Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

TIMOTHY

I'm not sure what to make of the last twenty-four hours of my life. What has been a normal existence up until now shifted greatly.

First, it was when Donna was eager to fit us into her schedule to give Luke a chance to look at houses. She's always happy to please anyone associated with the Bellport name. But even knowing that, the fact that she came up with five options is astounding.

Wasn't there a housing crisis or something? I feel bamboozled.

Second would be Luke's insistence on my opinion about his place. His request left me beyond confused. He was so happy at the last house, but only after I had expressed my own excitement.

How could I not? It's gorgeous. The house of my dreams.

I can remember talking to Grandfather and telling him how much I wish we lived there. Don’t get me wrong, I loved his house; It had so many memories that it.

However, the potential of a place as large as the one Luke is going to own cannot be matched. It always appealed to me. I've wanted a big group of family and friends for as long as I can remember.

It was always just me and Grandpa growing up. While he gave me all the love I could need, I wanted more. I was greedy about it. And that house symbolizes fulfilling that hole to me. It proves it's possible to fill the space with people you love and care about.

Now Luke is going to get to do that.

There's a tiny part of me that hopes I get to be on that friend list so that I can come over to see everything in action once it's decorated. How many of my style ideas will he go along with? Will he even remember them?

Probably not.

While friends is the word I would use to describe our relationship, there's a niggling sensation in the back of my mind after last night too. As we left the house and went back to Luke's place to have dinner, he changed. He felt more focused on me. Things were more intimate. Like we were on a date or something, which would not make sense.

He's Luke Swift, and I’m… me.

Timothy Baker.

No one special.

So why did it feel like I was special to him? Like he saw me for who I was? Like my Little nature was wonderful and welcome?

He put my thumb in my mouth for goodness’ sake. That's a big green flag in my book.

The rest of the night was filled with dreams I can't even begin to describe. A mix of heat and desire, with touches of tender moments with us just holding one another.

By morning my cock is hard and throbbing beneath my borrowed pajamas. The jersey does very little to hide anything, and my underwear barely contains my erection.

I'm not quite sure how I'll get out of bed without it being obvious. Luke has a penis too, so he knows what morning wood is. Surely, he won't connect the dots that this is from thoughts of him. And if so, I will just bury myself in a hole like an ostrich and never see him again. Yep, that's exactly what I'll do.

Except when I open my eyes, I find Luke is already awake and watching me. He’s staring down at all the exposed skin on display. I must have kicked the covers off last night since my body is all out there for him to see.

And see it, he does.

“Morning, honeybee,” he grumbles. His voice is thick and rich, moving over me, making my cock twitch in excitement.

I can only imagine what he sounds like uttering deliciously dirty words for me. I'm tempted to ask him to say anything so I can hold it in my memory forever. But that might be taking it a bit too far. We are only friends.

Friends, right?

I reach to pull the shirt down further so I can scoot backwards off the bed. Luke grabs my hand to stop me. We both jolt at the contact, though me more than him.

“Luke,” I whisper.

He scoots closer until his body is leaning slightly over mine. He looks down at me. His gaze… Is it hungry? No, it can't be.

“Why are you hiding from me, honeybee?”

I shake my head, then tug at my fist. The man's strength is ridiculous. I can’t move him an inch.

He grins at me, likely sensing my rising frustration.

“It's indecent. I need to cover myself. My… morning… I don't know.” I wave my free hand down the length of my body as my ability to make coherent sentences evaporates.

Luke chuckles roughly at my rambling mess. “There's definitely some morning wood happening here, but I don't think it's something you should hide. I mean, it's quite obvious what's happening. I've got the same problem.”

Letting go of my hand, he leans back and shifts the blanket enough to show me his erection. Except where mine was still clothed, his is exposed. The hand not holding the blanket back wraps around it and strokes.

Holy wow!

He’s a work of art.

“See, honeybee? Nothing to be ashamed of. Our bodies are doing what they're naturally supposed to.”

I try to swallow but can't.

I try to breathe but won't.

My entire body is homed in on the fact that this man is in bed with me, stroking his cock, and talking to me like he wants me. Or at least that he doesn't mind me watching him.

I never knew that I was a voyeur, or I had any of that kink. I guess I'm going to have to add it to the list. Maybe it's a loop-specific list. Because, damn, this is a show. I could watch it every day for the rest of my life and never be bored.

He groans, his fist moving a little faster. "It feels good to touch it," he says. "You should touch yours." He nods his head at my erection.

I move on autopilot. The authority in his voice mixed with the lust riddling my brain after the dream has all my inhibitions down. I raise the shirt so I can tuck it under my arms, then reach down to pull my cock free.

The second it's out, Luke's head falls back, and he grunts, "Fuck! You're gorgeous.”

I gasp, which has his eyes shooting towards me. Something in my expression must scream my disbelief.

