22. Volt #2
There were only a few splashes of color on the walls.
In fact, they were all the paintings that Wallace had bought from the outdoor vendors over the weeks in Volt’s favorite park.
Volt crossed to an eye-catching sculpture, located in place of pride on a tall black stand.
Gold wire climbed like vines through irregular pieces of glass in a range of pinks from deep burgundy to warm peach, bright fuchsia to the palest pearl.
It somehow managed to suggest both flowers growing joyously toward the sun and dancers twirling through the air.
“This is gorgeous,” Volt commented. “Is it by the same artist as the one you gave me?”
Wallace came to stand beside him. “Yeah. I went back to the same store, but he has an online shop as well. It turns out that he’s a spark. I commissioned this one.” He turned his face up to Volt, clearly seeking approval.
Volt made himself focus only on Wallace’s upturned face, ignoring the fact that the cost of a few pieces like this could make a serious dent in Prism’s debts. Wallace was supporting another spark and loved beauty.
He reminded himself that they weren’t so different, the two of them. And what he wanted to share today wouldn’t change anything, he was almost sure.
“It’s lovely,” he said honestly, bending to give Wallace a kiss. “Just like you.”
Wallace melted against him, mumbling a throaty “Thank you, Daddy,” when they broke apart. “I’ve been working on my bedroom,” he offered with that same shy, hopeful look.
Volt didn’t know whether he was supposed to be checking out Wallace’s burgeoning new self-expression with his decor or if this was an adorable invitation to naughtier pastimes, but he was happy to go along.
Well, mostly happy. Their plan had been a movie night. Wallace was going to order dinner for himself, and they’d already planned out two older films that they both wanted to see for the first time.
Volt was just feeling a little bit off tonight.
“I can’t wait to see it,” he said anyway, letting Wallace capture his hand and lead him down the hallway.
The bedroom was a curious mix of dark wood and pretty princess explosion.
The furniture was all masculine, heavy oak, but the bedside table hosted a pastel pink lamp curtained in tiny beads, the bedspread and pillows were in various shades of crimson and pink, and in the middle rested a fluffy white stuffed toy that seemed to be a puppy.
Volt made a note of that, wondering if Wallace might be a bit more inclined toward age play than he’d thought.
Or maybe he just enjoyed cute fluffy things. Or puppies. That was sweet, too.
There were definitely going to be some stuffies in Volt’s shopping cart by the end of the evening.
Volt continued to look around with interest. He took in three silk wall hangings, clearly from the same series, which added bright splashes of color to the oppressive navy paint. It was almost like he could see the transition Wallace was going through, written into the very walls.
Wallace was gripping Volt’s hand so tightly he would have lost his circulation if he had any. “Is it okay, Daddy?”
Volt turned to him and tipped his head up for a kiss. “It’s perfect, sweetheart. Or it will be when you’re done with it. Are you going to repaint?”
Wallace nodded, beaming, and pointed to a few paint swatches taped to the wall.
Well, fuck.
If Wallace hadn’t been having his place repainted… Why had he lied about it?
Why didn’t he want Volt to be here?
Volt often let himself forget about the oddity, but it snuck up on him sometimes. Like when he was thinking about Prism’s debts. And how to Wallace they would be pocket change.
Or about how Wallace was growing more confident in himself each day, and might realize at any moment that he could do a lot better than a washed-up sexbot who couldn’t even keep a business afloat and didn’t know what he was any more.
Volt hated those thoughts, but they were creeping in more and more.
He loved how Wallace was blooming, but it scared him at the same time.
Which made him the worst kind of asshole.
“I love the art,” he said, instead of mentioning the paint.
That was for him to fret over in the dark hours of the night when Wallace wasn’t around.
“And your bed looks perfect for a cozy movie night”—he let his voice grow husky—“or for laying you out while I kiss every inch of this beautiful pink skin.”
Wallace flushed on cue.
“Is that why you invited me in here, pretty boy?” Volt asked, running one hand down Wallace’s back to cup his ass.
But the moment he did, he regretted it, which he hadn’t expected at all. He wanted to get his hands all over Wallace… but he had kind of hoped that it wouldn’t be all they were doing.
He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt sick to his stomach before—or sick at all—but something awful settled deep in his gut. His boyfriend was really, really rich. And he didn’t want to be the cheap hooker. The first time, practice boyfriend.
