His Boy Next Door: #2

Breaking In

by R.J. Moray

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright ©2015 R.J. Moray

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the author's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First Electronic Edition

About His Boy Next Door

An older man.

A submissive discovery.

Eighteen-year-old Channon Beaumont is a virgin in every sense of the word, and as vanilla as angel cake. But the moment he lays eyes on the dominant older man next-door, he knows he'll do anything he's ordered just for the chance to be with a man like that.

When he rented the house for the summer, billionaire entrepreneur Jonathan Nash never expected to find such a sweetly obedient youth in his backyard. Channon takes naturally to submission, so Jack decides to train his boy into the perfect submissive, willing to endure anything Jack demands of him and enjoying every second of it.

Channon finds himself sucked deep into a world of dominance and submission, pain and pleasure, and willing service to the only man he's ever wanted to call Sir. And Jack? Just might accidentally fall in love.

Episode #2

Channon's first time under Jack's thumb was better than he could ever have imagined. He wants more, but has no idea what that could be. Jack, meanwhile, knows exactly what he wants from his young lover—nothing less than total obedience. And he knows exactly how to get it.

This book is episode 2 in an ongoing series, and contains acts of a sexual and kinky nature. Read at your own risk.

Breaking In

Channon spent the whole of Tuesday in a kind of daze. He'd had sex. With his neighbor. He felt like it ought to be visible to anyone who looked at him, but oddly no-one seemed to notice.

Maybe it didn't count because Jack hadn't actually fucked him. God, just thinking about it, though...Channon sighed, unable to concentrate on his books or anything his teachers were saying. Not that it mattered. Two weeks to prom and less than a month after that the term was over, the year done. He'd be finished with school forever, the rest of his life stretching out hazy and nebulous.

And he didn't have a clue what he was going to do with it.

The familiar low-grade fear of the future crept up his spine, but he shoved it firmly away. That was, like, six weeks away. Today...well, today he'd be seeing Jack again.

The older man had kissed him so deeply last night, and then tenderly in the front hall before sending him home. When Channon pressed his lips together he could feel it, the scrape of Jack's stubble on his cheek, the pressure of his tongue. Kissing Kim had never been like that, never so much. Looking back on it, he thought maybe the only reason he'd been getting hard with her had been because she was warm and soft and he was eighteen. Fuck, a light breeze could make him hard.

But Jack...just looking at him had Channon panting for it, his skin electrified, every bit of him just ready. The memory of his hands and how easily he'd put Channon on his knees made Channon weak and feverish, and he had to close his eyes and just breathe a bit or he thought he might faint.

"You okay, man?" Ben pushed the last of his fries across the lunch table. "You look kinda wasted."

Channon shrugged, tried to look normal, dipping a fry in the weird orange cheese sauce the cafeteria made, which tasted of nothing but was strangely more-ish. "I was up late."

Ben seemed to accept this. He kicked a foot up onto a spare chair, leaning back until he was practically up against Channon's arm. Channon could feel the heat coming up off his skin. He wondered what Ben would say about the whole 'possibly gay' thing, if he'd stop being friends with Channon if he knew. Channon wasn't sure. A week ago, what would he have said if Ben confessed he was gay?

Well. He wouldn't have stopped being friends with him. For whatever value of 'friends' they were.

It struck him again as odd that Ben had no affect on him that way. Objectively, he could say that Ben was good-enough looking, as clean and healthy and athletic as eighteen-year-old guys got. He needed a haircut, all that shaggy dun hair hanging in his eyes, and maybe stop cutting all the sleeves off his t-shirts in an effort to show off his guns, but apart from that...he was okay.

Channon tried to picture kissing Ben, and his brain just recoiled in disgust. Wow. No. Huh. So weird.

"So, Kim told you about the plan?" When Channon just blinked at him, Ben waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Stacey and Kim cooked up this plan for after prom. They wanna go to a hotel. I reckon you're finally gonna punch your v-card." He grinned.

Ben and Stacey had been screwing all year, so it was no big deal to him. Channon, though...well, Ben knew he hadn't been screwing Kim, and while Channon hadn't really cared all that much, Ben had taken it as some kind of personal affront. What, he'd wanted to know, was so wrong with Channon that he couldn't get Kim to at least suck him off? He'd been full of advice (that Channon had ignored) and invasive personal questions (that Channon had also ignored). He'd sent Channon 'educational' porn links and AskMen.com articles on 'wooing'. Every date postmortem discussion had focused on the question, 'Did she let you do it yet?' and detailed retellings of whatever it was Stacey had apparently let Ben do to her.

