Kitten

by Jack Harbon

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on my way home.”

  “I need you to turn around and pick up some paperwork for me,” Roman said.

  Kit rolled his eyes. “I’m off the clock, Roman. I’m not your errand boy anymore.”

  “Turn back and bring me the papers on my shelf. I need those, and I need to talk to you tonight too.”

  His stomach clenched. He wanted to talk? Well, there was no doubt in his mind now that he was getting fired. Kit weighed his options, then sighed. “Bye.” He hung up and asked the driver to turn around and let him out back where he’d picked him up.

  Once they were back at the office, Kit told the driver to wait there and he’d be right back. By the time he returned, he had a stack of papers in one hand and his phone in the other.

  He read the address Roman texted him to the driver and muttered, “Unemployment, here I come.”

  14

  Kitten

  Roman was a liar. The address he’d sent Kit had been accompanied with a promise that it would only be a minute’s drive. In reality, Kit sat in the back of his taxi for thirty-five minutes, impatiently tapping and tapping his foot against the backseat. This was the thing that bothered Kit the most about Roman. He never cared whether Kit was doing something at home. He never bothered checking to see if he had plans outside of work before he requested Kit’s company. Instead, he just expected that he had nothing on his agenda besides doting on Roman hand and foot.

  At this point, it was getting ridiculous. He needed to go to HR, or unionize, or… something.

  Kit had half a mind to put in his two-week notice and be done with the situation.

  Before he could entertain this idea any more than he already had, the taxi pulled up to the curb outside of Roman’s house. Kit paid and climbed out, looking down at the gorgeous building before him. He wasn’t all that huge on architecture, but he could appreciate something like this. It was modern—clearly built in this century—and a combination of dark wood and stone. Windows covered the building. He’d bet money the place was even more beautiful in the morning, where sunlight could stream in and illuminate the entire house.

  Kit headed down the steps near the curb and followed the stone path up to the front door. He adjusted the papers in the crook of his arm as he walked, careful not to drop any as he passed the small birdhouse. The last thing he needed was Roman telling him to go back to the office and print out all the papers he’d gotten dirty or wet.

  Kit raised his arm to knock on the front door, pausing when he noticed that it was slightly ajar. Was he walking into a crime scene? A horror movie? Slowly, he pushed the front door open, and entered. He closed the door behind him, then locked it.

  “Hello?” he called out.

  This is how white girls get cut the fuck up in movies, he chastised himself.

  He waited until he heard a movement in another room further inside the house. He straightened up his back and continued forward. For a moment, he was worried he might find something terrible inside. What if he found a dead body? What if Roman was a secret hitman, and he’d walked in on an interrogation?

  To his relief, he found Roman sitting in an arm chair in the living room, still dressed in his work clothes. He’d unbuttoned the top buttons on his shirt and loosened his tie, exposing just a peek of his chest hair. In his hand, he swished around a glass of something honey brown.

  “Here,” Kit said unceremoniously. He stalked towards the man and tossed the papers in his lap. Roman kept his gaze on the lit fireplace, wordless. Kit scowled. “This is where you say ‘thanks for not ignoring me like any other person would have.’”

  Roman peeled his eyes away from the fire and looked Kit over slowly. “Thank you, Kit.”

  He was stunned. He hadn’t actually expected Roman to thank him. “Yeah, you’re welcome. If we’re done, I need to get home. I had plans tonight. I mean, I don’t expect you to care since I’m pretty much just your mule at this point, but...”

  “Are you done?”

  That dismissiveness was really starting to grate on Kit’s nerves.

  “I’m not done, no. I want you to apologize for this past week. I want you to say you’re sorry for being a fucking dick to me. And I want you to apologize for being nice to me over the weekend, only to turn around and spit in my face when we got back to work.” He stared Roman down, shaking his head a bit in hopes that would garner a response.

  Roman took a long drink from his glass and set it down on the end table. He pushed himself up from the chair. Kit couldn’t tell whether he was trying to intimidate him or what, but to prove that he was serious about expecting an apology, Kit stepped forward and set his jaw.

