Time Out of Mind

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “No play with anyone but me, unless I specifically give you permission ahead of time and I arrange it with them.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “You stay sober. That is a hard limit. No alcohol. Period. And you follow all of my rules.”

  “Anything, Sir.”

  He pulled him in for a hug, holding him, one arm around Mevi’s waist and the other hand resting on the back of Mevi’s head. He laid his head against Doyle’s shoulder, his arms around him, clutching him.

  Doyle closed his eyes again. Holding him felt so perfect, so right. Even the couple of inches Mevi had on him in height didn’t seem to matter.

  How did this in any way end well for them? Doyle wasn’t under any illusions that they had a fairytale life ahead of them. They both had careers that would frequently keep them apart. Mevi was a rock star, for chrissake, one publicly so deep in the damn closet that a team of bloodhounds with embedded GPS ability couldn’t find him. Forget being able to freely be kinky, he couldn’t even be authentically him.

  “My beautiful, perfect boy,” he whispered in Mevi’s ear. “My very good boy. What am I going to do with you?”

  “Anything you want to, Sir,” he mumbled against Doyle’s shoulder, his breath warm through the fabric of his shirt.

  “Don’t say that and not mean it, or say it without knowing what it means.”

  “It means I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Sir.”

  Every time Mevi called him that, it embedded more deeply under his skin, like a velvety barbed hook that only hurt if you tried to tug on it, remove it.

  And he didn’t want it out.

  He wanted to be balls-deep inside his boy, right that moment.

  Although the fact that they were on a public beach also complicated things.

  “I love you, too,” Doyle finally admitted. “I’ve been attracted to you and it’s been getting harder not to admit it.”

  Mevi relaxed against him, nearly melting into him. His embrace tightened around Doyle.

  “I never thought I’d ever hear you say those words to me. I was terrified you’d turn me away and leave when I confessed.”

  Doyle nuzzled Mevi’s hair. Even that felt perfect between them, his soft, dark hair, now its natural color, a few grey strands coming in here and there.

  “I should. This is wrong for so many reasons, but I’m only human and I’ve never felt about anyone the way I’ve felt about you. And if you need me to sign papers, a prenup or something, I will.”

  Mevi’s head snapped up, nearly clipping Doyle’s jaw. “Why would I make you do that?”

  “Uh, to protect you.” Yeah, in some ways, Mevi was too trusting, even if he didn’t want to think he was.

  That’s what got him ripped off in the first place, that he trusted despite red flags and warnings from others.

  “I don’t need to be protected from you.”

  He cradled Mevi’s face in his hands. “I think Clark will disagree,” he gently said. “Have you ever been in love before?”

  “I—” Mevi’s lips pursed into a tight line before he continued. “I’ve been in lust, but I’ve never been able to show it before. So it never got to love.”

  “Exactly. You might hate me in a few months. All the more reason for us to go slow and not turn loose of our normal lives yet while we figure this out between us. When we get back tonight, the first thing we do is call Clark and talk to him. Both of us. Together. In fact, if we can get him on FaceTime it’d be even better so he can see us.”

  “Then what?”

  Doyle pressed a long kiss to his forehead. “We’ll figure that out then. One step at a time.”

  * * * *

  At least the anonymity of the deepening dark allowed Mevi to hold hands with Doyle all the way down to the path where they had to cross the dunes via the boardwalk to the parking area. On the way back to the apartment, Doyle held his hand as he drove, and Mevi fought the urge to bring the man’s hand to his mouth and suck his fingers.

  Anything.

  Just to taste him.

  On the way back, Doyle didn’t say a word when he pulled into a Walgreens parking lot and left the car running while he went inside.

  When he emerged a few minutes later with a bag, he put it in the backseat and stared at Mevi for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him.

  Without speaking, he backed out of the parking space and they continued the drive home.

  Mevi didn’t dare break the quiet for fear of destroying whatever spell it was he was now under.

