Always Read online

  Contents

  Also by Robin Moray

  About

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About the Author

  ALWAYS

  His Boy Next Door 36

  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 ©2019 Robin 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

  Edited by Jennifer Smith and Anne Shure

  Also by Robin Moray

  (Up-to-date listing at robinmoray.com)

  Bonded to the Alpha series

  Bonded to the Alpha

  Loyal

  Claimed

  Mated

  Mallory Witches series

  Something Wicked

  The Omega Colony series

  Changed: Mated to the Alien Alpha

  As R.J. Moray

  Novellas

  Finding Elliott

  Serials

  His Boy Next Door

  (Channon Beaumont series)

  Season One

  Season Two

  Season Three

  A Collar For His Brat

  (Ewan McKinney series)

  About His Boy Next Door 36 : Always

  Jack never expected to find someone like Channon, and now that he has, he's working on a plan to keep him. But when word gets out, their personal lives are exposed, leaving Jack uncertain. It's up to Channon to find a way to prove he wants this, and his Sir.

  This book is episode 36 in an ongoing serial, and contains acts of an adult and sexual nature. Read at your own risk.

  Chapter One

  It happened at Pizzicato. Jack had brought Channon out to dinner with clients, the Godwins, and Mrs Godwin asked Channon what his plans were for the future.

  Channon was wearing his charcoal wool suit with one of Jack’s ties—green, to bring out his eyes. He’d just had a haircut, and he looked so sharply polished it made Jack want to bite down on him to hear him squeal. He was the loveliest creature Jack had ever laid eyes on, and Jack knew that couldn’t be true, not objectively. That was love talking. For some reason, knowing that didn’t make him feel it any less.

  At Mrs Godwin’s question, Channon tilted his head, those light green eyes catching Jack’s for a moment. He grinned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and said, “I’m still working on it.”

  “You don’t have a five-year plan?”

  Jack winced, knowing Channon was often sensitive in the face of criticism.

  But Channon just looked her in the eye and said, “No, but I know that right now? I’m where I need to be.”

  It made Jack’s chest ache. He leaned his knee against Channon’s under the table, so glad of him in that moment. Channon pressed back, glancing shyly at him before steering the conversation to the safer subject of Christmas.

  I’m going to marry him. The thought was like a supernova, bright and all-encompassing. He would. He’d ask Channon to marry him, and then he’d get to watch Channon grow into the man he was destined to be, unfurling under Jack’s tender care. Oh, he was going to be glorious. Jack longed for him, his whole body yearning toward him. How he loved his beautiful, charming boy.

  It wasn’t a new thought, not really, but that was the moment when it solidified into something tangible. Jack wanted Channon forever. If he could, he would have locked Channon up in what Nate called his ‘ivory tower’ and never let him go. Except that wasn’t true, really. They’d tried something like that, and it hadn’t worked out.

  (On reflection, Jack wondered if it might have been better if he hadn’t used Channon as a slave but kept him prisoner instead. Naked and vulnerable. Collared and chained to wait for use. God, that sounded divine.)

  Jack couldn’t keep Channon hidden away, but he could keep him. He could put a ring on Channon’s finger and a permanent collar around his throat, and then, no matter where they went, people would know Channon was his. The way it should be.

  Mine, Jack thought, picturing it. Always.

  Perfect.

  ❧

  “I’m going to ask Channon to marry me.”

  Saying it aloud was a relief. It felt real, now it was out, something that would actually happen.

  He was on the chilly deck of their condo, looking out over the sparkling city lights. Channon had gone up to bed, was waiting warm and naked for him. Tomorrow, it would be Christmas Eve, and they’d head up to Coleridge to see Jack’s folks. Nate and Ewan were spending Christmas with Ewan’s friends, something Jack thought sounded horrendous, though he’d kept it to himself out of respect for Nate’s feelings. He would have waited until after the holidays to tell Nate, except he couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. Two hours he’d been thinking about this, and already he wanted to burst with the joy of it.

  Over the line, Nate said. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. That’s…been coming for a long time.”

  “You’re not going to try and talk me out of it?” Jack teased. Nate had been against Jack bringing Channon home in the first place, concerned about his age and inexperience. Jack figured by now Nate must be over it, but part of him wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

  “Like it would do anyone any good.” Nate sounded strange, distant over the connection. “I’m guessing you wouldn’t be asking if you didn’t already know the answer.”

  He meant Channon’s answer. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure of it,” Jack confessed. “There’s always a chance I’m wrong.”

  “So what, exactly, would it mean?”

  “In what way?”

  “Would you be monogamous?”

  “We already are monogamous.”

  Nate laughed. “Ye-eah, I think I’ve fucked your boyfriend enough times to call bullshit on that.”

  “We’re emotionally monogamous,” Jack clarified. “But sexually…flexible.”

  “And when you’re married?”

  “I don’t see why that should change.”

