Sawyer & Boyd Duo: MM age-play romance

by JP Sayle

  “I should maybe have taken my keys out of my pocket first.”

  He gently lowered me to the ground, holding me steady with one hand as he rooted in his jacket for his keys. When he had the door unlocked, he picked me back up and I snuggled back into his chest. My eyelids struggled to stay open with the feeling of contentment at his care flowing through me.

  “Can you stand while I get you undressed?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled, even though I wasn’t completely sure. With my feet on the floor, I held his arm for a second till I gained my balance.

  “I think we’ll leave your shower to the morning.”

  I could tell from the way he spoke, his Daddy was firmly in charge, so I meekly agreed and I let him tuck me up in bed while trying not to think how sweaty I’d got through the day. The mattress dipped, and I realised I’d shut my eyes. With difficulty, I opened them.

  Boyd’s expression was strained as he gently rubbed his hand over my hair. “I’m going to have a shower as I’m grimy. I won’t be long.” He kissed the tip of my nose before going to stand.

  “What happened?” I whispered, reaching out for him, fear working to snatch my sleepiness away.

  His arm tensed under my fingers, but he shook his head. “You’re tired, and now is not the time to talk about it. Nothing is going to change between now and tomorrow.” His caramel eyes pleaded with me.

  “Okay. But you promised me snuggles,” I reminded him.

  He gave me a smile that touched his eyes. “That I did. Give me ten.”

  He was quicker than that and, as I snuggled into his embrace, I closed my eyes and hoped that whatever the morning brought, it wasn’t anything we couldn’t deal with together.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Boyd

  Eyeing Sawyer as he sat opposite me, playing with the bowl of cereal I’d laid in front of him, I could see he was in Little mode. His lips were pouty, and his features held a softness I’d come to recognise. “Want to tell Daddy what’s wrong?”

  His spoon splashed milk and cereal all over the wooden table as it landed in the bowl with a clatter. “No.”

  His gaze remained on the table as he started to play with the spilt milk, making more of a mess. “Stop that, please.”

  The firm request did nothing. He continued to play, drawing patterns using some of the soggy cereal from the bowl. His eyes peered up once through his thick eyelashes and I had to bite my lip at the petulant expression he wore.

  “I won’t ask you again.” Having never encountered this side of him, I considered what my options were as he made more of a mess and got his work shirt cuffs dirty.

  Do I punish him? Do I ignore his behaviour? What did he expect me to do? The last question was the one I debated over as I got up off the chair.

  He never stopped his playing as I crouched right next to him and took a gentle hold of the hand he was about to stick in the bowl. “I want you to go to the sink and wash your hands. When you’ve dried them, I want you to go and sit on the bottom of the stairs and think about your behaviour. I’ve asked you twice to stop and you’ve defied Daddy,” I scolded, albeit gently.

  His chin trembled, and for a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to do as I asked. He didn’t meet my gaze as he got up and went to the sink, his feet dragging on the floor. I let out the breath I’d been holding while waiting to see what he’d do, as he turned the tap on.

  Taking the seat I’d vacated, I resumed eating my breakfast that tasted like sawdust in my mouth, pretending disinterest in what he was doing. In truth, I watched him out the side of my eye the whole time.

  After he’d left the room, I silently got up and poked my head out the door, craning my neck to see if he’d done as I asked. A smile spread over my face at the loud, put-upon sigh he gave, indicating he was exactly where I’d sent him.

  The smile dropped from my face when I returned to the kitchen to clean up the mess. Why was he acting out? Was this over last night? Was my avoidance this morning the real issue? The food I’d consumed churned in my stomach as it knotted.

  When we’d got up this morning, I’d given him a shower but struggled to find the words to explain what Glenn had done. The more I thought about it, the less I wanted to mention his name ever again, especially after everything that had occurred on Sunday.

