Chapter 4 #2
“Orion,” Mom says, using her full mom voice. “We’ve talked about that word before. Normal. There is nothing wrong with you. If you’re going to do this, don’t do it for other people. Think about what’s best for you, and make your decision based solely on that. Is somebody pushing you to do this?”
“No,” I lie. Actually, Enzo planted the idea, and it’s been growing with every funny glance and rude name. Maybe I have been hypersensitive lately, letting the unwelcome attention get to me more than usual. The holiday season is always a challenge.
Dad adds, “Just know, Orion, we love you and we’re here, any time, if you’d like to talk. But please, listen to your mother and give this some thought.”
“I will,” I say, intending to. “And thanks. I love you, too.”
“And, dear, you know you’re welcome here anytime. I can clear out your room, and you can come home to stay with us for as long as you need. We’d love to have you.”
“Thanks, Mom, I appreciate it, but I’m fine here. I like my house and Jake is happy here.”
“I hope you’re happy too, dear. I worry about you.”
“Thanks Mom. Really, I’m fine.” But am I really? Part of me wants to run home and hide away in my old room. Things were much easier then, sheltered from the world.
“So what are you up to today?” my dad says, catching my mood and changing the subject. I’ve said my piece, so I’m happy to get back to holiday chitchat and stop wallowing.
“I just had a great run with Jake, and I’m setting up my tree this afternoon. I’m looking forward to that!”
“Your mother did ours last week, and it looks great. The presents are already piling up!”
“Are the grandkids going to visit?”
“In the afternoon on Christmas,” Mom says, still sounding worried. “Give us a call, won’t you? Let’s do a video call and you can say hi to the whole brood. We haven’t seen your handsome face in ages.”
Everything is great in the world. After my nice chat with the folks at home, I got the tree set up and all the lights still work, so it’s ready for decorations.
I also strung lights and garland around the front door, so Enzo will have some holiday cheer to greet him when he gets home.
I tried my hand at a chicken jalfrezi this evening, and both Jake and I have judged it a success, although my tentacles are giving mixed reviews.
The spices have set them on edge. The flavors are new and varied, but they’re upset with the spiciness.
I got the heat two steps too high for them, and they’re letting me know it.
Enzo will love it, though. For him, it’s always the spicier, the better.
I’m quenching them now with a bowl of ice cream in front of the TV.
Jake is dead to the world, curled up on the couch next to me and whimpering something in his doggy dreams. I haven’t gotten down to any serious eating.
I’m just letting them cool their tips in creamy vanilla while Janeway solves the next interstellar incident.
Life just can’t get better, and then it does.
I hear the key in the front door and Enzo storms into the living room, earlier than expected.
I put down my ice cream and grab a napkin. My tentacles must be a mess, so I cover my face and say, “You’re home early! This is a nice surprise.”
“Yeah, well, the day was a disaster. The new director is a total prima donna, so we decided to dance it all away after rehearsal, but then the music was tragic and Tonio was in a bitchy mood from the second we hit the club. Then Xavier took off with this tweaker who couldn’t have been a day over nineteen, and it went downhill from there. ”
“That sounds disappointing. Did you get any dinner?”
“Not a bite, other than the swill they have for Happy Hour. Is there anything here?”
“I made a chicken dish. It’s extra spicy.”
“Smells like Indian food. You know I don’t like…”
“Try it. I went light on the international flavor, and I’ll make you something else if you don’t like it.”
“If you say so. I want to take a shower first.”
“No hurry. I’ll warm some up for you.”
I turn off Janeway and grab my bowl as he disappears to the bathroom.
The jalfrezi is a snap to reheat in the microwave, and I add some of the basmati rice.
I wolf down my ice cream and rinse out my much-relieved tentacles, coaxing them back into my mask.
Finally, I pour him a glass of beer, and it all looks very cozy set out at our kitchen table.
That should help him unwind from his disappointing day.
He comes into the kitchen looking much relaxed, and it’s hard not to stare. His boxers and loose t-shirt look like they could all fall off in a second, and if I play my cards right, maybe they will. He’s so damn handsome, with his Mediterranean skin and dark hair. How did I ever get so lucky?
“This looks great,” he says, and I melt. It’s great to get validation from the ones we love.
I sit on the other side of the table to keep him company and try not to stare. These last few months, since he moved in, have been heaven.
“Tell me about the appointment,” he says. “You said we have some good news.”
“Yes, Doctor Genji said he’ll be able to remove them, and hopefully he can retain enough of the beard to hide the scarring.”
“So afterward, you’ll look like a normal person.”
“That’s my understanding. My beard won’t look as full, of course, but he said he would try for an average male profile.”
“That’s great news, Rye. Did he give any idea about timelines?”
“He needed to do some reading, since I’m a special case, but he suggested he could do it early in the New Year.”
“I suppose we can last that long. And the cost?”
“Don’t worry about that. I have some money set aside for emergencies.
” And this is a good thing. Finances are going to be tight next year, but I already have a lead on a new contract with a biotech start-up.
They’ll be needing the whole package—protocols, standards, and documentation—and hopefully my reputation will be enough to get a foot in the door.
I’m sure I’ll find time for the extra workload, but that’s a worry for the new year, if it happens.
“Thank the gods you can get it done quickly. That will be such a relief. Speaking of cash, my car payment is coming up.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Just leave the bill on my desk and I’ll take care of it. How’s the chicken?”
