[Siren Sensations ManLove: Alternative Consensual BDSM Contemporary Romance, MM, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
Jonah knows the biggest mistake of his life was ever leaving Gordon in the first place. But he’s bound and determined to prove to his Master that he’s back for good and dedicated to spending the rest of his life with Gordon.
Gordon wants to let his guard down, but even while haunted by his own fears, he refuses to order Jonah to quit the band, or not tour with them. Despite knowing he, too, could have the career of his dreams playing full-time with Portnoy’s Oyster, Gordon’s fight to maintain his sobriety won’t let him relinquish the security and stability his teaching job brings him.
With ancient ghosts from a variety of emotional wounds echoing through both men’s souls, can they carefully pick their way through this terrifying new relationship landscape to find a new “normal” for them, or will stress and fear and old pain pull them apart for good?
Tymber Dalton is a Siren-exclusive author.
Late Wednesday night, Gordon lay awake in their bed in Doyle and Mal’s guest room. The only things Jonah wore were his leather collar and the gold wedding band Gordon had put on his hand earlier that afternoon when he’d proposed to him.
With Jonah draped over him, the man’s soft snores blew warm breath across Gordon’s pecs, and the softly scratchy feel of Jonah’s beard and mustache helped anchor Gordon to the here.
Earlier that afternoon, Jonah had returned from touring with Portnoy’s Oyster, an eight-week separation that had been difficult on Gordon for a number of reasons, the first and foremost being his fear that Jonah might decide no, he didn’t want to be with Gordon after all, and would prefer an unfettered career with the band.
With help from Doyle in planning the reunion surprise, Gordon had met Jonah at the airport, and they’d immediately headed from there to the county courthouse to get their marriage license after Gordon slipped the ring on Jonah’s finger. This Saturday, a friend of Doyle and Mal’s, who was also in the lifestyle, would come to the house and marry them.
It’d been just around twelve weeks since Jonah walked back into Gordon’s life after a three-year absence, and Gordon knew he couldn’t envision a future now that didn’t include Jonah.
He closed his eyes and tipped his head so he could breathe in the scent of Jonah’s hair. Everything about his boy was so sweetly comforting.
He loves to tour. This is his dream. Let him support you for a change.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. For starters, life wasn’t perfect, and Gordon knew the only thing that had really kept him sober was work. Once he’d landed the job teaching, it’d been his own dream come true—a stable, decent-paying job, with security, doing what he loved.
Music. He loved teaching the kids. He loved watching wonder fill their faces as they got it, learned a technique, mastered a new chord, perfected a riff they’d heard on their favorite song.
He loved being able to teach something fun, joyful. Homework the kids didn’t mind doing.
A reason other than Jonah—who hadn’t been there—to keep himself sober.
I’m thirty-one now. You’d think I’d have a handle on being an adult.
No, unless he thought touring was harming Jonah, he would never be able to bring himself to put his foot down and order Jonah to quit the band. The money was damned good, too, something they needed.
After so many years of lean living financially, it was akin to hitting the lotto.
With Jonah back in his life—hopefully for good—he’d much rather try to work on maintaining a balance having Jonah being able to stay with the band, even touring again. Maybe if they toured during summer vacation, or even during winter break, he might be able to travel with them for portions of it. Or fly out on weekends to meet Jonah and spend a couple of days with him.
But for their marriage to survive and thrive, both their needs had to be met.
And Gordon wasn’t stupid enough to shove his own needs to the side when this was still so new and fragile.
The best thing he could do was take their fragile renewed relationship one day at a time, one milestone at a time, the same way he managed his sobriety.
Hopefully, the worst was behind them. Jonah had the next two weeks off, followed by two weeks recording in LA with the band. Gordon would only be able to join him out there on the weekends, or Jonah would fly home for them. They hadn’t settled those logistics yet, Jonah leaving that to Gordon. Gordon knew whatever he told Jonah, that’s what Jonah would do.
So far, Jonah had lived up to his promises, shown Gordon through actions that he meant what he said about making this work between them.
About wanting to be with Gordon for life.