  “Say you’re sorry.”

  “I didn’t mean to—”

  Kit pushed his chest, causing him to step back just an inch. “Say it. Don’t talk your way out of this, and don’t give me some bullshit spiel you’d give one of your clients. Look me in my face and apologize for treating me like shit.”

  A grin pulled at Roman’s lips, and he didn’t bother hiding it. “You—”

  “Roman.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said finally. He stood up taller. “I’m sorry for acting that way these past few days.”

  “Why?”

  “Because clearly it upset you, and I don’t want to do that to you.”

  “No,” Kit shook his head, “I mean, why did you act like that? I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought we were making progress. After we spent that night at the hotel, I thought we were… I don’t know how to say it, but I just thought you were actually…”

  Roman tilted his head. “Actually what?”

  “Actually interested in me! I thought we’d go back to work and have this secret between us. No one else would know that we’d slept together at the hotel. We’d look at each other and just know. But then you went and started dogging me in front of Yolanda, of all people. You know she hates me—”

  “She doesn’t hate you, Kit.”

  “Well, whatever it is, we don’t get along, and you were literally making fun of me in front of her. I should have reported your ass to HR, if we’re being honest. But I didn’t, because I care about you. I like you, Roman. And I thought you liked me too.”

  “Kit,” Roman sighed, shaking his head. “That’s why I was an asshole to you. I don’t want you to like me. I wanted you to hate me, that way you could go back to doing your job and it wouldn’t make things more complicated. But I actually…”

  “You actually what? Like me too?” Kit stepped closer again, closing the gap of space between them. He looked up at Roman with a persistent smirk, well aware just how hard the man was trying to keep his face neutral. The corners of his mouth twitched, dangerously close to letting his true feelings surface.

  “You should go, Kit. I made a mistake asking you to come here tonight.” Roman finally brought his gaze back to Kit.

  “Fine,” he said. He turned to storm off, but Roman caught his arm and pulled him back, pressing him up against his chest. Before Kit could protest, Roman leaned in for a kiss. Just like at the restaurant, Kit’s world felt off balance. He grew lightheaded, and every hair on his arms stood in attention.

  Roman backed Kit against the wall beside the fireplace, knocking over a picture frame from the mantle. He deepened the kiss and let one hand wrap around Kit’s waist, pulling him flush against his body, no room to escape.

  Breathlessly, Kit gripped the fabric of Roman’s shirt and pulled away for a moment. “Can I?” He dragged his fingers over the buttons, looking up for approval. Roman nodded, then pressed his lips against Kit’s once more. As their mouths worked together, Kit began undoing each of the buttons on his shirt until he reached the last.

  “You don’t know how fucking hard I was when you left my office earlier,” Roman panted.

  “Why?”

  “No one’s ever talked to me like that. I do the demanding, and I do the yelling. No one at that office has a spine the way you do,
and it’s so goddamn sexy.”

  Kit bit his lip and gave a small, giddy laugh. “You thought it was sexy?” he asked, reaching up to run his hand over Roman’s chest.

  “So fucking sexy,” he repeated. Roman tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the ground.

  “Take off your pants,” Kit ordered, his eyes darkening. If Roman liked him being bossy, telling him what he wanted and how he should be treated, then he could do exactly that.

  Roman nodded and undid the buckle on his pants. He began to slide it out when Kit reached forward and tugged it roughly, tossing it to the side. Roman stilled as Kit began tugging down his zipper. The sound could just barely be heard between panting breaths.

  Roman stepped out of his pants and pulled Kit closer. He guided the younger man’s hand from his chest to the front of his boxer briefs. “You feel that? How hard you make me?”

  Kit squeezed the bulge, a twinkle in his eye. “I think I can make it harder,” he said. He pushed Roman back into his armchair and climbed into his lap. His kisses were deliberate, over his shoulders, along his throat, and down his chest. He eased down to his knees before nuzzling between Roman’s legs, cheek pressed against his inner thigh as his eyes remained on Roman.

