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The House Boy
Part 5
Adrian and I spent the
rest of the day adjusting to our `new normal' – or, at least, what we both
hoped it would be. It was Saturday, and since my next shift wasn't until
Monday, we had the whole weekend to piece together how this arrangement would
go.
Incidentally, I
don't know if anyone else knows this, or if maybe it's just me, but being
waited on hand and foot is a lot of work.
It started when I
went back out into the living room and saw my water glass sitting on the coffee
table. The rest of the apartment looked so neat and tidy, that water glass
stuck out to me like a sore cliché. So, I did what Lisa had been begging me to
do for an embarrassingly long time: I picked up the glass and brought it into
the kitchen.
Adrian emerged from
the bathroom just as I dumped the water in the sink. I glanced over the island
to find myself greeted by his reproachful look – which was the same as his
regular poker face, except I knew it was reproachful because as soon as I saw
him, I felt sheepish. "Sir," he said, "you should leave things like that for
me."
"It was on my way,"
I...lied. Well, it wasn't entirely a lie, because I was walking past the couch at
the time, but I knew in my heart of hearts that not too long ago, that glass
would have stayed there through the weekend.
Adrian saw right
through it, of course, tilting his head. "I mean no disrespect, Master Scott,
but please remember that I'm not a guest in your home. I am your property. I
don't require anything to lessen the duties I perform for you."
"All right, all
right." I chuckled, turning toward the fridge.
"What are you doing
now, Sir?"
"Getting myself a
drink of something stronger than water," I answered, moving to open the door.
He cleared his
throat. "Sir..."
I paused, looking
first at the handle, and then back to Adrian. "I'm doing it again, aren't I?"
"You have me for
things like that, Sir," he said, moving into the kitchen. "Maybe it would help
to practice."
"Practice?"
"Yes, Sir. Order me
to get your drink for you."
I let out an
awkward chuckle. "But I'm standing right here."
"Yes, Sir."
"Wouldn't that be,
uh...overdoing it?"
"Of course not,
Sir." He put his hands behind his back, standing calmly at attention. "Such
trivial things are beneath you. You have more important things to concern
yourself with."
I raised an
eyebrow. "Clearly you need to get to know me better. Most of my time at home is
spent on my ass watching Netflix."
"Your relaxation is
a higher priority than any inconvenience to me, Sir," he assured me. "And
whatever your orders are, I'm bound to follow them. It's not a house boy's
place to judge whether such an order is necessary. Everything you need should
be at your fingertips with minimal effort because you are Master."
I eyed him,
pondering his words, then glanced at the fridge again. I took a couple of steps
back. "Practice, eh?"
He nodded. "Yes,
Sir."
"All right." I
looked at him and jerked my head at the fridge. "Would you get me a beer,
please?"
"Of course, Sir."
He started to take a step, but hesitated. "If I may...try it without being so
polite, Master."
"Pardon?"
He looked briefly
at the sink. "Do you say `please' to the faucet before turning it on, Sir?"
"Well..." I shrugged.
"No, obviously, but—"
"Respectfully, Sir,
there is no difference. I am as much an object or tool as that faucet, or the
TV remote, or the plate you eat from."
I ran a hand
through my hair. The sincerity behind his words was absolutely mind-boggling. Guess
it wouldn't hurt to try it, I thought. I cleared my throat and said, "get
me a beer, Adrian."
He gave me a little
bow. "Right away, Master." Dutifully, he crossed the few steps to the fridge,
opening it, and taking out a can of beer. I saw him move his hand to the top,
just for a second, but then his eyes flashed toward me for a moment, and he
brought the hand away to close the fridge door instead. He held out the beer
for me, watching me and waiting.
I was being tested,
I realized. I found myself smirking a little. "What am I gonna do with an
unopened beer?"
He almost
returned the smirk. "Of course. I'm sorry, Master." He brought the hand back up
and snapped open the beer, which frothed pleasantly as he held it out once
more.
I took it,
contemplated it for a moment, then looked him in the eye and said, "thanks."
