by Sandy Smith
My cheeks heated, and l leaned forward to put the plate down.
“Don’t,” he commanded. “If you put that plate down before you are finished, I will be beyond cross.”
“Yes Sir,” I answered playfully.
He squirmed. I would file that reaction away to think over when I wasn’t too tired to appreciate it. He picked up his plate, and we both ate in silence.
When we finished, I held my glass of Merlot.
He said, “Talk.”
So I did.
Every night the following week, I spoke to Nick. Sitting on the lounge in my pyjamas talking to him had been exactly what I had been needing. Last night, we talked for about an hour before he told me to go to bed, and then we talked for another hour, only hanging up when I couldn’t focus on his voice anymore.
I sent Nick a text at lunchtime the following Saturday.
Can I cash in my rain check tonight? Let me know what time and what food I need.
Ten minutes later, I glanced at my phone and smiled.
I have a function. I can sneak out after dinner. Eat as you please. Be ready at nine with a glass of scotch and your toys. Thank you for making the remainder of my day most uncomfortable.
I was ready at 8:45. Almost too ready. Maybe I should’ve jerked off earlier so I could last more than the ten seconds this was going to take. I logged in, bouncing in my seat. He didn’t log on for another 15 long, long minutes.
“I’m so sorry, love. Apparently, I faked intestinal distress a little too well, and I think they worried they had killed their new partner and tried to take me to the hospital. They seemed so concerned I almost felt guilty.” He finally looked at me properly. “Almost.”
I asked him about his day, and he brushed the question off, apologetic.
“Sweetheart, I know I was late, but would it be possible for me to call you back in ten minutes? I need a very quick shower so I can relax and enjoy this.”
I shook my head. “No. Sorry. You are welcome to have a shower, of course, but you are not hanging up. Take the iPad in the bathroom, and I can enjoy the view as you relax and shower.”
He hesitated for only a moment before a smile took over his face, and then the picture was wobbling and jumping around. After a moment, I saw a small but luxurious marble bathroom. Nick appeared in front of the camera and removed his clothes piece by piece, throwing them to the side off screen. He turned away from the camera as he removed his briefs and stepped into the shower. The shower door was clear glass, but the steam distorted the image. I watched, completely captivated, as his silhouette moved and turned while he washed. Based on the amount of time he spent on his groin, his dick was now very, very clean. I refused to touch my own, except for applying pressure a couple of times when the image on the screen became too much.
Eventually, the sound of water ceased, and the door opened. Nick reached for a towel left on the edge of the bath and wrapped it around himself, securing it low on his hips. He moved off screen and then returned with a second towel, which he used to dry his hair. Ignoring me completely, he worked his way down his body, slowly stroking his chest and arms and his taut stomach. One at a time he lifted a foot onto the side of the bath to reach down and dry from his foot to the top of his thigh. He was halfway up the second leg when he frowned and looked at the screen. “Ky?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Yes?”
He smiled. “Nothing, sweetheart. I thought the screen had frozen. You hadn’t moved.”
I glanced down at the tent in my pyjama pants. “Believe me, some things were definitely moving.”
He laughed, such an amazing sound. I never understood how other people, even his best friend, didn’t see him like this. Happy. Joyous. Beautiful.
After he finished drying himself, he carried the iPad back to his room, and I moved to the bedroom. We sat lounging back on our beds.
I wasn’t sure how to progress things. I had never done this before, so I waited for his lead.
Casually, Nick asked about my friends and what I had been doing as his hand wandered down to the towel still sitting around his hips. I was trying to answer, but it was slightly harder to do when I didn’t remember the question. I was mesmerised by that hand, slowly, lazily drawing circles on his stomach, then wandering back up and playing with one nipple. After smoothing over his chest, he lifted that hand and ran it through his hair before stretching it up above his head in a stretch.
Then he burst out laughing. I frowned. I must have missed a joke. I thought he had been talking, but the rhythm of his voice lulled me without hearing any of the actual words. I tried to work out what I had missed, and my frown deepened as he reached for something off screen and then came back empty-handed, laughing even harder.
I tilted my head. “What?”
He shook his head but didn’t answer.
“Hang on. Are you laughing at me?” I sat up a bit and pulled the doona up onto my lap. I wasn’t naked, but I felt like it. What stupid thing had I done? My cheeks burned with embarrassment as my eyes darted away from the screen.
He stopped laughing abruptly. “Ky?”
I fidgeted without looking at him, mumbling nonsense in response to acknowledge him.
“Ky, look at me.” His voice had sobered, and I looked up, obeying his command without a moment of conscious thought. He was watching me intently. “Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. Well, I guess I kind of was, but please, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
He shook his head and adjusted how he was lying so that his face was a little closer to the camera. “You are… you are this beautiful, amazing contradiction, sweetheart. You are this exquisite, beautiful man who is strong and smart, and you spend your days chasing bad guys and saving lives. I am completely in awe of how brave you are. Then here you were, looking at me as if I’m something. You were watching my hand, and no matter where I moved it, you followed. It was kind of intoxicating, and then…. Sorry… I just realized this sounds horrible when I form the words.” He looked guilty and maybe a bit sad. He shouldn’t look like that.
