Chapter 12 #2
Banjo wilts so quickly, I almost feel bad for stringing him along. Almost. “What do I gotta do to get all the way?” he asks.
I shrug, scraping the last bite of mac 'n‘ cheese out of my bowl. This bite has extra Doritos crumbs, so I take my time savoring the crunch. Banjo leans across the table towards me. The anticipation is clearly getting to him. “Begging would be a good start.”
Banjo gets up so quickly, he would have knocked the stool over if it wasn’t attached to the floor.
He spins me to face him, and I spread my knees wide so he can drop to the floor between them.
The position reminds me I’d forgotten to grab any undergarments after my shower.
Luckily, the robe is just long enough to cover my cock.
I don’t want Banjo to get distracted before he even gets started.
“Captain,” Banjo begins.
I arch a brow. Honestly, it’s not a bad start, but I did warn him that he’d need more than flattery. Except is it even really flattery coming from Banjo? Everything he says is so earnest, it’s obvious he means it. This man truly doesn’t have a deceptive bone in his body.
“Please. Please. I’ll do anythin’ you want me to.
I don’t even care if I get off.” He blushes a bit before quickly adding, “Okay, I mean, I definitely wanna get off too, but if all I get to do is make you feel good, I’ll take it.
You can do whatever you want to me, and you won’t hear me complainin’. ”
I push my fingers into Banjo’s curls, scratching lightly at his scalp.
He struggles to stay focused on what he’s doing as he melts into the touch.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I tell him, a wicked grin spreading across my face.
“You don’t know all the things I’d do to you, if I let myself. ”
Banjo licks his lips, his pupils blown wide.
It’s funny how arousal does that to him.
One of the many ways in which we’re opposites of each other.
“You should do them,” he says encouragingly.
“Yeah. You should definitely do…whatever you’ve been thinkin’ about.
I’m sure I’ll like it. I’ve liked everythin’ we’ve done so far. ”
“I’m aware,” I reply, holding back a chuckle.
It’s so hard not to be pleased with Banjo kneeling for me.
The rush of power is intoxicating. “What part was so good that it had you dropping to your knees for me?” By the way Banjo flushes all the way down to his chest, I know I’m going to enjoy his answer.
“Well, um.” He glances away from me, suddenly shy. I frown. This isn’t like him. Banjo always shares whatever's on his mind with very little thought. I didn’t even know it was possible for him to feel embarrassed.
I slide my hand down to grip his chin, forcing him to look at me again. There’s a lusty haze over his eyes as I dig my fingers into his flesh. “Tell me.”
“I liked when you bossed me around,” Banjo blurts, unable to hold the words back after my command. “It turned me on somethin’ fierce when you told me no, ‘cause it reminded me that you were in control and I was supposed to just do whatever you said like…” He swallows thickly. “Like your good boy.”
Blood rushes to my groin quick enough to make my head spin. Just when I thought Banjo couldn’t get any more perfect, he says something like that. “I enjoyed that too,” I admit. He seems like he needs to hear it. “Many beings do. Why were you embarrassed to tell me?”
Banjo wrinkles his nose as he considers my question.
“I dunno if I was embarrassed,” he says slowly.
His ears are so red that I’m starting to grow a little concerned.
Is that normal for humans? He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, at least, so I ignore it.
“It’s just…I’ve never done anythin’ like this. It’s always been pretty vanilla.”
Vanilla. The translator tells me it’s a type of flavor typically used in human desserts. I’m uncertain how that’s relevant to our current conversation. “Why are you talking about a flavor?”
Banjo stares up at me, confused. “A flavor?” It takes a while for the light to come on. Somehow, I remain patient through the long moments. “Oh! You mean vanilla?” I nod, and he continues. “Vanilla used like that means not kinky. I ain’t gotta explain kinky, right?”
“Ah.” That explained quite a bit, actually. “And no, kinky translates fine.” All of this was good to know, if I wanted to avoid taking advantage of Banjo’s naivety. “Did we do anything you didn’t like?”
Banjo thinks about it for a long moment, his brow furrowing. I resist the urge to smooth the line that’s formed between his eyes. He’s clearly remembering everything we did earlier in the evening, if the growing bulge in his shorts is anything to go by.
“I don’t think there was anything I didn’t like,” he finally says.