He pursed his lips.
"Sir—"
"No, Adrian, you're
just gonna have to deal with that one sometimes." I took a sip of the beer as I
turned toward the living room.
He followed me with
his eyes, looking confused. "Sir?"
"You're right," I
said as I settled onto the couch. "You're my property. I get that. But you're
also a living, breathing boy I happen to care about. Now and then, you'll just
have to deal with a `please' and `thank you' from me." I raised my eyebrows.
"Understood?"
He closed his eyes
for a second and gave me a resigned nod, but that slightest of smiles had
returned to his face as he said, "yes, Sir.'
I had several
opportunities that day to keep `practicing,' and over the hours I started to
grow more comfortable offhandedly giving Adrian increasingly trivial commands:
closing the blinds so I could see the TV more clearly, getting the remote from
the coffee table less than two feet away. I even had him standing with my beer
outside the bathroom door when I went to take a leak. Adrian delighted in all
of it – in his own way, of course. His poker face didn't go anywhere, but there
was a spring to his step and an earnest eagerness in every order he followed.
As I relaxed into
it a little, I realized it was fun coming up with creative ways to use him.
Once the thought occurred to me, I spent the next hour...well, I guess the best
description would be `playing' with him. It sure felt that way, at least, the
way he responded to it. "I have an itch on my arm. Come scratch it for me."
"Right away, Sir!" "I want a potato chip. Just the one, though." "Here you are,
Sir!" "No, no, feed it to me. And let me lick the salt off your fingers." "Of
course, Sir!"
I thought of it
almost like playing catch. I started lobbing fast ones or high ones to keep him
on his toes.
"I don't like these
socks anymore. Would you go get me another pair?"
"Yes, Sir. What
colour?"
"Black."
"Yes, Sir."
"No, actually,
white."
"Of course, Sir."
"Or maybe one black
and one white."
"Yes, Sir."
"Actually, I
changed my mind. Bring the old ones back. Put them on my feet yourself."
"With pleasure,
Sir."
Anyone else would
have wanted to strangle me with the socks, I'm sure, but every order renewed
the determined, driven hunger in his eyes. Just as he'd tested me, now I was
testing him, and he loved it as much as anyone who takes pride in their work
enjoys a fresh challenge.
As the afternoon
passed (most of it with me on the couch in front of Netflix), I learned a
little more about the day-to-day mechanics of being a house boy. At one point I
realized I hadn't seen him eat anything all day, and when I mentioned it, his
response surprised me.
"Oh, I would never
eat your food, Sir," he said as he wiped down the dining table.
I turned away from
the show I was watching, perplexed. "What do you mean? What other food would
you eat?"
"You don't need to
worry about it, Master. My needs shouldn't be your concern."
"Well, I think they
are." I pushed myself up from the position I'd been lying in, rubbing my neck
where it had gotten stiff. "Isn't it a master's job to provide for the house
boy?"
He was already
rounding the couch when I sat up, and his expert hands were soon working my
neck muscles. "That's true," he conceded, "but only when a house boy has no
other means of providing for himself, and even then, only when a master offers
it."
"Well, I'm offering
it," I grumbled, though the massage felt so good, I didn't stay tense for long.
"Besides, how can you provide for yourself?"
"My family, Sir."
He kneaded a particularly stubborn knot. "My mom and dad and Master Charles
made all the arrangements so you wouldn't have to worry about those things."
I craned my neck up
at him. "Are you saying you're going to get your meals from your mom? Or your,
uh, folks?"
"More or
less, Sir."
"Uh-uh." I shook my
head, settling back in to let him finish. "You're going to be cooking for me.
The least I can do is make sure you get fed, too."
"O-oh. Um." He
stammered a little. "I could never ask you to do that, Sir."
"You're not," I
promised him. "Providing for you would make me happy, all right? Food,
clothes, doesn't matter. I want to do that."
I felt a slight
change in the pressure of his hands, just for a moment, and his voice felt a
little thicker when he said, "yes, Sir."
I reached back and
squeezed his arm. "Hey. What is it?"
