Time Out of Mind

  “Psychologist.”

  “Same thing.”

  Mevi realized it was a red marker in Doyle’s hand.

  “You’ve proven to me, above and beyond, that you love me, and that I can trust you. I don’t know if I’m worthy of your love and trust, but I will spend the rest of our lives together trying to prove that I am.”

  The tattoo on his right wrist was visible above the tape, and Doyle slowly traced the red ink over the black. Doyle’s voice choked up when he next spoke. “And I’m beyond grateful that our story together isn’t over, it’s only just beginning.” He handed the marker back to Loren and held his right hand out to Mevi, helping him stand and kissing him to resounding applause.

  “Ahh,” Tilly said, sounding satisfied. “Okay, you can cut ’em loose. Who’s got a knife?”

  About twenty were held up, a few loudly flicked open, getting another round of laughter.

  “Smart-asses. You’re all a bunch of damn smart-asses.”

  “I’ve got it,” Loren said, producing her own pocketknife.

  “Et tu, bestie?”

  She stuck her tongue out at Tilly. “You’re forgetting who I’m married to. King of the sadists.”

  “Oh. True. Okay, I’m going back to sleep. Someone send me pictures. Congrats, you two. Don’t fuck it up.”

  Aaannnd Tilly was gone. Again.

  Loren smiled as she carefully cut their hands free. “You know she’s a softy, right?”

  “No,” Mevi said.

  “Yes,” Doyle said at the same time.

  They exchanged a glance.

  Doyle smiled. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  * * * *

  Within an hour, with full stomachs from the catered dinner Clark had paid for as a wedding present to them, they held hands as they walked around the building back to the apartment.

  Doyle felt like he was on top of the world. In LA, until they publicly broke the news, they wouldn’t be able to be seen together like this. And Doyle knew this meant his career as an anonymous sober companion was essentially over, if anyone wanted to maintain discretion. He wouldn’t be able to be seen with other celebrities without the rumor mills flying, and he refused to do that to his husband, or to his clients.

  But that was okay. He had enough in the bank, and Mevi had already put his foot down when discussing things as equals that he wanted to take care of Doyle financially.

  Upstairs in the first bedroom, where they’d spent quite a few wonderful nights, Doyle kicked off his shoes and started unbuttoning Mevi’s shirt.

  “Mr. Turner, how do you feel about fucking your hubby’s brains out tonight?”

  Mevi hooked his fingers in Doyle’s belt and pulled him close, kissing him. “I think I’d rather suck my hubby’s brains out and let him fuck me.”

  Doyle smiled. Yeah, Mevi would sometimes pitch in bed, when Doyle ordered him to. But if Doyle gave him a choice?

  Mevi always wanted to be the catcher. And never the metaphorical Top. That part was okay with Doyle, because Doyle wasn’t switchy.

  After stripping Mevi down to his wedding ring, Doyle pointed at the floor, where Mevi immediately dropped to his knees and kissed the tops of Doyle’s feet. On his ass were healing bruises and marks from the past several times they’d already played with Doyle’s bag of toys from the storage unit.

  Tonight, all Doyle wanted to do was make love to his husband.

  With a little spice thrown in.

  “Sit up.”

  Mevi did, waiting.

  He smiled, stroking Mevi’s hair. “My sweet, perfect boy,” he whispered, knowing how it was melting him inside, because Mevi’s cock now stood rigid and dripping pre-cum.

  Sure, there were some daddy issues going on in his boy’s brain. Doyle gave Mevi the kind of love and affirmation he’d never felt he’d had before.

  He was fine fulfilling that need in his boy. Anything he needed. Although he wished Mevi’s father was still alive so he could take a few verbal potshots at the guy.

  Doyle hadn’t pushed Mevi to take him to Wyoming to meet his mom. He wouldn’t do that to his guy. If Mevi wanted to take that step, fine. If not, fine. That was one of those things he would not force him to do.

  Because he loved him.

  * * * *

  Mevi’s mind swirled as he sank into subspace. Doyle didn’t have to lay a hand on him to send him spinning into that gorgeous place where everything else stopped and silenced except his Master’s voice and body owning and controlling him.