  “Fuck, Kit,” Roman breathed.

  “That’s the plan,” he winked. Kit dragged his tongue over the fabric of his underwear, slow, torturously slow. Roman groaned, his hand falling onto the back of the other’s head. He added pressure, wordlessly encouraging more.

  Kit’s fingers inched up his thighs while he mouthed over the bulge. He wanted this to be painfully measured. He wanted Roman to grow impatient with him. When he was sure the man might explode from frustration, he grabbed the elastic of his boxer briefs and tugged them down. Roman lifted his hips to aid in sliding them off, then kicked his foot to the side, discarding the last piece of clothing.

  Kit marveled for a moment, taking in the sight. He was beautiful, not too long but more than enough to satisfy. A thick vein ran from the base to the tip, one that Kit traced with the flat of his tongue. The action drew out another drawling moan from Roman.

  He teased the slit, swirling his tongue mercilessly, circling him around and around. Roman hissed out a breath, his grip on Kit’s hair tightening. Kit tilted his head, angling himself so that he could meet Roman’s eyes, before he took him into his mouth.

  The taste was thick, slightly salty but not unpleasant by any means. Kit worked him deeper into his mouth, eyes trained upwards, making sure Roman could see him. He needed Roman to know who it was that was doing this. Who was bringing him this level of pleasure.

  “More,” Roman insisted.

  Kit obliged. He took a slow breath through his nose, then inched his cock deeper down his throat. His tongue stroked the underside, soaking him, coating him as best he could. As he sucked, Kit made sure to give his balls the attention they deserved as well. He pulled his head back when he’d reached the base, watching the strings of saliva connect him to Roman.

  “Goddamn, kitten.”

  Kit raised a brow. The nickname was new. “You like that?”

  “I love that.”

  Kit dragged his tongue over Roman’s length, the praise music to his ears. He returned his lips to the head, paying special attention to all the sensitive spots. He’d just gotten into the groove when Roman pulled his head back by his hair.

  “It’s my turn,” he said.

  Without another word, he pushed Kit onto his back, into the fur rug on the floor, and hovered over him. His fingers were fast, unbuttoning Kit’s shirt and sliding it over his shoulders. He kissed his way down to his belt, discarding the rest of his clothing soon enough. When it came to his underwear, Roman jerked them free, rough and impatient.

  Kit closed his eyes and parted his lips when Roman took him into his mouth. The man was even more skilled than him, twisting his head and flicking his tongue in ways that made Kit whimper. He grabbed fistfuls of the rug, his back arching.

  “Ah,” Kit gasped, relieved when Roman pulled away from his length. That relief was short-lived. A moment later, Roman pushed his legs back and pressed his tongue against his hole. Kit’s eyes opened and he shuddered. He took Roman by the hair, pushing him forward, rolling his hips against his tongue.

  Roman worked up a pattern, spending a few moments on his ass before he returned to his cock, relentless with his pleasure. Kit could have easily climaxed then and there. The feeling was warm in his stomach, and paired with the softness of the rug, he was in heaven.

  Kit didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like forever that Roman pleased him. When Roman pulled away, he wiped at his mouth and leaned forward for a slow, tender kiss. Kit pulled him close, fingers threading through his hair.

  “I’ll be back,” Roman said, standing and disappearing for a moment. Kit stared up at the ceiling, catching his breath. He needed to calm down before he came way too early. He closed his eyes and counted to twenty. By the time he finished, Roman was back and tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. He took a seat next to Kit and rolled it over himself.

  Kit took the bottle of lubrication from his hand and straddled him. “You want me on top?” he asked, capping and uncapping the tiny bottle in his hand.

  “Don’t disappoint,” Roman warned.

  “I won’t.”

  Kit slicked up Roman’s length, then applied a bit to himself, working a finger inside. He lined himself up with Roman, then began easing backwards, carefully taking him. The sting was present, but he pushed through it, forcing himself to stretch enough to accommodate him.

