Chapter 74 Elliot
Elliot
I don’t think Stuart expected me to invite quite so many people. He’s made an extra batch of rice, and he keeps looking at the naan bread with a perturbed expression. He seems a little agitated about the fact we don’t have enough placemats for everyone.
“We can use the red and the blue ones,” I suggest. “We can alternate them, Daddy. One red, then one blue. It will look great.”
He looks at me as if I’ve stopped global warming in its tracks. “Elliot! That’s a damn good idea!”
The food is ready, and everything looks amazing and smells even better. I glance over at the drink cart. The only thing I think isn’t quite perfect. “Are you sure we have enough booze?”
It’s not the first time I’ve asked, so he sighs, “Yes, Elliot. The fridge is fully stocked with beer. We also have plenty of wine. We’ll be fine. And remember, this isn’t a kegger. It’s a nice, civilized dinner.”
Spoken like someone who hasn’t met my friends.
I feel fine as we set up, slightly giddy but nothing too serious.
I’ve pretty much been giddy since the second he threatened to cane me, so it’s nothing new.
I’m getting used to it. Giddy and nauseous.
I think it’s normal. You know, perfectly normal for those times you’re looking forward to something you’re dreading.
Something you’re scared of. Something you want even though you know damn well it’s going to be a disaster.
I feel fine when we head upstairs to get ready.
I go to my room, and he goes to his. It’s not until I’m in the shower that shit starts raining down all around me.
My heart feels too big for my chest. The steam starts making it hard for me to get a good breath.
Everything comes at me too close and too fast.
What was I thinking inviting the guys to Stuart’s?
How the hell am I supposed to behave around them and be around Stuart at the same time. I’m a totally different person when I’m with Stuart. I can’t have my two parallel worlds converging in the same place at the same time.
Jesus.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
By the time I get out of the shower, I’m in full panic mode.
The end of the world is nigh. Nothing will ever be fine again.
I’ve all but convinced myself that this dinner is going to torch my social life and end things with Stuart permanently too.
I pace around my room, wearing nothing but a towel around my waist. I walk in a big circle around the bed and then several quick, straight ones up and down the length of the room.
I know I should be getting dressed, but I can’t decide what to wear. I hate every single thing I own. Want to throw it all out in the backyard and set it on fire.
I pace up and down again, and then I pace all the way out of my room, down the hall, and pound on Stuart’s door.
He opens quickly, hair wet and slicked back, wearing jeans and a white undershirt.
I’m momentarily dumbstruck. Believe me, it’s a look in and of itself.
I can’t believe he thinks it’s okay for him to answer the door dressed like this.
Can’t fucking believe it. Now I have to deal with a major dick problem on top of everything else.
He takes one look at me and says, “Elliot, what’s wrong?”
I crumble into his arms. “I-I don’t know how to act with my friends here and you here and me here and, and…
” He pulls me tightly toward him. His body is big and strong against mine.
“I don’t want them to think I’m stupid, and I’m scared I’m going to do something really dumb.
” It’s true. I’m scared I’m going to say or do something that will make me look like a giant fucking idiot.
Something that will alert them to the fact that I am who I am.
A Daddy’s boy. “I’m scared I’ll do something, and they’ll know what I’m like and what you’re like. ”
“Elliot, what you and I do together is between us. It’s no one else’s business. This is ours only. You can be the version of yourself that your friends know when you’re with them. I don’t mind. I completely understand.”
“But that’s the thing,” I whine, not even taking the time to mentally prepare for how stupid what I’m about to say is.
“I don’t want them to know. But-but I also really, really do want them to know me.
I want them to know me, and I don’t want them to know me, and I don’t know how to feel all this at the same time. ”
He cradles my head to his chest, gently stroking the back of my neck. “That’s a lot, baby.”
It’s hardly even the start of it. “I-I’m also scared I’m going to talk too loudly or laugh too much or not give anyone else a turn to speak.
I can be a real dick when I’m nervous. It happens a lot, and then everyone thinks I’m too much.