  There was a pause. “Have you talked about marriage before?”

  “Not quite. We did talk about children.” Jack pressed his lips hard together to cover the momentary thrill of that whole conversation and what had happened as a result. Channon had called him ‘Daddy’, and Jack hadn’t known he might like that as much as he did, even if Channon never said it again.

  Nate breathed out in a rush. “Kids. Fuck. You’re really serious.” He laughed, and Jack felt the tension he hadn’t known was in him loosen. “We’re so old. Look at you, getting married, having kids.”

  “Considering future children,” Jack corrected.

  Nate made a sound of amusement. “Well, at least they’ll be planned. Hey.” His voice softened. “Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”

  “The proposal or the children?”

  “I me
an, I hope I’ll know how the children go because I’ll be one of their drunk gay uncles. Seriously, good luck. Marry your boy. Invite me to the wedding; I’ll get you something nice.”

  Jack had assumed Nate would be his best man, but that was a conversation for after Channon said yes. If he did. He would, surely.

  Channon would say yes. Jack would make sure of it. It was just a matter of planning.

  He went up to bed. Channon was already in it, curled up snug under the covers with his phone.

  “Reading, sweetheart?”

  “Just Reddit.” Channon put his phone down, like a good boy, and rolled onto his back to peek at Jack over the covers.

  “Where do you want to go for our anniversary this year?” Jack asked as he undressed. He never bothered with pajamas anymore. The feel of Channon’s naked skin on his—even just for sleep—was too great a pleasure. “Versailles? Vanuatu? Venice?”

  “Um…Venice? Maybe?”

  “Why Venice?” Jack climbed into bed, mentally picturing making his proposal in a gondola. Romantic, sure, but if Channon panicked, there was a chance the ring could end up in a canal and that was not something he wanted Channon to go to pieces over.

  Under the covers, Channon curled himself into Jack’s arms until Jack was draped over him like a coat. “Venice is in Italy, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “That means Italian food.”

  Jack laughed and kissed the back of Channon’s neck. Of course. “Thinking with your stomach, sweetheart?”

  “I like pasta,” Channon said, wriggling his ass into Jack’s lap. “I bet Venice pasta is way different.”

  “Venetian.”

  “Like the blinds?”

  “Just like the blinds. I’ve never been to Venice,” Jack confessed. “Let’s go to Venice.”

  “Okay, Sir.” Channon was silent in the dark for all of six seconds. “Sir…”

  “Yeah, sweetheart?”

  Channon slid restlessly against him. “We’re going to your parents’ house tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we’re staying tomorrow night.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Channon sighed. “It’s just…that’s two nights. Tonight and tomorrow night. And…”

  Jack grinned and nipped Channon’s ear. “What are you asking me?”

  “Well, I just…I just wish…”

  “Mmm-hmm?”

  Channon made a frustrated sound. “I wish you’d fuck me, Sir.” He still sounded so embarrassed to say it, like admitting he wanted Jack’s dick was a terrible shame. Jack couldn’t help how much he loved that, and now he rocked up against Channon’s ass, enjoying the give of his soft flesh.

  “Yeah? You wanna be fucked, sweetheart?”

  “I’m prepped, Sir,” Channon breathed, spreading his legs. Jack slid a hand down to check and—oh, yeah, Channon was wet, opening for him as easy as anything.

  Jack bit down on his shoulder, very interested now. “Is that what you were doing while I was downstairs?”

  “Uh-huh.” Channon wriggled onto his belly, lifting his hips and opening his thighs, begging with his body for Jack to take him. “Is that okay, Sir?”

  “That’s beautiful, baby. Hold still for me. I’m gonna make you come.”

  It didn’t take long to rub himself hard on Channon’s ass, and then he just guided himself inside, sinking slow into his boy. It was tight, so wet. It felt good, and Channon was moaning under him, shoving up onto his cock like he couldn’t help it.

  Jack rocked into him slow, brought him up slower, and so slowly drove Channon over the edge, feeling him squeeze and flutter on his cock. Then he took his time, thinking, I’m going to marry you. I’m going to fuck you every fucking night for the rest of our lives. I’m going to make you happy, Channon, so happy with me that you never want to leave.

  God, how lovely he was, clean and fresh smelling, his body so welcoming, and he wanted Jack. He loved Jack. He knew Jack, and still wanted him. How was that possible?

  When Jack came it was slow too, a deep pleasure throbbing through him in thick pulses. He buried himself in Channon’s body, holding him close and feeling more connected to him than he had to any human being in his whole life. This was his boy. God, how he loved him.

  He said so; Channon whimpered and hooked an ankle around his leg. “I love you too, Sir,” he sighed, and in it Jack heard the ‘yes’ he was hoping for.

  Chapter Two

  Christmas with his folks was always rowdy, but this year Helen and her family popped in for lunch, making the house overflow. Jack dutifully held the new baby, who was big enough not to worry too much about, and then he offered his armful to Channon.

