6. Anders #2
Cutting off his protests before he has time to voice them, I quickly strip out of my own clothes until I’m standing naked in front of him, my cock hard and dripping. His eyes widen when he looks down at me, like this is the first time he’s ever seen a cock apart from his own.
Once again, I wonder how inexperienced he really is.
At twenty-two, he probably doesn’t have any experience with BDSM or power exchange, but surely he must have fooled around in high school or college.
I guess it’s possible if he only just came out or is religious that he might only just be exploring his sexuality, but he can’t be completely untouched… right?
“Let’s get cleaned up,” I say, reaching for his hand, giving him a moment to step away before I guide him closer to me.
His socks are still covering his feet, so I bend down and tap the front of his foot, peeling his sock off the moment he lifts it from the floor.
Once it’s off, I do the same with the other foot, then slowly rise to my feet, pressing a quick kiss to his dick, then stomach, then chest on my way up.
“Have you ever showered with someone before?” I ask when he doesn’t immediately climb into the tub.
Instead of speaking, he shakes his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly.
“I know I shouldn’t, but I like that, Kitten, I like it a lot,” I tell him, a smile spreading over my lips. “Now, get in.”
For an agonizingly long moment he doesn’t move, and I watch as he considers his options. He might not say it, but I see his eyes dart to the door, then back to me as he contemplates running. He’s naked and covered in cum, but he still considers it.
Releasing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, I offer him my hand the moment he steps forward, and when he takes it, I squeeze his fingers tightly, silently praising him for choosing me.
“Let’s get you all cleaned up, Kitten,” I coo, turning him beneath the warm spray and reaching for a bottle of shower gel.
Filling my hands with the minty-smelling liquid, I crouch down and start at his feet, coating his ankles and then thighs, avoiding his junk as I run my hands over his hips and then onto his flat stomach.
He’s slim, skinny almost, with narrow hips and thin but toned thighs and calves. Lean…that’s probably the best word I could use to describe him, like a runner, although I very much doubt it’s exercise that’s keeping him this way.
I don’t know much about Henry, but given what I do know, it’s clear that money is an issue for him. Parker said his apartment was in a rough area, and Danny mentioned that he hasn’t taken the permanent job the Barnetts have offered him because rental prices are too high in Rockhead Point.
When he was eating earlier, he started with the veggies instead of the chicken, which leads me to think that although he eats enough to not be hungry, he probably doesn’t or can’t afford the expense of fresh vegetables that often.
His breath hitches when I run my hands over his pecs, then up onto his shoulders and down his arms. He shudders involuntarily when my fingers graze over the hollow of his throat in the same place I held him earlier.
Stepping closer to him, I slide my arms around him, caging him against me, while I cover his back in soap, dipping my hands all the way down to the base of his spine, then immediately moving back up again without touching his ass.
By the time I’ve covered every inch of his body except for his ass, dick, and balls in soap, his chest is heaving and his eyes are filled with what I’d guess is desperate need. His perfect twenty-two-year-old cock is hard again, pressing against my belly every time I lean in closer to him.
I love that he’s so turned on he’s gotten hard and come twice already, but he needs to learn that just because I can make him come doesn’t mean that I will.
Retreating, I grab more soap, then reach for his cock, cleaning his length before I dip lower and coat his balls, then taint, with suds.
Leaning into him again, I press his dick against my stomach as I reach around him and run my soapy hands over his ass cheeks, spreading them enough for me to slip my fingers down his crease and over his hole.
The moment my fingers graze his clenched, puckered hole, he gasps loud enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if Danny and Parker could hear him from next door.
I’ve played with timid guys who wanted me to do all the work, expecting me to worship them.
I’ve played with slutty dudes who pull their own cheeks apart and finger their holes while I watch.
I’ve played with guys who prep and stretch themselves before I’ve even gotten them naked, and I’ve played with dude-bros who only remember prep is a thing when they’re desperate to be fucked and whine when they have to be stretched enough to take me.
But I don’t remember ever having a guy react the way Henry is…except maybe the very first time I did anal with a guy. Both of us were guy-on-guy virgins, and it took a little experimenting to figure things out.
The first time I’d gotten my fingers anywhere near his ass, he’d tensed so hard I thought he was going to break my knuckle. But there’s no way that Henry is a virgin…right.
“Kitten, how many men have had the privilege of getting in this tight ass?” I ask, fighting to keep the possessive rage out of my tone.
“What?” he pants, his hands curled into fists at his sides, clearly fighting not to come or move while my fingers are toying between his cheeks.
“How many men have you fucked?” I ask again, my wording a little more crass.
“I…” He trails off as he tenses again, only instead of it just being his ass, it’s his entire body that goes stiff as a board.
Pulling my fingers back, I keep my palm wrapped around his ass cheek, then lean back far enough to look into his eyes. “Henry, are you a virgin?” I ask, my voice thick with emotion.
“I…” Avoiding my eyes, he focuses his gaze on my shoulder.
“Boy, I asked you a question,” I growl, slipping into dominant mode.
“Does it matter?” he whispers.
“Yeah, Kitten. It matters,” I say, softening my words.