  Every time Doyle called him that—his boy—especially any variation thereof, it always made him hard and sent his mind toward the rabbit hole.

  He couldn’t help it.

  He’d never felt as loved and cared for as he did with Doyle. He could barely remember any of the last few concert dates in Europe, despite sold-out crowds, because he’d been singing only to Doyle, who stood in the wings and watched him.

  As Doyle slowly stripped, his focus never straying from Mevi, Mevi knew he would never leave this man, never be tempted away.

  No one could ever take Doyle’s place in his heart.

  This man had been the first to unlock his secrets and help him face the world honestly.

  Or…would be facing the world honestly, once he admitted he was gay and married. Which would happen soon enough.

  The kinky stuff was just for them to know, natch.

  And their friends.

  Friends.

  He hadn’t just gained Doyle, but a group of friends he could trust. He couldn’t wait until they could move to Florida full time, live here, make this their home.

  Once he was naked, Doyle held his hands out to Mevi, helping him stand. It took every bit of will Mevi had not to kiss Doyle’s hard cock on his way up.

  “Go get the lube and a towel.”

  Mevi was already turning, heading for the bathroom, since that was where it’d ended up after Doyle had started out their morning by putting a butt plug in him and making him wear it nearly all day, until they got ready to leave for the courthouse.

  When Mevi returned to the bedroom, Doyle was stretched out on the bed, slowly stroking his cock. He held up a condom pouch with his other hand. “I want you to do the work.”

  Mevi smiled. “Yes, Sir.” He quickly started lubing his hole, preparing himself before taking the condom and rolling it down Doyle’s cock. After adding some lube to it, he straddled him, waiting for the order.

  Doyle smiled as he encircled Mevi’s cock with his fingers. “My boy is eager, isn’t he?” His thumb swiped at the slit, where a thin string of pre-cum was dripping down.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Slowly,” he said. “And then wait until I tell you to start moving.”

  Mevi didn’t want to go slow. He wanted to bounce up and down on him and make Doyle come, and Doyle damn well knew it. There were times Doyle had lain back, smiling, hands crossed behind his head, letting Mevi do just that.

  Yes, Mevi wanted to come, but he honestly didn’t care if he did or not.

  He wanted to make his Sir come, lived to earn that O face from him, whether it was from fucking him or sucking him or giving him a handjob.

  If his Sir let him come, too, that was a bonus.

  He’d spent a lifetime until now getting most of his orgasms from his own hand. Having a chance to spend the rest of his life with Doyle?

  Priceless.

  As he lowered himself onto Doyle’s cock, a hiss escaped him at the feeling of fullness, the pinching burn that quickly turned sweet with Doyle squeezing his cock at the same time. Once his ass was pressed against Doyle’s thighs, Doyle reached up and tweaked both of Mevi’s nipples, making his cock twitch.

  Something else that made Doyle smile.

  “One of these days, I might get your nipples pierced.”

  Mevi’s cock twitched again. “Yes, Sir. Whatever Master wants.”

  Doyle’s hands dropped to Mevi’s hips. “Slowly, boy. Savor it.”

  Mevi leaned forward
to brace his hands on the bed, putting him in the perfect position for Doyle to raise his head and kiss him. And thus distracted, it was easier for him to hold back, to go slow.

  Doyle broke the kiss and smiled up at him, one hand leaving Mevi’s hip and returning to his cock. “You’re just dying to bounce up and down right now, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” he nearly whined. He also loved it when Doyle pinned him down and fucked him hard and fast, using him.

  He chuckled. “Go ahead.” His hand returned to Mevi’s hip, his fingers digging in and holding on as Mevi unleashed. He rocked back and forth, Doyle meeting his every thrust, Mevi longing to earn that sweet, deep moan Doyle always made when he came.

  “Yes!”

  That moan.

  Doyle’s grip tightened even more, until he held Mevi still, his cock buried deep inside him.

  Without warning, Doyle rolled them over, now on top.

  “Hands over your head.”

