Chapter 7
MALCOLM
As September trudges along, Kairo slowly lets me in. Not verbally. He’s still a damn vault. He rarely speaks to me. But he clings to me when I bring him into my arms, so I hold him often. As often as I can.
He craves my touch. He thrives when I call him a good boy. He melts when I call him my baby girl. He lets go a little more every time I suck his pretty cock. His orgasms get louder. He unravels a little more every time I bring him to orgasm.
However, I don’t miss the constant war in his eyes. He hates wanting me. He hates trusting me with his vulnerable spots. No matter how much he’s internally struggling, he physically wants to be close.
Today is no different. Something is bothering him when I come into his office today. I can see it written on his face, so I shut the door and pull him from his chair.
“I hope this thing is rated for like, 600 pounds,” I comment as I sit in his chair and pull him onto my lap.
I’m not expecting a response, so I’m not disappointed when he doesn’t speak. However, I’m right that he desperately needs to be held right now. He’s shaky. Not a constant tremble, but I think that’s because he doesn’t like to let me see his weaknesses. Not because he’s not trembling.
“I got you, baby,” I whisper, holding him tightly in my arms. The tighter I hold him, the easier he seems to breathe. So I grip him as painfully tightly as I can without hurting him. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Kairo turns his face into my neck and squeezes his eyes closed.
“I need to get off,” he whispers. Maybe that’s a whimper.
“That what you want?”
He nods. I don’t think it’s about an orgasm at all. I think he needs something to force him from whatever’s bothering him, and an orgasm will do that.
I’m more confident of my assessment when I bring my hand between his legs to rub his dick, and he’s not even a little hard.
“You sure that’s what you want?”
“Yes,” he says more firmly.
“I appreciate you using your words. Good boys get good orgasms,” I praise. My praise is rewarded with a delicious shiver, and his dick jumps under my hand.
“Come. Put your legs down. Let’s get your pants off.”
“Off?” he asks, meeting my eyes.
I smile, bringing his lips to mine. “Yes. Off. I promised you a good orgasm for telling me in words what you need. That’s what I’m going to reward you with, baby girl. Pants off. Underwear off. Then get back on my lap.”
Kairo stares at me, face flushed. His Adam’s apple bobs as his nerves shiver through his body. He drops his eyes and gets to his feet. He’s not quick about it. He’s nervous. His nerves make him hesitant.
While he undresses, I reach into the pocket at my thigh and pull out a little packet of lube. Something that Kairo doesn’t miss. His eyes stare at the packet, watching as I open it and use the small glass plate on the side of his desk to empty it for easy access with one hand.
He’s hard by the time he’s naked. Before he can sit on my lap again, I pull him close to wrap my mouth around his crown.
Kairo’s hands immediately land on my head, and he sucks in a sharp breath.
I swirl the smooth surface of his cockhead with my tongue before pressing the tip to his slit. Kairo moans.
I release him, something he looks wrecked about. Smiling, I guide his body to sit in my lap like I’m going to cradle him. While I position the chair for convenient access to the plate of lube on his desk, I adjust Kairo in my lap until I have him where I want him.
His eyes are trained on my hand as I suck on a finger and then bring it down between his legs. His breath stutters as I slip it between his cheeks and rub his hole. Once more, Kairo swallows audibly.
“You ever been touched here?” I ask.
Kairo shivers, his eyes closing. “Yes,” he whispers. “But… not since high school.”
“Where you experimented?” I guess.
He nods.
“Did you enjoy it?” I press a little more firmly to his hole, and he tenses.
“Uh…” Kairo swallows. “Not really.”
“Tell me what happened.”
As he talks, I use a dab of lube to swirl around his hole, alternating my pressure between gentle and barely pressing inside him, which makes his breath hitch often.
“It hurt. I think he was as inexperienced as I was, so I don’t think any part of it was good for either of us.”
That’s probably the longest sentence he’s said in my presence. I smile, kissing his temple. “What else?”
“I… it was the first and only time something has been in my ass. His fingers and then… his dick. I hated it.”
“Mmm,” I hum and press another kiss to his temple. He leans his head against me, and I smile. “Do you want me to stop?”
I’m a little surprised when he shakes his head. “No,” he whispers. “I think it’ll be different with you.”
“I’m proud of you for telling me the truth, Kairo. I know what I’m doing, so I’ll take good care of your body.”
Kairo nods. It’s minute, and his fingers dig into my wrist. He’s nervous. Maybe afraid. But his trust fills me with a warmth the likes of which I’ve never felt before.
I reach for more lube. A good amount this time. Kairo keeps his head resting against my shoulder. He releases my wrist long enough for me to reach the lube, but when my hand comes back, he grips me again.
“I need you to keep using your words, baby girl. Tell me if you want me to stop. Okay?”
He nods again. The same small, insecure bobbing of his head.
