Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

I film him through his orgasm, then hit the stop button and toss my phone aside. I meant it when I told him I was going to use it to jack off to. He stayed away for two weeks last time, and I had my memories of him, but this will be better. The blush of color on his ass from my spanking, the beads hanging out of his ass, his body undulating and moving. Those are the stuff of fantasy, and it's all mine right here.

I can see he's exhausted now, though. He needs a break, a rest, some water, and maybe some food. Some care, even though I know he's likely to snarl and snark his way through it.

"It's my turn to come," I tell him. Then, still behind him, I start to masturbate. I know he can hear the sound of my hand on my cock, and he's picturing it in his head. He knows I'm going to let my spunk shoot all over his ass, against his hole in fact.

I might have taken film of him like this, but right now, I have the real thing, and I don't need to fantasize, imagine, or watch it on my phone.

I rest my hand on his lower back and jack myself harder. I breathe in deeply, the scent of him, his sweat and his come, his overwhelming need, are intoxicating. It's not going to take long. All I have to do is imagine what he's going to do when I pull out the beads, when I fill him with the next size dildo and let him wear it during our rest period.

Groaning, I grab the beads still hanging out of him and pull, bringing the rest of the beads out of him in a long, smooth motion. He throws his head back and howls, and I moan as the sound pushes me over the edge and I come. My spunk sprays against his hole, making him jerk and shiver.

I keep stroking, pulling out a couple of aftershocks, and dribbles of come, which I let fall onto his ass. Then I squeeze my cockhead to get the last couple of drops out.

Letting go of my cock, I rub my come around and into his hole, and then I collapse down next to him, grinning over at him.

"What?" he demands, trying to sound belligerent, I think, but not succeeding. It's hard to keep that up when you've come so much you're boneless.

I shrug and shake my head. "Nothing. I'm feeling fine." I let the last word stretch out.

He grunts and I take it as his agreement that he feels good, too.

"What do you want to eat?" I'm going to let him choose this time.

"What are my choices?"

"You can have anything you want. Name it, the kitchen will make it happen." It's magical that way.

"Anything? Like absolutely anything at all?"

"Yep." I have yet to hear of them ever disappointing anyone. Not even once.

"Grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup."

Comfort food. Interesting.

"What kind of cheese?"

He answers without hesitation. "Those plasticky slices of American cheese."

"Are you sure? You can name any cheese." And there are a lot of cheeses in the world.

"I'm sure. It's got to be that cheese."

"Next you'll tell me the tomato soup should be out of a can," I tease.

"Preferably, but I won't be as picky about that."

"No, no. I said anything, and I meant anything, and if you want the soup to be out of a can, it will be." I grab the pad that connects to the kitchen. "To drink?"

He hesitates for a long time. I look at him and let my eyebrow go up. He sighs, then says, "I just don't want to get shit for this."

"I'm not going to give you shit for your drink choice." I live in hell; I'm not even going to bat an eyelid if he tells me he wants to drink his own piss, though I'd prefer it if he didn't.

"Milk. Like real milk, none of that oat or almond shit."

"Real milk, fake cheese, and canned soup it is." I write the order in, confident the kitchen will send us two servings of exactly what Cal wants.

I put the pad down and get up. "You need some water." He's got to be parched, what with all that heavy breathing and panting.

I grab a glass, fill it, and put in a straw before bringing it over to him. Holding the straw to his lips, I let him drink his fill.

When it looks like he's going to get up or flip over, I put my hand in the small of his back and hold him in place.

"Let me up."

"In a moment. I need to keep you stretched while we're relaxing." I grab a non-spicy, non-heating lube, and push some into his hole. He groans at the sensation of the cool gel, but I know it won't be long before it warms up to his body temperature. Then I slick up the last dildo I'd chosen for today and set it at his hole.

Groaning, he pushes back for a moment before he remembers he thinks he needs to fight me and everything I do. Then he rocks forward, trying to scoot his ass out of the way. I bring the dildo back to his hole and he rocks forward again.

"You're going to be climbing the headboard soon." He's going about a half foot toward it with every attempt to get away from the dildo.

"So?"

"Then you won't have anywhere to go, and you'll have to take it."

He just growls at me, and we do the dance of me pressing the dildo against his hole and him rocking away from it several more times. Right up until he can't move anymore because he's pressed up against the wall, just like I said.

I don't say I told you so. I don't have to. He hears the unspoken words anyway.

Then I set the dildo at his hole and reach around with my free hand. I press my palm against his belly and tug him back, making him take the dildo in. I keep it almost casual, and the dildo gradually disappears into him until all that's left is a scant inch at the bottom.

"So pretty." I tap at the base of the plug and that makes him jerk and grunt.