He let out his
breath. "Nothing, Sir, it's just, um...unusual for a master to make that decision
so quickly. Taking on the financial burden, I mean."
"Really?" I patted
his wrist to tell him I was done with the massage, and as he took his hands back I turned and swung my legs back to the floor. "Seems to
me like it'd be expected."
"After a time,
eventually, maybe." I noticed he was blushing a little as he walked back to the
table to finish what he'd started. "It's seen as a...commitment."
"Well, it is, isn't
it?"
"A serious one. We
call it `investment'." He resumed his cleaning.
"Huh." I shrugged.
"That doesn't sound like a big deal."
"That's because
you're an outsider." He paused for a second to think about it. "To a house boy,
investment is...it's like engagement, Sir." His blush deepened and
he focused his attention back on his work.
I felt my own face
go red, and I averted my eyes too. "Oh."
"It's okay, Master
Scott," he said. "You didn't know. I would never expect you to claim me so
soon. Er, if at all," he added quickly.
I wasn't sure what
to say to that.
As the day went on,
we settled into comfortable, silent co-existence. Talk of `investment,' for the
moment, was forgotten. Adrian puttered around, familiarizing himself with his
new environment and taking care of chores I'd neglected for much too long. I
binged half a season of The Good Place, feeling my heart warm whenever I
heard Adrian giggle at the jokes.
Halfway into my
binge, he came around the couch and knelt on the carpeted floor by my feet, eyes
respectfully downcast, and I had no idea why. I paused the show and looked down
at him. "What's wrong?"
He looked up,
curious. "Nothing, Sir. I just wanted to speak to you."
"From down there?"
He nodded. "It's
only proper."
I raised a brow.
"What do you mean? Why not just say what you wanted to say?"
"It isn't right
that I should demand your attention, Sir," he said. "You are my master, and I
will wait respectfully until you choose to address me."
Christ, they really
thought of everything, I mused. "All
right," I said aloud, "what is it, then?"
"I just wanted to
inform you that most of my cleaning duties are done for now, Sir, except for
the bathroom. I can leave you in peace until you'd like me to make dinner."
As he spoke, I was
looking around, thoroughly impressed. He was so efficient. The furniture
was clean, the kitchen was spotless, the clutter was tidied, the windows were
washed. I didn't even notice him doing half the stuff he did.
When he mentioned
leaving me in peace, I gave him a look. "Leave? Where?"
"Just the bedroom,
Sir," he said. "I can wait there until you need me."
I nodded toward the
TV. "Thought you were enjoying the show."
He blinked.
"I...well, yes, Sir. It's funny."
"Then take a break
and watch with me. It's all right. I mean unless you want some time to
yourself."
"N-no, Sir. I mean,
I don't, Sir, but..." I got the impression he was fighting hard to keep his poker
face intact. "A master deserves his privacy."
"Well, when I need
some, I'll ask for it." I patted the couch next to me. "Come on, relax. Watch
with me."
His eyes flicked to
the spot on the couch for a moment, then back up to me. He opened his mouth to
speak, closed it, and then tried again. "I...can't, Master. Please don't ask me
to do that."
I was a little
hurt, but I tried not to show it. "It's okay if you don't want to join me, I
just thought..."
"No, no, Sir." He
shook his head quickly. "It would be an honour. But I can't..." He stared again
at the couch for a second. "I...would feel too much of an equal sitting there,
Sir. I can't."
Oh. I smiled, as much out of relief as anything else. Part of me wanted
to press the point, but as I was quickly coming to realize, he needed to
feel subservient. Being level with me, that wasn't a reward for him. It
was...taking away a part of his identity.
"That's all right,
Adrian," I said, reaching out and tousling his hair a little. "You can stay
down there at my feet."
He swallowed.
"You...really want my company, Sir?"
"I do." I picked up
the remote and resumed the show. After a moment's hesitation, he turned and
rested primly on his knees, nestled by my leg. We watched three more episodes
just like that, enjoying each other's company as master and servant. At some
point my hand found its way back to his hair, absently stroking it, and every
so often I felt him press his head slightly upward, meeting my hand as it
moved.
