He was definitely the man for the job.
And the man was very stressed out right now.
Once Paul was pupped out, Tim grabbed the bag with their things and, with Paul following, quickly ducked upstairs to grab a locker on the third floor. It wouldn’t make sense returning to the second-floor dressing room, and would save some time later. Paul preferred pupping out in the second-floor dressing room because they didn’t have to spend time constantly waving guys off while he did.
Tim snapped a leather leash onto the D-ring on the front of Paul’s collar and led him back down to the second floor, where he ordered himself a soda and settled into a comfortable chair in one corner of the main lounge area with Paul on the floor on his hands and knees next to him.
Until they were ready to go upstairs, Paul wouldn’t stand up on two legs again unless Tim ordered him to.
Tim wanted a few minutes to sit and chill, watch the news crawler on the TV screen closest to him, survey the room. Only one or two familiar faces tonight, which was fine. Later, he would move them over to the cigar lounge, but for now he wanted to start working on burning off some of Paul’s boundless energy first, get him deep in subspace. Then the cigar lounge, and, finally, upstairs. By then Tim would have likely identified a couple of Tops he’d let have a turn at Paul’s other end.
Paul nuzzled his face against Tim’s thigh and Tim rested his hand on Paul’s head, absently stroking him like the good pup he was.
Daddy’s little horndog.
From this point on, Paul wouldn’t talk like a human to anyone but Tim—except to confirm a guy was neg—until they headed upstairs. He loved dropping hard and deep into the pup headspace and Tim loved putting him there.
After a couple of minutes, Tim noticed two Tops who’d been sitting on the other side of the room together. They’d started glancing Tim’s way, tipping their heads closer and talking while watching Paul. Obviously discussing him.
Tim leaned in. “Two o’clock, pup. The two guys over there.”
Paul looked and nodded, a soft chuff of assent.
This was the really fun part. “You want to go play, boy?”
Paul play-bowed toward the Tops, who were now smiling, and wiggled his ass. He gave a soft chuff.
“Does Daddy’s puppy want a bone?”
Another chuff.
He teased him like a person might a bio-dog, goading him, winding him up, finally reaching for the leash snap and unhooking it from his collar before slapping him on the ass.
“Go get ’em, boy! Make Daddy proud.”
Paul bounded across the room toward them on all fours. Tim sat back, smiling, and lifted his cup of soda at the Tops with a head nod. They returned the gesture and then focused on Paul.
He couldn’t tell for sure from this distance and angle, but the first guy didn’t look like he was very well hung, and Paul almost immediately had his face buried between the guy’s thighs. Tim reached down and squeezed his own throbbing bulge, turned on and amused by Paul’s performance.
He always was.
It was hot knowing he had one of the hottest guys in the room at his beck and call, and only he got to decide who had the honor of playing with him tonight.
Plenty of times he’d had Tops approach him, begging to borrow Paul for an overnight or even a whole weekend. Tim always said no, because he didn’t know the guys and refused to put Paul at risk. Sure, Paul would do it and probably love the hell out of doing it, but it wasn’t Tim’s thing. Maybe if it was a friend, someone they knew well, and he knew Paul was into them, that’d be different. Someone Tim trusted to take care of Paul and not put him at risk.
But some Top he’d just met?
Nope.
Hell, if he did have a reliable Top to loan Paul to on occasion, he’d be able to get an uninterrupted night of sleep without Paul trying to hump him at some point. Tim was definitely a guy who, once he was asleep, wanted to fucking stay that way.
If Paul woke up horny, knowing he wasn’t allowed to masturbate without permission he would start cuddling, which turned into dry-humping, which usually turned into Tim spanking Paul and jerking him off so he could go back to sleep, or even sending him out to run on the treadmill with their largest vibrating butt plug stuffed inside him, because he could frequently make himself come like that.
And if he didn’t come while running, once he finished the five miles, he was allowed to jerk off.
