Chapter Seven

I had noticed that whenever he was feeling uncertain or afraid or whatever big emotion he was feeling at the time, he acted out. Maybe it was to get my attention, like a bratty sub, or maybe he was having trouble handling his emotions. Right now, I thought it was because he was in a strange place, and he wasn’t sure about what was going to happen to him, so he was trying to pick a fight and get me to react. I decided he needed help calming down a little before bedtime.

“I’m finished with the dishes,” he said, a few minutes later. “Now what do you want me to do? Mop the floors? Wash all the windows?”

“Right now, I want you to apologize for that smart attitude. I mean it, Kit. I won’t put up with it.”

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes, but those eyes were still flashing. He opened his mouth to say something else, and I held up a hand.

“No. From now until I tell you, you’re on speech restrictions. The only thing—and I mean the only thing—you’re allowed to say is ‘Yes, sir.’”

He stomped his foot and glared at me so hard it must have hurt. He folded his arms, and I could see the thoughts tumbling around in his head. He wanted to smart off to me so bad.

“I’d hate to spank that ass at Christmas, but I will. Go ahead and test me.”

He thought it over—and it was a real struggle. Then finally, mind made up and no doubt knowing I wasn’t kidding, he bit out the words, “Yes, sir.”

“Well, all right. Now, let’s see,” I said, ignoring his dirty looks and keeping my tone level. “Do you want to watch a Christmas movie?”

He nodded.

“What’s that?” I said, cupping my ear.

“Yes, sir.”

“Well good. I have a lot of different streaming services here.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, still so huffy.

“Got anything else to say?”

He shook his head, still glaring.

“You can write me a note if you need to.”

He stood in the kitchen, determined to be a disagreeable little shit. I could only imagine what would be on that note. In his world right then, any attention was good, whether it was negative or positive. He was hugging himself, and I thought he might be cold, but was ready to cut off his nose to spite his face rather than write a note of apology and be good. I turned on the big screen TV and patted the sofa next to me.

“Sit over here and wrap up in this fur throw until the house warms up.”

He just stood there so I made my voice more stern.

“I’m not asking. Now do it.”

“Yes, sir!”

He flounced over and threw himself down beside me, pulling the throw over himself but made damn sure not to get too close to me. He was still pouting, so I let him and found a Scrooge type movie I hadn’t seen before on Netflix and settled back to watch it, sipping my drink and not giving him so much as a glance.

This version of the Dickens story was a fairly new musical with Ryan Reynolds and Will Ferrell. Pretty soon, I noticed that it seemed to be catching his attention. But the heat of the fire as it warmed the room, the soft, fur blanket and the dim light soon made him start blinking his eyes and he rested his head on the back of the couch. After half an hour, he was softly snoring.

I thought I should probably move him to the bed, but by that time, I was just too comfortable and warm to get up myself. I put my own head down on the back of the couch and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up a few hours later, and I must have gotten cold at some point, because I was flat on my back, with the fur throw—complete with its warm, soft inhabitant—stretched out over me. Kitt had snuggled his face into my throat and had wrapped his compact little body completely around mine.

“Hey,” I said softly, so as not to startle him. “We need to get up and go to bed. It’ll be more comfortable in there.”

He gave a small moan and burrowed more deeply into me, so I gave up, turned over on my side on the wide couch, taking him with me, so that I was spooning him as we fell back asleep.

I woke up to someone kissing me and pulling at my clothes.

“What are you doing, Kitten?” He pointed to his mouth, and I grinned. “Okay, you’re off speech restriction. Say what you want.”

“I want to make up. Please. I was mad at you last night, but it’s Christmas and I want you to know I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so grouchy. Are you still mad at me?”

“No, baby, I wasn’t mad to start with. Not at you. Just your behavior. I know you were just tired and maybe a little upset about Jazz’s wedding.”

“I want you to make love to me. Please.”

How could I resist him?

I stripped off my clothes in record time—especially when I noticed he was already naked. Despite how turned on I was, I had to stop and slip on a condom that I had in my pants pocket. Then I turned back to take care of him.

He was flushed and out of breath by this time, just from watching me strip. I got back on the sofa, nudging his legs apart, and I reminded him to relax as I looked down at him. I stroked a finger over his entrance, and he hissed in a breath.

“Are you okay?”

“That’s…I love that, but…oh god, I think I might come too soon if you keep…”

I flipped him over on his stomach and bent over him to swipe my tongue in a long, slow stroke from his balls to his pretty hole, delivering a shock of pleasure so intense that he bucked up and arched his back, shouting out my name. I soothed him and held him in place.

“Easy now. I’m not going to be through with you for a while, so you might as well relax, or you’ll wear yourself out.”

He laughed softly, then his breath caught as I slipped a lube-slick finger inside and worked it up to press against the spot I knew would have him flushed and begging soon. I twisted my fingers and massaged him again and again until he was gripping the sofa cushions and squirming uncontrollably.

“Wait…please! I’m gonna…”

“No, you’re not,” I said, “You’ll wait until I think you’re ready. I’m not going to hurt you, Kitten, and I get the impression you haven’t had a lot of anal sex.”

“No, not much. Mostly I give guys blow jobs. Everybody always seems to be in a hurry and doesn’t like to take the time to get me ready.”

I saved my opinion of those guys who had been in such a hurry with him. He was so beautiful it was hard to believe no one took the extra time with him. He deserved to be cherished like the gift he truly was.

When I was sure he was ready, I slipped all the way inside him, easing my way in, stretching him wide as he cried out in pleasure. My cock nudged his prostate again and he rocked back into me, crying out that he needed more, harder. He was desperate for it, he said.

I leaned over him and murmured in his ear, saying things I probably shouldn’t have, but he was too far gone to understand. He pushed back against me as I pushed in, ignoring what he thought he wanted. This was new to him, and I knew what he could take and what he couldn’t. We set up a strong rhythm that soon drove us both insane. He was moaning and crying a little at how good it was, when I reached under him and found his hard cock. It jumped eagerly into my palm. I pulled him back as I rose to my knees so that he was on my lap, impaled on my cock, while I stroked him with a strong, sure hand.

I felt my orgasm rushing toward me, and I knew it was going to be good, but I was still unprepared for the jolt of pure pleasure that hit, an explosion of feeling that shot from my spine to my balls and back up again.

He threw back his head and screamed, filling my hand with his hot release. I came hard inside him, and when it was over, we fell back down, my cock still inside him, and we lay like that for a few minutes, while we both caught our breath. I could feel the thump of his heart against my chest.

“We should get up and go to bed, sweetheart,” I said softly in his ear.

“Can we just lie here for a while longer?”

“I don’t see why not. We can stay here all day, as far as I’m concerned,” I said, and I snuggled him closer, throwing my leg over him. He made a soft sound of contentment that sounded suspiciously like the purr of a kitten.