They all do. I can feel it when it happens, but I can’t stop it. I…”
“Elliot.” He cups my face and makes me look up at him. Things slow, not all the way down, but considerably. “Do you need me to spank you?”
“I-I…” I splutter and flounder, spinning in circles inside that he’d think to make such an offer, dying from humiliation on top of everything else. Dying hard. Cringing and burning at the thought he knows me well enough to know it’s exactly what I need.
I can’t answer. The shame is too great, so I nod once instead.
He takes me by the hand and leads me into his room.
It’s a grown-up ass room. There’s serious art above the bed and serious books on the bedside table.
The bed is huge, serious too, obviously.
A dark timber headboard with crisp white bedding with nary a stain in sight.
He sits as I catch flies, mouth opening and shutting without making a sound.
He undoes my towel gently, peeling it away from my body and draping it on the foot of the bed.
I let myself slither over his knees, stark naked, bright red in the face, and feel hard muscle and bone beneath me.
He runs a hand down my back and lightly circles each of my butt cheeks.
His hand keeps moving as he starts to speak.
Big, steady circles hypnotize me. “You haven’t done anything wrong.
You’re not being punished. You’re here because you asked for this.
Because you need it.” Just when I think I can’t die any harder, he kills me a little more.
I quiver in shame and gluttonous desire.
“I’m going to give you something to ground you,” he says, patting each cheek twice.
“And something to remind you.” He strokes a single finger down my crack and nudges a blunt fingertip right where I open.
“And then I’m going to give you something to make you feel good. ”
With that, he lifts my hips slightly and peels my erection back so it’s pressing against his outer thigh instead of being crushed between us.
He strokes the length of me from tip to balls and doesn’t stop until he reaches my hole.
I try to hold still and take it, but my hips buck desperately and my dick twitches unchecked.
Every word he’s saying is music to my ears.
It’s a song I heard once a long time ago and haven’t been able to remember ever since.
A song that’s been on my mind. Playing softly.
So softly I can almost hear it, almost feel it, but not quite.
Not enough to name it. A soft, comforting melody.
Lyrics that speak to my soul. A solid tempo he starts drumming into my rear.
It’s a steady, heady beat. Predictable. One-two. One-two.
The beat of his heart and mine.
His palm and my flesh.
It sets me on fire, burning into my skin and then into my marrow.
I sizzle. Crackling and hissing as he lays down the beat.
He does it until I’m beyond hot, beyond embarrassed, and beyond anxious.
Until all I am is a lump of floppy flesh and bendy bones.
Until I’m still and immobile. Sated even though everything burns.
He reaches over me to his bedside drawer and shows me a metal plug, gleaming and new. “I bought this for you a while back. I had a feeling you’d need it at some point.”
He lubes it up and slides a slick finger into me to ease the plug’s entry, swiveling it around and pulling out almost as fast as it went in.
He teases me with cold, unforgiving steel, waiting until I groan to send it all the way in.
My body stretches open to accommodate it and then quickly tries to clamp shut when the thickest part is buried inside me.
“If you start feeling like it’s all too much,” he murmurs, “I want you to clench here”—he pats my ass in a kind, reassuring way—“and feel this. Feel me. Even if I’m not looking at you or talking to you the way I usually do, I want you to feel this and know that you’re still you and I’m still me.
” I hear him smile and he jostles the plug, making my head fly back and a low moan slip through my lips.
“And I want you to know that as soon as everyone leaves later tonight, I’m going to take this out of you, and I’m going to replace it with this.
” He rocks his erection against my belly. It’s big. Hard and unyielding.
I moan again. Louder and longer.
“On your feet,” he says.
I scramble up, smiling dumbly as the room spins slowly around me. He eases himself off the bed and onto his knees in front of me.
“Daddy!” I cry. “What are you d…?”
He looks up, shooting a blue hot dart straight into my heart. “Told you I’d give you something to make you feel good, didn’t I?”
I nod unsteadily and lock my knees to keep them from buckling as he takes my dick into his mouth. There’s something so wrong and so scarily beautiful about the sight of Stuart on his knees. I can hardly stand it. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, but the second I do it, I ache to see it again.