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Godfather first put Nate on his knees south of Baghdad. Nate's tongue had flicked out to lick his dry lips under Godfather's hard-eyed scrutiny. He looked up expectantly through his eyelashes and had looked thoroughly disappointed when Godfather sent him back to his own tent before anything NJP-worthy transpired.
Stateside, he ordered Nate to kneel again. The trumped up reason was irrelevant. Godfather only wanted to see Nate's reaction when he stood a fraction of an inch too close, his groin too close to Nate's face. In the quiet of his office, the faint whimper was as loud as it needed to be.
"Nineteen thirty," Godfather rasped. He handed Nate a folded sheet of paper and stroked a hand over Nate's hair, curling around his ear. Then he walked out of his office without looking back.
At 7:29, Fick was on his doorstep with wide, bright eyes. The door was barely shut before Nate dropped down even with Godfather's crotch. He waited, though. Fuck if he didn't wait like a good boy. Godfather inclined his head, silently giving permission, and Nate nuzzled.
Within the month, Godfather had outfitted his new pet. He hadn't needed the muzzle once because Nate was very, very obedient. Godfather slid his hand along the short-cropped hair at the back of Nate'd head, scratching his nails along his scalp. Nate leaned into the touch.
"Come," Godfather said, patting his knee. Nate rested his chin there, those long eyelashes shielding the blinding blue of his eyes. Godfather slid on the mask, molded leather with a stub nose that hinted at their play.
Nate's pink lips fell open as he licked them and smiled.
Saturday morning found Nate pushing the newspaper onto Godfather's lap with his nose. His long, bare, muscled back arched with pleasure when Godfather fed him a bite of bacon from his plate. His tail -- stretching his ass open for later -- swung happily when Godfather guided him beneath the table.
Nate nuzzled, making eager whines as he nosed against Godfather's crotch, trying to push aside his bathrobe.
"Do you deserve a treat?"
Nate panted hot against Godfather's hand. Mewling growls rumbled in Nate's throat as he begged. Godfather shifted the terry cloth aside, and Nate gave him a pleasantly sloppy lick.
Godfather's chair squeaked along the floor as he pushed away from the table. Between his knees, Nate scrambled to resume his position.
"Wait," Godfather said, holding up his hand.
Nate whined, but sat back on his haunches. His hardening dick was heavy between his thighs, his foreskin just pulling back from the reddened head.
"You're a good boy for your master, huh?"
Nate looked down and then back up at Godfather. His lower lip shone with saliva left over from the eager lick he'd given Godfather's cock. The sight of him like this, down at Godfather's feet, ready to do anything to make him happy, made Godfather's dick twitch. He reached down and pushed a few fingers into Nate's mouth, gathering spit on them and then rubbing the moisture across the head of his cock. He fisted himself, stroking slowly as he watched Nate's tongue loll out of his mouth.
"Come," he said.
Nate pushed his nose against Godfather's balls. Every slow pump of Godfather's fist pressed into Nate's forehead. He smoothed over Nate's hair again.
"That's a good boy. Get right in there. Lick."
Immediately the warm, wet rasp of Nate's tongue pulled across Godfather's balls. He buried his face against Godfather's skin, lapping at him until the seat of the chair was slick with it.
"Up."
Nate whimpered with excitement, pawing at Godfather's thighs. He paused with the head of Godfather's cock just a breath from his mouth. His eyes were glossy with lust, and a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a good boy," he whispered and swallowed Godfather down.
Godfather grabbed Nate's scruff, a handful of his suntanned neck. "Behave." But Nate was too fucking, goddamn good at this. Slobbering, licking, snuffling. A soft brush of teeth over the head of Godfather's dick had him gasping and shifting his hips. Nate's hips swung from side to side as he worked. Godfather groaned while he watched the tail flick, picturing Nate face down in his bed as he slid into that hole.
That'd have to wait. Because for now, the flat of Nate's broad tongue was bringing Godfather to the ragged edge.
"Open," he gritted out.
Nate sat back on his haunches again. His cock was leaking, shining with precome. His tongue went out across his lower lip.
Godfather stood. With a grunt, his spunk coated Nate's lips, the muzzle of his mask, his chin. Nate wiped the drips away with the back of his hand and licked it clean.