Channon had mostly just rolled his eyes and pretended it wasn't happening. He'd figured they'd do it eventually, when they were ready. Plus, in the meantime, he had hands. He could take care of himself. No need to rush.

Looking back on it now, the whole 'possibly gay' thing really should have occurred to him sooner.

"Yeah, uh, I dunno," Channon said, deflecting Ben's obvious enthusiasm. "We'll see, I guess."

Ben gaped at him. "Oh, man, you have got to have a better game plan than 'we'll see'. You gotta put the moves on her right."

Yeah. Right. Because that was going to happen.

He remembered Jack's face when he'd said, "I'm going to make you come," and the jolt that sent to his cock made him hunch over the table, trying to hide the heat in his face.

Maybe a week ago he'd have been able to get excited for prom, but now? Now he had something better.

* * *

The day dragged on forever, but then he was out under the hot sun, free at last. He legged it home, dropped his school-bag in his room, grabbed his trunks and a towel, and scribbled out a message on the fridge-board for his mom—gone swimming back later.

It might even be true. Jack had told him to come around after school and bring his swimming gear, but he hadn't said they'd actually get in the pool.

He'd also given Channon permission to jump the fence and come around to the back door, so Channon did.

Jack's house was a bit classier than Channon's mom's bungalow. Scratch that, a lot classier. It was huge, far too big for one guy on his own, all thick creamy rugs over dark slate, big glass windows and vaulted wooden ceilings. Channon wondered if Jack's company paid for it, but then Jack owned the company so he wasn't sure if it made much difference.

In any case, it made Channon feel shabby and unkempt. He'd always felt that way visiting Kim, whose parents had more money than God. He'd worried about messing something, leaving mud on their carpet or smudges on their whiter-than-white walls. And they'd treated him with a strange distance, as if they knew he had no clue what he was doing in their house and didn't want to spook him.

Jack, though. He treated Channon like...Channon wasn't sure. Unlike anyone else ever. Like he expected to be obeyed, sure, but also...also as though Channon was special. And that, Channon decided, was something he wanted more of. Even if it was just a game for Jack.

So he was nervous but excited when he went up to the back door by the pool and found it unlocked.

He figured that meant he could go in so he did, hovering in a wide-open room with sun-chairs in it and several exits. "Hello? Mr Nash? Sir?"

His voice echoed through the house. It really was big, and lonely. And Jack was here all by himself.

Well, Channon could keep him company, if he wanted it.

"There you are."

At the sound of his voice something tightened in Channon's gut, a visceral reaction to the authority in that deep voice tempered by welcoming warmth. Channon spun to face him, heart thudding in his chest.

Jack was barefoot on the slate, in casual slacks and a gray v-neck t-shirt that was so thin Channon could make out the peak of his nipples through the fabric. He looked relaxed, pleased, and Channon wanted to go over there and...well, anything Jack wanted. But he didn't. Instead he stood there staring like a love-struck baby cow, as Jack's smile broadened in amusement.

"It's good to see you again, Channon. You look thirsty."

With his mouth open like that, panting after Jack like a dog. Channon blushed, and shook himself. "Sir," he said, not a yes, but Jack seemed to take it for one.

"Come with me." He turned away, not waiting to see if Channon followed, just led him deeper into the house to a huge airy kitchen. He took a jug of what looked like iced tea from the fridge, poured out a couple of glasses, and handed one to Channon, taking Channon's swim gear with his other hand and setting it down on the counter. Their fingers didn't touch, but Channon felt the proximity of him all the same, this great masculine presence that seemed to fill the room.

"Thank-you, sir." It was tea, ice cold but unsweetened. Channon dutifully drank it anyway.

Jack leaned up against the sink, his broad muscular hands curling around the chrome lip of it. Channon remembered the strength of those hands on his skin, and closed his eyes a moment, trying to get himself under control.

"So, Channon. You've done some thinking, I hope."

Channon nodded. "Yes, sir."

"And the fact that you're back leads me to the conclusion that you want more of this."

"Yes, sir."

Jack smiled. He looked so normal when he smiled, shockingly handsome but normal, a regular guy who liked regular things, not things like fucking his teenage neighbor's mouth raw. "I assume you've worked out what 'this' is, by now."

Well, yeah. Channon might not talk a whole bunch, but he wasn't as stupid as people thought. "I think so, sir."