As the end credits
began to roll for the third episode, it was pushing five o'clock and my stomach
rumbled. Adrian turned at the sound, and immediately stood. "I'll start
preparing dinner, Sir. Is there anything in particular you'd
like?"
I sighed. "A better
grocery list."
"...Sir?"
"Never mind." I
looked up at him, standing there earnestly with his hands behind his back and
his curious eyes on me. It wasn't hard to make up my mind. "I don't care what I
eat, but you're eating it with me."
He looked at the
floor, blushing again. "Master..."
"I know, I know," I
said, waving a hand as if to swat his objections out of the air. "Look, maybe
to another master it's some big commitment or taboo or whatever, but I'm not
gonna force you to depend on anyone else to get your needs met. If you wanna
call that an engagement, or investment, or...or whatever, then fine. But as long as you're taking care of me, I'm gonna take care of
you."
He met my eyes
again and, after a moment, nodded. "I understand, Sir. I'm grateful. And I
won't expect you to claim me just because of this."
"That's the second time
you've used that word," I said. "Claim you. Does that mean...?"
"It's probably what
you think it is, Sir."
"I think it sounds
permanent."
He nodded again,
moving toward the kitchen. "Yes, Sir. A claimed house boy belongs fully to his
master, who takes on all responsibility for his welfare in exchange for total,
exclusive and lifelong service."
"Lifelong?" I
repeated, getting up from the couch.
"Yes, Sir." He set
the oven to preheat. "That's why the house boy's investment happens first."
I scratched my scruff.
"Aside from the whole `lifelong' thing, I'm not sure what the difference is."
"Well..." He
considered the question as he opened the freezer, taking out a four-cheese
pizza. "A house boy with an invested master can still have an outside life.
Have a job, serve other masters, marry or have
families. And for younger house boys like me, even if..." His cheeks went a
little pink again. "Even if you were to invest in me, Sir, until I was claimed,
you wouldn't truly own me."
I came to lean
across from him on the island counter as he took the pizza from the box. "Who
would?"
"My parents. Or my guardian, if I didn't have any."
I leaned on my
folded arms. "So when a house boy is claimed, he can't
do any of those other things?"
He scrunched his
face up a little in thought. "Yes and no, Sir. It's more accurate to say that
his master has complete and final say over such things. If a master claims a
house boy, he has authority over every aspect of that house boy's life as long
as he upholds his responsibility for their health and welfare."
"And for the house
boy, when he's claimed...serving his master becomes his highest priority, over
anything he wants for himself?"
"No, Sir." Adrian
raised his eyes to mine. "It becomes his only priority. There are no
others."
I let out a low
whistle as the oven beeped. "Quite the commitment."
"It is, Sir. That's
why a master can't claim a boy without consent."
"Whose?"
He shrugged,
carrying the pizza in his left hand as he opened the oven door with his right.
"It depends. To start with, a house boy can't be claimed if he's under
eighteen." He slipped the pizza onto the rack and closed the door, returning to
the island. "If he's never been claimed before, his parents have
to consent to give up their ownership, unless they're outsiders. If he's
married or has a family, his partner has to consent
and take sole custody of the kids, and of course if both are house boys, only
one of them can be claimed until the kids are grown up." He started flattening
the pizza box. "If he's already claimed by a living master, that claim has to
be given up officially, although that doesn't happen much."
"No? Why's that?"
"Because if a
master gives up a claim, he also gives up his right to be a master at all."
I raised my
eyebrows. "Forever?"
He nodded somberly,
recycling the pizza box and plastic. "Yes, Sir. No house boy would serve a
master who'd given up a claim. It's...a choice we take seriously, Sir."
"Clearly. Grab me a
Coke, would you?"
"Of course, Sir."
He went to the fridge. "In a glass?"
"Nah, can's fine." I
mulled things over while I waited. When he brought it to me, I asked, "how much
say does the house boy himself get in all this?"