It didn’t seriously irritate Tim, though, because it proved one thing to him time and again—Paul wouldn’t lie to him or circumvent their rules, even when it’d be easier to and Paul knew he could get away with it.
Tim would never punish Paul for being obedient. He couldn’t bring himself to ever do that, even if it meant interrupted sleep.
His guy loved him, which was why he could do this with him.
And because it was fucking hot as hell. What was even hotter was sometimes sitting there watching Paul do his thing while another bottom or pup fluffed his cock. Tonight there didn’t appear to be any pups around to fill that role, however, which was fine.
It meant more for Paul.
From various seats around the room, a couple of other Tops had watched the exchange, especially Paul’s approach from when Tim had let him off his leash, and he sensed some raised eyebrows of inquiry, seeking permission.
They’d have to wait.
Paul would finish, come back to him for some good-boys, and then Tim would pick the next guy or guys to send him off to after making sure Paul was okay with them. Every once in a while Paul would say no, indicated by a soft, low growl and a lowered head. The happy chuff and play-bow always signified a yes.
From the corner where Tim sat, he couldn’t see the recessed entrance from the dressing room. A guy had to step out of the foyer there and walk into the room first.
Paul finished blowing Tops One and Two and happily pranced away from them on all fours. He was distracted by a wolf whistle from another Top across the room and had turned his head to look, which made him plow right into the legs of a guy who’d just walked into the room.
Tim was already up and moving toward Paul and the guy, the leash in his hand and ready to make apologies for his pup, when Paul sat back on his haunches, his green eyes widened in horror, and he plainly said, “Oh, fuck.”
Tim also pulled up short when Kent Corwin turned to him, his gaze narrowed as his lips curled in a smile. “I suppose this wayward pup belongs to you?”
Oh, fuck!
Chapter Eleven
Kent wasn’t sure what amused him more—running into the guys here of all places, or the looks of sheer, unadulterated horror on their faces.
At least his dark, foul mood had evaporated, leaving playful, eager energy in its place. If for no other reason, even if the monster remained unexercised tonight, this drive had been worth it.
Totally.
Tim quickly snapped the leash onto Paul’s collar, but before either man could say anything else, Kent leaned in and dropped his voice. “Let’s go talk in the cigar lounge, hmm?”
He turned and headed that way without bothering to look and see if the men followed.
If they vanished, he’d know to never mention this incident.
If they followed…
Heh.
He was pleased to sense the two men fall in behind him as he crossed the room toward the cigar lounge.
There weren’t many guys in the cigar lounge tonight. Kent chose a corner table and positioned himself so his back was to the door, deterring interruptions from others as he motioned for Tim to take the chair across from him.
Paul, who’d stood to walk on two legs, dropped down onto all fours on the floor next to Tim, his head pressed against Tim’s thigh but staring at Kent with that same terrified expression that was reeeeeallly turning Kent’s sadistic crank.
Kent would never claim to be a full-on sadist, but he had his moments.
Kent smiled at Tim, addressing him and suspecting Paul was mostly along for the
ride at this point. “Well, let’s have some ground rules, shall we? What happens here, stays here, as far as I’m concerned. I’m sure you two are here to pursue similar, eh, interests as I am?”
Tim nodded but didn’t speak.
“Long story short, I had a shit day and was looking to blow off some steam. Now, I’m sure you two have had glimpses of the monster from the boat trips, so let’s drop the bullshit, shall we? Whatever does or doesn’t happen here, it in no way reflects upon our business relationship. Doesn’t make me think any less of either of you, and I would hope it doesn’t make you think any less of me. Don’t be afraid to tell me no, because I’m not interested in someone agreeing to play with me out of fear. Got it?”
“Got it,” Tim said. Kent didn’t miss how he dropped one hand onto Paul’s head, rubbing, stroking, soothing either Paul or himself or maybe both of them, he didn’t know.
Paul nodded, but didn’t speak.