Only time would tell if he truly meant it.
* * * *
Jonah awoke before dawn Thursday morning and immediately realized what was wrong. He lay on his side, his back pressed against Gord’s back.
He rolled over and spooned around Gordon’s body, the other man relaxing into his embrace even in deep sleep.
There. That’s better.
The first several nights of the tour, Jonah barely slept at all, and slept like crap when he did. It hadn’t been the same without Gordon lying beside him.
Now he also realized why he’d slept so shittily out in Los Angeles after he’d left Gord. It wasn’t due to the bed he was in, it was due to his lack of a partner in bed.
Gordon was only an inch shorter than his own six-feet, but he felt larger, in many ways. It was such a relief to feel his entire world righted again, his path clear and direct.
Even as his left thumb sought out the new band encircling his left ring finger, peace settled throughout his soul.
On Saturday, Gordon would marry him and fully claim him. When they were kids, it was a fanciful dream they’d never thought would come true.
Then he’d stupidly left Gordon, enticed out to LA by a liar who’d put wrong ideas and suspicions in Jonah’s head, turned the truth around until Jonah accused Gord of wanting to hold him back, of being professionally jealous of him.
Thank god he forgave me.
It was a lesson he’d never forget.
As far as he knew, Gordon had never lied to him, was the one person he could always count on giving him the truth, even difficult ones.
He’d learned that lesson late, but better late than never.
Or before irreparable damage was caused. Like Gordon losing his sobriety.
He drifted in and out of sleep, that sweet, hazy time between being forced to roll out of bed and attempting to responsibly adult, and not quite asleep. He used these times to think about music in his head, to ponder what they were working on.
Even to think about Gordon, like he was doing right now.
He’d spent the last several days of the tour absolutely pining for Gordon, video chatting with him whenever possible, when Gordon wasn’t teaching or Jonah wasn’t on stage, or needed for rehearsals.
Torture. Absolute torture.
A soft, needy whimper escaped Jonah when Gordon’s hands slowly squeezed tighter on Jonah’s and he drew back just a hair with his kiss, making Jonah chase him.
Between them, both their cocks were hard now, and Gord knew he couldn’t deny his boy much longer.
He had been so good for him, taking the spanking without complaint.
The fact that Jonah had wanted and enjoyed the spanking wasn’t important, and totally beside the point.
Releasing Jonah’s hands, Gordon grabbed his hips and urged him to sit up so he could shift a little down the bed, enough he could bend his knees so Jonah could lean back against him like that. Then he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lube, drizzling a little just over Jonah’s cock.
He put it aside and smiled up at him, lacing his hands behind his head as he settled in for the show. “Make yourself come, baby, then you can stroke one out of me. Use your left hand.”
Immediately, he spotted his boy’s tells that subspace had slammed back into him. The way his eyes softened at the outer edges, his brows lifting a little, lips parted. Jonah reached down, a smile curving those gorgeous, kiss-swollen lips of his as he obviously realized why Gordon had ordered him to do it southpaw this morning.
The wedding band.
Gordon watched, entranced as Jonah slowly slicked the lube up and down his shaft, knowing exactly how Gordon wanted this.
He wanted to watch.
He wanted to focus on every tiny detail.
He wanted to be looking into his boy’s eyes when he came.
Countless times they’d started or ended a day like this, with Gordon ordering him to masturbate for him before getting him off.
Jonah liked to put on a show for him, too. He kept his bush trimmed short, just long enough the fuzz wasn’t scratchy against Gordon’s face for when he wanted to go down on Jonah. More importantly, it gave Gordon an unimpeded view of what belonged to him—his boy’s sweet cock, those low-hanging balls that bounced with every stroke he took. Jonah’s cock thickened in his hand, now at full length. Every vein stood out as it darkened with blood flowing into it. His right hand reached down and tugged on his balls, up to his right nipple, which he pinched and rolled between his fingers, to the left, back down again. A three-point dance he repeated as he slowly stroked himself.
There was always something incredibly erotic and vulnerable about watching him do this. When they were younger, the first time Gordon had asked to watch him, they’d already been having sex for weeks.