  Phil had stayed for hours going through everything he’d found. To say I was shocked to my core was a bit of an understatement. That had been quickly followed by fury when Phil pointed out Glenn had been helping himself to my money and paying Fredrick with it. I’d been speechless, whereas Brett had more than made up for my silence.

  Mortification at others witnessing my distress had left me with a heavy heart. All I’d wanted last night was to hold on to Sawyer and not think about the years I’d wasted on a man that wasn’t worth my time.

  In the light of day, I was still not sure how to face what he’d done to me, to my business, and ultimately, to Sawyer. What a fucking mess!

  With the kitchen set to rights, I glanced about, realising I couldn’t delay any further as time was ticking away and I needed to head out to work. Fred was on my hit list, well Brett’s, but only after I’d been to the police with the file I’d left hidden in my truck.

  “Daddy, Daddy, I’m sorry,” came Sawyer’s tearful shout from the hallway.

  Buggering to all hell!

  I marched out of the kitchen and as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs, I swept Sawyer up into my arms. He immediately buried his face in my neck as I encouraged his legs to wrap around my waist.

  He sniffed twice. “I’m sorry…but you’re naughty too, ‘cause you’re not talking.”

  My heart bled at his accusation as it hit its mark. My arms tightened around him. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. It’s hard for Daddy to talk about what an arse he’s been.”

  He released a heartfelt sigh as he nuzzled at my neck. “I won’t hold it against you.”

  Those few words melted my heart as I turned and sat on the stair that I’d lifted Sawyer off. With him straddling my lap, I looked into his beautiful face. “I love you.”

  His eyes sheened with tears and his chest heaved. “I love you too, Boyd.”

  The use of my name made his statement that bit more real, and I felt my own tears gather at the corner of my eyes. I’d not known how much I needed to hear those words until he’d said them. “What did I do to deserve you?” I struggled to stop my voice hitching with the emotions steamrolling through me.

  His lips spread into a wide smile. “You must have been very bad, that’s what.” His voice was full of mirth as his eyes sparkled and he brushed a soft kiss over my lips. “Tell me what’s wrong.” All the humour disappeared as he cupped my cheeks. “I’m a good listener.”

  The serious side of him was back and though I loved his little, I needed him to help share the burden, of which I had no doubt he would.

  ***

  After leaving the police station, I watched in my rear-view mirror as the police van followed me. With all the evidence Phil had collected, the police had been more than willing to listen to me. After my painful conversation with Sawyer this morning, I’d decided to leave Glenn in police hands and keep well out of it.

  I didn’t need any more grief and, as Sawyer pointed out so eloquently, ‘Glenn had made his bed, now it was time for him to lie in it.’ He couldn’t do anything more with my computers after Phil had worked his magic. He was also going into the office this morning to check over the work computers, just to make sure Glenn hadn’t tampered with any of them.

  A heaved sigh filled the cab as I snail-paced it across London in heavy traffic. By the time I’d got to Nathan’s warehouse, I’d lost sight of the cop van. Getting out of the truck, the brisk April breeze tugged at my light jacket as I waited for the police to turn up.

  I’d been texting Brett all morning, while saying a silent prayer he wouldn’t lamp Fred before I got to the bar. When the police van parked behind my vehicle, I checked it was the sam
e copper that I’d spoken to. He gave me a nod and waited for the female officer to meet him on the curb.

  “Shall we go?” asked the officer in a gruff voice. His weathered features did not reveal any of his thoughts.

  “I just want him off the job and out of my hair.”

  “He’ll be arrested and charged today. He’ll be arraigned to appear in court and, judging on what he pleads, will determine what happens next.”

  Sweat beaded on my brow by the time we entered the bar. I spotted Brett stood with Fred by the bar. Brett was laughing, but I could see the tension around his mouth and eyes.