  “Her name’s Dimity,” Jack said.

  Channon stared at her like she was from another planet. “Uh…is it okay?”

  “Sure. Helen, you don’t mind if Channon takes a turn holding her?”

  “Knock yourselves out,” Helen said, reclined on the sofa with a non-chili-laced hot chocolate. “If she messes her diaper, you can even change it for me.”

  Channon looked momentarily disgusted, but he let Jack settle baby Dimity in his arms. “She’s heavier than she looks.”

  “Babies are.” Jack tucked the blanket around her and stepped back. “You good?”

  Channon was watching her with this stunned-deer look on his face. “Yeah,” he said.

  He looked…God, Jack didn’t know. Channon with a baby in his arms wasn’t on the list of things Jack had ever thought he’d be turned on by, and it wasn’t quite like that, anyway. It was just…That could be our baby. This could be us. And maybe—because when they’d talked about it, Channon hadn’t been decided one way or the other—they wouldn’t ever be parents. But Channon could be his husband, and the thought of it swelled in him until he felt overfull with emotion.

  He had a lot of emotions now he hadn’t indulged in for a long time before Channon. Maybe ever. It should have been exhausting, but instead he felt invigorated.

  “Uncle Channon!” That was Theresa, twelve years old and relentless. “Come play Tekken!”

  “Uncle Channon’s busy,” her mom called back, tipping Channon a wink. “Try him again after lunch.”

  “But Mo-o-om!”

  Gloria shook her head. “He’s holding the baby, honey; you’re going to have to wait.”

  Jack grinned. Uncle Channon. That was exactly what he wanted. And Channon’s face was priceless.

  After lunch and presents, Aaron talked Theresa into going for a walk in the woods instead of Tekken. “Channon will come too. Right Chan?”

  Channon looked to Jack, and Jack could tell he wanted to go. “I’m going to take a nap,” Jack told him. “So you do whatever you like.”

  All the kids over five went together in the end, making a hell of a racket with Aaron and Sasha trying to herd them into some kind of order and mostly managing it. Channon would be okay, seemed okay now at least. Jack went upstairs and lay down, torn between relief at the peace and quiet, and resentment for the sudden weariness that came over him now and then, a lingering consequence of the accident.

  He closed his eyes. The alarm seemed to go off in no time at all. Forty minutes. He must have slept. The light was coming in low and gray through the curtains, and Jack took himself downstairs to find out if there was any coffee to be had.

  His dad was in the kitchen, reading the local paper. “Gas prices can only go up,” he said, as if they were in the middle of that conversation.

  “I think that’s the general consensus,” Jack said, finding a cup that didn’t have a cutesy slogan on it. Or, God forbid, a reindeer.

  “Frank says climate change is going to reshape the logging industry.”

  “Frank is, for once, probably correct. Can I fix you a cup?”

  “I’m on rations.” His dad turned a page. “Channon tells me you’re doing nicely. After the accident.”

  That fucking accident. “I am. Clean bill of health. I’m supposed to check
in before I try to scale Everest or something, but in general? I’m doing great.”

  “Hmph. I was impressed by how well Channon held together, when you were in the hospital.”

  Jack stilled, wary of what was coming next. “He did his best.”

  “He’s mature where it matters. He obviously cares about you.”

  How good it felt to hear his dad approve of Channon like that. Jack smiled despite himself. “He does. He’s very special to me.”

  His dad set the paper aside and took off his glasses to clean them. Jack knew from experience that he was about to be lectured, and braced himself. “He’s a nice young man. Polite and considerate. I was surprised when he emailed me a thank-you note for giving him some recipes. I didn’t think young people did that anymore.”

  Jack hadn’t known Channon had done that. He did, however, know what it meant for his dad to share his carefully hoarded stash of recipes. “His mom raised him to have manners.”

  “But not a lot of self-confidence.”

  “…No.”

  His dad huffed out a sigh. “Relax, Jonathan. I’m not going to criticize him when he’s not here to defend himself. I wanted to apologize.”

  “For what, exactly?”

  “For misjudging him. And you.” His dad fixed him with a level look. “I never much cared for Jessica. She was a nice enough girl, but I always thought you chose her because of her looks, not herself. Then you brought Nate home, and I thought there was someone who would be a good match for you.”

  “As I recall,” Jack said dryly, “you thought Nate was a drunken mistake.”

  His dad raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me he wasn’t?”

  “Maybe at first.”

  “You two were so alike. I thought if you had to be a homosexual then at least neither of you were flaming. I know, I know,” he said, making a placatory gesture. “That was—what does Sasha call it? Problematic. But it’s honest.”

  Jack took a mouthful of coffee to steady himself. “Fair for its time,” he said. “So. You liked Nate because he wasn’t a stereotypical queer. I’ll let him know.”