  He wanted this to continue. Wanted them to continue.

  When they arrived at the warehouse, Doyle didn’t get out. He also didn’t speak, at first. He sat there with the car still running, the AC keeping the humid night at bay.

  “Once we do this,” he finally said, “it can’t be undone. Are you certain this is a step you want to take? We can always wait until I’m off contract, or your tour is over, and then do this.”

  Panic filled him. “I don’t want to wait, Sir. Please don’t say that. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life, and that scares me in good ways, Sir.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it means I really can’t fuck this up. I’ve been lucky enough I could fake my way through life before now. This is reality. This is serious. I desperately don’t want to fuck things up with you and I don’t want to waste a second of time we could be together.”

  Doyle’s gaze searched his face before he gently cupped the back of his neck again, the way he had on the beach. “I’m not perfect. We’ll both make mistakes. The fact that I’ve fallen for you proves I’m not perfect. Don’t think I’m perfect, because I’m not. Far from it.”

  “I know, Sir.”

  Doyle leaned in and kissed him again, tenderly, exploring. “If anything, I’m going to be harder on you from this point on than I was before. It’s personal for me, too. I’ll expect a lot more from you as my partner than I did as my client.”

  “I understand, Sir. I want that. I want to make you proud.”

  He didn’t understand why it looked like Doyle was close to tears over that comment. “You do make me proud, my sweet boy,” he whispered. “You have ever since we met.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  This was a new one for Doyle. He’d never ended a contract early. As they sat on the couch and Doyle called Clark, he shoved his guilt away and reached out and held Mevi’s hand.

  Clark answered almost immediately. “Doyle? Everything all right?”

  “Um, you alone?”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “It’s…not bad. I—we need to talk to you. You got FaceTime?”

  “Why do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Give me three minutes to get to my car. Hold on. I just finished a meeting. I’ll call you right back.”

  Doyle held his arm out to Mevi, who snuggled against him on the couch. Doyle kissed the top of his head. “This’ll be okay,” he said.

  “He sounds upset already.”

  “He’s just worried about you.”

  Clark actually called them back in two minutes, via FaceTime. Doyle held the phone so Clark could see both of them.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I need you to hear me out before you panic, okay?”

  Clark scowled. “Why?”

  This wasn’t going to be easy. “First, we need your confidence. This can’t go anywhere but the three of us.”

  Clark rubbed at his temple. “Is he drinking?”

  Mevi waved. “No. I’m sober. I’ve stayed sober.”

  “He’s sober,” Doyle confirmed.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I need to cancel our contract,” Doyle said.

  “What?”

  “I’m still going to stay with Mevi, and travel with him. Everyone in the band needs to think I’m still his SC. That doesn’t change. You can pro
-rate my fee up to today. I’ll also turn down the bonuses.”

  “I want to pay his expenses,” Mevi said.

  Doyle patted his shoulder to quiet him. “Something…happened.”

  Clark was muttering something and focused on them again. “What. Happened.”

  “Mevi and I are…together.”

  “Well, I can freaking see the two of you sitting—oh. Together …together?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait. He’s straight.”

  “You tell him,” Doyle said.

  “Clark, please, promise me this is private,” Mevi begged.

  Clark nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

  “I’m gay. I’ve hid it all my life.”

  Clark stared at them. “Go on. Pull the other one.”

  “I’m not kidding. I’m gay.”

  “Does Bonnie know this? Because I’m pretty sure she’s convinced you’re straight.”

  “No. She doesn’t know.”

  Clark let out a groan. “You’re canceling the contract because you’re fucking your client. Fantastic.”

  “I’m sorry,” Doyle said. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. And no, not to be crude, but I’m not fucking him yet.”

  “And I told him first I’m in love with him,” Mevi added.

  “JFC. You two are going to be the goddamned death of me. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Nothing,” Doyle said. “That’s the point. Only the three of us will know that I’m not actually under contract. I’m still going to make sure he stays sober. I’m still going to run the tests, and if anything, now I can do a better job and have more control over him.”