  “Jesus, Kit,” he groaned, reaching up to grip his ass. He dug his fingers into Kit’s skin, massaging him.

  Kit smiled through the burn, regaining his focus. In no time, he bottomed out, fully situated in Roman’s lap. He took a moment to breathe and grow accustomed to the feeling before he began to rock forward. He felt empty, and when he thrust back, so full.

  Kit built up a slow pace at first, steady and constant. Roman’s hands roamed over him, down his chest and around his length. He stroked Kit as the younger man rolled his hips. His lids were heavy, and he looked up at Kit with clear effort.

  “That’s so good, kitten,” he murmured.

  Kit placed his hands flat on Roman’s chest for leverage. That compliment was nice, but he suspected Roman could give him more. To test this theory, he began to move faster, snapping his hips backwards each time he felt the head of Roman’s cock come close to sliding out. He watched as Roman’s face contorted, his eyes squeezing tight.

  “This is mine,” Kit said. He took Roman by the chin. “Say it. This dick is mine.”

  “It’s yours,” Roman groaned.

  “Whose?”

  “Yours, Kit. It’s all yours.”

  He leaned forward to kiss Roman, nipping at his lip as he sat upright again. He didn’t stop his pace, his movements growing rougher with Roman’s admission. This was his, and he was going to ride it all the way home.

  Kit took over for him, stroking himself. His head fell back, and he bit down on his lip, a moan bubbling in his throat. He felt on fire, hot all over, a bead of sweat running down his back. Just as he found himself in the zone, Roman’s grip on his hips tightened.

  “I’m close,” he panted, nails digging into Kit’s hips.

  “Fuck me, Roman. Make me take it.”

  Roman planted his feet into the rug and began thrusting up, meeting Kit’s downward motion. They moved in synchronization, drawing one another to their orgasms like magnets. Kit came first, his muscles twitching in a spasm as he emptied himself on Roman’s chest. Words escaped him, and for a moment in time, he could only communicate in high-pitched whines and whimpers.

  Roman followed him, his flurry hips in a mad dash to bring himself across that finish line. He ground himself against the younger man, grunting, breathless by the time he came down from his orgasm. Kit held his face between his hands, staring at the beauty and pleasure that had washed over him.
/>
  Roman had said it himself. This was his. Roman was his. One round wasn’t enough for Kit. He needed more, and he planned on working Roman all night long. He wouldn’t stop until they were both utterly, totally, and completely spent.

  15

  Show Me You’re Mine

  Kit’s eyes parted slowly, and he let out a long yawn when he sat up. He didn’t immediately recognize his location, but when he looked around a second time, he recalled what had happened the night before. He and Roman had taken things to another level. They’d crossed a line he was so happy to finally be over. It still felt unreal, in a way.

  On the pillow beside him, he found a note from Roman.

  “Didn’t want to wake you up. You can get cleaned up and have breakfast if you’d like. When you leave, use the spare key on the kitchen table to lock the door.”

  The last line was Kit’s favorite part.

  “You have the day off.”

  Those five words were about as good as the orgasms from the night before.

  He stretched and padded his way across the tiled floor, a chill running through him. He needed warmth, and he needed it badly. He grabbed his clothes from the night before and hurried off to the bathroom to wash up. To his surprise, the water in his shower came down from the ceiling. He felt like a completely different person by the time he dried off.

  Kit made himself a bowl of cereal and scrolled through his phone while he ate. He made sure there was a car that could come pick him up, then sent a text message to Chad. With the day off, they could hang out again. It had been a while since they’d had a day to just kick back and have fun. Chad was fine with hanging out, and even asked if Michelle could come along. Kit’s brow went up at the implication. He made a mental note to ask more about that situation when they were all together.

  The ride back to Bria’s apartment was quick and painless, and he bounded through the door the moment he was done paying the driver. Kit headed to the small hallway closet and grabbed a few items that were clean, quickly changing in the bathroom when he was happy with his selection. As he stepped back into the living room, he heard his sister’s voice.