“It kinda made me feel bad when you were mad that I came so quickly.” I open my mouth to protest. I wasn’t mad, I just hadn’t known what to expect from a human partner.
Before I can voice that, he continues. “But I…I kinda liked it too.”
I blink down at him, mouth snapping shut as I take that in. Banjo just told me he likes being humiliated. I hadn’t done it intentionally. Well, I hadn’t done it intentionally in that moment, at least.
“So you like being praised and humiliated?” I ask to be sure I understand.
I keep my voice and expression as neutral as possible so I don’t influence his response.
It’s hard to have this kind of conversation when we don’t speak the same language, even with the translator.
As advanced as the technology is, it doesn’t always catch slang or tone.
“Uh-huh.” Banjo lets out a soft little whimper, and I only then realize that I’ve tightened my grip on his chin.
I force myself to relax, skimming my thumb over his lips in apology.
He sucks it into his mouth so he can swirl his tongue around the tip.
I allow it for a brief moment before pulling away.
“Naughty thing,” I scold, shaking my head at him. The movement is more affectionate than I mean it to be. Banjo beams up at me in response. “No more of that tonight.” Banjo’s megawatt grin quickly fades. “Don’t look so upset. It’s been a long day. Now finish your dinner.”
“Yes, sir,” Banjo says, lips slowly curling into a playful smile.
He gets up, stretching his arms above his head and giving me a tantalizing view of his mostly nude form.
I take a sip of my drink to keep myself from openly staring.
“Though if you keep takin’ care of me like this, I might have to call you daddy instead. ”
He bats his eyes at me over the table as he takes a large bite of mac ‘n’ cheese. I glare at him.
“I’m not that much older than you,” I complain.
I watch enviously as he scarfs down the rest of his dinner.
Next time, I’ll make him prepare two boxes instead of one.
If we’re going to continue this physical relationship, which we clearly are, I need all the energy I can get.
“Definitely not old enough to have sired you.”
“It ain’t like I’m that familiar with it, but I’m pretty sure you don’t gotta have kids to be a daddy,” Banjo informs me. “You just have to be older, hot, and nurturin’, I guess.” He laughs. “Although I dunno if you’re really the nurturin’ type.”
He’s right. I really only told Banjo to eat to shut him up, not because I care about his well-being. Not that I don’t care about his well-being. I do. I care more than I’m willing to admit. It’s fine that he hasn’t realized it yet, so I agree with him. “Exactly. You’ll just have to stick with sir.”
“I can probably handle that.” There’s a lull in the conversation as Banjo finishes his food and takes both our bowls to start cleaning up. “When did you say we’re gon’ leave Qauvela?”
Banjo asks that as if he has some sort of plan. My hackles are instantly raised. I have to remind myself that this is Banjo. I can trust him to not plot behind my back. Though no matter how many times I tell myself that, I can’t stop that little kernel of doubt. Trust is not in my nature.
“Why?” I ask.
“Oh, ‘cause Oliver is plannin’ this, like, open mic night at one of the bars,” Banjo explains as he washes the dishes.
I consider helping for the briefest moment before deciding I’m far too comfortable to move.
“He wants me to sing at it, since he never gets to hear any human songs or anythin’.
And I kinda wanna know what otherworlder music sounds like. ”
I suppose it wouldn’t be a huge ordeal to stay in Qauvela an extra night. If it’s Oliver’s idea, I doubt the Despot is going to kick us out of our assigned rooms. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow night.” Banjo dries his hands as he finishes, turning to look at me. “If we gotta go, that’s okay. I know you and Stells got plans for findin’ Remington. I wouldn’t want y’all to lose him or nothin'.”
Stells, upon hearing her name, uses the moment to jump into the conversation. She’s undoubtedly been listening this entire time, or at least since we came aboard my ship.
“I don’t believe one day will add much delay,” she says.
“If my sources are correct, which they always are, Remington is still aboard the Triumph. I will continue to track the ship’s location, and let you know of any updates.
The two of you should enjoy yourselves.” I hear a sense of smug satisfaction behind those last words that tells me she’d be smirking if she could.
Banjo turns his big, brown eyes on me. “So we can go?”
I sigh loudly, pretending as if the entire thing is a terrible inconvenience. “I suppose so.” Banjo lets out an excited little shout, pumping his fist into the air before rushing over to me.