by Tinnean
“Would you care to come up for a nightcap, Charles?”
For a second, he couldn’t catch his breath. Say something, you idiot!
“I would, thank you.” He led her to his car and opened the passenger door. Fortunately, he wasn’t the sort to leave food wrappers and empty coffee cups scattered on the seat and floor. He waited until she was seated and had fastened her seatbelt, then closed the door and went around the rear of the car so she wouldn’t see him practically dancing to the driver’s side..
He got in and turned on the ignition. While they waited for the heater to warm up, he snapped on the radio and found a station that played Christmas oldies, including the one he remembered Matheson’s secretary singing at the last Christmas party.
“You can give me directions whenever you’re ready.” He smiled at Ginevra. He knew her address, although she hadn’t given it to him—he was WBIS, after all—but he didn’t want her to think he was a creep of a stalker.
It didn’t take them long to arrive at her small bungalow in Brookland, mostly because for a change, the traffic in DC wasn’t horrendous. He turned the Dodge into the tiny driveway.
“Home sweet home,” he murmured as he switched off the ignition. He unbuckled his seatbelt, hopped out of the car, and jogged around to the other side. Ginevra had already unbuckled her own seatbelt, but she sat waiting for him to open her door and hand her out.
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips.
She squeezed his hand, then led him up the short walk to her front door and took her key from her purse. She let him take the key, unlock the door, and push it open.
Charles hadn’t been brought up a gentleman, but after he’d started seeing Ginevra, he’d taken to watching movies from the ‘30s with Cary Grant and William Powell, and even though the movies were labeled screwball comedies, the men were high-class and would walk on the outside as they strolled down the street with their ladies. And although the women were perfectly capable of unlocking their own doors, the men would do that for them.
A soft light illuminated the short foyer. Ginevra tossed her purse onto a console table, went to a closet, and hung up her coat. Then she waited patiently until Charles realized she wanted his coat. He blushed as he removed it, silently cursing himself. No matter how he acted, he’d never be a gentleman.
“What would you like?” she asked.
“You.” He groaned when it occurred to him she was asking about the nightcap. “Sorry.”
“Not at all. I like a man who knows what he wants.”
She sauntered through the dining room, past a home office, and down another short hallway to a bedroom that wasn’t large but was very sumptuous, with flocked wallpaper, oil paintings of male nudes on the walls—fortunately, none of them were so hung they gave him an inferiority complex—and tiffany lamps on the nightstands. A crystal chandelier hung over a queen-sized bed. Oil warmers were on the dresser, and when she lit them, the air quickly became scented with a light floral fragrance.
“Have you ever been pegged, Charles?”
Huh? “Oh, sure,” he said. “Just once or twice, though.” He had no clue what she was talking about, but he wanted to cover his bases in case he didn’t like it. Or wasn’t good at it.
Her face lit up. “Great. Why don’t you take this and get yourself ready. I’ll just slip into something more appropriate.”
“Ginevra?” Why the hell was she handing him a green and white box that had Fleet on the front? He backed away a step and refused to accept it.
“Didn’t you use one when you did this?” She frowned.
“Um…No?” He swallowed hard
She shook her head. “You’ll be much more comfortable.” She went to her nightstand, opened the drawer, and withdrew a…
This time when he swallowed, it was audible. The thing she had in her hand was a realistic-looking rubber cock, about nine inches long and equipped with testicles.
He knew his eyes were wide. He whipped his hands behind his back, shielding his butt, and backed away another step. That thing wasn’t coming near his ass.
For a moment she looked startled, but then she smiled. “Sorry, I just wanted to move this out of the way.” She set it aside, reached into the drawer, and this time took out something a little less intimidating. It was sleek and black and about five and a half inches in length with a diameter of maybe an inch and a half and a flared base.
“I’m not gay.” He still had no intention of letting it near him, but at least he could breathe a little easier.
“Silly man. This doesn’t make you gay.” She also held up a harness, and he could see where the dildo would be attached. “This gives you the opportunity to explore new horizons.”
“My horizons have been explored plenty, thanks.”
“Did whoever pegged you do it wrong? Did they hurt you?”
“I’ve never—” He bit his lip. He hadn’t meant to admit to that.
“Dear Charles.” She approached and cupped his cheek. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”
He was surprised when her touch actually calmed him.
“Take this.” She handed him the enema. “There’s a guest bath attached to my office. Follow the directions on the box, then come back here. I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
He stood there for a moment before he took the box and went back the way they’d come. He’d never cared for butt play—he’d flat out refused to let Max so much as finger him. In fact he was dreading the time he had to go for his first prostate exam.
But God, he wanted Ginevra. He went into the bathroom she’d directed him to, drew in a deep breath, and carefully read the directions on the box. Okay, he could do this.
He hoped.
* * * *
Charles had never had an enema before. He removed his clothes, folded them and placed them on the edge of the tub, and knelt on the rug before the sink.
“Relax, Browne,” he told himself. He worked the nozzle in carefully—it felt weird, but not too weird—and began to squeeze the plastic bottle.
