9. Dylan
Dylan
I couldn’t sleep.
I kept replaying the entire day in my head.
All my coy glances and flirtations were completely ineffective. Maybe I wasn’t being forward enough, but I was beginning to think that Ford wasn’t interested.
For fuck’s sake, I wiggled my toes against his ass! It was embarrassing.
And then there was the storm.
It didn’t matter that Ford said there were no warnings. It sounded like the roof was going to be torn off. The wind was howling like a goddamn banshee.
I took a deep breath and checked my phone. I had been trying to sleep for almost four hours.
Time for lube.
It was my last resort.
I reached over, feeling my way to the drawer handle and opened it. The small bottle was easily found. Flipping the comforter back, I got on my knees and squirted a little bit through the cage, trailing it down to the head.
Masturbation wasn’t technically sex, was it?
Oh well.
I thought back to the other day when Ford was bent over. Then I imagined bending over for him. What his tongue would feel like prepping my hole. Servicing his massive?—
A deafening crack ripped through the air, enough to make me cower in the dark room, followed by a loud snap. I froze, waiting.
A few seconds later, the room filled with a cacophony of sound: a booming crash, the shattering of broken glass, more cracking.
When debris started coming down on me, I panicked. With my legs tangled in the sheets, I fell off the bed, screaming; my body slammed onto the floor. The sharp pain running up my arm was immediate. The terror I felt was primal. I had no idea what was happening.
I screamed again, out of desperation and fear. Something was pelting my face.
It was…rain?
“Dylan?!”
I heard the door burst open.
There was a beam of light, then Ford’s face, leaning over me. His hands on my body
“Are you hurt? Can you move?”
“I-I don’t know,” I managed to mumble. “What happened?”
As if the Universe heard my question, lightning illuminated my bedroom and I could see a huge hole in the ceiling above my bed, filled with a giant, jagged tree limb.
“Looks like a tree fell,” Ford said. “We need to get you out of here.”
“I can try,” I said. In a few seconds, I knew it was pointless . “It’s my arm. Banged it pretty good.”
“I’ll just carry you.”
Before I could object, I was in his arms, we were in the hall, and out of the rain. When he headed for the stairs, I asked, “Where are we going?”
“I was taking you to my bedroom.”
“Isn’t the first floor safer?”
“It’s just the driveway and the field on this side of the house. No trees to worry about. I just thought you’d be more comfortable in my room.”
“O-okay.”
In a matter of seconds, I was gently placed on his bed. The light he had been carrying was one of those flashlight-lantern combo thingies, and he set it up in lantern-mode on the nightstand.
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, then disappeared into his bathroom.
It hadn’t occurred to me until now, but I was completely naked.
And Ford had seen everything .
I should be panicking about that, but somehow I felt relaxed. I leaned back, letting my head nestle into the pillow underneath. I just had a tree fall on me, but apparently now was the perfect time to sleep.
There was no point in covering up now, so I just waited.
Ford returned, giving me my first solid look at what he was wearing – a pair of flimsy, cotton boxers that were soaking wet. It wasn’t hard to see what was underneath.
Damn, he was handsome even in an emergency.
“Water was still warm,” he said, holding a washcloth up before kneeling next to the bed. “I’d like to check you over for injuries. You said your arm hurt. Can you stand up?”
I obeyed without protest, throwing my legs off the side.
His survey of my body was methodical but soft. His touch was infused with concern. In any other scenario, I would’ve been aroused but this was different.
“Was it this arm?”
I nodded.
“Can you move it for me?”
I did as he said, then held still as his fingers slowly moved up it, squeezing gently every few inches. Eventually he found it.
“There,” I said. “That’s where it hurts.”
He focused his attention there for a while until he announced, “It’s not broken. Maybe bruised? It’s definitely good that you can move everything.”
I cleared my throat. “That’s good.”
“The good news is I think you’re okay.”
“And the bad news?” I asked, trembling at what he was about to say.
“There’s no bad news.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Unless you count having a tree fall on you in the middle of the night.”
I scoffed. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to wipe yourself down, or do you want me to do it?”
“I’m still a bit”—it was a struggle to find the right word—“scattered. Can you do it?”
“Of course. Come over here so we don’t brush all this stuff onto the bed.”
