Chapter 66 Stuart
Stuart
Elliot has set the table with the basketweave placemats I like best. There’s a little bowl with grated parmesan on the table, and he’s poured us each a glass of merlot.
Everything looks perfect, though I did have to stifle a laugh when I saw him kick an errant sneaker under the sofa when he thought I wasn’t looking.
He starts talking as we eat our Bolognese.
He starts talking for real. He tells me how his friends are without filtering out what he thinks I don’t want to hear.
He has me chuckling at his many, many misadventures at work.
He tells me about his past relationships too.
It seems there have been plenty of them, all of which seem to have ended disastrously.
“So yeah,” he says, “Maddie dumped me right after I took her to the Caribbean for Spring Break. I was bleak. Broke and bleak. She said she loved my dick and didn’t know how she’d live without it…”
“She didn’t say that.”
“She did!” His eyes dance, and for a quick, disorienting moment, I feel like I’m treading water in a river of molten milk chocolate.
“She said she’d miss all this.” He motions broadly to his muscular chest and down to his groin.
His eyes darken. Milk chocolate morphs into dark chocolate.
Ninety-five percent cacao, at least. “She said she’d miss this too.
” He tilts his head back and parts his lips, giving me a sultry view of his tongue flicking up and down so fast I lose my train of thought entirely.
When I come back to myself, I give him the chuckle he deserves, as well as a brisk little kick under the table to remind him to behave.
I expect him to buckle and move his leg out of my way. He doesn’t. He holds firm. His ankle is hard and bony against mine. The warmth of his skin makes tinder of the fabric between us. “She said that despite all the good shit I’ve got going on, she simply could not stand the sound of my voice.”
“What? No. There’s no way she said that!?”
“Swear to God.”
“That’s awful! What a thing to say to someone.”
He shrugs deeply. “I know, right? It’s definitely in my top five of shitty breakups.”
“You have five others that compete with that?”
“Yeah, well, you know I’ve got the whole ‘don’t want to be with you because you’re probably going to end up with a wife and kids,’ and then, of course, there’s the ‘don’t want to be with you because you’ll probably cheat with a dude’ thing going on. So, I can’t really win, can I?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry that it’s 2023 and you’re still dealing with that kind of shit.”
“Right?”
He gives me a sad smile that turns into a big, goofy grin as he stops merely holding firm and starts rubbing his socked foot firmly against my shin.
Tiny embers light and singe the hair on my leg.
The last bite of my salad goes down the wrong way, tickling my throat viciously, leaving me coughing and spluttering.
Later, when he’s in bed, snuggly tucked in, and the lights are out, I linger in his doorway.
“I’m glad you’re home, Daddy,” he whispers.
I stay where I am until I hear the soft, sweet sound of sleepy breathing, and even though I know I probably shouldn’t say it, I do. I say it softly as if I think that makes it better somehow. Less inappropriate, less playing-with-fire, or something.
“You have a lovely voice, Elliot.”
I felt a little charged when I woke up this morning, so I thought a little fresh air might do me some good.
I’ve taken Sadie to the dog park, and Elliot has come along too.
I usually come on my own as he likes to sleep in on the weekends, but I invited him today because I’m thinking of stopping on the way home to get one of those smoothies he likes.
It’s not that I’m spoiling him. It’s just that if you share one of the expensive smoothies, they work out to be the same price as two from the crap place down the street. And turmeric does seem to have a lot of health benefits. Beth was telling me all about it while we were away.
It’s one of those blue-sky mid-winter days where there’s no wind, but the air has a sharp bite.
Elliot is throwing a ball for Sadie. He’s running back and forth, shoes crunching on dry grass, not seeming to mind that Sadie likes chasing the ball but will retrieve it over her cold, dead body.
He looks like he’s having a lot of fun. His face is slashed into a smile and he omits a soft, bubbling sound as he runs.
He’s wearing an eye-wateringly tight pair of bubblegum-pink sweatpants and a crisp white sweater that’s a little snug over his pecs.
He’s a sturdy boy. I’ll give him that. Muscular. Very muscular. Between trying not to look too hard at his chest, his ass, or his legs, it’s a little difficult to know where I should look.
When Sadie makes it clear she’s lost interest in playing even this iteration of fetch, I put her in the leash-free area, and Elliot and I lean our forearms against the railing, watching as she sniffs around.
We’re standing close to each other. A little too close, probably.
I mean to move, but I don’t have it in me.
I’m tired from the trip, and I’m not at my best.
Elliot, on the other hand, is entirely at his best. He’s exuberant and radiating a vast excess of energy.
He’s a boy who needs reining in. Anyone could tell you that.
He’s teetering on the brink of showing off or being silly.
I shouldn’t encourage him. I should tell him to settle down so he doesn’t get ahead of himself.
The thing is, he’s been so good, and he’s been trying so hard, and it’s important not to break a boy’s spirit, you know?
“That was quite a game of fetch,” I say mindlessly.
He leans closer to me, so close I can feel his arm brushing against mine and the heat of his shoulder tucked against me.
“Psst,” he whispers. “Think you can catch me, old man?”
Old man?
“Yes, I can catch you. Believe me, I can catch you.”
“Doubt it.”
Technically, I doubt it too, but there’s no way I’ll admit it. “Have I ever mentioned that I was a running back in college?”
“Mm-hmm, and when was that again?” His eyes glitter with mischief and something way worse. He nudges an elbow into my ribs. It hits a ticklish spot, so I bat him away. He does it again, rousing a little game of push and shove and a chuckle from me. “There’s no way you can catch me.”