From there, I help him get back down along the mattress so he can lie stretched out on his side, his head supported by pillows.

I open my mouth to tell him the food should be here any minute now, but before I can, there's a knock on the door. Laughing, I get up and throw on my robe to go get our food.

I take over the trolley-rolling duties as soon as it's in my room, and close the door behind me.

"We eating in here?" Cal asks.

"Yes," I call back. "Just stay where you are." He's all relaxed and filled and pliant at the moment. I plan to enjoy this side of him for the short while he's going to share it with me. Not that I don't love the fight he usually puts up, but neither of us are one-dimensional.

I take the cloche off the plates and set the bowl of soup on the bedside table and the plate with the grilled cheese sandwiches on the bed. The milk goes on the bedside table as well, and I pop the straw into it so it'll be easier for him to drink.

We resettle him so he's more or less on his back, propped up by the pillows. This position will put some pressure on the dildo, but not too much.

"Sandwich first?" I ask.

He looks at me like I'm crazy. "Dipped into the soup, dude."

"Ah." I bring the soup over and rest it on the bed between us. If we're not careful we'll need to change the sheets before we finish our activities for the evening.

He grabs a half-sandwich and dips the end into the soup, letting the bread soak some of the liquid up. Then he bites the corner off and closes his eyes for a moment as he chews.

"It's pretty much perfect." He sounds surprised.

"I told you the kitchen is magical." I grab a half sandwich of my own and dunk it into the soup. Regarding it a moment.

"You look like you've never had grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"That's because I haven't."

"Seriously? Never?"

"Nope."

"Man, you had a sad childhood."

He has no idea. I take a bite from the soup-soaked corner and munch on it. Not bad. It wouldn't have been my first choice, but it's obviously sentimental to him. That's the point of comfort food. Not that I have a lot of experience with it myself.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"It's okay."

"Yeah, well, you're all champagne and caviar and shit. They've ruined your palate for the simple pleasures."

I can't say he's wrong.

He dips his sandwich again and keeps eating. I do the same, enjoying the quiet companionship as we fill our bellies.

He stretches once he's finished two whole sandwiches, and with our dipping, even the soup is almost done; spoon not even needed.

"You got a TV in here?" he asks, and I hide my grin.

Whether he knows it or not, Cal just took a step. He's looking for something for us to do together that isn't sex. He's willing to entertain spending downtime here. With me.

"I do." I grab the remote from the side table and hit a button. The TV comes down from where it's hidden within the ceiling, coming to rest at the perfect height for viewing from the bed.

"Oh, that's cool." He laughs and nods toward it. "What do you like to watch?"

"Reality shows," I admit. I can't help it, humans fascinate me.

"Like the Kardashians?" he sounds so shocked.

"That, the housewife shows, the Great British Baking Show, Jeopardy, Sports."

"Oh, now game shows and sports aren't reality TV."

One of my eyebrows goes up. "Are you telling me they're scripted?"

"Well, no," he admits.

"Are the people in them acting?"

"Well, no."

"Then they are reality shows."

He shakes his head. "Absolutely not. Game shows are contests and sports are… well, sports!"

"But they feature real people and they aren't scripted," I insist, telling him the two main features of so-called reality shows.

"It's not the same thing at all, though."

"Because you like sports and game shows, but not the other ones?"

He glares at me, but finally goes, "For want of anything else, yes."

I chuckle and he rolls his eyes. He really is adorable.

"What about movies?" he asks.

"I don't watch as many of those. But I'd be happy to watch one tonight if you'd like." I don't mind extending this quiet time where he's happy to be here, no sex involved. I'm hoping for more of it, after all.

"Cool. What about the first Indiana Jones? Or something like that."

"I've never seen it."

He gives me this horrified look. "You lie!"

"Nope."

"Wow. Okay, well then we have to watch it. Next you're going to tell me you've never seen The Wizard of Oz or Star Wars."

"I have seen the Wizard of Oz." I love those little munchkins, and I always root for the Wicked Witch of the West though she never wins. "But not the other one."

"Damn, Hades. I need to leave you a list or something. Movies you need to see."

"Or you could just educate me in person," I suggest.

He snorts but doesn't deny this time that he's coming back. Of course, I'm pretty sure he's convinced the only reason he will be returning is to ride my magnificent cock. I'm not sure what his excuse will be after that, but I do know there will be one.

I find the movie he wants to watch, and we settle in next to each other. It isn't that long before Cal is resting his head against my shoulder, the rest of his body curving into mine. I don't point it out as I'm sure that will encourage him to pull away.

He's asleep within an hour, and I let him be. After all, I know he's already seen the movie, and he's got a few more orgasms in him before the night is over so he needs the nap.

I have to admit, I wasn't really looking for a companion, but I do seem to have found one.