I know he and Leo love each other. I’ll do this as much for Leo, to keep his pet happy and healthy, as I’ll do it for Elliot.
I alternate feeding him bites of sandwich and chips with giving him sips of water, until he’s finished his meal. Then I pull his head close again, the way he was sitting before. One thing I noticed about him before is if he doesn’t eat enough by late in the day, he gets snappy and cranky, loses focus, has trouble immediately remembering things. Misspeaks.
Not exactly things you want captured on cellphone footage, much less by reporters.
And aaallll of it is now my job to keep track of.
It really does feel like I was adopted by a puppy.
A lost, adrift puppy.
A stray who’s misplaced his owner.
I’ll probably need to clean up his diet, too. Knowing him, he’s likely eating garbage and not taking care of himself.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask him as I go back to holding his necktie. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, Sir. It’s what’s best for all of us.”
“I’m going to be tough on you.”
Although I’m not exactly sure how I’ll accomplish that.
Especially with Elliot.
“Yes, Sir,” he quietly says. “I know. I need that. Leo hasn’t been around much to be tough on me. I miss that.”
I take a chance and risk going there. Better to figure this out sooner rather than later. “What if Leo orders you to fire me?”
“He won’t, Sir.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because this is about work, Sir. He never interferes with work.”
“Well that’s certainly romantic,” I snark.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Sir. I promise, you’ll be with me as long as I’m in office. I will not fire you. Ever.”
He’s not one to make promises lightly, but it’s not a promise I’m sure I can hold him to.
His first loyalty is to Leo, after all.
Truth be told, so is mine.
I leave him sitting like that for another five minutes before I motion for him to rise. I slide to the far-right end of the sofa, leaving him enough room to climb up on it with me. He does, and curls onto his left side, facing me, his head in my lap.
I stroke his hair. “That’s my good boy.”
He stares up at me as tears well in his eyes. “Thank you, Sir,” he hoarsely whispers.
“Oh, you thank me now.” I sigh. “I guess I really am a glutton for punishment. Hope you’re willing to be patient with me, especially at first.”
That earns me a choked laugh.
“What’s so funny, boy?”
He smiles. “Don’t worry. I can train you to be my Sir.”
Chapter Seventeen
It will only be a matter of days, if that, before it becomes common knowledge that I’m back in DC and working at the White House alongside Elliot.
I mean, it’ll immediately be news among Elliot’s staff, starting tomorrow. Secret Service, of course, already knows. The first thing I plan on having Elliot do is to notify all his staff who I am, that I get full and unrestricted access to him 24/7, and that I’m basically his personal chief of staff. That all scheduling and access goes through me.
That I’d better be afforded the same level of respect and deference his staff gives Leo.
How long it takes for that news to reach Leo, since few people knew Leo and I were a romantic item to start with, remains to be seen.
I let Elliot stay where he is for about thirty minutes before I make him move so I can go talk to the crew and the head of his security detail, get our itinerary, and order food for myself, which I’ll tell them is for Elliot.
Oh, I don’t make him get off the sofa. I keep him right there. The guy looks stressed as hell, and I hate how that makes my heart hurt for him.
I also hate that I’m already trying to plot it all out in my head, how this will work, long-term.
That I want to make it work.
That I’m getting my hopes up.
Partly because I know it’ll put me squarely on a path that’s once again intersecting with Leo Cruz.
Partly because I’m probably a damned sucker, and I can’t stand seeing Elliot in this condition.
Partly because I do believe in him as a statesman and politician, and would hate for him to lose the presidency to someone who doesn’t deserve to be in that office just because I said no to this.
If our positions were reversed, I’d hope Elliot would take care of me.
In good conscience, I cannot turn my back on him—Elliot needs me.
Leo sure as hell seems to have dropped the damn ball.
Why that is…
Is it sick that part of me hopes it’s because of losing me?
I leave the door to the suite open, meaning Elliot’s completely visible where he’s lying on the sofa. I want them to see him like this and note that he’s not in good shape right now. I want them talking about him amongst themselves.
I just don’t want them knowing the full reason why he’s feeling shitty, obviously.
I repeat and clarify my order to the crew and his security detail about not disturbing Elliot. I tell them it’s because he’s working on a migraine and doesn’t feel good.
This isn’t news to his staff, because they’ve seen him go through that before.
Although Leo once told me they used the migraine excuse a lot even when Elliot didn’t have a headache, so they could have privacy.
I add another mental note to my list to stock up on food-grade peppermint, lemongrass, and ginger essential oils for aromatherapy, as well as empty capsules, so I can make him take them like that. He has an aversion to using medication more than necessary because he had to take so much early on after his injuries. Even getting him to take an over-the-counter remedy for headaches sometimes requires Leo ordering him to do it.
I also add lavender oil to my mental list, to help relax Elliot. And valerian and chamomile tea.
I’m going to need a work phone sooner rather than later so I can keep track of all of this. Because since I’m doing this, I’m going to do it all the way. I’m not going to half-ass it.