  Clark focused on Mevi. “You’re really okay with this?”

  Mevi nodded. “For the first time in my life, I finally feel like I don’t have to lie about who I am. I’m happy.”

  “Yeah, well, I can see where that could be rough.” The picture jostled as he shifted position in his car. “Okay. So, just to be clear, Doyle, you are staying with him?”

  “Yes,” Doyle said. “The only change is you don’t have to pay me anymore.”

  “Just expenses,” Mevi insisted.

  Clark rubbed his face with his free hand. “Well, that saves money, I guess. You sure you don’t want me to tell Bonnie for you?”

  “No,” Mevi said. “Absolutely not. I don’t want anyone knowing. I…I’ll talk to Bonnie, and everyone else, at some point, but not now. I want to get the tour started. I don’t want that as a distraction. I need to figure out how to tell them.”

  Clark leveled a finger at them. “Doyle, I’m still holding you responsible for him. He loses his sobriety, I’m going to sue your ass for something. Not sure what yet, but I’ll ruin you.”

  “No,” Mevi said. “I don’t want that. I won’t lose my sobriety. If anything, I’ve got a better chance now. I know this is hard to understand, and explain, but…I’m happy, Clark. I’m happy in a way I never thought I’d be again. And you should hear some of the songs I’ve written!”

  Doyle interjected. “Actually, yeah, you should hear some of the new songs. They’re really good.”

  “Yeah? You’re working?”

  “Yeah!”

  “All right, genius. Then let me hear them. Right now.”

  “Okay.” Doyle stood. “We’ll go downstairs. Hold on.” He carried the phone down while Mevi raced ahead and got ready. Doyle changed the camera from rear to forward and filmed while Mevi played and sang two of the songs he’d written.

  Doyle could tell from Clark’s face that he was convinced. “Well?” Doyle asked.

  “Holy shit. Switch the camera back and let me see you both.” He did, Mevi putting his guitar down and joining him. “You wrote those since getting to Florida? Seriously?”

  “Yeah.”

  Clark slowly nodded. “Okay. I’ve known Mevi indirectly because of the others for several years now. That is, no shit, maybe the best stuff I’ve ever heard him write, and you’re telling me he did that in a couple of weeks?”

  “Exactly,” Mevi said. “Clark, seriously, I feel better than I have in years. All I’m asking is you keep this confidential.”

  “Despite my better judgment, I will. You’d best stay sober, though.”

  “I will. I want to. I want to work.”

  “You keep turning out material like that, you’re going to triple what you lost in less than a year. You realize that, right? You’re going to have people begging you to write for them, or let them cover those. Not to mention digital sales and streaming services.”

  “I’m probably going to have more than enough for two albums by the time the tour’s over. Maybe more.”

  “Good. That’s great timing. Okay, Doyle, I’ll consider this a handshake agreement, but I’ll send you a PDF you’ll need to digitally sign, to agree to the new terms.”

  Relief filled him. “Deal.”

  “I hope you two know what you’re doing. Let me get off here. I want to beat traffic.”

  “Thanks,” they both said before Clark ended the call.

  Doyle turned to Mevi.

  He looked hopeful.

  Eager.

  Ready.

  Doyle pulled him in for a kiss. “Are you sure you want this? Me?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Doyle ran a hand through Mevi’s hair. “No more of that stupid silver dye.”

  Mevi smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And I don’t like long hair. No longer than this. Okay?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Doyle sighed. “And you can always say no, or ask for a modification, or safeword.”

  Mevi pressed close. “What if I don’t want to say no? What if I want Sir to decide those things?”

  Doyle smiled. “Be careful what you wish for.”

  * * * *

  Doyle took Mevi’s hand and led him upstairs as Mevi’s heart raced, eager to finally be with this man. The Walgreens bag had ended up on Doyle’s bed, and after sitting Mevi on the end of his bed—fully clothed—he showed Mevi what was in the bag.