“What? Please tell me. I promise I will try not to overreact like a child.”
He looked back at me, assessing if he should answer. “Well… God… please believe me that in my head it was sweet and cute compared to how strong you are, and I liked it.”
He paused, and I waited. “Fine, I had a quick moment—barely a moment, really—where it occurred to me that the way you were watching my hand was like those videos you see of a kitten following a laser light. So I started moving my hand further to see if you followed… God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to feel I was laughing at you.”
My lips twitched, despite my embarrassment, causing him to pause.
“God, you are such a dick.” I tried to remain a little indignant, but my stupid lips were trying to smile.
He finally smiled too. “But you like this dick, right?”
“Yes, I do. I also like the man it is attached to very much too.”
We just looked at each other, smiling, and then his smile changed, and he sat back a little. “Take your pants off,” he ordered. In that voice.
So I did. When I felt embarrassed, I’d softened, but the way he was looking at me had me hardening again. I lifted my hips and pulled my pants down slowly, kicking them free once they were past my knees.
I manoeuvred myself a little and watched his finger circle one nipple. Then he pinched the nipple between his finger and thumb. His other hand was splayed on his stomach. He moved to the other nipple, pinching hard enough I heard the gasp, and his hand ran down his stomach slowly, so painfully slowly, towards the towel. I realized what I was doing and snorted, trying not to laugh.
His hand froze. I tried to apologise but laughed again. He raised an eyebrow.
“God, sorry, it’s just… you were right. I’m a fucking kitten with a laser light. You could have me hypnotized and making chicken noises.”
He pressed his lips together, trying to lo
ok unimpressed.
“I’m sorry. I’m done. I will be good now. I promise. Go back to being sexy.”
“Fuck you,” he said in a huff and threw himself back onto his pillows.
I knew he wasn’t actually angry with me, so I didn’t bother apologizing this time. “Nick?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love we can laugh in bed. I mean—oh, you know what I mean. It’s nice to feel this comfortable with someone. You make me feel good.”
“Baby, I love that too. You are this beautiful combination of sweet and sexy, gentle and strong, all wrapped up in…” He waved his hand in my general direction. “Well, all of that.”
“That?” I asked, possibly fishing a little
“You really don’t need me to tell you how hot you are, but I am happy to do so. You, my sweet, sweet man, are hot as fuck. You are tall, dark, and handsome, and your eyes are mesmerizing. Your chest and arms make me drool. God, the hair on your chest! Every bloody thing about you…” My cock jumped a little—perhaps cheering in enthusiasm; I wasn’t sure—but Nick noticed. “And yes, your cock is gorgeous too.”
And just like that, we had gone from laughing at each other back to heat. I swear to God, when he was aroused, the blue of his eyes almost glowed.
“Grab your cock,” he ordered.
I held it firmly, unsure if I should move without him telling me to.
“Good boy,” he said warmly. and I groaned. That shouldn’t have done anything to me. “Now stroke slowly… A little bit harder… that’s it, baby.”
Nick reached off screen for a moment. Then I heard the familiar click of the lid of a lube bottle, and my breath caught as he poured some on his hand. He grabbed his own dick and coated it before stroking in time with me.
When he told me, I grabbed the lube, but then I needed to move around on the bed as he directed where he wanted me to lay. Once I looked at my laptop again, I realised what he was doing.
“Move your knees apart, love. I want to see you.” It felt a bit awkward, but then his voice lowered as he told me again, and my knees moved on their own.
His hand stopped as he squeezed his dick. “Open yourself up, baby. But slowly. One finger at a time. Do you have your dildo where you can reach it?”
I pulled the dildo closer to me, then did as I was told. While I watched his hand, I ran one lubed finger around the rim. I was almost hypnotized by his movement, but I was too horny to appreciate the humour anymore. When I couldn’t wait any longer, I pushed one finger inside. I was already so desperate that it slid in easily as my legs fell further apart. Nick’s hand sped up a little, and I heard the occasional muffled curse. I brushed lightly over my prostate, not wanting to push myself too far but to enjoy every moment.
I pulled my finger out reluctantly, and as I pushed two fingers in, Nick’s hand faltered. He fumbled off screen for a second before he sat back with a Fleshlight in his hands.
Jesus Christ. The man is going to give me a stroke.
I watched him slowly lowered the toy onto his cock, moaning as it sank to his base. His movements started small, his face relaxed but flushed, the desire clear. He watched my fingers intently. My breathing had quickened, and as much as I wanted this to last, I knew I wasn’t going to. He planted his feet on the bed, and his hips thrust up into the Fleshlight. Wanting it rougher now, I shoved two fingers in, tilting my hips to get as deep as I could, and as my fingers glided across my prostate, my movements faltered. I struggled to keep my eyes open as I watched him.
As he got close, his other hand reached up to pinch his nipple, and I grabbed my cock. Two hard strokes later and my head fell back as I shouted his name, cum spilling across my stomach. My muscles spasmed, contracting around my fingers, and through my haze, I heard him curse and shout my name. Knowing he was coming too kept my orgasm going, squeezing the last drop of cum from me. I pulled my fingers free and lay completely boneless: my chest heaving, my body completely spent, and my mind blissfully floating.