"In what, Sir?" he
asked on his way to the dish cupboard.
I swallowed a sip.
"Being claimed. Can you refuse?"
He glanced back at
me, tilting his head as he brought out a couple of plates. "Of
course we can, Sir. House boys can't be claimed against their will."
I shrugged. "It's just,
the way you always talk about yourself as property. That you're not self, um.
Self-governed."
"That's because I
give up my free will for you, Master. I could never serve if I weren't
willing."
"Right." I fiddled
with the tab on my can. "So what's to stop you from
deciding to ignore orders? Or just leaving?"
"Respectfully,
Sir..." He went to get a sharp knife from the block. "What's to stop you from
beating me? Strangling me in my sleep?"
My mouth twisted in
disgust at the thought. "Nothing, I guess, but I'd never."
"Why not, Sir?"
"I...well..." I
blinked. "I mean, because it's...wrong. I just
couldn't."
"Exactly, Sir." He
returned to the sink, washing his hands. "I feel the same way when I think
about letting you down."
"Ah." I drummed my
fingers against my drink. "Guess I still have a lot to learn, huh?"
He gifted me a
small smile as he dried off his hands. "That's why you have me, Sir."
* * * * *
Maybe it was
because of Lisa, maybe the day's adventures, or maybe I just wasn't getting
enough sleep, but whatever the reason, I was exhausted by the embarrassingly
early hour of nine o'clock. Adrian must have figured that out before I did,
because when I announced that I was going to go to bed and headed into the
bedroom, I found my side of the covers neatly pulled back,
and laid out along the foot were a pair of my PJs, one of my baggy
bum-around-the-house t-shirts, and a clean pair of boxers. Grinning, I called
to him over my shoulder. "What's all this?"
He appeared in the
doorway, hands behind his unclothed back, and tilted his head in that way of
his. "I wasn't sure what you prefer to sleep in, Sir. I made some guesses."
I chuckled. "Would
have been the PJs when Lisa was still here."
"And which now,
Sir?"
"None of the
above."
"Ah. Understood,
Sir." He came in to collect the items from the bed and put them away. "Would
you like me to assist you undressing?"
Woo. Hadn't even
thought of that. "In a bit. Gotta brush my teeth."
"I'll get your
toiletries ready for you, Sir."
He finished up at
the dresser, closed the drawers, and headed back to the door while I wondered
to myself whether he'd brought a toothbrush for himself. Then another thought
suddenly occurred to me. "Hey, Adrian, hang on a second."
He turned back to
me in polite curiosity. "Sir?"
"I..." I turned in a
slow circle, processing. "I just realized, we never talked about sleeping
arrangements."
"There's no need to
trouble yourself with that, Sir," he said, brushing some hair from his face.
I gave him a look.
"Come on. What does that mean?"
"My mom lives in this
building, Sir. Once my duties with you are complete for the night, I'll sleep
there."
"Oh." I felt my
heart sink a little. "I, uh...guess I just assumed you'd stay here."
"Well, of course
I'd be happy to, Sir," he offered. "My parents didn't want you to feel
pressured."
"No, I guess that
makes sense." I chuckled a bit, glancing around the room. "I don't really have
anywhere for you to sleep, unless you wanted to share my bed."
He blinked a couple
of times. "Y-your bed, Sir?"
"Yeah, I know," I
said quickly. "I guess you'd feel better at your own place. I'd just feel bad
kicking you out to the couch."
"No, Master, I—" He
closed his eyes for a moment, then met mine. "What I meant was...you'd open your
bed to me? You'd do that, Sir?"
For a moment, I
didn't answer, scratching at a sudden itch on my neck. "Did I do it again?"
"Sir..."
"Offering something
I shouldn't, I mean."
His eyes widened
and he shook his head. "No, not at all, Sir. You have every right to offer me a
place in your bed. It's just that most masters don't unless they need, er..."
"...Intimate
services?" I finished.
"Yes, Sir."
I shrugged. "I
wouldn't expect anything in return for giving you somewhere decent to sleep.
