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I can’t feel anything myself. There’s no sensation in my hands giving me feedback. But I can tell it’s working because Scrap moans and seeks out Rev’s mouth for a kiss. Rev obliges, and the two make out over Scrap’s shoulder while I fondle his dick. It must feel amazing, having Rev’s real hands roving over his abdomen and hips and having my imaginary hands on his dick.
“How does it feel?” I can’t help but ask. I’m focusing on using the right amount of pressure—not too much, not too little. I want Scrap to feel me and like what I’m doing, but I don’t want to hurt him.
Scrap breaks from Rev’s mouth. “Fucking perfect.” His gaze locks with mine, and I see the truth of it. His pupils are dilated, and his jaw is slack. “Don’t stop.”
“You’re not the one who gives orders, son,” Rev says. “That’s my job.”
“Sorry, Sir,” Scrap says. “Sorry, Brawn.”
“I forgive you,” Rev says. “Brawny boy. Stop.”
“Damnit,” Scrap mutters.
I stop mentally caressing and wait for further instruction.
Rev steps away from Scrap and removes his own jeans. He kicks them away, along with his boots and socks, and he has Scrap do the same. Both men are fully, beautifully naked. Two red, eager dicks tempt me to explore with my mental touch, but I hold my Gift in check.
And then Rev leans his elbows over a stacked pair of hay bales. “Get me ready, baby boy. The Reverend needs to be fucked.”
Chapter 6
Rev
I’m overcome with need.Hay scratches my forearms as I lean forward on a bale, bare-assed in the barn. The roughness is uncomfortable, but I don’t care. I’m too far gone. I have not just one, but two baby boys trusting me with their pleasure tonight, and it’s a turn-on like no other.
But I can’t lose myself completely. I’ll have my own pleasure, but I’ll see to their pleasure too. While helping Brawn practice control of his Gift. And showing him that being dominant doesn’t always mean being a top. And conversely, being a submissive doesn’t always mean being a bottom. Taking cock doesn’t make anyone less of a man. It’s important to me that he knows that, if we’re going to be lovers.
It’s a lot of balls to have in the air, but I’m good at juggling, at least where sex is concerned. Not to mention, the challenge of orchestrating this scene is a welcome distraction from my worry about Jud. Every day we delay is another day of hell for our brother and leader. But he’s strong. He’ll be okay. What won’t be okay is us running off half-cocked and getting ourselvesandhim killed and leaving Cora unprotected in this new world.
This detour isn’t in vain. The soldiers have the strategic know-how to pull off this rescue. The Working wanted us to meet them. It led us straight here, to the home of our new friends and allies. Between our increased number and our Gifts, we stand a good chance of success in New Orleans.
Crucial to that success is Brawn mastering his Gift. We can’t do this without his strength and telekinesis. The task of helping him trust that Gift falls to me, and it’s my honor. If I have my way tonight, he’ll go to bed believing that he holds within himself everything he needs to control this crazy-awesome power the Working entrusted to him. And he’ll have the confidence he needs to accept Cora’s invitation next time she chooses him for the night.
Craning my neck, I search over my shoulder for Scrap, my faithful assistant in Brawn’s lesson. Gloriously nude, he bends to his discarded jeans and begins searching for his in-case-of-emergency lube.
“Hurry up, boy.” I need his closeness. I need his cock. “The Reverend is ready to perform tonight’s sacrament.” My stomach tightens as I embrace the roleplay Brawn initiated. Scrap and I have indulged in a lot of father-son roleplay, but reverend-altar-boy is a new one for us. From the flush in his cheeks as he hurries to me, I can tell he’s into it.Verrryinto it.
When he stops midway to me and changes direction, I want to scream with impatience. But he’s back on track soon enough, with the Navajo print blanket in tow. After giving it a snap to release shards of hay, he folds it in half a single time and presents it to me as if it’s a communion cup.
“For you, Reverend. May I?” He nods to the hay bale. My sweet altar boy is seeing to my comfort.
“You may, my son.” I rise up long enough for him to pad the hay bale with the blanket, and then I’m back on my forearms, ass presented for his preparation. “Now, begin the sacrament.”
“Yes, Reverend.” My good boy folds himself over my back. His warmth seeps through my skin, and his breath caresses my neck. He kisses me there. Against my butt cheek, his cock brands me with its hot readiness. After a tender embrace, his hand begins roaming my ass, caressing, worshiping.
“That’s a good boy,” I praise, turning to meet his questing lips. With my head turned and my lips married to Scrap’s I’ve got Brawn in my line of vision. He’s bare-chested and tied to a post, and he’s gorgeous the way a mountain is gorgeous, the way an imposing vista takes your breath away. Coarse hair covers his chest like a wild animal’s pelt. Rich beard surrounds lips that are parted with his panting. When Scrap breaks our kiss, I’m able to see even more of Brawn. My gaze falls on the angry log trying to break free from his jeans.
“You’re a good boy too, Brawn,” I tell him. “At any time, you could release your own fly, like you did Scrap’s, and you could touch yourself with your Gift, but like an obedient altar boy, you’re waiting for your Reverend’s instruction.”
His eyes widen, as if he hadn’t considered he might do those things. Now that I’ve planted the idea, he has to exert control over his Gift to keep from living it out.
I keep talking. I want Brawn tempted, because that will push his control to its limits. “You seen two men fuck?” I ask. “Must’ve when you were in the pen. That’s it, baby boy. Just like that.” While I talk to Brawn, Scrap begins teasing his fingers over my dry hole.
Brawn’s gaze is locked on what Scrap is doing. “Yes, Reverend,” he says. “But not like this.”
“What do you mean, ‘like this?’”
“Loving. Gentle,” he says. “Reverend,” he adds as an afterthought.