“I know it’s pathetic…”
Releasing him completely, I take a step back, putting distance between us for the first time since I brought him upstairs. “Fuck,” I hiss, letting my head fall forward.
“I’m sorry.”
Exhaling a shuddering breath, I lift my head so I can look at him.
“You have nothing to be sorry about. This is my fault. I should have asked, or not just assumed. I knew you were inexperienced, but it never occurred to me that you wouldn’t have…
” I run out of words and instead lean forward and press a gentle kiss against his lips.
Before the kiss can turn dangerous, I pull back, closing my eyes as I drag in an affirming breath. Grabbing a bottle from the shelf, I offer it to Henry. “Here, wash your hair. There’s conditioner if you want it too.”
I don’t mean to sound cold or dismissive, but I need some time to think about this.
Henry is a virgin. Claiming him was bad enough when I was just an incredibly dominant man who is twelve years older than him.
But knowing that he has zero experience with other men, sex, or relationships is terrifying to me.
Starting something new is scary anyway, especially with my particular…needs, but knowing that Henry doesn’t have enough experience to understand if my behavior crosses a line is a bright red flag for me.
After things with Gabe ended so badly, it took me a long time and a lot of therapy to be ready to be in a relationship again.
Since then, I’ve only ever dated people in the lifestyle who knew they could use a safe word or red card me if I got out of control.
I’ve never allowed myself to need the safety precautions I put in place, but I knew that they’d call me on my shit if they needed to.
I doubt Henry even knows what a safe word is, and even if he did, would he feel confident and able to say it if he needed to? As a virgin, would he even know if I put him in a position that was pushing or crossing his limits?
Reaching for the soap, I wash myself quickly, taking the shampoo once Henry is finished with it and scrubbing my hair without any of the usual finesse I use when taking care of my shoulder-length locks.
Once I’m done, I don’t bother with conditioner, knowing I’ll regret it in the morning, too eager to get Henry out of the shower and into some clothes to care.
“Can you take me back to town, please?” Henry says the moment I turn off the water and hand him a towel.
“No,” I snap, allowing myself to actually look at him for the first time since he dropped the V bomb.
“I think I should leave,” he says, his voice so small it’s barely above a whisper.
“You’re not going anywhere. I just need some time to figure this out.”
“Figure what out?” he asks, so incredibly confused it’s clearly etched across his features.
“This.” I motion between us. “Us.”
“There’s not an us to figure out.”
“The hell there’s not. There’s an us, we’re an us. I just don’t…” I trail off, because telling him I’m scared I’ll turn into a controlling psycho probably isn’t the best idea right now.
“I get it, you’re not into virgins. But I didn’t ask to come here. I didn’t ask you to touch me.” His cheeks are pink, but I love the fire in his shaky voice.
My entire body softens, and I close the distance between us and collar his throat with my hand, noticing for the first time how fair his skin looks against my sun-warmed fingers.
“Oh, Kitten, I don’t care that you’re a virgin.
No, that’s a fucking lie. I love that you’re a virgin.
I love knowing I’ll be the first person to take you, the first person to push into your body.
The first person to truly fucking own you. ”
“Then?” His brow furrows as he stares at me.
“Do you know what BDSM is?” I ask.
“Sort of.”
“Well, I enjoy the dominance and submission parts. I’m bossy, controlling, possessive, jealous, and obsessed.
If you let me, I’ll take over your entire world, and I’ll keep going until you hate me for it.
I don’t want to do that,” I tell him, not wanting to explain about my past, even though I know eventually I’ll have to.
“What if I don’t let you?” he asks boldly.
“How would you stop me, Kitten? Have you ever been in a relationship?”
Shaking his head, he says, “No.”
“I don’t want to ruin you, Henry. I don’t want you to hate me or resent me or be scared of me, and if I let myself do all of the things I want to do to you, eventually you will.
Eventually you’ll look at your life and realize I’ve taken everything from you, and you let me do it because you didn’t know any better. I won’t do that to you.”
“Okay.”
Blinking, I stare at him, feeling like he just punched me.
“If that’s what you think will happen, I understand. I don’t want that either. Can you show me where the washer is so I can put my things in?”
He’s so calm. So unaffected that I simply look at him for a long moment before I jolt back to reality and nod. “I’ll do it. You get into bed.”
“No, I can do it,” he protests.
“Get into bed, Kitten. Let me do this for you,” I plead.
Nodding, he doesn’t move as I gather up his clothes from the bedroom floor and walk out with them held tightly in my arms.
Instead of just putting them on to wash, I wait for the program to finish, then put them into the dryer before I head back upstairs, praying that Henry is asleep, his temping, cock soft and preferably covered.
But the moment I step into my bedroom, I already know he’s not there without having to glance at the empty bed.
Panic swells in my chest until I remember that he was only wearing a towel, and I have all of his clothes downstairs.
He can’t have run from me, which means he just chose to sleep somewhere else.
Stepping back onto the landing, I stare at the three doors and find only one closed.
He’s hiding from me, so he picked the smaller of the two bedrooms and the one that’s the furthest away from me.
Unable to stop myself, I pad barefoot over to the closed door and turn the handle, but the door doesn’t open. Because it’s locked.
My Kitten picked another room and locked me out. Maybe he does stand a chance at handling me after all.