I followed his lead into the corner where, with the same tenderness as before, he wiped my entire body with the warm cloth. He paid special attention to my face and hair, removing all the sticks and whatever else as best he could. It was an out-of-body experience until he went…down there.
As his hand, wrapped in the warm cloth, neared my crotch, a shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the lingering chill from the rain.
My breath hitched as the cloth brushed lightly against the cage, awakening my shrunken cock.
The intensity of my growing arousal combined with the shock made me half-dizzy with awareness.
Of my exposure, of Ford’s gentle touch, his proximity.
A welcome warmth crept through my body, but it wasn't shame.
It was a strange mix of vulnerability and a restless, undeniable heat.
Every nerve ending in my body felt alive, hyper-aware of the damp cloth and the subtle pressure of his fingers.
I found myself holding my breath, a silent plea for the moment to both continue and end, lost in the confusing tangle of sensations.
“Does that hurt?”
One glance told me what he was referring to.
“Not really.”
I looked away, my face growing hot. I waited for more questions, but that was all he said about it.
“I’ve got some clothes for you, unless you’d be more comfortable sleeping naked.”
“Clothes are okay.”
I’d wear anything at this point to hide the humiliation that was growing within me. Despite his gentleness and apparent acceptance, my secret had been exposed. I had been exposed.
I wanted so desperately to talk about it. To explain.
But now wasn’t the time.
“Sweatpants or running shorts?” he asked. “And do you want underwear? I can get some briefs, or a jock,” he added with a smile.
“Just the sweatpants are fine.”
As I put them on, Ford took the blanket on top of his bed, bundled it up, and tossed it into the corner.
“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean for it to get dirty.”
“It’s totally fine. The important thing is you’re clean and safe”—he pulled on a pair of jeans—“and warm.”
His back was turned to me as he rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a pair of socks.
“Are you…getting dressed?” I asked.
“I have to cover up the hole in the roof. Try to stop the water from pouring in.”
“You’re going outside ?”
Ford chuckled. “That’s where the water’s coming from.”
He turned and crossed the room to where I was standing. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he said, before pulling back the comforter on the bed.
It was clear what he wanted me to do, so I crawled in, pulling the soft blanket up to my chin. The sheets smelled faintly of him, which was a welcome comfort amidst the chaos.
“You really don’t have to do this right now. You could get hurt.”
He grabbed the lantern, then paused at the door.
“It has to be done.” He offered a small, reassuring smile. "Just get some rest. I’ll be back before you know it."
Before I could fully process the moment, Ford was gone. I listened for the front door, for any sound really, but the storm was still too loud. I tried not to imagine what he was doing out there, what he was risking.
What the fuck was I going to do if he hurt himself? How would I know? How long should I wait before I checked on him?
The thought of Ford getting injured, or worse, consumed me. I was exhausted and probably half in shock, but I still couldn’t sleep. The only sounds I could hear were from the storm and this weird rhythmic pulse in my ears. After a few minutes, I realized it matched the thump of my heartbeat.
That’s fucking new.
Every boom of thunder made my flinch, but I told myself Ford knew what he was doing. And he was right. I couldn’t remember there being any trees on this side of the house. My bedroom and the kitchen were closer to the woods
I closed my eyes, trying to process the last hour. A tree had fallen on my room, my naked ass fell on the floor, where Ford found me, and now I was in his bed, while he was out in the apocalypse, trying to cover up a hole in the roof.
My hand found the cage through Ford’s sweatpants.
He had seen it, acknowledged it, and then…nothing. It wasn’t the ideal time for Twenty Questions: Chastity Edition, but I really wanted to know what he thought.
All he said was, ‘Does it hurt?’.
I thought he was asking out of curiosity, but maybe he was concerned it got crushed when the tree landed on me.
Honestly, it didn’t matter. Ford was the same man he had always been: kind and protective. He carried me away from a nightmare and surveyed the damage. He hadn't judged me. He hadn't even batted an eye at my naked body. He had simply cared for me.
And now he was trying to save the house.
And my room!
I hadn’t even thought about all my stuff until now, but there wasn’t much I was going to do about it in my current state.
A knot had formed in my stomach.
It’s been too long. Something’s wrong.
The agonizing minutes stretched into an eternity. I squeezed my eyes shut, and told myself out loud, “He’ll be okay.”
I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to him.
Was that the door?
I held my breath, listening.
“I’m back and I’m in one piece!”