  Mevi immediately complied. Doyle sat up and started stroking Mevi’s cock. “I want my good boy to come for me.”

  Mevi couldn’t have held back if he’d wanted to. His hands balled into fists as Doyle stroked, hard and fast, his hand now lubed by Mevi’s cum erupting from his cock. Only when Doyle was happy did his hand slow and eventually still.

  “Love you.”

  Mevi smiled up at him. “Love you, too.”

  After cleaning up and returning to bed, Doyle tucked Mevi against his side and turned on the bedroom TV. “I’m sure I’ll be up for another round in a little while. Right now, all I want to do is snuggle and relax with my husband.”

  Mevi snuggled in even tighter. “Me, too, Master.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mevi relaxed, eyes closed, on his knees, hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Naked, wearing nothing except his wedding ring.

  Just the way his Sir liked him.

  They’d purchased a condo in the same building where Tilly, Landry, and Cris owned one. Ironically, the friend of theirs who was selling it had decided to relocate to Florida. It was currently being renovated and would be ready in two weeks.

  Just in time for Mevi to start studio work. A longer drive to The Compound for Doyle, but he didn’t mind, since he was only going in two days a week and doing a lot of phone sessions.

  The new condo was only ten minutes from the studio where the band would record.

  And it was only a ten-second elevator ride a couple of floors downstairs from Tilly. When they were there and not in Florida, or she was overseas.

  Doyle had asked Ed to look around in Florida for property near Tilly and Leigh’s house. They didn’t need to live in LA. Once the album was finished, they’d be moving to Florida, anyway. They wanted to build a house there, customized to their specs, including a professional-grade studio, to help protect their privacy and yet also allow them to have friends over for private parties. Kel had already agreed to rent the apartment to them for as long as they needed.

  Other than press junkets and tours, Florida was where they would live permanently. Doyle had already talked to a couple of places in the area and could easily get work once they moved.

  For now, they were living in Doyle’s apartment, because it wasn’t being staked out by paparazzi like Mevi’s condo. Doyle rented, so only the utilities were in his name, making it harder for people to find them. But Tilly had already told them if they needed to, they were welcomed to stay in their condo, where they’d have privacy.

  The news about their marriage broke the Wednesday after it happened, even shocking Clark that it took that long. By then, they’d already returned to LA, Mevi had grabbed what he needed from his place, and they’d retreated to Doyle’s apartment.

  They’d also already had dinner with Bonnie, Troy, Garth, and Pasch and told them about the wedding, offering their apologies for not inviting them. Fortunately, they’d understood why the need for secrecy.

  Bonnie had been the first to step forward to hug Doyle and congratulate them.

  Clark was getting increasingly frantic offers daily from media outlets wanting to score “the” interview with the new couple, but Mevi had no interest in giving interviews yet. He already knew what and how he wanted to publicly reveal it, and he was already working on the plan. He wanted to make a video of one of the songs he’d written just for Doyle, featuring them in it.

  Not even a fancy video, just handheld, cell footage. Release it online.

  Back to their roots.

  He didn’t want to have to “explain” or “justify” or any of that bullshit. He didn’t want to answer a bunch of nosy questions that weren’t anyone’s business anyway.

  He also knew he’d need to devote a lot of future time toward LGBTQ causes, to make up for the years he stayed in the shadows instead of using his fame to do some good and make a difference.

  Including wanting to reshoot a few of their old videos to reframe them in the light he’d originally meant them—love songs from one man to another.

  Now, three weeks after their wedding, Mevi knew he had way more material than they’d need for the album—enough for two more albums—but he wanted to record several extra singles for an expanded iTunes edition.

  Mevi rarely left the apartment, usually only walking down to the beach early in the morning with Doyle to do tai chi. He didn’t want the press to catch on to their hideout, so he frequently left the beach ahead of Doyle, on the lookout for any paparazzi.

  Right now, Doyle was on the phone with a client, sitting at his desk in the corner of their bedroom and just feet away. Even though Mevi’s eyes were closed, he could feel the weight of his Sir’s gaze on him, like a comforting blanket. He knew if he opened his eyes, Doyle’s brown gaze would be focused on him.