"Explain it to me. So I know you understand."

Channon breathed in, not sure where to start. "It's...you telling me what to do, and I do it. And I call you 'sir' and, and please you, however you want." By the time he finished his cheeks were burning, the back of his neck gone hot with self-consciousness.

"What do you think is included in 'however I want'?"

"Uh...I don't..."

"Guess, for me."

It was hard to be sure, but he had some ideas. "Like...you might...tie me up? And, and spank me?"

Maybe it was his uncertainty that made Jack grin. "I might. And you think you'd like that?"

Channon nodded, lips pressed tight together because he really thought he would like that, would like anything Jack wanted to do to him.

The older man breathed out, brow drawing down seriously, though he didn't look angry. Just focused. "You're on the right track. Let me be specific. I want your submission, Channon. I want to dominate you, sexually. And non-sexually. There's bondage in that, and I will spank you, if you enjoy it. Maybe even a little if you don't," he added, his mouth quirking into the hint of a smirk. "I will set rules for you, and if you break them I will discipline you. And sometimes that might mean tanning your ass with a paddle, and sometimes it might mean you stand naked in the corner to think about what you did wrong and how to avoid it in future. And when you're a good boy, which I know you want to be, then I'll reward you. Does that sound good to you?"

It sounded incredible. Channon licked his lips, his throat hoarse when he said, "Yes, sir."

"Is there any part you don't understand? Or don't like the sound of?"

"No, sir."

"Good. Now. First rule." He fixed Channon with a firm look, an absolute look, one that made the muscles in Channon's back contract until he was ramrod straight. "Don't ever lie to me. And don't keep secrets from me. I need you to be honest. If you lie to me, this ends. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Channon said. He didn't like lying anyway, this seemed easy.

Jack nodded, satisfied. "Normally, the second rule would be that you address me as 'sir', but," and his smile was fond, "you already seem to have the hang of that. In public 'Jack' or 'Mr Nash' is fine. But in private, I'll be 'sir' to you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. Uh, sir?" He wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask questions, but he didn't think Jack was going to be angry at him for it.

"Yes?"

"Am I still Channon?"

It seemed it wasn't a stupid question, because Jack's face lit up as though pleasantly surprised. "Would you like me to give you a new name?"

Channon bit his lip, uncertain. "If you want to. Sir."

There, he was pleased. "We'll see. 'Channon' will do for now. Third rule. When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed without hesitation. If there's a reason you can't, or don't want to, you need to tell me. If I find your reason acceptable, you may be forgiven. If I don't, you'll be disciplined. I won't be angry if you fail a task, so long as I can see you're trying. But if I think you're not trying hard enough then I will punish you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Channon said, feeling hot and tight in his skin. Punishment sounded...well, it sounded bad, but there was a gleam in Jack's eye that made Channon think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad. And Jack had said there would be rewards too. If the night before was anything to go by...Channon shuddered. Yeah. He could get into those kinds of rewards.

"Number four. Honesty means that you have to tell me if things go too far. If something hurts too much and you need it to stop, if something makes you feel too bad to go on, I need to know. You can say, 'Please, sir, stop,' and I'll stop. Do you understand?"

Channon nodded. "Yes, sir." Of course, that only worked if he could say it. If, for example, he had a cock shoved down his throat...

It must have been visible in his face. "What are you thinking?"

"Uh, last night? When," and he blushed, but made himself go on, "when you let me...uh. You told me to push down if it was too much. I was thinking of that, sir."

"Yes. If you can't speak, I'll give you an alternative."

He looked pleased again, and Channon couldn't help how good it felt when he looked that way. Not just because a handsome man was smiling but because he was smiling for Channon, because Channon made him smile, made him happy.

"And the last rule for now, number five."

Jack pushed off from the sink, crossing the floor to bracket Channon in against the counter. The sudden proximity came as a shock, but then Channon was looking up into those vibrant hazel eyes and everything besides the warm weight of Jack's muscular torso against him stripped away.

"You," Jack said, eyes tracking the lines of Channon's features, "are mine. No-one else gets to touch you without my permission. For now that means no-one gets to touch you sexually, but if this works out I don't want anyone laying a hand on you for any reason unless I approve of it. Do you understand?"

Channon hesitated, not because of the restriction but because 'if this works out' sounded permanent. And he hadn't really thought about it that way, that this might last, not just a game Jack wanted to play over the weekend or the summer.

"Yes, sir," he said, overcome by the strength of how much he wanted that, how much he'd give just for the chance to please Jack for as long as Jack would let him.