He didn’t want to be bought. He was realizing, more and more, that he really, really didn’t want for Wallace to just associate him with sex.
Not that Wallace seemed to. They spent lots of time together doing other things.
Going to shows. Discovering the city’s parks and taking drives to hike in new terrains.
When Magnolia had been back in the hospital for a week, Wallace had visited her nearly every evening before coming over to see him at Prism, so she had visitors throughout the day.
So why was Volt so nervous? About some stupid paint or a makeout session?
He kissed Wallace’s neck anyway, trying to figure himself out. Wasn’t he a sexbot? He was literally designed for sex.
And there was no one else he’d rather be having sex with.
Wallace cleared his throat. “Uh, actually, I mean… whatever you want, Daddy. But, uh, can I show you one more thing?”
Volt’s eyebrows rose, even as something inside him relaxed. He refrained from sighing. “Of course. What do you want to show me?”
Wallace pulled him by their joined hands again, but this time almost bouncing with excitement. He followed him down the hallway, past another bedroom, beyond something that looked like a home office—How many rooms were there anyway?—to a closed door.
Wallace flung it open with a flourish to reveal… an empty room? Well, an empty room with a single wingback chair in it.
Volt looked around in confusion as Wallace pulled him inside.
The floor was polished hardwood. One wall offered two large windows with a view over the city that was stunning now and would probably be breathtaking at sunset.
Maybe this room had held something Wallace didn’t like, and now he was ready to change it?
It wasn’t until Volt turned and saw the mirrors extending across the other wall that he understood why Wallace was looking up at him with such pleased anticipation.
His programming glitched and his breath, unnecessary though it was, caught in his chest. “What’s this room for?” he asked carefully.
Wallace gestured up at a metal contraption attached to a rail that ran the length of the ceiling.
“It’s a dance studio. And I got that installed so that you can charge while you move.
I, uh, kind of designed it. There are ball bearings along the runners so the charging port should just slide with you.
I mean, if you want to stay overnight sometime and need to charge. Or, uh, just want to dance.”
Volt had no words.
Literally, not a single word.
Wallace had spent weeks renovating his apartment, dealing with paint fumes and construction workers… to do this.
Wallace hadn’t lied at all. His baby had… He had…
Oh, fuck.
Volt had tear ducts, but this was the first time they’d ever spilled open without being part of a programmed sexual protocol.
He was crying.
And then his body seemed to figure out what to do, because he was pulling Wallace into his arms, scooping him up so that his boyfriend had no choice but to wrap those deliciously plump legs around his waist while he released all of his feelings into that soft pink mouth.
“You.” Kiss. “Are.” Kiss. “So.” Kiss, kiss, kiss. “Amazing.”
There were the words.
Never, never had he expected anything like this.
It was so thoughtful. So generous. So completely the opposite of any rich kid stereotypes he might have conceived of. Wallace had money to throw around… and he was using it to make sure that Volt had a special place in his home.
Volt never should have doubted.
All of those awkward times Wallace had told him not to come over must have been delays with the contractors or something similar.
He squeezed Wallace’s ass, grinding their rapidly stiffening cocks together. “Creampuff,” he gasped. “You’re so, so good to me. So amazing. I love you so much.”
Wallace squirmed against him, rutting against him with needy gasps. “Love you, too, Daddy.”
Volt twirled around with Wallace in his arms, traveling across the huge, beautiful room.
He could feel the difference in the floor.
The perfect bounce. The way that it would pulse and respond under his feet with hardly a sound.
This must be the type of floor that they had in professional dance studios and stages, and he couldn’t imagine how complex and expensive it would be to install one in a residential building.
Wallace giggled, clinging to him and kissing along his neck. “You like it, Daddy?”
“I love it, baby girl.” Volt wanted to take him against that mirror wall. To carry him into the bedroom and rut into him. To show, with every particle of his body, how much this meant to him, over and over again, until Wallace was crying out his name.
And yet he still found himself sliding Wallace down to his feet.
Why was he still hesitating?
Or maybe he just wanted to get his words out first. The thing he’d come here to say.
Wallace didn’t seem to mind, though. “It still blows my mind that you can just pick me up like that.” He grinned, looking like Volt had hung the moon.