Chapter Nine
Easter
I can’t believe he’s still here. That I haven’t scared him off yet. First, with my chronic grumpiness—yes, we grumps are, in fact, aware we’re grumpier than the average population—and then with the aggressive jerk-off session he walked in on. As jittery, clumsy, and nervous as Benjamin can be in the shop or when I ask him a simple work-related question, is as calm and assertive he is now. Finding your boss with his cock in hand and cum all over the place could hardly be considered an everyday occurrence, and still, he seemed to be more concerned about my well-being than mortified. To be honest, I don’t know what I was thinking. Storming off like that to relieve myself while he was still downstairs. I can only write it off as another momentary lapse of judgment, my instincts taking over, common sense and restraint flying out the window.
There was just something about him, Bunny . Seeing him wearing those bunny ears that I , East, bought for him on a whim. Because somewhere deep inside of me, there had been that urge to get them for him. And not just the ears, no. In a lust-induced shopping spree, I’d indulged in everything flimsy, fluffy, and pink on Amazon. For him. My Bunny. Because some part of me had hoped it was truly him. The one I’d been waiting for all my life.
I meant it when I told him he’s a funny little thing. He is. Quite remarkable, like I also told him. Shit, I told him a lot of things, didn’t I? As naturally submissive as he appears to be, there’s also something confident and assertive about him as well. He didn’t hesitate when I showed him my gifts, nor did he blink even once. It was almost as if he, too, knew it could only ever end up this way. The inevitability of our meeting. The indisputable connection from day one. The way he seems to recognise my deepest, darkest thoughts and desires before I’m even aware of them myself. I wonder if I do the same to him? Do I see him before he sees himself? Does he perhaps need me—like I need him, it seems—to truly be himself? I don’t know. This is all so sudden, so new, although it feels like he was always mine. As much as I want to rush this thing between us, I know that I have to step on the brakes just a tad. I can’t risk scaring him off. Not when I’ve finally found him.
On that note, where the hell is he? He was just going to the loo while I started the bath, but it’s been what now? Five minutes, perhaps? I’ve finished drawing the bath, fragrant steam billowing from the soapy surface of the water. It wasn’t until I reached for the bath foam that I realised I had no idea what scent he liked. I know so very little about him, and still, our souls seem to be ancient mates. So I decided on the orange blossom because although it’s slightly sweet like him, it’s tangy too. There’s an edge to the sweetness just like there’s an edge to my sweet, innocent Bunny. Sweeping the tips of my fingers through the water, I test the temperature. Perfect. I know the warmth will leave his skin all pink and prickly, but it won’t scald him.
After another minute or two, I can no longer stand it. A strange unease overtakes me, and I leave the bathroom and walk towards the toilet, only to find it empty. My chest tightens as my stomach drops. Shit, it was too much— I am too much—after all. I did manage to scare him away. Shit.
“East?” Oh, thank God. Thank the good old fucking Lord. I think I turn around so fast that I get a whiplash but who cares? He takes me in all wide-eyed and flushed as he nibbles on his bottom lip.
“I thought you’d gone!” I blurt as I rush towards him, closing the gap between us. “I thought…” I grit as I haul him back into my arms, up against my chest, right where he belongs. A succession of small whimpers escapes him as I squeeze him tighter against me, breathing him in. Sighing against my chest, he goes all soft and pliant in my arms, melting into me, his slender arms snaking around my waist.
“I was thirsty,” he murmurs. “I just went to get some water.” Then he chuckles, “I’m right here, East. I told you already. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to.”
“I don’t!” I blurt, burying my face in his dark curls. “I don’t,” I repeat, swallowing behind the lump building in my throat while words like always and forever and mine tumble through my head. Inhaling deeply, I try to collect myself. Resurfacing from his fragrant locks, I push him away from me slightly, clasping his face in my palms. He looks at me with adoration—yes, there’s no mistake about that—in his muddy grey eyes. Sucking in another breath, I nearly lose myself in the vastness of his gaze, two dark orbits threatening to suck me in, swallow me up and spin me right out of control. Then he blinks as he whispers, “East.” Fuuuck, my name on his lips. It’s everything, and my cock seems to recognise the massiveness of it too, because it hardens in my pants.
“Your bath’s ready,” I croak before I lean in and press a light kiss against his nose. “Nice and warm and foamy.” He nods carefully, a flash of heat sparking in his eyes. “Come,” I say, releasing my hands from his cheeks. Reaching for his left hand, I tangle my fingers through his and pull him after me towards the bathroom, the scent of orange blossom and sweet promises engulfing us as we get closer.
“I haven’t had a real bath in ages,” he whispers in awe as he takes in my large white bathtub. It’s vitreous China-coated ceramic, giving it a glossy look. I had it installed when I re-did the entire flat above the shop. I rarely use it myself—I’m more of a quick in and out of the shower kind of guy, but now, as I take in Benjamin’s glowing face, I know exactly why I got it. I got it for him . To pamper him. To take care of him. To make him feel special .
He turns, looking at me, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. But it’s like I hold the manual. The Benjamin B. Sable manual. The How-to-take-care-of-your-Bunny guide.