“I caught the tail-end of your pup’s little adventure, and I can’t deny he’s sexy as fuck. If I knew you guys were players, I would have talked to you years ago about an invite.”
“Invite?” Tim asked.
“I hold parties at my house. Very…special parties. Hand-picked guest lists, guys only. Gay and the occasional bi man who’s single and not attached to a woman who’ll go batshit later if she finds out he likes dick.
“Everyone’s at least twenty-one, they have to abide by my rules, and everyone shows me current test results before their first party, as well as at least every other month after that, depending on how regularly they attend.
“Vegas rules—you’re not allowed to even talk about the parties in general without my permission. You are free to refer guys to meet me, if you are willing to vouch for them and put your own invite status on the line for them, and I’ll go with you to a public place like a restaurant to talk to them and see if I like them.
“Only I get to extend invites and tell them about the parties. Never show up with a guest who’s not pre-approved, or you get banned for life. If you want to attend my parties, we’ll discuss how you can approach and sound out potential new guests without violating anyone’s privacy. Got it?”
Tim and Paul nodded.
Kent smiled as he sat back, one hand dropping to his crotch to squeeze his bulge. “See, I have a little…problem. Very few guys who I care to fuck can take me without any prep. Yeah, I could fuck a power bottom here, or some piggy who’s loose as hell, but who knows where they’ve been? Condoms for the monster, frankly, suck ass.
“The parties are for my amusement as much as they are for my pleasure. There’s always at least one or two guys in attendance, experienced sluts or newbies, who can or want to take me on. And even if there isn’t, I have a long list of bottoms who greedily volunteer to gobble my meat. I win regardless.
“The question is, can you two separate business from pleasure? You willing to follow my house rules, keep it private, and have fun in the process?”
“Just to make sure I’m understanding you, these are sex parties?” Tim asked.
“Yeah. Sex, swing, whatever you want to call them. It’s like this place, only at my home, and with more background known about the attendees. Less risk of accidentally picking up anything. I even have a backroom dungeon for people who need more than just a good fucking. A couple of friends of mine, party regulars, are awesome Doms and love taking care of a needy sub’s more involved needs.”
Tim leaned in. “You vouch for everyone who’s there at one of your parties?”
“I vouch for them being safe under my roof, yes. I wouldn’t advise going off alone with them somewhere without getting to know them better, or taking their investment advice, but people don’t want to jeopardize their own invites. They only refer quality people to me. Guys know if something shitty happens with a party attendee outside my home, it is to be reported to me and the offender will be struck from the list, as will his referrer. So far, I’ve had no problems.
“Two firm rules at my parties are no means no and don’t be a douche if told no, and if a guy asks you to wrap it, you do, no questions asked, or else you don’t do him.
“I’ve never had anyone violate those two rules, and my guests always look out for each other. They know if they see something and don’t step in, and I find out they could have, they’re out, too. It’s not a pretty-boy, stand-and-model kind of party. These are real guys from all ages—from twenty-one up—all body types, Tops and bottoms and vers—everyday guys you might meet anywhere, and from all professions and income strata, too. It’s an all-you-can-suck-and-fuck buffet of eager cock and ass.”
Tim glanced down at Paul, who stared up at him. His wide-eyed shock now seemed replaced by something else.
Something looking more…eager.
Needy.
Wanty.
“You boys interested?” Kent asked.
* * * *
This sounded like an answered prayer to Paul. A safe place to unleash that side of himself, with pre-vetted guys he didn’t have to worry about trying something douchey?
Yes, please!
But it would depend on what Tim thought and wanted.
At least the horror that had washed through him when he’d looked up into Kent’s face out in the lounge had faded. The guy wasn’t upset or freaked out.
Yay!
“My pup is a pretty greedy piggy when the mood strikes him,” Tim said. “The challenge has been striking a balance between keeping his needs safely met while not doing anything to endanger ourselves or our marriage. I enjoy watching him play. I participate in the ways I want to, directing him and controlling who he is or isn’t with. Once he gets into a groove he kind of zones out and takes on all comers, so he needs a safe place and safe partners.”