I’m slow and mindful as I press my finger into his hole. His breath catches. His entire body jumps. His nails dig into my wrist as his body tenses around me.
“Good job, baby. Relax now. That’s it. Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”
He tries. I’m actually really fucking proud of the way he tries. I moderate my praise so it doesn’t sound like I’m actually talking to a baby.
I don’t press my finger in far before I pull out and coat my finger in lube.
I’m just as careful when I return my finger to just beyond my first knuckle and ever so slowly, paying close attention to the way he breathes and his grip on my wrist, I press deeper inside him.
Slow, rhythmic patterns of my finger into his hole.
Deeper and deeper, but only by centimeters.
“Okay?”
Kairo nods.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. It just feels… weird and kind of disturbing.”
I chuckle. “Let’s try something more, then. See if I can change your opinion. Okay?”
“Yes,” he answers, and once more, he releases my wrist when I pull my finger out and reach for more lube.
“Keep using your words, baby girl. I like to hear how you feel.”
“Okay,” he answers, and I’m pretty sure his cheeks are a pretty shade of red right now.
I work my finger back inside him once again. Always slowly. Gently. Mindful that he’s not had a good experience with this before. When I’m finally in a place where I think I can reach what I want to reach, I curl my finger.
Kairo gasps. His body jerks wildly, and his hand tugs reflexively on my wrist. “Jesus,” he hisses, a wild shiver racing through him.
Smiling, I press my lips to him again. “Never been touched there, have you?”
“It’s a myth,” he mutters.
I curl my finger again, and Kairo’s body jerks again. “Is it?” I ask.
He whimpers. A sound that goes straight to my core.
“I promise you, I know how to make you feel good. No matter the size of what goes in here. Are you ready to trust me to give you a monumental orgasm?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Uh… yes, Daddy?”
I laugh. “No. I don’t think I’m going to be Daddy but we’ll see.”
“Good. All I hear when I hear Daddy is my nephews’ partners calling my brother Daddy Jalon, and it’s disturbing.”
I laugh again because I’ve heard those words. They’re said both teasing and in awe. It’s hilarious.
“Good to know.”
“So… yes, please?” Kairo tries again.
Grinning, I direct him, “Tell me exactly what you want. Use your words.”
This time, his whimper is because he doesn’t want to say the words out loud. His body tenses again, but he jerks when I gently brush his prostate once more. “Finger me until I come,” he says at last, voice choked. “Please, Malcolm. Make me feel good.”
I’m not expecting his words to hit me in the chest like they do. I groan, my arm around his lower back, tightening to keep him close. Possessively, maybe.
I think that’s the first time I’ve heard him say my name.
The way it does things to me has me maybe a little more enthusiastic than Kairo is expecting.
His whines begin right away. His body shakes every time I hit his prostate, which I do often while coating his hole with lube.
I’m not sure he even notices when I add a second finger.
Okay, he notices. His hips jerk up, and I’m fucking giddy when he bears down on them. The sexy rock of his hips, as if he’s fucking himself on my fingers, has my cock angry-mad in my pants.
“That’s it,” I encourage. “Do what feels good. What a good boy you are. What do you want?”
“More,” he gasps.
“Want to try a third finger?”
Kairo nods intently, which surprises me.
Taking a break for more lube—something he’s irritated about—I don’t introduce the third finger right away. Not until he’s once more riding my fingers. Then I add the third. His moans hitch. His gasps are loud. He whimpers, whines, and grunts.
But he presses down as his head falls back.
“Look at you,” I murmur, watching his face as pleasure plays across it in the most hypnotizing symphony I’ve ever seen. “So fucking gorgeous. This what you want? This how you want to get off?”
“Yes,” he answers. “Please. Please. God, Malcolm, please.”
I give him exactly what he wants as he chants my name, alternating it with ‘please.’ It’s not quite begging, but he doesn’t stop. Between him riding my fingers and me making sure his prostate is stimulated, I make sure he hears what a good boy he’s being.
Kairo comes without either of us touching his dick.
I don’t think he could reach it even if he wanted to.
One hand was trapped, but the other couldn’t release my wrist, no matter how often he tried.
It no longer felt like a cautionary hold.
Not this time. Now it feels like it does when he holds my head.
More than a request. Beyond begging to continue. It’s a need so deep that reaching it is impossible alone. It’s beyond sexual gratification. There’s something potently vulnerable about the way he lets me in.
Inside his body is one thing. A privilege I won’t soon forget. A trust that I won’t ever break. But it’s more than that.
Every time he lets me touch him, he shows me all the battered, bruised parts of him. He lets me hear the tremors in his voice. He allows me to feel how incredibly fragile he is.
Kairo isn’t an angry man. He’s a broken man. I’m just not sure what broke him, but I hope to fuck I can figure it out and help him heal. He deserves to stop carrying around the armor he’s lived in for as long as he can remember. He deserves to smile and to accept that someone is here for him.