Chapter 8 #2
He knew exactly where he needed to stick the toy to get the right height, and once it was in place, he reached for the shower lube and slicked his hole.
The intrusion of his finger was welcome, the stretch centring and focusing him on his end goal—an orgasm.
Pumping his fingers in and out, he slicked his insides ready for the toy and then turned his back to the spray again.
The stool had been adapted to have suction cups at the bottom of each leg, which stopped it from moving in the shower when he leaned on it.
It also had two back legs longer than the front, which tilted it and gave him a better grip.
After all, it was so much easier to lean over when he was getting reamed—even if it was by a toy.
Leaning his hands on the stool and curving his fingers around the edge, he moved back a little until the head of the toy touched his skin.
The intimate feel of something ready to slide inside him sent heat up his spine, tingling his extremities.
He closed his eyes and pushed back, the cock breaching his ring.
He took it slowly, not because he needed to, but because he wanted to.
He loved the feel of a dick sliding into him.
That was what sex was, but he liked the feel of a cock not being there and then pushing in.
It was why he pulled himself free fully from the toy and then pushed it back in again.
He did it a few times, and then he paused and opened his eyes a slit.
His eyes, and then his fingers, found the small control pad stuck to the stool.
He turned the toy on and groaned as the toy began sliding into him slowly.
Keeping as still as he could, he dropped his head forward and just felt.
The slide of the cock, the water beading over his skin, the heat of the water raining down on him, it all made for a combined sensation overload.
His dick leaked, the hard, red shaft straining for the ultimate prize, but Brett didn’t want it to end just yet.
He increased the speed of the toy and changed his position slightly, ensuring the toy hit him just where he wanted it to.
It made it more difficult to put off his orgasm, but with sheer force of will, he panted through the motions, his entire body alight with electricity racing from one side to the other, from head to toe.
Goosebumps flowed across his skin, not from the cold, but from the heat.
He brought up images of his encounter with Felix, the way he smelt, the way he sounded, the taste of his skin, and his climax barrelled closer.
Still, he kept it back, wanting to come to the sound of Felix’s groans.
He increased the speed again and cursed, his memory faltering for a second as he tried to regain control.
Panting through the need, he focused on the memory once more, remembering his order to keep Brett’s come in his ass for the rest of the day.
It was too much that time, and Brett came, painting the stool and the floor with his release as his hands clenched around the stool.
When he finally came back to himself, the toy was still pumping inside him and sending fissures of contractions through him.
He wouldn’t be able to come again, but he stayed where he was, enjoying the aftereffects.
It became too much after a while, and he turned the toy off and slid off it.
Wincing as he stood upright, he washed off the toy and stool and put them back in the corner and then faced the spray and washed himself before turning off the shower.
He grabbed a towel from the waterproof cupboard he’d had made and wrapped it around his waist. Wiping the mirror off with his hand, he leant on the sink and stared at his reflection.
The circles under his eyes were more pronounced than he’d remembered for a while, but he supposed it was to be expected.
Waiting for someone to try to kill him or Felix weighed on him.
He strode to his bedroom, dressed in joggers and a T-shirt and headed down the hallway to his living room.
The TV was enormous, even for his standards, but he hadn’t been able to resist, knowing his mother would’ve loved watching her favourite films on it.
He turned it on, settled on one of his favourite James Bond movies, Diamonds Are Forever, and grabbed some snacks from the kitchen before taking a seat.
James Bond was one of the characters that fuelled his love of protection.
Although Bond doesn’t show it a lot, his protection of M and Miss Moneypenny was always there, just in different formats depending on the situation.
As it always did when he was in the mood he was in, his mind drifted to the fact that he didn’t have any friends outside of work. His childhood friends were tied to the family he would prefer not to acknowledge, and he’d never had time to cultivate any new ones once he started working as a guard.
A noise at the front door grabbed his attention, and he stood, cocking his ear. The noise happened again, and he tiptoed down the hallway. Checking the camera, he couldn’t see anyone out there, but the noise continued. He panned the camera down and sighed before opening the door.
“Hello, Rosie,” he mumbled. “Are you wanting some food?”
Rosie miaowed but didn’t go into the house like she previously had.
Instead, she paced towards the corner of the porch and then back again, staring at him as if she wanted him to follow.
He did, frowning, wondering if there was something on his porch that had frightened her.
Rosie slipped under the wicker chair and miaowed.
“I’m a little big to get under there, Rosie. What’s wrong?”
He peeked under and found she had made a bed with some sort of fabric, and he shook his head. “That’s a nice bed, Rosie.” He tilted the chair back, only very slightly, to get a better look at her new bedroom and froze. “Ah.”
There, snuggled up in her bed, were six kittens. “You’re a mum, Rosie.”
He blew out a breath and put the chair back down.
They couldn’t stay outside. With it being the end of October, it was starting to get colder, especially at night.
He went inside the house, leaving the door open, and located a cardboard box in his garage.
Taking a knife to it, he cut it down height-wise so it was shallower than before and, hopefully, the perfect height for cats to climb in and out of.
One of his old jumpers kitted it out, and he took it back outside and placed it next to the chair.
Rosie came out and sniffed at it, tentatively stepping inside and scoping it out.
“It’s okay, Rosie. It’s just for now to get you and your babies inside,” he coaxed.
Rosie disappeared, and Brett thought she didn’t like it—it was, after all, just a cardboard box, but the next thing he knew, she came back out carrying a kitten. She placed it in the box and did the same for the rest of them before climbing in herself and sitting facing him.
“Good job, Rosie.”
He lifted the box and carried it into the living room, placing it near the fireplace.
He went back outside and moved the chair so he could get the blanket in case Rosie wanted it, and his heart broke.
Another kitten lay among the folds, but it hadn’t survived.
Brett carefully folded the blanket over the kitten and took it inside.
He wasn’t sure exactly what to do with it, but it could stay in his garage for a few hours until he figured it out.
He went back into the front door and secured everything, making a mental note that he needed to figure out the security process for adding cats to his system, and then headed for the living room, where he was pleased to find all seven cats curled up asleep.
Or at least he thought they had been. Rosie lifted her head, looked at him and then settled down again.
Brett sat back on the sofa and watched them sleep, even as James Bond saved the day again. Who needed friends? Apparently, he was a cat dad instead.
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