My hand is on his abs as I push him away. He holds firm. Muscle knots tightly under my palms, and it makes me crazy. "Oh, I’ll catch you all right.”
He rolls his eyes and laughs. “And what are you going to do if you catch me, huh?”
“I’m going to spank you for impertinence right here and now, little boy.”
With that, he’s off, laughter chiming like bells as he blazes a trail toward a thicket of trees.
It’s not so much that I decide to chase him as it’s a predatory, competitive instinct that overtakes me.
I chase after him, cranking my joints into a semblance of working order as my lungs make their objections known.
I can feel an impolite murmur of the hamstring injury this idiocy is sure to result in, so I choose to ignore the fact I see him slow down when I get close.
I wrap an arm around his waist and scoop him off his feet.
He shrieks with laughter as I look around quickly.
My heart is pounding and I’m breathless.
He’s warm and hard and soft and squirmy in my arms. There’s no one nearby, and we’re more or less hidden from view by the trunk of a tree.
Before I have time to think better of it, I swing my hand back and land a blistering slap on each of his cheeks.
He gives an adorable hop and a sweet little squeal after each swat, clutching his ass in both hands, laughing until his face is bright pink.
“What do you say, Daddy,” he teases, cocking his head at me when I release him. “You gonna let me spank you if I catch you?”
“Hell no.”
“Whatcha gonna do then?”
For those unfamiliar with the term brain fart, allow me to educate you. A brain fart is a dramatic and worrying lapse in cognitive function. The onset is sudden and unpredictable, and victims are commonly rendered likely to do something exceptionally stupid.
In this case, for no possible good reason, I hear myself say, “If you catch me, I’ll let you kiss me.”
I turn on my heel and start running. Running from my own madness as much as from Elliot.
Leaves and sky flash by in a kaleidoscope of green and blue.
I run like I haven’t run in years. It doesn’t feel hard.
It feels easy. My arms and legs move in perfect harmony with each other.
I feel like I’m flying. Like I’m fifteen again.
I hear his footsteps behind me, hammering into the earth, gaining on me fast. His breath is coming in great, wracking gasps.
He catches me roughly, hands grabbing my sides, tearing at my shirt to turn me to face him.
I don’t see it coming. I don’t have time to stop him or tell him it isn’t a good idea.
His mouth is on mine before I can utter a sound.
His kiss is fast and urgent. A thick, wet tongue delving deep into my mouth, finding mine and sucking it hard.
Sucking the sense clean out of me, leaving nothing but heat in its wake.
His hands are on me hard too, winding around my neck as he pants and gasps into my mouth.
It takes me a second, but I pull away as soon as I come to my senses.
We part, but he keeps his arms locked around my neck.
His eyes are dark, pupils large and glinting with unmistakable arousal.
His muscular chest is pressed against me and so are his hips and groin.
His erection grazes against mine, pulsing through the soft fabric of his sweatpants where we make contact.
I see the slick wetness of his tongue peeking out between pillowy lips, tasting where I’ve just been, and it’s too much.
I can’t resist him, even though I know damn well I should.
I can’t.
I lean in and brush my lips against his.
His hands tighten on the back of my neck and his breath hitches.
I do it again, but this time, I dip my tongue into his mouth.
Just a hint, just a taste, but I want more.
I want it so much I take it right there in the park.
I don’t care if people see. I don’t care if it’s madness.
It’s mine.
And I want it.
The car drive home is a little subdued. The spell has been broken and we seem unsure how to deal with the fall-out.
Neither of us speaks very much. Elliot opens his window for Sadie every time I stop at a red light, and her buoyant yapping is the soundtrack for most of the trip.
I glance over at Elliot every chance I get.
He looks different. Serious, almost somber.
By the time we pull up the drive, there’s tension around his lips that isn’t usually there.
That mood continues and worsens once we’re inside.
He stands in the middle of the living room, looking around aimlessly.
He looks lost. His face changes from somber to sad.
Oh no.
What have I done?
It’s my job to take care of this boy. Not mess with him.
What the hell was I thinking kissing him like that.
The neat lines around our arrangement have been blurred completely, and I have only myself to blame.
I need to make this right. I won’t be able to live with myself if I’ve done something to hurt him.
“Are you okay, Elliot?”
“No, Daddy. I’m sad.”
My gut clenches. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
He cuts me off with his eyes, tilting his jaw up at me, giving me a heady cocktail of innocence laced with simmering boldness. “I want to be a good boy, Daddy.”
My heart lurches. “You are a good boy. You’re a wonderful boy, you’ve been perf—”
“No.” He shakes his head sadly. “I’m not.”
“How can you say that?”
Innocence evaporates, replaced with open flames. “‘Cause everyone knows that good boys suck their Daddy’s cock. Everyone knows that. All good boys do it.”
His eyes are so shiny they almost look tearful. I stand frozen as he sinks to his knees before me. He looks up at me, blinking big brown puppy-dog eyes. My chest tightens and my breathing grows erratic.
Shit. I have a serious weakness for this kind of thing.
To drive his point home, he clutches his hands together at his sternum as he whispers, “Please, Daddy.”
The words roll off his tongue sweetly, bouncing around at the back of his throat before he releases them in my direction. They travel through the space between us and twist themselves around my dick and balls.
My hands fall to my belt. The second I touch leather and metal, my brain clicks from Daddy to Dom. When I speak, my voice is little more than a growl. “Open your mouth, boy.”
He does.
He keeps his eyes on me and drops his jaw, forming a perfect O of lips, teeth, and tongue. His chest heaves unsteadily, but the rest of him doesn’t move, not even to blink.