I’ll make my Sir proud of me, because yes, I know he loves Elliot.
I’m also reasonably sure, even before Elliot’s admission to me, that Leo loves me, too. I mean, I hope he still does. I wouldn’t blame Leo if he feels differently about me since I left him.
Ironically, I refuse to get my hopes up that this will mean a reconciliation between me and Leo. I’m doing this for Elliot.
I’m doing it for our country.
I’m doing it because I know it’s what would make Mimi proud of me, for taking the high road and thinking about something far greater than myself.
The whole reason I left was to help Elliot. Because our country needs him.
If it means stuff finally works out all right for me personally, then I’ll take that win and be glad for it.
It’s also a way for me to give a silent fuck you to my parents.
Once I have my food, I lock us in the suite again and settle into position on the couch, with Elliot’s head resting on my thigh while I eat. My new pet VP stares up at me like a puppy, watching me.
I hold a chip over his mouth and arch an eyebrow.
His lips part, waiting, and I feed it to him, my hand gently cupping his throat while he chews.
Yeah, just like Leo does with me.
Well, did with me. I imagine he always did it the same way with Elliot, though.
Now I totally get why Leo loves this particular activity. Feeding his pet, I mean. It’s fun having someone totally surrender control of themselves. Absolutely fricking adorable.
I meet Elliot’s gaze for a long moment, studying his eyes. There are flecks of grey and granite in them that give them smoke-filled depths I could easily lose myself in.
As much as I’ve been hurting, it was self-inflicted. The choice to leave
Leo and DC was mine, and I’m not about to blame anyone else for my decision.
Although I can stew that Leo didn’t come after me, or at least call me more often. He’s not a mind reader, though.
Elliot’s a victim of circumstances, to an extent. Sure, he chose to run for office, and he accepted being appointed to the party’s ticket, but he can’t control that the general public wouldn’t accept him being Leo’s slave. There are legitimate concerns about whether or not more conservative voters will even accept him being gay, much less his own family.
Hence why he wants to wait to come out, at least until after the first election.
If he loses, he’ll know he lost because of any reason other than him being publicly out.
I sigh as I stare into his eyes. “I guess this is the beginning of a pretty strange relationship, huh, boy?”
Elliot playfully smirks. “I guess so, Sir.”
* * * *
Unless there’s a serious reason to disturb Elliot, I know the crew and staff won’t bother him during the return flight to DC. Still, I opt to keep him dressed until we’re wheels-up and in the air.
But until we’re at that point, I eat my dinner and let Elliot lie there on the sofa, his head in my lap, his eyes closed. After I finish my food, I massage the top of his head with one hand and hold his hands with the other.
He’s a damned wreck and silently cries off and on. About an hour later, before the press and staff return, what residual resentment I still held for him has totally dissolved.
Part of me silently curses Leo for letting him get to this point, but then I also think about how stoic Elliot can be.
He likely hasn’t admitted to Leo how bad off he is.
“Why me?” I softly ask.
He sniffles but doesn’t open his eyes. “Like I said, Sir—Leo, I mean—trusts you. That means I can trust you. I don’t have the energy to interview people to be my body man and have to worry about whether or not I can be myself around them.
“It’s a bonus that you can do this for me. Shae needs Leo. I know he’ll come work for me if I ask him to, but that’s not fair to her. It’ll be a problem for her and Kev if I do that. They need him to help cover for them.”
Once again, putting everyone else ahead of his own needs.
“And it’ll be a problem if you come out later,” I note. “You can’t marry your body man.”
He shrugs. “There’s that, too.”
I play with his hair. “There might be times I don’t know how to be ‘Sir’ to you, and you’ll have to settle for plain old Jordan.”
Eyes still closed, he nods. “I know, Sir. As long as I have you there, though. You understand me. Even just being able to let my guard down around you and know you’ll never bullshit me will be a huge help.”
Dang, he hasn’t had a dedicated body man who knows the real him in…ever. His aides or chief of staff—and sometimes Leo—rotate through those duties, depending on the event and whatever else might be going on.
“Why isn’t staff here right now?”
“I planned it that way. I said I had personal business to attend to and wanted privacy. I might have hinted it had something to do with Duck.”
“Ah. Well, that technically wasn’t a lie, I guess. This was personal business.”
Even with his eyes closed he still smiles a little. “No, Sir. It wasn’t.”
“Where are your phones?”
He points to a laptop bag over in the corner near his messenger bag. “They’re off right now.” His gaze meets mine. “You should turn your personal cell off.”
“It is.”
“When do you want to tell Leo about this, Sir?”
“Not until he gets back from his trip.” I rub Elliot’s head. “If the secret makes it that long.”
“You want to wait?”
“Honestly? I don’t know what to say to him right now. Plus, I don’t know how he’s going to react, no matter what you say.”
“You should keep it turned off, then. Your phone.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s probably got a tracker app on it. Unless you already removed it, or you got a new phone since you left DC.”
The laughter dies in my throat when I realize he’s not kidding. “What?”