  Watching.

  The band would hit the studio in two weeks. Meanwhile, Doyle still worked despite Mevi trying to wheedle him into quitting. He got it, Doyle had worked hard for his career, too. It wasn’t fair to set him adrift.

  It wouldn’t be good for his sobriety, either. He needed to work and stay busy. The time apart was good for them, although he had wrangled a concession out of Doyle that for the next tour he would join Mevi for the European leg, which would be limited to only four weeks. At least for the US stops, Mevi could fly home once a week.

  When he heard Doyle end the call, Mevi smoothly bowed, forehead touching the floor and arms stretched out in front of him.

  Still waiting.

  The sound of Doyle standing, walking over. The warmth of the air brushing against his naked flesh. Even like this, holding this position after over fifteen minutes on his knees, his cock was hard, throbbing, and probably leaving a puddle of pre-cum under him on the tiled floor.

  He didn’t care.

  He lived for this. A small oasis of peace in the middle of their hectic lives.

  Them. Just them and nothing else to intrude.

  “Good boy.”

  There came the beloved slip into subspace. Mevi took a deep, relaxing breath and let go of the last stress, conscious thought, worries about their normal lives.

  For here and now, he was Sir’s boy.

  Nothing more.

  Spending time out of mind.

  Not even the worst cravings of his addiction broke through during times like this. If anything, Doyle had replaced alcohol in Mevi’s soul. Mevi craved this, these times. Being able to be like this with him was every bit as intoxicating as the finest bourbon.

  And even Bonnie had joked in private that Mevi at his worst was easily fixed by five minutes alone with Dom Doyle.

  A zipper lowered, fabric rustled, the sound of Doyle’s shorts being dropped into the plastic hamper next to the bathroom door.

  Silence, just the feel of the air kissing his flesh, growing warmer against his left arm, until he sensed Doyle stepping between his outstretched arms.

  The feel of his toes touching the top of Mevi’s head.

  Mevi kissed the tops of his feet and rested his forehead against th
em, still willingly in the dark.

  Waiting.

  Contented.

  “Up here, boy.”

  Mevi finally opened his eyes and stood, staring down into Doyle’s eyes.

  He wore that smile, the playful one.

  The one Mevi knew meant he’d be going to sleep later with a sore ass, in more than one way.

  Doyle reached up and fisted Mevi’s hair with his right hand, teasing him, moving in to kiss him and not completely closing the distance even as Mevi’s tongue flicked out, trying to make contact.

  “Who’s my good boy?” Doyle whispered.

  “I am, Sir.”

  Doyle tugged Mevi’s hair so hard it forced him to dip his knees, until he was looking up at his Master, his Owner.

  His Husband.

  Doyle’s lips slanted over his, a bruising kiss that left Mevi breathless and his cock hard and throbbing.

  The fingers of Doyle’s left hand encircled Mevi’s right, turning it, bringing the inside of his wrist up to his lips, where Doyle traced his ink with the tip of his tongue. It made Mevi moan with need, as it always did.

  “Such a good boy for me. Good boys get rewards.”

  * * * *

  Doyle’s cock throbbed as he stared down into Mevi’s eyes. He always felt a little guilt, albeit growing less every day, when he stared at Mevi’s ink. The man had made his feelings permanent without even knowing if they’d ever see each other again, much less be together. He’d had a level of faith in Doyle and his love that humbled him.

  Never would he ever take Mevi or their love for granted. He led Mevi to their bed and laid him over the end of it, pinning him facedown with the hand in Mevi’s hair while Doyle leaned in and bit first Mevi’s left, then his right ass cheeks.

  Soft, needy moans escaped Mevi, making Doyle’s cock twitch with anticipation. They had to be careful with their play in the apartment because he wasn’t sure what someone could hear through the walls. He limited noisy impact play to weekdays when he was reasonably sure no one was home, which allowed him to turn up the music without getting noise complaints from neighbors.

  So for times like now, he kept his sadism silent. Teeth biting, nails digging in, and fists pummeling soft, fleshy parts that could take it.