* * * *
Charles finished cleaning himself up and glanced at his watch. He’d been in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes. Would Ginevra think he’d fallen in?
He took another deep breath; he was going to do this. He avoided his gaze in the mirror and walked back to Ginevra’s bedroom, naked and tense, and with a hard-on that surprised him.
Ginevra had folded back the duvet and the top sheet. She was lying on the bed, propped up against a mound of pillows. This was the first time he’d seen her naked—except she wasn’t quite. The silver-colored leather harness with black O-rings framed her hips, and at the apex of her thighs, the black dildo jutted upward.
Charles couldn’t tear his gaze from the sight before him. On the nightstand was a tube of water-based lube, and she must have coated the dildo with the slick stuff. She’d made a circle of her thumb and forefinger and was lazily drawing it from the glistening base to the glistening tip and back again.
“What…what do I do?” He’d seen his share of cocks, but this one affected him in a strange manner. His own cock had become unbearably aroused.
She swung her long legs off the bed and rose lithely to her feet. They were bare, graceful, and arched, and the nails were painted the same silver as the harness.
“Lie on the bed in the same position you used when you gave yourself the enema.”
He shivered but found himself obeying her.
Okay, Browne, come up with a rationale for being willing to accept this, he ordered himself. God knew he’d come up with plenty of them in his thirty years.
He was still trying to think up a reasonable explanation for getting himself in this situation when he felt the bed dip slightly, and he tensed. Ginevra was a slight woman, so he wasn’t really concerned that she could overpower him, but still…she was wearing a strap-on.
“Mmm. Very nice.” She ran her fingernails over the curve of his ass.
“I’ve never had an
y complaints.” In spite of his cocksure words and self-confident tone, he was very uncertain.
“I can understand why.” She kneaded his ass cheeks, then nudged his thighs apart, and again he felt the movement of the bed as she fit herself between them. “Shh,” she murmured, although he was certain he hadn’t made a sound. The muscles of his shoulders had tightened as he waited for her to shove the dildo into him.
Instead, she continued to knead his ass cheeks, and he found his elbows unlocking. She pushed lightly on his upper back, and he lowered his torso to the cool sheets beneath him, inadvertently raising his ass higher.
“That’s the way, sweet boy.” She tugged his ass cheeks apart, and he jerked as warm breath washed over his hole. “Such a pretty rosebud.”
“What are you—” He yelped before he could finish his question. She’d stroked her tongue over his hole, something he’d never experienced before. In spite of himself, he pressed back, wanting more of that feeling, especially as his cock grew even harder and precome began to ooze out and puddle beneath him. “More. Please, more.”
She gave it to him, dipping her tongue into him, and he groaned and rocked back onto her. She turned her head and nipped his ass, then resumed tonguing him. It didn’t take long for him to become lost in the fog of that decadent sensation, his groans turning to appreciative moans.
He was so out of it he didn’t even think to complain when she drew back. Then something cool ran down his crack, over his hole, and onto his balls, and she worked it into him.
She ran her palm from the small of his back to the base of his neck, let her fingers circle it and caress his Adam’s apple, then brought it down his torso to his cock. She brushed her thumb over the slit at the tip, but not hard enough, oh God, not nearly hard enough. Before he could catch his breath and urge her on, she took her hand away completely.
She couldn’t leave him hanging like this. His asshole clenched. He needed…he wasn’t sure what he needed or how to ask her to give it to him.
But she knew.
Charles jerked at the feel of the cool dildo pressing into him. His sphincter stretched and burned, and while he felt full, it wasn’t painful, as he’d always expected it to be. In fact, it felt fucking amazing, especially when she hit his prostate. He’d always heard it referred to as a hot spot, and now he could understand why. He’d just never expected…
Sweat beaded at his temples and dripped down over his cheekbones.
“Oh God, Ginevra, fuck me.”
“Whatever you desire.” She scattered kisses up and down his spine as she held his shoulders and worked her hips back and forth. “One day, sweet boy, I’ll see if you can take that nine inch monster in my toy drawer.” She reached under him, closed her fingers around his cock, and jerked him off in time with her thrusts.
It was her words and the image they created that did it for him, though.
“I’m…” He started shaking. “Ginevra, I’m—”
“Then come for me, Charles.”
His climax was even more powerful than he’d ever dreamed, and he shivered and shook and finally collapsed onto the wet spot beneath him.
“Ugh.”
“Didn’t you enjoy it?” Ginevra seemed hurt.
“I loved it. Just not the wet spot.”
“Ah.” She eased out of him, and he flipped over onto his back and smiled lazily up at her. She stroked his sweaty hair back off his forehead. “I’ve made you happy?”
“Damn straight you did. Now, suppose you take that off so I can make you happy, too?”
Chapter 6
The holiday season was upon them in full force.
No matter what the song might say, Charles had never felt this was the most wonderful time of the year. Christmas in the foster system tended to leave a lot to be desired, and as he grew to adulthood, it hadn’t gotten much better.
Normally, even at this time of year, he would have been overseas, whacking the whackos. This year, however, he’d been given some time off. Not that he had any objections to that. He wasn’t Mark Vincent, who had so much personal, vacation, and sick time banked, HR was desperate to get him to use it and was pathetically grateful when he did.