  Several boxes of condoms and a large bottle of lube.

  He got the bottle of lube out of the box and removed the inner seal, getting it ready. Then he stood between Mevi’s legs, leaning in and kissing him, one hand on the back of Mevi’s head and the other grabbing Mevi’s hand and placing it on the front of Doyle’s slacks where his erection pressed against the zipper.

  Mevi moaned at the feel of it.

  “That’s going in your ass, boy,” Doyle rumbled. “And in your mouth. Although,” he quickly added, “not in that order. That’s just gross. No ass-to-mouth.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You ever have anything in your ass before?”

  Heat filled his face. “My fingers. In the shower. A couple of times, not a lot.”

  “No one’s ever fucked you?”

  He shook his head. “No, Sir,” he whispered.

  “Good.” He stepped back and dug something out of his toybag.

  A butt plug.

  Doyle smiled as he held it up. “It’s a fairly small one, don’t worry. Ironically, yours is the first male ass it’ll have ever been inside. That’s sort of fitting, huh?”

  Mevi smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

  He’d also dug a small coil of rope out of his bag. “Something hurts in a bad way, you safeword immediately. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Doyle shoved him back onto the bed and straddled him, pinning his hands over his head.

  Mevi nearly came from how his own cock ground against Doyle through their slacks.

  “Don’t you dare come yet, boy,” Doyle ordered. “Stay.”

  Mevi kept his hands where Doyle put them while Doyle reached down and started unbuttoning Mevi’s shirt. Once he had it open, he tugged it out of his slacks and pulled it off over his head, dropping it to the floor. Then he proceeded to tie Mevi’s wrists together.

  Doyle stood, smiling down at him. “Now then.”
He pulled off Mevi’s shoes and socks before he started working on his belt and fly. Once Mevi lay naked before him, Doyle seemed to be feasting on him with his eyes. “When we’re alone, boy, you’re naked. Period. You ask permission to put on clothes. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “It’s because I love looking at you, but also because I might want to bend you over and plow that gorgeous ass whenever I want.”

  Mevi’s cock twitched, pre-cum pearling at the slit.

  Doyle noticed. He smiled as he reached down and swiped his finger along the head, lifting it to his lips to taste.

  “Mmm.” Doyle milked another drop from him, this time feeding it to him. “I have a very sweet boy,” he hoarsely said. “And yes, your cock will be getting sucked, too.”

  Mevi bit down on his lower lip to keep from moaning.

  “Oh, when it doesn’t matter, you better believe I want to hear your noises. Don’t you ever try to hide them when we don’t need to.” He leaned in and licked the head of Mevi’s cock.

  Now he whined, desperate to hold back, not explode. “That’s the kind of noises I like.” He continued teasing Mevi, swirling his tongue around the head, flicking at the slit, licking up and down the sides of Mevi’s shaft. Then he shoved his thighs apart and tucked a towel under him.

  “First, though, my boy needs his virgin ass stretched so he can take my cock. Because before we go to bed tonight, you will have had my cock in there. I’m going to claim what’s mine.”

  Another word, said in that way, that threatened to make Mevi’s balls explode.

  Lovingly possessive.

  It’s all he wanted to be—belonging to him.

  Doyle, still dressed, rolled a condom onto the butt plug, slathered it with lube, then added lube to his fingers and started probing Mevi’s virgin rim.

  “Look at me,” Doyle ordered in that tone, the one that Mevi had fallen in love with.

  His Dominant tone.

  “Beg me for it.”

  “Please, Sir. Please fuck my ass!”

  “My ass, boy. That’s my ass, my cock, my mouth. Not yours. I own you, so I own them, too.”

  “Yes, Sir! Please fuck your ass!”

  Doyle chuckled and leaned in to kiss him. “Okay, that does sound a little silly. I think the proper subbie syntax should be, ‘Please fuck your boy’s ass.’”