"Good," Jack said, and leaned down to brush his mouth over Channon's, not quite a kiss. "Now. I'm afraid I don't have time to play with you this afternoon. But I do have time for you to make me come."

The sudden shift in tone took Channon by surprise, and for a moment he just stared. Jack, however, stepped back, his expression stern. "Take off your clothes."

When I give you an order, I expect it to be obeyed without hesitation.

Channon grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up, off over his head. He remembered how neat Jack had been with his clothes the night before and quickly folded the thing before dropping it on the tiles. He toed off his sneakers, fumbled open his belt buckle, and shimmied out of his jeans, adding them to the clothes stack. He had his thumbs hooked into the elastic waist of his boxers when Jack reached down to cup him through the thin cotton. Channon froze, not sure what to do, but Jack just fondled him, fingers coming up behind his balls to press firmly into his taint. It made him gasp, and he risked a glance up to see Jack watching him with avid focus.

Jack let him go. "Go on."

Channon had his pants around his ankles in a second, bent down to collect them and pull off his socks. Then he was naked under Jack's intense gaze, soles cold on the hard slate.

Jack picked up the towel from the counter and dropped it on the floor between their feet. "Down," he said, pressing with two fingers on Channon's shoulder. Channon went to his knees, quivering a little because, well, because he was naked in Jack's kitchen in the late afternoon. Outside, the garden was bright with sunshine, birds singing in the trees. In the distance he could hear the low burr of someone mowing a lawn. But in here, it was just him and Jack, and whatever it was Jack was going to tell him to do.

He looked up. His instinct was not to look up, but whenever he did Jack seemed pleased by it. This time Jack ran his fingers through Channon's hair, in a proprietary sort of way that sent a shiver down Channon's spine.

"Open my pants," Jack said—ordered, in fact—and Channon did so, folding back the fabric with his fingers to reveal khaki fitted boxers and the bulge of Jack's cock. He wasn't hard yet, but the outline of his dick was clear through the fabric. "Take me out."

Channon tugged the boxers down to reveal him. He was intimidating even while soft, and Channon bit his lip, anticipating what he knew was about to happen and thrilled by it.

"Now, use your mouth to make me hard."

Channon pressed a kiss to the softness of Jack's cock, and the immediate sense of satisfaction was overwhelming. He licked, fondling Jack with his tongue and reveling in the sweet velvet of his skin, of the flesh beneath. It was still all so new, the wonderful revelation still fresh, and he closed his eyes, giving himself up to it. He ducked under to catch Jack in his mouth, closing his lips to suck in the thick weight of Jack's cock. It felt so good in him, good enough to make him whimper, and he worshiped Jack with his tongue, excited by the thickening of his flesh.

The cock in his mouth hardened, lengthened, filling up his throat, and he tried to hold on to it all but there was too much for him. The weight of it on his tongue made him twitch, shuddering, as Jack's firm fingers massaged his scalp. He made awful sounds, slurping and sucking, moaning because he couldn't help himself. He felt so, so dirty, kneeling naked on the floor for this older man he barely knew, who he wanted to please so very badly.

He sucked Jack as deep into his throat as he could manage, and then he tried to go deeper, tried to catch him in his throat. It choked him, but he was determined, flattening his palms on Jack's thighs and leaning in until his eyes watered. It wasn't enough. He wanted it, wished he could, tried again. But he had to draw back, disappointed with himself. He sucked Jack back down again, tried again and failed, and whimpered around Jack's cock, looking up in apology. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I want to be good.

But there was no anger in Jack's face, no disapproval. Instead he looked pleased, watching Channon with a voracity that stunned him. "Good boy," he said, tightening his grip on Channon's hair. "That's my boy. Take as much as you can."

So Channon did, sliding up Jack's length to tongue the head of his swollen cock, and then down again to couch him in his throat. He tried to relax, tried to swallow Jack down, but again his body failed him, had him pulling off to breathe, and oh how he wanted.

Jack's hand tightened in his hair, and then, as if he knew Channon was incapable, took control of him. He pulled Channon down and held him there with his throat full, jerked him back and pulled him in again, forcing himself as deep as he could go. Channon let it happen, fingers tightening into hard fists on Jack's thighs, desperate not to push him away.

And then Jack hauled him off, jerking his head back until his spine bowed. "Get up," he said, tugging hard, and Channon followed the guidance of that firm hand, lurching gracelessly to his feet. "Turn around."