When Jonah had at first refused, turning dark red in the face, Gordon had finally persuaded him to say yes by tying his hands behind him and teasing his cock, sucking him, stroking him, but not letting him come, and by stroking his own cock to further tease him until Jonah begged to do it for Gordon, just to be allowed to finally dome.
The adorably bashful way Jonah had done it, too, eyes closed, face turned away from him, until Gordon had kissed him and made him look him in the eyes.
He never took his boy’s vulnerabilities for granted, ever.
Which was why Gordon loved to watch him.
Because this was a show no one else had seen—or ever would see—but him.
Another rule about these shows was that Jonah was allowed to take his time, unless specifically ordered to hold it, and come whenever he wanted to. Fast or slow, frantic or languid, it was up to him.
“Love you so much, boy,” Gordon whispered, but Jonah was already down the rabbit hole, too far gone to talk. His gaze anchored to Gordon’s as his hands worked his body, delicate fingers sliding up and down his cock, pre-cum and lube mixing as he stroked his shaft.
At the top of every stroke, he played his fingers over the head, teasing his glans and frenulum, back down again. Like Gordon, Jonah was circumcised, and he knew if he had his mouth on it that the head would feel hot and smooth, pulsing under his tongue.
Jonah started rocking back and forth with his thrusts. That’s when Gordon shifted his hands to Jonah’s hips, holding on, working with him, part of this and yet apart from it, participant and watcher, witness and confessor. With his thumbs Gordon lightly stroked the hollows in front of Jonah’s hipbones, loving the way he shivered and threw his head back.
This would be a long ride today, Gordon could tell. With this there was no in between, usually. Either hard and fast and intense, or a dance, a concert, an opera of pleasure and pure, unfettered need.
Damn, I’ve missed this so much.
They’d only done this a couple of times following Jonah’s return to him, before he left on tour, not always having the time for it, because they both knew Gordon loved it long.
Jonah’s hand on his cock slowed, squeezing at the base, along the shaft, at the head, his other hand once again on his balls and slowing, driving back his release. Head tipped forward, he sucked in a long breath, held it, and slowly let it out while Gordon massaged his hips.
Once again, his gaze found Gordon’s and he started over. Stroking, playing, teasing.
Gordon’s cock leaked pre-cum over his abs, and he swiped two fingers through it, gathering it and feeding it to Jonah.
His boy’s eyes took on emerald depths as his passion built and grew, that inner furnace burning brightly between them.
All of this—at their center was the primal, raw passion. It had pulled Gordon back from the brink of self-destruction, and had allowed Jonah to bare his soul to make amends.
It glued them together at a cellular level.
It melded and mended their hearts, stitched together their tattered souls, and drove away any possible lingering doubts still trying to gain a toehold in Gordon’s mind.
His. Always his.
Just like he’d always been Jonah’s. Neither of them knew anyone or anything else.
Jonah went through two more cycles before he tipped himself too far over the edge to pull back. When he finally stroked himself to completion he circled his head with his thumb and fingers, focusing on the head with short, rapid strokes, milking ropes of cum from his cock and all over Gordon’s.
Gordon’s fingers clamped down around Jonah’s hips. It was that or he’d take over, and that’s not how this particular game was played.
He felt the heat of every splash of cum that landed on his cock, his abs. Once Jonah caught his breath, he reached down with his left hand and gathered it up, using it as lube to stroke Gordon’s cock.
“Fuuuck, yeah, boy,” Gordon whispered as Jonah’s fingers encircled him.
He started slowly, differently than he’d stroked himself. Jonah knew Gordon’s body every bit as well as Gordon knew Jonah’s.
He slid his hands around to cup Jonah’s ass and squeeze.
Leaning his head back against the headboard, Gordon watched his eyes, watched Jonah watching him, the devious little smile his boy flashed him.
In this way, too, Jonah was in control now.
He leaned in as he stroked Gordon’s cock, not quite close enough to kiss, though. “Maaaaster,” he whispered, that sexy sing-song voice he always used. “My Maaaaaaster.”