12. Scott #2
I can tell I’ve won when his shoulders drop and he loosens his hold on the towel. Reaching for it, I help him dry off the last bit of water from his skin before pulling back the covers and guiding him to lie on his stomach.
Placing a gentle hand on the swell of Naz’s ass, I give a soft squeeze and ask, “How bad?”
“Sore, but fine,” he answers, face muffled in the pillow.
I wait patiently for the information I want, smiling when Naz groans and turns his head to the side so he can see me when he speaks.
“The bath helped, as is the fact that I’m not trying to walk or sit on it right now. I don’t think there’s any damage outside the expected soreness.”
I hum my pleasure at getting a real answer and give another gentle squeeze to let him know I’m about to look. I know he hates this part, but after today he has to be used to me eyeballing his asshole.
Naz returns his face to the pillow when I bring my other hand up to spread his cheeks apart. The light from the bedside table is dim, but it’s enough to see that he’s definitely pretty raw and swollen. Bending forward, I press a light, chaste kiss to his poor abused hole before standing up again.
“Hold tight. I’ll be right back.”
I pop into the bathroom again to dig through my bag of supplies, pulling out a small tube of ointment and returning to the bedroom.
“You really thought of everything, huh?” He sounds amused.
“It’s my job to take care of you,” I say simply, squeezing a healthy amount of ointment on my fingers.
I apply it carefully and clinically. I don’t want to hurt him, but I’m also trying not to think too hard about what I’m doing.
There is a significant part of my sick, sick lizard brain that likes knowing it was me who made him like that.
That I was inside him so many times. That I pushed inside him and marked him—bred him—over and over again until he was left raw and ragged.
When I’m done, I spread a small layer onto his cheeks and massage it into his skin where it’s marked from my hand.
“You’re getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of this, aren’t you?”
I’m not sure if he’s judging me or checking in to make sure he’s not the only one enjoying this. Either way, I laugh and answer honestly. “Maybe a little.”
“Me too,” he says sleepily.
“Get some rest,” I say, pulling a sheet over him and kissing him lightly between the shoulder blades.
“Where are you going?”
“Just taking a quick shower. Someone peed on me.”
“Oh my God,” he groans into the pillow. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Unknown: Last chance, Scott.
The next day is a whirlwind.
It started off pleasantly enough. We slept much later than usual, but there was still plenty of time for me to clean the bathroom and change the bed linens before we had to worry about company.
I sent Naz back to his trailer in a pair of my boxers to get ready for the day while I cleaned up.
On my way back to the trailer, I wrapped up the discarded picnic in the blanket to take care of later.
Naz was still in the shower when I got in, which I took advantage of by stripping naked and trying to join him.
That shower is absolutely too small for both of us though, so I settled for kneeling on the floor outside the shower so I could suck him off while I applied some more ointment to his butt.
I figure it’s the only way he’s going to let me continue being the one to do it, and I’m definitely down to take one for the team.
He ate two servings of my peach cobbler for breakfast, then pulled out some paperwork to get ready for the home health nurse’s arrival. All the while, I ignored every message notification from that unknown number, the flashing light taunting me as I tried to go about my day.
Teasing Naz helped some. Especially when I unrolled the picnic blanket to throw away the food and wash the dishes and noticed the butt plug was missing.
I had a little too much fun imagining all the scenarios where someone else found it—his grandparents, the new nurse we’ll be meeting shortly, a landscaper.
He didn’t appreciate that too much, but if I know him as well as I think I do, he needed the distraction too. Annoying him is the least I can do to help.
“You know, this blanket doesn’t smell like pee to me. I must have tapped into some kind of extra reserve,” I say, balling it up and making a big show out of smelling it on our way over to the big house.
“There’s something wrong with you. Pay attention,” he says, gesturing to the grass where we had our picnic and are hoping to find the missing butt plug. “Do you see it anywhere?”
“No, but you know what I do see?”
“What?”
I point to the ground. “That right there… That’s where I made you squirt.”
Naz narrows his eyes at me. “That’s it. You’re fired.”
“I didn’t even know dudes could do that. It’s a thing though, I Googled it to make sure you’re not some kind of medical anomaly. Google said it’s prostatic fluid. And maybe a tiiiny bit of pee,” I say, holding up my thumb and forefinger.
“You are hereby relieved of your duties. Pack your shit and fuck off somewhere.”
Naz resumes his search, pointedly not looking me in the eye while he scuffs his foot through the thick grass like the plug might have gotten buried in there. It was not that small of a plug, my friend.
“Pssht. As if you’d ever get rid of me. I mean, has anyone else ever fucked you so good you squirted all over yourself?”
“I will murder you in your sleep.”
“It was like a firehose.”
“It was not.”