  If there was ever a freeze frame moment, it was when Fred glanced in my direction. His mouth hung open and his eyes widened at the two coppers flanking me. It took a second or two before his head spun from side to side as if he were looking for an escape. Brett didn’t give him a chance to move as he gripped him by the throat and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

  Convinced it was only the officer that stopped Brett from throttling Fred to death, I breathed a sigh of relief when Fred was able to cough and splutter. The commotion caused all the men to stop working and watch as the drama unfolded, so I was relieved when the police finally left with a crying Fred. I felt no sympathy after reading the list of things he’d done to sabotage the job all for a bit of extra cash.

  Brett growled loudly. “That’s what happens to traitors. Remember that before you think about fucking with us.” He pointed between me and him while glowering at anyone that looked at him.

  There was loud muttering and Ricky, one of the tilers, stepped forward, a scowl on his face. “If you’d told us there was an issue, we’d have kicked his fucking arse first before the coppers took him.”

  The sincerity in his tone warmed my heart, though the menace I could well do without. “Thank you. There’ll be no arse kicking please. The police will deal with him.”

  “Is this why Brett’s been a knob?” shouted Mal, one of the carpenters, from the back of the room.

  I roared with laughter and it felt good as Brett muttered about ingrates and put up his middle finger at Mal, who just shrugged.

  “Okay drama over, we’ve a deadline to meet. There’s overtime for anyone who wants it.” That got several cheers and for the first time since Phil had revealed what had been going on behind my back, the tension that had caused my shoulders to stay firmly fixed under my ears, released.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sawyer

  Pleased to be only doing a short shift and that Lenny was working the restaurant kitchen, I sidled up to him, keeping my voice low. “Would you be up to doing me a huge favour? I’ll pay you.”

  Lenny’s ginger brows disappeared under his fringe as he eyed me with interest. “Pay me for what?”

  “Boyd has had a real rough few days, and I mean the fucking worst.” Anger I’d been working on keeping hold of all day bled into my voice.

  Something flickered over Lenny’s face that gave me pause.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  He sighed and nodded. “Nathan asked me not to say anything about it,”—he inched closer to me, lowering his voice to a whisper—“what with Boyd going to the police this morning.”

  My stomach jittered. “Yeah, it’s a big shitty mess. I have no clue what Boyd saw in that piece of shit Glenn,” I spat out in a harsh whisper.

  “What are you two gossiping about like two old women?” Carl called from across the busy kitchen, making every head turn in their direction.

  Lenny gave Carl a cheeky grin. “How I’m a better baker than the head chef,” he quipped so fast, it took several seconds before the kitchen was filled with raucous laughter.

  Seb popped his head out of his office a few seconds later. “I’m on the phone, can you keep the noise down, some of us have work to do.” He gave everyone a hard stare before he went to take his seat. The glass walled office gave him the perfect opportunity to watch us as he went back to his call.

  When Seb left the door open, Carl bellowed loud enough for even the now empty restaurant to hear. “Says the man that spends most of his day sat on his fat arse.”

  There were several sniggers and Carl shook his head when Seb got up and shut his office door, but everyone went back to what they were doing.

  With the show over, Lenny took hold of my arm and led me into the locker room, away from prying eyes. “What do you need me to cook?”

  He grinned, and I let out a giggle. “Thank you. Boyd has a thing for pasta, loves it. So maybe lasagne or meat filled ravioli. I don’t want to ruin it so whatever is easiest and can be done before I head out in forty-five minutes.”

  Lenny glanced at the door before looking back at me. “I’ve been working on a new pasta sauce and it’s got meaty chunks in it. The meat should melt on the tongue. I’ll put two big helpings into a tub. There’s some fresh pasta in the fridge I’ll give you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now, let’s talk payment.”

  ***

  I let myself into Boyd’s house two hours later, relieved to see his truck wasn’t in the drive. He’d said he wouldn’t be late tonight, knowing I was working the lunch shift. Eagerly, I raced to the kitchen with my spoils and stopped when I noticed that he’d cleaned up my breakfast mess.

  A wave of heat flooded my face as I remembered how he’d reacted to me acting out. I’d been anxious when the time had crept along as I’d sat on the stairs and he’d shown no sign of ending my punishment. My little had been in full control and I’d been apprehensive and unsure about him not talking to me.