He did it without question, and then Jack was a warm solid weight against his back, covering him from ass to shoulders.

"Spread your legs," Jack ordered, and Channon did it, though...was Jack going to fuck him like this, bareback up against a counter in the kitchen? Did he want that? He did. Mercy, he wanted it more than anything, but all Jack did was push his cock between Channon's thighs and say, "Brace your hands on the counter and hold your knees together. Make it tight for me."

Channon did as he was told, hot and frantic, and then Jack drove into the tight space between his thighs, cock sliding wet against his skin, up behind his balls. It was...it was like Jack was fucking him, hard and deliberate, slamming his hips up against Channon's ass with a damp slap that made Channon feel used and, and owned. Fuck, it felt so good, with all that mass of man behind him, taking what he wanted, his hands hard on the edge of the counter bracketing Channon in. Channon was so hard now, each thrust dragging against him in ways he would never have expected, until he thought he could come if Jack kept going long enough. But suddenly Jack jerked back, one hand vanishing for a few seconds—the hot splash on Channon's ass was punctuated by this deep, heartfelt groan and then Jack's cock was sliding through the mess, as he rutted the last of his climax out in Channon's cleft.

His face hot, his chest heaving, and his dick sorely neglected, Channon clung to the lip of the counter, dropping his head to try and breathe. Jack settled against him, and there was a damp press of lips to his shoulder.

"Good boy."

The words sent a wonderful thrill through him. He'd been good. Jack was pleased. It was better than coming, maybe, better than the shallow pleasure of orgasm.

Jack's hands played down Channon's chest, fingering the tight muscles of his abdomen, down to caress his aching cock, and Channon let out a tiny but telling sob at the brush of Jack's fingers, feeling needy and desperate.

But that was all he got, Jack pulling away again to leave Channon shivering with the cold loss of his body.

He didn't turn around, stayed where he'd been put, but he could sense Jack behind him, knew it when the older man bent down to retrieve the towel on the floor. He could hear the rough rub of cloth against Jack's skin, knew Jack was cleaning himself, and he shivered, naked, Jack's come cooling on his skin.

Eventually, Jack sighed. Channon heard the jangle of his belt, the tear of a zip, and knew Jack had put himself back together, could feel the burn of his eyes as he surveyed Channon's come-splattered ass. Channon shuddered, dropping his head, a burst of shame threatening to overtake him, but then there was a heavy hand between his shoulder-blades, smoothing over his sensitized skin.

"Did you like that?"

Channon swallowed, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Turn around."

It was hard to obey, and when he did Channon couldn't meet Jack's eyes, fixed his gaze on Jack's t-shirt instead, clutching the counter behind him for support.

"I imagine you want to come now," Jack said, brushing the backs of his fingers up against Channon's aching cock.

Channon didn't know how to respond. Yes, he did, but there was something in Jack's tone that told him he wasn't going to. "Sir," he said, not quite a question. Jack's fingers curled around his balls then, squeezing a little too hard for comfort, clearly a demand for more. Channon groped around for a good answer. "If you'll let me," he managed, voice gone weak and uncertain, but Jack's grip eased off, and he knew that had been the right thing to say.

"I won't," Jack said, soft and gentle, though the way he held Channon's balls was anything but. "And you don't have permission to make yourself come either." He trailed his fingers up over Channon's belly, up his chest to catch on a nipple and tweak it hard. "I won't pretend I'm telepathic, or that I'll know if you go behind my back. But let me be clear. You are not to touch yourself without permission. Do you understand?"

It was awful. Channon ached so terribly and Jack was so, so intense. And Channon had to weigh up the immediate relief of an orgasm against the sharper pleasure of whatever else Jack had in mind for him. "Yes, sir," he said, though he could feel the bliss of release slipping away from him as he said it. Because if Jack wouldn't let him come, he wouldn't. That was it. That was how things were, now, and how he wanted them.

Jack hummed, clearly pleased with him. "Good boy. Did you bring your phone with you?"

The sudden change of subject took him a moment to follow. "Yes, sir?"

"Unlock it and give it to me."

Channon obeyed, bending down to fish his phone out of the pocket of his discarded jeans, handing it over without hesitation. Jack took it, frowning over the thing. He looked so together, fully dressed and competent while Channon was still naked, Jack's come drying on his ass. He felt...he didn't know how he felt, this weird euphoria swelling behind his ribs as he watched Jack do whatever he was doing.