“He’d have that and then some at one of my parties.”
“What about your Dom friends? Think they’d be interested in scening with him?”
“I’m sure they’d love to meet him. I have a pretty Domly streak in me with the right partner. I don’t consider myself a Dom, because that’s just for funsies. I don’t need it like some guys do.”
“Would you be interested in scening with him tonight?”
Paul watched Tim’s face, the way he focused on Kent. Kent’s brown eyes were a different shade than Tim’s, more amber flecks in them, a lighter shade that could almost be hazel in the right light.
“I don’t have any implements with me, or I’d say hell yeah.”
Tim smiled. “You’re in luck. I happen to have a bagful of them in a locker upstairs.”
Kent leaned back and smiled down at Paul. “Well, pup? I don’t play with unwilling partners. Not my thing at all. You’d have to be okay with it, and I’m serious when I say ‘no’ is perfectly fine.”
Paul eagerly nodded, nuzzling his head against Tim’s leg.
Tim’s hand returned to Paul’s head, stroking him. “I don’t think he’s up to speed to get fucked by that thing between your legs, but I’m sure after you reddened his ass we could spit-roast him and he’d gladly show you his appreciation like that.”
Kent reached over with a smile to shake hands with Tim. “You have yourself a deal. Were you going to let him roam a little first, or did I arrive on the tail end of the festivities?”
“He’d just gotten started.” Tim stared down at him, the harder edge returning to his gaze and voice, the hunger that always made Paul’s cock throb. “Daddy’s little piggy has more cocks to suck before he earns his reward.”
Paul wiggled his ass and chuffed in agreement.
* * * *
The three of them—Paul on all fours—returned to the main lounge area. The table Tim had occupied earlier was still free. Kent bought himself and Tim a round of sodas while Paul eagerly sat on his haunches, softly whining, eyeing various Tops around the room who’d definitely noted Paul’s return.
Kent leaned in, dropping his voice. “He seems to be very popular.”
“He usually is,” Tim said
. “But we’re usually here on a Friday or Saturday when there are more bottoms. He’s kind of got the room to himself tonight.”
“Any problems?”
“Nah, not like that. But a couple of years ago I started using the leash to give a more visible clue who he belongs to.”
“Smart.”
Like the eager pup he was, Paul whined and reached up with one mitted hand and pawed at Tim’s thigh.
“Usually he has a butt plug tail he wears, but I didn’t want to deal with that tonight.”
“Damn, I bet that’s hot as fuck.”
“It is.” He grinned at Paul. “Go over and say hi to Kent properly, piggy. Don’t be rude.”
Paul’s gaze swung onto him and Kent smiled, opening his thighs and patting his lap.
Tim didn’t release the end of the leash, but Paul had enough length to nuzzle close, his hooded chin resting against the thick bulge now pressing for freedom in Kent’s jeans.
Kent cupped his hands around Paul’s face. “So you’re a greedy little slut piggy, hmm?”
Paul whined, adorable, his ass wiggling like a real dog.
Kent unfastened his fly and carefully lowered his zipper, enjoying the way Paul’s eyes widened as he finally got his first unobstructed, close-up view of the monster.
“Yeah, buddy. Not going to try to work that up your ass tonight. But I bet you can get at least the tip of it in your mouth and use your hands to jerk me off, huh?”
Paul opened his mouth, already slurping at the thick head and making Kent’s balls ache with pleasure.
“Don’t even try to get me off right now, buddy. Just say hi to it. I want every drop of that load going down your throat later while your Daddy fucks your ass.” He let Paul have a few minutes with it and loved the adorable, glazed look in Paul’s eyes when he finally forced him off it and zipped up.
Paul tried to nuzzle in again, but Tim reeled him back. “Enough, pup. He put the toy away. Mind your manners. There are plenty of other bones out there for you to earn. Guy at four o’clock with the mustache and cover.”