But if you're joining me in my bed tonight, you'd best get ready."
His cheeks reddened
again, slightly, and he favoured me with a deep bow. "I'm honoured by the
privilege of sleeping at your side, Master Scott."
I got the sense he
was supposed to say that, but I think he meant it, all the same. "Good boy," I
said. "Now go on, get the bathroom ready."
"Right away, Sir."
There might have been a slight spring in his step as his beautiful butt went
back out the door.
Of course, even the
simple act of going to bed was a bit of a production. He refused to brush his
teeth at the same time as me, naturally, because it wasn't proper for him to
tend to his own grooming and hygiene in front of his master, so he stood
modestly just inside the bathroom door as I went about my nightly routine, ready
to offer my towel after I washed my face, and courteously stepping out into the
hall so I could take a leak. He moved to close the door, but I told him not to
bother; I privately enjoyed the idea that he might look in while I was
relieving myself, although I'm not sure whether or not
he did.
Once I was crawling
into bed and browsing on my phone, he insisted on refilling my water glass and
fixing my pillow behind me before he went to finally get himself ready for bed.
I put on a show of grumbling and telling him not to make a fuss, but if I'm
being honest, I enjoyed every moment of it simply because of how much he
did. He'd been doing things for me all day, but these simple little things felt
different, somehow. Like being mothered, as fucked up
as it felt when that thought crossed my mind. And it was intoxicating watching
him restrain the sheer, simple joy he so clearly felt at being able to do those
things for me.
Even after all
that, he still wouldn't get into bed. He came around to my side, knelt on the
floor, and cast his eyes downward, like he had earlier when I was sitting on
the couch. I asked him what he was doing, and he said, "Master, I shouldn't
join you in your bed until you're ready to sleep. Until then I'll wait here so
that I'm ready to assist you with anything you should need."
To which I replied,
"get in the bed, you silly goose."
"But,
Sir—"
"Ah, ah!" I cut him
off. "Now. Think of it as giving me easier access to that body of yours, if it
makes you feel better."
He blushed again.
"Y-yes, Sir." He made no further complaints, crossing to the other side of the
bed and tentatively climbing under the covers, his adorable little pecker
bouncing a bit as he did so.
I watched him, both
enticed and amused. "Funny that you'll do this, but not sit on the couch or at
the table with me."
He lay on his side
facing me, pulling the covers up to his chest. "There are...separate rules for
the bedchamber, Sir. There always have been, since the earliest days of house
boys."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
He shrugged. Under
the covers, he looked appealingly...normal. Lying in a bed was something of an
equalizer, apparently. "House boys usually filled the role of concubine for
lonely nobles. The living areas were for guests, entertaining, public things.
The bedroom wasn't. It was a place of privacy, relaxation...companionship."
I shook my head
slightly as I listened, awestruck. "I find it amazing how smart and articulate
you are, you know that?"
He looked away with
a hint of a gratified smile. "You're too kind, Sir."
"No, I mean it." I
set my phone on the table and rolled over to face him. "I've never met someone
your age who was so well-spoken."
"I'm just happy it
pleases you, Master."
My eyes wandered
along his hair, tracing down to his shoulders, and everything else I knew lay
covered (for once) beneath the blanket. "You know, I never asked you before
about cuddles and affection."
"Sir?"
"Your training," I
prompted him. "You told me you'd been taught about cuddles and affection. I'm
curious about it."
"Oh. Of course,
Sir." He shifted onto his back, his eyes staring out and slightly upward as
they always did when he was recalling things from memory. "When the house boy
has the occasion to fill the role of intimate companion, it may not always mean
sexual activity. At times, a master may simply need affectionate contact. At
these times, the house boy should be passive, responding to his master's needs
and not to his own."
"Passive, huh?"
He nodded. "Yes,
Sir." He paused, fiddling with the blanket. "We aren't supposed to talk about
it, but even though our needs as house boys aren't the priority...we look forward
to cuddles with our masters, Sir. They make us feel safe."