Charles intended to use this time to see as much of Ginevra as she’d allow. Since she’d finished her rotation at the WBIS, they hadn’t been able to date as often as he would have liked, although she pegged him regularly when they did. Who’d have thought he’d enjoy the experience so much he’d often wound up limping until he worked the stiffness out of his muscles?
There still weren’t any kisses, though, but he hoped to change that soon. The desire to taste her lips was starting to drive him wild.
The last time he’d seen her, a couple of weeks back, he’d asked her to accompany him to the WBIS Christmas party, which happened to fall on a Wednesday this year, and she’d agreed. Today he was going to double check that their date for the next day was still on. He’d taken a lot of flak in the aftermath of his breakup…for wont of a better word…with Max. Showing up with Ginevra on his arm had nothing to do with rubbing in the faces of his colleagues the fact she’d turned down every one of them. Nope, that didn’t have anything to do with it.
Well, not much.
He headed down to Medical in hopes of finding Ginevra there and Max not. As luck would have it, flu season had hit the country hard and the WBIS just as hard. Ginevra had been asked to return and Charles instructed to stay available.
She was in the doctors’ lounge, pouring herself a cup of coffee, and she smiled when she saw him and raised the pot.
He nodded and accepted the cup she offered him. “Are you all right, Ginevra?” he asked. She looked tired, and he hoped she wasn’t coming down with the flu.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” She added some creamer to her coffee and stirred it.
“I’m as good as I can be, considering.”
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow. “Considering what?”
“I had to buy a gift for Granger’s kid.” Fortunately, the woman at the toy shop had suggested something suitable for a baby, and she had giftwrapped it as well. “It’s the first time The Boss has suggested that.” It was actually the first time any agents had been in that situation.
“Ah, yes. I did as well.” She probably had no trouble walking into a store and selecting the perfect gift. She tilted her head. “Something else is bothering you?”
He gave a wry grin. She read him like a book. “My Christmas present this year is paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork.” He was reluctant to mention that he thought of her as his Christmas present, afraid it might be too much too soon. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It does seem to be the gift that keeps giving.”
“Yes.” He chuckled and hoped she didn’t realize how halfhearted it was.
“What can I do for you? Have you finally decided to get your flu shot?”
“No. Don’t believe in ‘em.”
“That’s foolish.”
He shrugged. He wanted her to think well of him, so he wasn’t going to tell her he had a stupid phobia about needles. “Actually, I came down to make sure we’re still on for the Christmas party tomorrow.”
“Of course, sweet boy.”
Predictably, when she called him that, his reaction was a hardening cock, and he had to struggle to keep his breathing even.
“Awesome. I’ll pick you up—”
She started to object, because the only time she permitted him to come to her bungalow was when they were going to have sex, and he grinned and held up his hand.
“—here in Medical. The party starts about three and keeps going until the last body falls.”
“I’m sure.” She smiled at him, suddenly not seeming so tired.
“I’ll see you then.” He ducked his head and planted a kiss on the corner of her mouth. She didn’t haul off and smack him, but he didn’t press his luck and go for another kiss. “Unless you’d rather see
me sooner?” he asked hopefully.
“Are you that eager to be pegged again?”
“To tell the truth, yes.” He found himself actually beginning to prefer it. Sometimes, when they were in a sixty-nine position, she’d work that monster dildo of hers into his ass while he went down on her, and while his moans were muffled because his face was buried between her thighs, her cries of completion weren’t, and he relished them.
“In that case, why don’t you prepare yourself and stop by my place after dinner?”
“I’d like to take you to dinner as well.”
She was quiet as she seemed to think it over, then tilted her head. “I believe I’d like that.”
“Excellent. I’ll come by Medical around six.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”
Baby steps, he told himself. He headed for the door, keeping his walk easy and casual, when what he really wanted was to dance out the door.
Chapter 7
When Smitty wandered into the kitchen, his hair still damp from his shower, Max was already there, making breakfast.
“Morning, babe.”
“Good morning, Smitty.” Max pronounced it Smeety.
Smitty loved it. He loved it almost as much as when Max said Avery, with the heavy Maurice Chevalier accent and rolling the r. Av-er-y…God, he could come just from hearing that.
“Are you rested?” Max asked.
“I am, thanks. How about you?”
“I had a very good night, as it turns out.” He slanted a look at Smitty. Yeah, Max had pretty much fucked him through the mattress. Afterward, Max had fallen asleep in Smitty’s arms, and it hadn’t taken Smitty long to follow him. They’d both slept like logs.
“Always glad to help.” Smitty inhaled deeply, taking in the mixed scents of the sautéed bell pepper and lemon pepper seasoning. “What smells so good?”
“It’s an English muffin frittata.” Normally, Max would have made omelets and toast, but when he’d learned Smitty had a penchant for Mexican food, he’d learned how to prepare Smitty’s favorite dishes, especially this one with its combination of asparagus tips, snap peas, and shredded mozzarella.