"Now you have my number." Jack handed the phone back, his hazel eyes flickering up. "Tonight I want you to call me when you've gone to bed, and I want to hear that you haven't touched yourself. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Channon said, any reluctance about being told not to jerk off smothered by the knowledge that he had Jack's number and Jack wanted him to call.

"Good boy."

Jack curled a hand around the base of Channon's skull, pulling him in for a deep, thorough kiss, exploring his mouth as though laying claim to it. When he was done Channon felt giddy, plundered. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them to see what Jack wanted of him next.

The weight of Jack's regard made his knees weak, made him want to go down to the floor again and, and anything, if Jack wanted it. Whatever he wanted. Channon wanted to do it, just please him in any way, and the small curve of Jack's smile made him think Jack knew.

"Put your trunks on. And take your things out to the deck. I'm going to lock up, but you should take a dip in the pool before you go. And remember," he added, trailing a thumb down Channon's cheek, "everything I've told you."

"Yes, sir," Channon said, his heart still racing, still overcome by it all. On impulse, he added, "Thank-you, sir," though he wasn't really sure if it was use of the pool or, or just all of it he was grateful for.

Jack smiled, and Channon thought, No, all of it, please don't stop.

* * *

The pool was pretty good, he decided. The cold freshness of the water shrank his erection down to fucking nothing, and by the time he climbed out he felt centered, refreshed, ready for anything.

'Anything' turned out to be chores and dinner, and then an hour of shooting aliens online with Ben and some guy Ben knew from Scouts.

After that, though. Channon took a long shower, resisting the seductive swell of his dick under the hot water, and climbed into bed. He lay there, naked under the covers, heart pounding as he clutched his phone, staring at the bright rectangle of light that stared right back at him.

Jack had put himself in Channon's phone as 'Sir'. Just seeing it sent a shot of hot anticipation through him. Sir. The word had never meant so much to him as it did now.

And he'd been ordered to call. He checked the time. It was ten pm, definitely late enough. He'd heard his mom go to bed half an hour ago. She probably couldn't hear anything from her room, but he hunched down under the covers anyway, just in case.

He hit 'call'. It rang twice and then cut off, and—"Channon."

Just the sound of his voice calmed Channon's nerves, and he sighed out, "Sir," the knot in his chest loosening at once.

"Are you in bed?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you naked?"

As though he knew. Channon licked his lips, tucking the phone into the crook of his shoulder and flattening his palms on his belly. "Yes, sir."

"Did you touch yourself, after I told you not to?"

Channon opened his mouth to say no, but then hesitated. Full honesty. "I showered, sir. But I didn't...anything more than just wash."

"Are you hard?"

Again, full honesty. "Half, sir," he said, clenching a fist against the mattress.

"Pinch your nipples, hard enough to hurt," Jack said. Channon did it, biting his lip. "Channon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do it again." This time Channon whimpered, which seemed to be what Jack wanted. "Again, Channon."

"Yes, sir." He sucked in a tiny gasp. His nipples felt huge and hard between his fingertips, so sensitive they throbbed.

Jack's voice was comforting in his ear. "Rub your chest for me. Run your fingers down to your cock." He did, pressing firm into the divots of muscle and pretending these were Jack's hands, Jack's blunt fingertips. "Are you hard?"

"Yes, sir." So hard now, tight and hot in his skin. Jack made a low sound, pleased.

"Put your hand on your cock for me. Slide yourself out. Do it slowly."

It took such restraint. Channon hadn't known he was capable of this, but now, with the continuous stream of Jack's instruction in his ear, he felt capable of anything Jack asked. No, anything Jack ordered. These were orders, no question.

"Stroke yourself lightly. Don't come, Channon," and Jack's voice hardened. "Just tease."

Channon bit his lip, his hand moving light and gentle along his shaft. It really was a tease, almost cruel. He sighed, wishing for Jack's firm touch, for more.

"Spread your thighs," Jack said. "Pull your knees up. I want you open."

He did, pushing the covers out of the way. In the dim light he could just make out his cock, his hand cupped loosely 'round, the pale length of his thighs, his belly. If Jack were here, would he like what he saw? He seemed to like looking at Channon, had from the beginning, had devoured him with his eyes the first moment he caught Channon in his yard.

"Do you feel exposed, Channon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you like that?"

Such a question. "I do, sir."

"Would you like it if I was watching you? Or, if I made you do this somewhere public, where anyone could see?"

Channon shivered. Yes, yes, but..."I...maybe."