I smiled. "Is that
so?"
"Yes, Sir."
I lifted the
comforter between us. "Well, come here, then."
Adrian chewed his
lip for a moment. "But Sir...I wouldn't want—"
"I'm not asking
because of what you said just now," I reassured him. "Master wants a cuddle.
Come here."
I could tell by the
look on his face that he wasn't sure whether to believe me, but his better judgement
won out and he shifted closer. "Should I face you, Sir, or will you spoon me?"
"You can be my
little spoon," I said, settling in a little lower and slipping my left arm
under his neck. He obligingly rolled onto his left side and shuffled back, and
I got another taste of heaven as I felt the warmth of his body snuggle up
against mine. He was so skinny, so small. He felt delicate. My left arm wrapped
all the way around to his right shoulder, and my right arm lay across his
abdomen, which rose and fell rapidly at first, his nerves and excitement trying
to get the better of him, but eased and slowed as he
relaxed into my arms. I heard him release a contented sigh.
We lay like that
for what felt like a long while, and also felt like
mere seconds. My bedside lamp was on, our peaceful time together warmly lit by
its shaded glow. It had scarcely been a single day, and I was already starting
to wonder how I could ever let this boy out of my life again, and then
immediately deciding not to.
Of course, now that
I was in bed, I didn't feel tired at all anymore. Looking down at Adrian, I saw
that he looked serene and peaceful, but his eyes weren't closed either. I
stroked the skin of his shoulder with my thumb a little, feeling his heartbeat
against my forearm. His right arm lay gently atop mine, not quite clinging, but
holding me close. My penis, of course, had a mind of its own, pressed firmly
between my belly and his lower back, and I knew he could feel it there, but I
knew he didn't mind.
"I'm glad you
joined me," I whispered to him.
He smiled, this one
much less guarded than usual. The bedchamber, I thought. A place of
companionship. "Me too, Sir," he said.
I got thinking
about the things we'd done in this bed earlier, and I felt a twinge of desire.
Having learned not to ignore those, I said, "I want you to do something for
me."
He shifted a little
to look up at me with adoring eyes. "Anything, Sir."
"I want you to
climb over me and turn out the light, and then...I want you to show me tongue
pleasure again. Like you did earlier today. It felt wonderful."
"Of course,
Master." I lifted my arm and he shifted delicately from the little nook he'd
occupied, and I rolled accommodatingly onto my back, my dick standing at
attention. As he climbed obediently over me, shifting across underneath the
blankets, straddling my belly and leaning forward to
reach the light, I felt his own stiffness pressing against me, and I felt
several places inside me twinge with arousal.
He managed to reach
the switch and with a click the room was plunged into darkness, but he
didn't sit up, instead shifting gears directly into the other favour I'd asked
of him. I felt his tender lips brush my neck, and immediately I got goosebumps
that ran across the entire length of my body. He remembered the most sensitive
spots he'd found that afternoon, and as he explored me again with his tongue, I
found myself squirming and shivering once more. This boy, acting the playful
kitten but concealing the hungry tiger, pleasured my neck and collar and chest
in ways nobody ever had.
Then came something
I'll never, ever forget. He'd traced his way along the centre of my chest,
finding his way to my right nipple. Just like earlier that day, he lingered for
a long time. It was as if—
I found my next
thought surprisingly arousing: it was as if he were
nursing. Nursing, like I was his mother.
The moment caught
me off-guard in its pure, unabashed intimacy, and when it started, I found
myself holding him to me, wrapping him in my arms. As if reading my mind, he
responded to my movements by latching on even more. He snuggled the top of his
body downward, his mouth never leaving my nipple, and shifted so that he was
curled up in my arms again. I held him protectively to me, feeling something
well beyond pleasure. His hips rubbed up against my cock, but I can honestly
say I barely noticed, so intent was I on the beauty of the incredibly intimate
moment Adrian was giving me.
It took me a while
to realize, in a sudden instant of clarity, that it wasn't just me who wanted
this. He clung to me right then, sucking softly at me as if nourishing a part
of himself that had been starved for a long time. If it had been anyone else,
anyone at all, it would have felt strange, emasculating, perhaps even wrong.