“You can have a bath whenever you want. Now, arms up.” I smile as I take a step towards him. He obediently lifts his arms above his head, and I carefully grab the hem of his blue shirt. Sliding it up his body, flawless, creamy skin is revealed like the promised land, unmarked and pristine. Mine , my heart echoes, and my fingers itch to just tear off his clothes and devour him. But I can’t. Not yet.
He giggles when the tips of my fingers brush along his skin and again when the shirt gets caught in his chocolate curls. He giggles, too, when a string of curses leaves my mouth as I battle his belt and wiggle the zipper in his pants. Every time his melodic, featherlight voice fills the room, it’s like he invades my body, my soul, my entire being, and claims me in ways I never thought possible.
And then he stands before me in the smallest pair of sky-blue briefs, his hairless thighs slender and vibrating beneath my touch. I swallow as I take him in, on my knees for him. Sitting back on my heels, I reach for his right foot and place it on my left thigh. He sways for a brief moment, then catches his balance by burying his hands in my hair. My scalp tingles from his touch, every nerve ending buzzing as I focus on his small foot on my thick thigh. I frown as I take in the worn black sock. It’s too plain and dull for my Bunny. I make a note to buy him new socks, packs of them, in all the pastel colours I can think of; sky blue, lemon yellow, pale pink, powdery purple, a—
“East?”
“Yeah?” I rasp, resurfacing from my newfound appreciation of pastel colours.
“Are you okay?” he asks hesitantly, his fingers lingering in my hair.
“Of course.” I tilt my head up at him, smiling reassuringly. “I just…your socks are worn,” I blurt, decorum flying out the window.
“I know,” he says as I slide it off his foot. “I didn’t expect anyone to see them today. Otherwise, I would’ve worn my nice pair.” My nice pair . A wave of unprecedented anger rises inside me. My nice pair . If it were up to me, he’d only wear nice things from now on, in the finest, softest materials. Clothing that would caress his skin and treat it with the tenderness and comfort he deserves. I decide it’s up to me, and the agitation in my chest clears somewhat.
When I’ve got rid of his socks—the left one revealing a large hole on the heel—I proceed to reach for his briefs, my eyes searching for his consent before I start tugging them down. He blushes shyly, then nods as his pearly white teeth dig into his plump bottom lip. His scent fills the air as I remove his briefs, a sweet muskiness invading my nostrils as he steps out of them. I’m seconds away from just burying my entire face in the dark curls surrounding his cock, but a low wince tears me from my trancelike state. Benjamin frowns at me, his eyes dark, and I realise my fingers are digging into the delicate skin of his thighs.
“Sorry,” I rush out, releasing my grip on him, rubbing at the patches of skin that are now bruised a deep pink. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I was too rough,” I admit.
“East,” he murmurs as he bends down, reaching for my hands. Linking his fingers through mine, he pulls me to my feet, his naked body such a contrast to my clothed one. He’s so small and frail compared to my much larger frame, and I chastise myself for hurting him.
“I’ll be more careful from now on,” I mumble, my eyes drilling holes into the tiled floor beneath my feet. “I never want to hurt you.”
“East, will you please look at me?” he says, squeezing my hands. “Please?”
I look up hesitantly, my gaze connecting with his.
“You didn’t.” He smiles at me, his eyes brimming with reassurance. “I’m just not used to…” He seems to search his mind for the next word. “I’m not used to being touched.” He swallows. “It…it felt strange. Foreign. But nice,” he adds. “I like it when you touch me. I like your hands on me, East. Don’t ever be afraid of hurting me. You can’t. Not you, East. Never you, my beautiful master. ”
Beautiful. The word pulls all the air from my lungs, and I think I lose consciousness for a moment. What is he doing to me, this… strange creature? It’s like his mere presence turns me into a version of myself that I don’t recognise. I feel stripped bare and vulnerable, but at the same time so immensely powerful. I wonder if my presence leaves him the same.
“Your bath is getting cold,” I nod at the tub, steam still wafting from the surface.
“It’s perfect.” He smiles. “Thank you, Master.” He blinks as I guide him into the steaming tub. A deep, guttural groan leaves his lips as the water meets his skin, swallowing his toes, his feet, and then his calves. I don’t let go of him until he’s completely submerged in the foamy water, his head leaning back on the edge of the tub that I’ve draped with the softest towel I own. He looks at me, pure bliss in his eyes, lashes fluttering in naked delight. I can make out the shape of him underneath the foam, but I can’t see the individual features, and somehow, it’s the single most erotic moment of my life.
“I’ll order some food,” I manage to say. “Then I’ll be back to wash your hair.” He moans at that image, his cheeks turning a fiery red as he closes his eyes. “Don’t fall asleep now,” I add, raising a brow at him in warning when he opens his eyes again.
“I won’t, East,” he says, his fingers trailing through the water, caressing the surface. And now I’m suddenly jealous of the water and tub holding him when my fingers itch to do the same. Later , I tell myself. Later I’ll be the one to hold him, touch him, smell him. “I promise,” he adds, and I can’t help but hope and want, for the first time in maybe ever, that his promise means everything and anything. Because I want that. Everything and anything with him.