squeaks when she purrs but he loves the way Joey’s expression softens when he hears it.