  He did talk and okay, you might have had to push, but remember he’s a Daddy and you know he just wants to look after you.

  The reasoning helped as I unpacked the food and followed Lenny’s instructions on how to cook it. When I started to set the table, I heard the front door open. I continued what I was doing, rushing to make sure it all looked perfect for when Boyd came into the kitchen.

  I was back at the cooker, putting the fresh pasta into the boiling water, as he came up behind me and kissed the side of my neck. “This is a lovely surprise, Angel boy. What did I do to deserve this?” He continued to nuzzle at my neck, his whiskers making my skin feel hypersensitive while his hot breath gave me shivers.

  “I wanted to make you happy.”

  His chest shuddered against my back as he exhaled gustily. “You do,” he whispered against my neck. “So fucking happy, sometimes I’m frightened it’s all a dream and I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone,” he confessed.

  I stopped stirring the pasta, turning in Boyd’s embrace, the food timing forgotten at the edge of uncertainty in his voice. His face was flushed as his caramel eyes revealed his vulnerability. I clasped my hands behind the nape of his neck and stood on my tiptoes. “I. Love. You.” I punctuated each word with a kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I caught a look of doubt before he could mask it. Was he thinking about my house? Was now the time to mention that I didn’t want to move out? I nibbled on my lower lip. Do it, do it now!

  “I don’t want to move out,” I blurted out so fast, it took me a second to run through what I’d said to make sure it made sense.

  “You don’t? What about your dream home? You were desperate to create it, have a place of your own.”

  Boyd pointed out everything I’d stated I’d wanted, but he’d failed to mention the most important thing: him. About to answer, I was distracted by the hissing pot behind me. Shit. I released Boyd and swung back to the stove, trying to rescue the over-cooked pasta as I glanced at the clock on the stove.

  “Bugger! Whatever you do, don’t tell Lenny I over cooked the pasta,” I muttered as I went to the sink to drain the water out of the pot. Boyd’s laughter stopped me in my tracks, and I glowered at him.

  “I promise I won’t, but what’s the worst he can do?” he said, his voice laced with laughter.

  Stomping to the table where I’d put the plates, I started to dish out the now gluey looking pasta, eyeing it mourn
fully as I ladled a large helping of the sauce over the top to hide the mess. Any thoughts of sending a picture to Lenny, as I’d planned, disappeared while I scowled at the disaster on the plates. “He’ll have my guts for garters, that’s what. He’ll never want to give me food again.” I cried, thinking about the promises he’d made to try and teach me some basics so I could prepare food for Boyd by myself. “He’s real serious about making sure you treat food with respect. I know it’s weird, and he wasn’t like that before he started to cook, but that’s how it is.”

  “Have you finished having a meltdown?” Boyd’s brows were arched as he spoke.

  I looked at the table and back to him. “I just wanted it to be perfect after the last couple of days you’ve had.” It came out sounding whiny and I worked to keep from slouching.

  The smile he gave me brightened the room. He walked to the table, sat down, and patted the seat next to him. “It is perfect because you did all this for me. Come sit and eat with me before it gets cold.” He sniffed the air above the plate. “Smell’s divine.”

  Grumbling only a little, I did as he asked and took the seat he pulled out for me. I followed his example and tried the food, finding that though the pasta was a little over cooked, it didn’t taste half bad with the delicious sauce.

  We’d nearly finished before Boyd glanced in my direction. “Are we going to talk about what you mentioned before pasta-gate?” He’d gone for humour, but there was strain in his voice. He ate another mouthful of food as he continued to keep his gaze on me.

  I contemplated for a split-second pretending I didn’t know what he meant, then I looked deep into his eyes and gave in to the need to talk about what I wanted. “Is it too soon to talk about living together permanently?”

  His hand stilled halfway back to his plate and his eyes widened. “You meant what you said earlier?” he asked hesitantly.