"I could make you strip down in an alley, tell you to jerk off against the wall. On a Saturday night, when the bars close. Someone might see you. How does that sound?"

"Good, sir," Channon managed past the shameful knot in his throat. He shouldn't want that. But how he did.

"I could fuck you there, up against that wall. Would you like that?"

Channon licked his lips, hot with humiliation. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Channon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you want to take my cock?"

"Yes..."

"Mmm. Do you have lube?"

Channon's heart leaped, because for a moment he thought...but no, no, Jack wasn't coming over. "No, sir," he admitted.

"Then put the first two fingers of your left hand in your mouth and suck them. Make them really wet, Channon, you know why."

They were going in his ass, he knew it. He sucked his fingers eagerly, tilting his head to keep his phone clamped to his ear, wondering if Jack could hear him making wet, sloppy noises. He pushed his tongue between his fingers, licking them from base to tip until they were soaked and slippery, and he couldn't help the little moan that escaped from his throat.

"Now finger your asshole. Just rub for now, get used to the feel of it. Tell me how it feels."

Channon pressed his fingertips to the tight pucker between his cheeks. It felt..."Tight, sir. But soft."

"Rub circles, and try to relax. Does it feel good?"

"Yes," Channon admitted, his face hot. "Sir."

"Do you remember how it felt when I finger-fucked you?"

The words were so crude, and yet that's exactly what happened. "Yes, sir."

"You liked it. You came everywhere." He sounded pleased with this, or amused, Channon couldn't be sure. "I want you to slide a finger inside yourself. Go as slow as you want, but when you're in up to your knuckles, tell me."

Channon swallowed. "Yes, sir." He pressed, felt his flesh yield to the pressure, felt the wet tip of his finger slip in. He inhaled shakily, and worked his finger in with short, smooth motions. The first knuckle slid past his entrance, the second catching on his rim and making his breath stutter as he pushed past. Then he was in as deep as he could go, and—I'm fucking myself with a finger while a grown man tells me not to get off, he thought, one part incredulous and the rest of him turned on beyond belief.

"Sir?"

"Tell me."

Of course he wanted that. "I'm in all the way. I can't go any, any deeper."

"Good. Curl your finger up, and try to find your prostate. You'll know when you do," he added, and yeah, Channon was pretty sure he would. It took him a few moments of exploration but then—oh. Channon inhaled in a sharp hiss. "There," Jack said, sounding satisfied. "Well done. Massage yourself there. And remember not to come."

Channon did as he was told, and the first press of his finger forced a moan out of his throat. He tried to swallow it, tried to keep quiet, but the warmth rippling through him, radiating out until it had his whole body hot and electric, was just too much. He pressed his lips together, whimpering, the hand on his cock stilled, just gripping himself. If he jerked it now he'd burst open, and Jack had told him twice not to come.

"Channon," Jack said, warm and encouraging. "You sound so good. You like that?"

"Yeah," Channon breathed, eyes squeezed tight, unable to bear the sight of his dick hard in his hand, of his thighs spread open for Jack. And if Jack were there, if Jack leaned over him now and, and if he wanted...

"I bet you look good, too. I'd like to stuff you full of my cock, fill you up with come."

Channon moaned, picturing Jack between his thighs, Jack pushing thick and hard into him, sinking in all the way to his balls. He clenched around his finger, unable to help himself, so close to the edge he could practically taste it. "Sir," he gasped. "Sir, I'm so close."

"Do you want to come?"

"Yes, sir, please," he begged.

"And you think you've earned it?"

It was like a slap in the face. Channon swallowed, trying to think through the fog of arousal. Did he? No, he hadn't done anything to deserve a reward so, so no. He dragged in a breath, tried to calm down. "No, sir. I haven't."

"Hmm." There was a terrible pause. "Maybe not, but I want to hear you come, anyway. Do it, now."

Oh, thank fuck. Channon pressed hard against his prostate, hand already moving on his cock, and it took two strokes before he was spilling all over his belly, choking on the sobs bubbling out of his throat. "God, oh God," he whimpered, remembering too late that he was trying to be quiet, too drenched in his own orgasm to care much. His every muscle felt useless, limp and worthless, and his breath thundered in his ears like he'd never come down.

There was a soft sound over the phone, and then a deep, unmistakable groan. "Good boy," Jack said, sounding breathless and satisfied, and Channon fucking knew. Holy shit. Holy shit, did that just happen?

"Sir," he breathed, aching to touch him, or to be touched.