“Not half bad! Like you said, it’s really spicy.”
This makes me feel all warm inside—I knew he’d like it as soon as he tried a bite or two. There’s some ice cream left, so I ask, “How about some dessert?”
Then he says the thing I’ve been waiting to hear, the thing I’ve been hoping for all day.
“Actually, I’d rather have a blowjob. How about it?”
“With pleasure. I can take care of the dishes later. Can you take your clothes off here?”
“You are a naughty boy. Sure.”
This is (almost) my favorite part, when he indulges me.
Enzo used to work as a go-go boy, and he really knows how to show off his assets.
I think he misses those days, but he’s so busy with rehearsals and networking that he doesn’t find the time.
But here at home, he has an enthusiastic audience of one, and I’m always ready to cheer him on.
He stands over by the door and gives me the sex kitten look I live for.
Then he caresses his hands up under his shirt, peeling it up slowly to show all that delicious fur.
I stay sitting down—I don’t want to distract him—but I let my hands wander down and stroke my growing bulge. The anticipation is sublime.
“You are the sexiest man on Earth,” I say through the mask, and it’s completely true. He takes my breath away, every time.
He tosses his shirt on the floor and starts to tease with the boxers.
It’s torture as I get momentary glimpses through the fly and peeking out the leg, glimpses of what’s waiting for me just ahead.
He inches them down, in excruciatingly slow steps, to show his inky pubes.
My tentacles come to life at this, anticipating, knowing they’ll be exploring that salty sweaty forest soon.
Then he flips around, arching his back and slipping the boxers down over his sexy bubble butt, richly tanned and inviting, giving me that wiggle I can’t resist.
“Can I give that perfect ass some attention too?” I ask, hoping it doesn’t sound too needy.
“If you like,” he says. He kicks off his boxers, turning around and giving his long, snaky cock a few flips. Then he’s ready for the main event, demanding, “Let’s get to it.”
I follow his shapely ass to the bedroom, and he plants himself on the foot of the bed, legs wide and leaning back, completely accessible and ready for attention.
I unbutton my pants, but he points toward the light switch and says, “You know I need to have the lights off. They feel great, but they put me off my game when I can see them.”
“My mistake,” I say, flipping off the light. My hormones take over whenever he gets naked and I forget to be considerate of his feelings. “Your cock is so damn sexy. Let’s make this perfect.”
I fumble quickly out of my clothes in the dark and unmask my tentacles, hungry for the tastes I have in store.
Enzo is a no-nonsense fellow, so I get right to work. He’s still entirely soft, but we’ll remedy that in short order. I take him in my mouth and let my hands wander up to his furry abs, then I let my tentacles loose. This is what they’ve been waiting for all day.
The lip tentacles, the most sensitive, dive immediately into the sweaty tangle of his pubes, and my mind reels.
There’s so much man in the flavor of sweat and salt.
The lower tentacles explore the familiar contours of his balls, squeezing the base of his sac and stroking over the firm contours.
I keep the chin ones in reserve until I have him good and stiff.
“Rye, yes, Rye, there,” he growls. “Faster.”
I love it when I get feedback. It’s the best way to please him.
I bring a hand to his cock, now that he’s almost there and plenty slick, popping my lips off and letting the tentacles do the work, infiltrating his foreskin and dancing around the head, and soon, they’re rewarded with the piquant flavors of precum.
I’ve raised him to full mast, but he gets frustrated if I take too long, so I get down to business. I take him in my mouth all the way to the base and unleash my secret weapon. The chin tentacles, strongest and most sensitive to touch, stroke their way around his balls and down along the perineum.
Enzo is groaning wordlessly, arching his back, lost in the sensation. He pulls his knees up, ready for what’s next.
The chin tentacles continue their journey, dancing around his pucker. I feel every detail as they stroke in narrowing circles, finally converging and teasing his hole.
“I’m getting close,” he growls. “I want to taste your cock.”
This is an unexpected pleasure! As always, I’m completely hard, lost in my sensual pleasures, poised on the edge.
I want to keep him at the edge of pleasure, though, so I jump up on the bed and straddle over his face, feeding him my cock as I get back to work on his.
It doesn’t take long. I can tell he’s also at the very edge, so I jam my cock to the hilt, just the way he likes, and after half a dozen strokes, shoot all I have down his hungry throat.
As the pleasure flows through my body, I give him the long, slow strokes he likes best, synchronizing with the bucking of his hips, bringing lips and tongue and hands and tentacles to bear on my handsome boyfriend’s pleasure.
“Mmmmmf,” he says around my cock, still stuffed in his mouth, and gives me his load. I take most of it, but allow some to dribble out to my insistent tentacles. The tastes of man are unique, indescribable, and what they beg for.
I let them dance around his diminishing cock, teasing his sensitivity, until he gives me the signal.
“Enough! I’m so sensitive. Damn, Rye, that cock of yours.”
I roll off him, happy with his pleasure and my own. He scampers off the bed and pads into the bathroom, and I get a quick glimpse of his sexy butt as he turns on the light and closes the door.
I lie back, letting my tentacles explore the mess in my beard, teasing out every trace of his taste, and count my holiday blessings. A steady job. A wonderful dog. And the sexiest boyfriend in the universe.