Right here, right now, with this boy, my Adrian, it felt like the most
natural thing in the world.
I moved my left
hand up a little to stroke his hair, and he suddenly opened his eyes and took a
breath as if remembering where he was. He lifted his lips slightly from my
nipple and looked up at me with an expression on his face that just about broke
my heart. He looked terrified, as if afraid he'd been caught doing something
very wrong. He didn't try to move, but he whispered, "I-I'm sorry, Sir."
I could feel that
my next words would be particularly important, so I decided to be honest. I
stroked his cheek and I said, "It's okay. I needed that, too."
I don't know what I
expected, but seeing his eyes fill up with tears wasn't it. He clenched them
shut and buried his face in my chest, suddenly racked with small sobs. "Hey,
what is it? What's wrong?" I asked him. He shook his head, and I could just see
him putting the `house boy' walls back up, so I got in ahead of them, trying to
speak in a way he'd understand. "Adrian, if I need to discipline you, I'll do
it later. Right now, I want you to talk to me. That's an order."
He sniffled once,
then reached up to wipe his eyes. "I—" He coughed a little, then tried again.
"I just...I knew I was right about you, Master Scott, I knew it."
It would have felt
like a compliment if he hadn't had me quite so worried. "What do you mean?"
He inhaled shakily.
"I..." He broke off, his expression frustrated, trying to find what he wanted to
say. "I...I want—urgh," he grunted. I felt him tense up. "I-I know what I
mean, Sir, I just, I don't..."
"You don't know how
to talk about it yet," I finished for him.
He sighed a
defeated sigh. "Yes, Sir. I'm sorry."
"It's okay." I
stroked his hair again. It was so soft. "We have plenty of time."
"Yes, Master. Thank
you." He pressed into me a little. Then I felt him start to pull away,
re-assuming his poker face. "Anyway, even if you wanted it too, I put what I needed
before what you asked of me."
I pulled him back
down to me. "And if it's necessary, I can punish you later. Right now, it doesn't
matter."
"But,
Sir—"
"Adrian, listen to
me." He stopped himself and looked up, doe eyed. "We just had a...a moment," I
said. "It was a good moment. We almost had another one like it earlier,
too. I'm not ashamed of it, and I'm not ashamed of you."
He blinked. "Really?"
I put a hand on his
cheek. "Of course not. Actually, your dad gave me some good advice."
"What was it, Sir?"
"He said...if I
wanted something you were willing to give me, I shouldn't deny myself, or you."
My thumb brushed a stray tear from under his eye. "Just this once...I want you to
do the same. In every other moment, you can be my house boy. You are my
house boy. But for this one thing...just..." I faltered, then said, "just be
Adrian. For me."
He stared up at me
for a long moment before slowly, slightly nodding his head. "I think I understand,
Sir."
"Then go ahead," I
told him. "For as long as you want. It's okay."
He looked at my chest
again, the way a dying man in the desert might look at an oasis, and then up to
me once more, needing to be absolutely certain. "Go
on," I said. "Please."
His eyes returned
to my nipple, and he whispered, "yes, Sir." Then he slowly descended back onto
it, hesitant at first, and then he closed his eyes and lost himself in it once
more. He didn't play the sex kitten, he didn't apply his techniques, it really
wasn't even erotic...just sensual. He sucked gently, but longingly. I held him
close and settled back against my pillow as I nursed him, feeling him curl up
into me, and felt myself nearly overwhelmed with...I don't even know what. It
went beyond affection. It was something more intangible than that. After a
while I realized despite everything that had happened that day, only now did I
really understand that on a deep, fundamental level, I was needed. Adrian didn't
just need a master. For some reason, for reasons maybe he couldn't even explain
to himself yet, he needed me.
That felt good. But
a voice in my head kept wondering why.
There were no more
words that night. When we fell asleep, he was still curled up in my arms.
* * * To Be Continued * * *