What I assumed was a few minutes later, Nick moaned, and I realised I was still laying with my legs splayed to the side, my hole on display for the camera. With great effort, I rolled to the side, shifting a pillow so I could still see him. He pouted and whined, “Hey, I was watching that,” as though I had changed the channel on the TV. I smiled slightly, still too blissed out to even use my facial muscles.
“I didn’t even get to the dildo,” I complained.
“Next time.”
“I miss having you here,” I said softly
“Me too, baby,” was the last thing I heard when I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty
The next week was filled with monotonous routine work, as well as trying to work out how to locate Aimee and Bailey Short. A new media release looking for information regarding their whereabouts was released. Ian appeared on the news and all the morning talk shows, this time acknowledging we believed they were victims of a crime. He emphasized how we wanted to locate them to ensure their safety and that they were not in any trouble for running from danger. We couldn’t name their uncle, as he hadn’t been charged yet, even though he admitted what he called a consensual sexual relationship for a couple of years.
I hadn’t spoken to Nick for a couple of days, and I felt restless. Tim decided we should go for a drink after work, and as much as I was tempted to find an excuse to skip, I was glad I hadn’t. We needed to spend time together to get past the shadows of my past and find our rhythm again. I talked to him about work, and he gave me some more advice on the possible mindset of an abused teenager. Being able to talk to someone looking at it purely from the victim’s view was nice, without all the other factors.
When we left the bar, we walked towards the bus stop. I heard some raised voices and then, above it all, “Lube Boy!”
I put my head down and pretended I couldn’t hear.
“Luuuuube Boooooy!”
Tim paused his steps and looked at me. “Umm, is that a friend of yours?” he asked with a smirk.
“No. No idea who that is or who he is talking to.”
“Ky Humphrey Albert Horatio Rixon, stop right there!”
Despite the made-up middle names, or perhaps because of them, I stopped and turned around, sighing loudly to show my immense displeasure. “Gee, Eric, how delightful to see you. Always a pleasure.”
Amused, Tim looked on as Eric engulfed me in a huge hug. When Eric broke it, he stepped back and turned to Tim. “And you are?” He said it playfully with a huge smile on his face, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and he appeared to be assessing Tim.
I rolled my eyes. “Eric, this is Tim, my stepdad. Tim, this is Eric, Nick’s best friend.”
Tim smiled and chatted to Eric for a moment. Eric turned to me and said, “So I can’t believe they are still stuffing Nicholas around. It’s ridiculous.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well, with what he said yesterday, I just figure there is no way to get it wrapped up quickly. God knows I’m not packing his apartment for him. The removalists can work out if Fleshlights and cock rings go in the same box as flavoured lube. I mean, if it’s edible, does that count as food stuff? Because generally they won’t store that.”
Tim was trying to politely cover his mouth and pretend he wasn’t laughing.
But I was confused. “You spoke to Nick yesterday? But I thought he… never mind. But… Why would he be packing his apartment?”
Eric’s eyes went wide, and he blinked a couple of times. “Umm, well, it was a quick business call. I don’t really know much. You know how vague I am.” He laughed before pulling out his phone that I was pretty sure did not vibrate. “Oh shoot, I have to go. Elly is waiting for me. You know how girls can be when they are shopping. I’ll see you soon.” And he was gone before I could take a breath, let alone form a sentence.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Ky,” Tim warned.
And I wasn’t. Well, I was trying not to. Nick had said he would call as soon a
s he could, but he called Eric, not me. Why would he be packing his apartment? Unless, he was going home to England. Would he do that without talking to me? No. No, he wouldn’t. I wasn’t that stupid, and I really did trust Nick. I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen, pressing the button to listen to his voicemail.
“Hi. I miss you. I just ran into Eric, and it made me miss you even more. I wanted to hear your voice, even if it’s only a recording. Call me when you can talk. Bye.”
I hung up, knowing he would call me when he could and explain what was going on.
Tim put his arm around me and squeezed as we continued on to the bus stop.
The following morning, I was fast asleep, enjoying a day off when my phone rang. I knocked it off the nightstand before finally grabbing at it and swiping without checking who was calling.
“Rixon speaking.”
“Rixon’s boyfriend speaking.”
“Nick! God, it’s good to hear your voice.” It really, really was.
“Are you at work? I can call back later.”
“No, no. I’m on a day off.”
“Shite. I woke you up, didn’t I?”
I chuckled. “I don’t care. It’s so good to hear from you. How are you? How was the trip?”
Nick filled me in on visiting a few companies in China he would be setting up contracts with, as well as going to a casino in Macau and how many times he had to decline a place at the table in the high rollers room. He asked about my week, and when we finished small talk, he said, “I need to talk to you about something.”
My stomach dropped. I had been really good at giving him the benefit of the doubt. But something about having your partner say we need to talk makes your mind run through every worst-case scenario.
“Sure,” I said quietly.
“Eric texted me frantically last night, worried he had said the wrong things when he spoke to you, so I know the cat’s out of the bag about my apartment and the delays here.”
