Chapter 22 #2
I signaled to take the exit toward the airport. Thirty minutes later, I handed my keys to the valet, grabbed my trolley bag and backpack. Once inside, I pulled out my earbuds and called Slone while booking a ticket.
“You okay?” he asked as soon as the call connected.
It had barely rung. Good to know he wasn’t faring any better with this unplanned jaunt across the country.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Change of plans, though.”
“What…changed?”
The panting coming through the phone sounded pornographic and made the urge to drive straight back to EDGE even more difficult to ignore.
“I’m at the airport.”
“Which airport? You should already be in Wisconsin. Is something wrong with your truck?”
I laughed. “Damn, you’re a worrywart. And I’m only about twenty minutes outside the city. If I continue driving, there’s no way I’ll keep myself from turning around, given how much I don’t want to go home this summer.”
“Oh, baby boy.” He sighed. “I won’t lie and say it will be okay because I have no way of knowing that. What I do know is you can do whatever you want or need to do and do it successfully. You just have to realize that for yourself.”
“You saying I got Apex energy, old man?”
His laughter crackled through the phone. “Jesus, you’re a fucking menace. So, what time’s the flight?”
“I’m headed for security now. Flight boards in thirty minutes. Looks like I’ll be home by noon Central.”
“Okay, I’m not gonna comment on how close you’re cutting it—”
I interrupted him and said, “Even though you just—”
And he returned the favor. “Be sure to grab some snacks for the flight. The shit they give you on the plane sucks. And before you say you’re a twenty-one-year-old hockey player, let me remind you…you’re an elite athlete. A fucking hockey player. You need decent fucking food, not junk.”
I shook my head. The man had issues about food and what those he cared for ate.
At first, I thought it was just me, but the few times Ewen hung out, I noticed it extended to him as well.
“Your feeding people fetish is showing,” I said, then suggested, “Go make Ewen breakfast. I promise I’ll look for healthy shit so your skin doesn’t crawl from afar. ”
“Brat.”
I smiled. “Old man.”
Our laughter echoed through both sides of the call when we hung up. I strode through the airport, heading for the Sky Club to grab breakfast and snacks to take onboard with me. These were the kind of perks I liked about being a Malachek: last-minute first-class seats and the VIP lounge.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Malachek. You’re cutting it close,” the gate attendant said as I scanned my ticket.
They weren’t lying. The area around the gate was vacant.
“Last-minute trip home,” I explained as he followed me to the door, shutting it behind me as I raced down the jet bridge.
The flight attendants greeted me as I stepped aboard. “Good morning, sir. Anything I can get you before we take off?”
I shook my head as the guy assigned to first class stowed my bags, and I dropped into the first-class front-row seat I’d been tickled to see available when I purchased my ticket.
I was even more tickled to see I had the row to myself.
Settling in with my stack of breakfast bagel sandwiches and my large iced coffee, I unwrapped one of them and pulled out my phone, snapping a quick photo of breakfast and texting it to Slone.
Slone
Not bad for an airport, baby boy. Good job.
It looks good, too. Let me know what you think of them, and I’ll make some for you.
The man had fetishes oozing from his pores. I knew this already and reaped the rewards many times over from just his need to feed those he cared about and the praise-giving kink, which made me uncomfortable at first. Now, I craved it. It fed my soul in a way nothing ever had before.
But then, there were the things he did to me, along with the erotic shit he read while I warmed his cock.
Fuck me, those blew my mind, and that’s just the things I experienced or understood.
I had a whole list of fucking curiosities in my Notes app of things I didn’t understand, or thought were impossible, that I wanted to research.
Which—I glanced around the cabin with a smirk—I could do right fucking now. Shoving the last of the first sandwich into my mouth, I shot off a text to Slone.
Me
Fucking delish.
It had some sort of sauce on it.
Slone
Maybe Hollandaise. Was it yellow?
Me
As if I knew what fucking Hollandaise is. He was a culinary wizard. I ate whatever people put in front of me. Shaking my head with a laugh, I pulled up the list on my phone and set to figuring out what sort of a hit I was in for.
By the time we reached altitude, I realized what a bad fucking idea this was. My cock—rock hard and throbbing—was leaking precum as if I’d turned on a faucet. I’d broken out in a cold sweat and I really, really, really needed to get the fuck off before I got the fuck off in my shorts.
I made my way to the lavatory, phone in hand. If I had to jerk off alone, I could at least tease the Daddy Dom in my life. Pants around my ankles, cock in hand, and my head and shaft glistening in the awful lighting, I opened my texts with Slone and snapped a photo, sending it to him.
Me
[IMAGE]
Slone
Jesus fucking Christ. What the fuck are you doing with your cock out?
Some of us are fucking working.
You realize this is brat behavior, yes?
Pressing my fist to my mouth, I suppressed a giggle at the pissy attitude, which told me he was getting hard, and it wasn’t an appropriate time in his mind.
Slone hard and horny was always appropriate.
He man oozed sex appeal, and I wanted to experience it constantly.
And encourage the beast that came out that first night in the pantry.
Seriously fucking hot. Sitting down on the toilet seat lid, I jerked off with a smirk and the ongoing fantasy of being paddled by a sexy Daddy playing on repeat.
I headed back to my seat, trying and probably failing to look innocent, if the look I got from the cute flight attendant I passed in the galley was anything to go by. I didn’t give a damn what she thought. She couldn’t prove anything.
Me
[IMAGE]
Slone
Not that I’m complaining, but you sent this to me already.
Me
Just wishing you were here.
[VIDEO]
Slone
Fuck
If I were there with you, I’d strap a ball gag in your mouth, bend you over the sink, and fuck the brat out of you, you little shit.
Just so you’re aware, you’re in for it when I see you next.
Me
I have questions.
Tell me more.
Slone
No.
Me
[IMAGE]
Slone
You’re fucking adorable if you think pouting is going to get you anywhere.
Brats who tease their Doms don’t get treats when Daddy can’t enjoy their reaction.
Me
Meanie.
Slone
Now get some sleep. We were up extra early to get you on the road, and you and mornings have a tumultuous relationship.
Me.
We’re besties. I get up every morning at 5 a.m.
Slone
You barely know they exist. At best you’re acquaintances. Who’ve met once.
Sleep. And text me when you land. I’ve gotta go yell at a vendor.
Me
Slone
Menace.
Me
Your menace.
Slone
You bet your ass you are.
I opened my browser and the article that sent me scrambling for the bathroom to jerk off reloaded, and I smirked. I shared the link to our text chain.
Me
[LINK]
You’ve been holding out on me, old man.
Slone
What the hell are you doing on FetLife?
Me
Research.
Add this to your Introduce Trey to Kink list.
Put it at the top.
Slone
We will discuss it when you return, but I’ve already introduced it. What do you think using you as my personal cockwarming slut was about?
Me
Hawt!!! So fucking hot. Yes, sir. More, please.
Wait. No. Not now. Please. I’ve already jerked off in that tiny ass bathroom once.
Slone
Too late
[VIDEO]
Me
Holy shit. I gotta go.
Slone
I want pictures!
And a video!
Don’t forget!
Me
[IMAGE]
[VIDEO]
We gotta behave. The flight attendants are eyeing me. I don’t know if they’re going to jump my bones or have me sniffed by a drug dog.
Slone
Poor baby.
Just remember whose ass that is.
And the dick. It’s also mine.