“Leo’s a little protective. Which I know is a funny way to spell ‘stalker.’” He smirks. “When we first got together, he’d sometimes show up at events I was at. Sometimes I knew he was there—he’d let me see him. Sometimes, I didn’t know he was there, but he’d say something later, so I knew he had been there and watching me. Something he could only know because he’d been there and watched me. Then, there were times I felt he was watching me, even though I didn’t see him. He never told you about that?”
“No.”
“He probably did that to you when you were still with him.”
I think about the times I could almost feel his presence here, in Tallahassee, and now I…wonder. “But…a tracker?”
He shrugs. “You have the same phone you did before?”
“Yeah?”
“How many times did you give Leo your phone so he could check it for malware?”
“All the time. It’s what he did for a living. I mean…” I think about it. “He had my passcode, just like I had his. We used each other’s personal cell phones all the time. We had no secrets.”
Or did we?
“Ask him. He won’t lie about it.”
It’s not outside the realm of possibility that he did. That would be like Leo. I could totally see him doing that.
I don’t know how to feel about it, either.
Finally, staff and press return. We’re notified that we’re about to take off, so we strap in. Once we’re at cruising altitude and are free to move about the airplane, I remain fully dressed, lock us in the suite, and sit on the sofa while making Elliot stand in front of me.
Then I point at him with my index finger, making a little circle in the air.
No explanation needed. He knows exactly what I want of him.
“Duck on,” I clarify. I don’t want him falling if we hit turbulence.
He blushes but reaches up and the tie comes off first. I watch him unbutton his shirt and shed it and his undershirt. I take in the old scars on his chest and abs as he reaches down to unfasten his belt.
I also see he’s filling in the front of his slacks already.
He might feel a little self-conscious about his body—and he has no reason to, but I get it—yet he’s getting hard.
Ah, operant conditioning, thou art a predictable bitch.
And so am I.
He’s wearing boxer briefs today, black ones, and my mouth waters as that gorgeous cock of his comes into view. A good seven inches, and he’s uncircumcised.
He might want me to be his Sir, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy riding that boy’s pole when I feel like it.
Yeah, there will be a few perks to this arrangement, I suppose.
He’s wearing his everyday leg today, but he also has a blade for when he wants to run or jog—usually on a treadmill, because outdoor logistics are sometimes crazy—and another for biking. Again, usually on a stationary cycle. Collectively, they’re all called “Duck,” regardless of which one he’s wearing at any given time.
I need to build outdoor time into his schedule. It’s been years since I’ve been able to bike and hike on a regular basis, although Leo and I did manage to get away from time to time to local parks. Elliot, however, used to love hiking and biking. His work ate into his recreational time, and his fear of being seen too often with Leo drove most of their exercise time inside.
He’s got an exercise room at home, one of the spare bedrooms. He didn’t even ask me to make changes to the room’s paint when he moved in, although I did have it repainted for him because it was an ugly shade of beige. All we did was roll up the large rug that’d been in there and put down interlocking, rubberized floor mat tiles, so the equipment wouldn’t damage the floo
rs. Obviously, he’s been using it, because the man’s still in damn fine shape.
Once he’s down to nothing but Duck, I pat the sofa next to me and he practically throws himself onto the couch in his eagerness to comply and return to his previous position. The thought of letting him stand there for a few minutes and mentally spin while I stare at his body did cross my mind, but we can have fun with the mindfucks another night.
He’s hurting, I’m hurting, and I’d rather give him what he needs.
Because I need things, too. I have a feeling Elliot won’t mind me vicariously getting them via what we do together in the shadows. I didn’t realize how desperate I was for human touch until I held Elliot in my arms.
I drape my arm around him as he snuggles against me once more with his head in my lap. With my other hand I play with his hair. He loves that and it’s no hardship for me, either. His eyes fall closed again, and from the way his arms are wrapped around me, it feels like he’s clinging to me.
I guess maybe he is.
“We’re going to have rules,” I tell him.
“Yes, Sir.”
“No masturbating, obviously.”
“Obviously, Sir.” Did I mention I love his playful smirk?
I ruffle his hair. “Did Leo give you standing permission?”
His smile fades and he nuzzles his face against me. “Yes, Sir.” His soft tone and the visceral loneliness within it rips at me. “Over two months ago, when he started looking at schedules and knew it’d be rough to find time together.”
I know why that makes him sad, because the few times I’ve felt like jerking off since my return to Florida have gutted me.
Hence why I really haven’t been doing a lot of it.
I’ve been tempted to text Leo and ask for permission, but I knew that would open a can of worms I didn’t want to touch.
Especially if he didn’t reply.
Or, worse, if he told me not to ask him that because I’d walked away from him.
“We need to be careful about the optics.” I play with his hair, stroking it, running it through my fingers. Elliot’s hair is softer and finer than Leo’s, and there’s something soothing about the warmth of his head under my hand.
Innocent (Inequitable Trilogy Book 2) Page 17