Jack took a deep breath, and by the time he let it go he was back to amused authority. "Catch your breath. Let me know when you think you can stand."

He had no idea what Jack was planning, but he let his breathing slow, pushing himself up against his dizzy lethargy. "I can stand, sir."

"Good. Put the phone down and go wash your hands. Don't hang up. Be quick."

"Yes, sir."

He dragged a towel over his sticky belly, clambered into a pair of sweats, and staggered out into the hall. It was dark, and he managed to make it to the bathroom and back without bumping into anything only because it was all so familiar. He shut his door quietly and climbed back into bed, reaching for his phone.

"Sir?"

"Good boy. I want you to wrap yourself up under the covers, make yourself comfortable. If I was there with you, I'd touch you everywhere. You feel so good, Channon. Like you're made for me."

Channon bit his lip, overwhelmed with this awful pride. "Sir," he said, throaty with soft contentment.

Jack hummed, a satisfied sound. "Is there anything you want to ask me?"

Dozens of things—Why are you single? Are you even single? Are we dating? What happens next? When are you going to fuck me?

"Anything you want. Go on."

"Why me?" It was out of his mouth before he realized he'd thought it, and immediately he wanted it back. "Sir," he started, but Jack hummed again and he stopped at once.

"I suppose you think I have dozens of attractive young men vying for my attention."

Channon did think that, actually. "Yes, sir."

Jack chuckled, warm and low. "You're not wrong, exactly. Where I come from there are lots of pretty boys who'd love to come home with me. And some of them might even enjoy the things I'd do them. Not many. Enough. But none of them are like you. A big, shy, handsome boy, clean and wholesome and fresh. You must be the object of so many teenage fantasies. Do you think they look at you, the other boys, and think about sucking you off?"

Channon's mouth had gone dry. "No, sir?"

"They do. Take my word for it—there's at least one lonely queer boy who jerks off at night with his fingers stuffed in his mouth, pretending they're your cock."

It was too unreal, but Channon wasn't about to contradict him.

"I saw it when you realized," Jack went on, quiet in Channon's ear. "There was a moment where you knew you'd been caught, and then you took one look at me and the whole of your face transformed. It was beautiful. You looked so confused and so desperate, so reluctantly aroused. I wanted that. I still want that. You, Channon, on your knees for me, bent over the couch for me, tied down, tied up, face-down on the floor with your ass in the air, cheeks paddled red." He sighed, and it shuddered down Channon's veins like rippling silk. "I can't begin to tell you all the things I want to do to you, or make you do for me."

"I want to, sir," Channon said, hearing his voice and knowing he sounded pathetic and desperate. But he thought Jack might like him desperate. "I want to please you."

"I know. It's delightful." His tone shifted, sounding a little regretful. "It's late now, though. You have school in the morning. And I have homework for you," he added, as though it amused him.

"Sir?"

"From now on, whenever you get the urge to touch yourself, I want you to call me. If I'm feeling lenient, I might let you. If I don't answer, you can leave a message. Say, 'I've been thinking about what you said.' Then I'll know why you called."

Channon chewed his lip, thinking hard. Every time he got the urge was...well, that was all the time. "Uh, sir?"

"Yes, Channon?"

"That's...I'll be calling you a lot. I don't want to be annoying." I don't want you to get bored of me.

Jack chuckled. "You won't be. But if it makes you feel better, you can text me if it's just an urge, and call if you would normally have acted on it. Do you understand?"

That was still going to be a lot of texting. But Channon said, "Yes, sir," all the same.

Continued in His Boy Next Door #3: Bad Decisions

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Also by the Author

Published as R.J. Moray

His Boy Next Door (Channon Beaumont) series

Season One

Volume One (1-3)

A New Discovery

Breaking In

Bad Decisions

Volume Two (4-6)

New Toys

Eating In

Staking Claims

Volume Three (7-9)

Punishment

Submission

Showing Off

Volume Four (10-12)

Shared Interests

Fears

Choices

Season Two

Members Only

Published as Robin Moray

Bonded to the Alpha series

Bonded to the Alpha

Loyal

Claimed

Mallory Witches series

Something Wicked

About the Author

R.J. Moray writes MM BDSM erotica for readers who like their Doms a little more tender, but just as dominant.

For novel-length MM erotic romance, check out the works of Robin Moray, who is exactly the same author in a slightly more elaborate hat.

You can follow the author on twitter @robinmoray or tumblr at robinmoray.tumblr.com, or email Robin via therobinmoray@gmail.com.

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