"It's true. You are gorgeous, honeybee. Look at that pretty cock and how you stroke it. So perfect. So hard. It feels good, doesn't it?”

The question has to be rhetorical. There isn’t a strong enough word to describe how good it feels.

A wave of need pulses through me with every teasing word he says. Whether I believe him or not is irrelevant now. He’s giving me this moment, which I intend to milk for all it’s worth.

It won't take long for me to come like this, not with his voice in my ear and his body in front of me and the hungry look he gives me. His hips shift forward, thrusting into his palm. The crown of his cock bumps my hands, and I jerk my hand back, shock overriding everything else.

He looks down at my weeping length, frowning.

“We can't have that. Look how much you need to be touched. May I?” He asks.

I nod before any type of rational thought comes to mind. All I know is that I want anything he'll give me. This will probably never happen again and considering I'm going to have to quit my job and move out of the country to avoid ever seeing his face again, I need to live a little for once.

The minute I give him the green light, he reaches out with his free hand to tug my hips closer. Our cocks bump together at the force with which he pulls me. It’s then I realize he’s stopped stroking himself. A second later, when his fist wraps around both of our lengths, I understand why.

Who needs to stroke one cock when you can stroke two? Is that the new live, love, laugh motto of my life?

The underside of my cock is a live wire of sensation as Luke works our bodies together. I feel everything as he gets us both off. It's rough, and it's dirty, and I can't think of anything that I want more.

Except when he reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small bottle of lube, I admit there is something I want more. The sight of the liquid brings images of me bent over, Luke ramming himself into my body so hard I feel as if I'm being pushed through the bed and floorboards. I want to be pummeled by his length. Completely torn apart.

Everyone always looks at me and thinks I'm this soft, gentle creature because of my size and demeanor. They find out I'm Little, then assume that submissive means I just want to be a pillow princess who does nothing.

Sure, being a pillow princess would be amazing with the right person. But I also want the rough and the animalistic energy that comes with a partner who pushes you for more. I want everything he has to give. Not an ounce less.

So when he hands me the bottle and motions to our legs, I squirt enough to ease his path, but not too much that he won’t be able to keep a firm grip. It's less rough now and more about the pleasure of being squeezed tightly.

I arch into his touch, my hips rocking of their own volition.

“That's it, honeybee. Give it to me.”

I moan at his words, crying out noises that probably don't make sense. I can't even think straight with the amount of pleasure racing through me.

“Yes,” he bites out. “Yes! Come for me. Come for Daddy.”

At the use of that word, I break. My body breaks into chills from head to toe, and my cock explodes. It's like a chain reaction. The minute I'm gone, Luke falls too. We both make a mess of his hands, his sheets, and our bodies.

Not that either of us cares. Especially when it's so perfect.

Can friends do this? Are we still friends? Was this a one-off thing? Like a celebratory hand job because I helped him find a house.

I don't know. It's all so confusing. How do people do this? Is this hookup culture?

We lay there for a few minutes, our heavy breaths the only sound in the room. Luke is the first to speak. I giggle when he says, “Good morning, honeybee."

“I agree,” I tell him cheekily.

He pushes to sit up, and I follow suit, looking around his room. Remembering where we are, I wince at the knowledge we just had sex in a house our boss is providing for him. Talk about awkward. I’m going to have to look at Jake every day and know that I came on the sheets that he picked out for this place. If I'm lucky, maybe it was the old man who I've never met that picked the sheets, and I can just pretend.

Yes, pretending, that's good.

I can also pretend that this never happened so that my heart doesn't get broken when Luke tells me it was all a mistake. Turning, I go to stand.

Luke's hand on my bicep stops me. "Where did you go?"

I look at the bed and back at him. "I haven't gone anywhere," I say.

He frowns, shaking his head. "No, you went somewhere. In your mind, maybe. You were fine looking all cum drunk and laid out just the way I hoped to see you. But now you appear closed off again. What were you thinking?”

His gaze is penetrating. I don't want to tell him what I'm thinking about. Not when he's being so kind.

Though Grandpa always said honesty was the best policy. Luke should know where I stand.

I take a deep breath. “I was thinking about our friendship after this and if this changes anything. I don't want you to think that I'm going to be a clinger or anything. I know this was all just casual for you.”

Somehow, his expression manages to get worse. “I don't understand,” he says.

I wave my hands, shrugging his arm off. “I know that this is just sex for you. That it's a hookup, a celebration of your house and your job and whatever else. I get it. I get that this isn't special to you. I don't do this kind of thing. I don't meet people who I feel a connection to and then go home with them.”

He shakes his head. “I didn't think you did. I figured you also didn't help people buy houses. And your point? Where does that come in with the sex?”

I rub my hands over my face. I'm equal parts exasperated and sad. How can this man be so clueless?

“I consider you a friend. We've gotten to know each other these last few weeks, and you've always been kind to me. I can't tell you how much that means to me. You invited me to help you buy the house, and we have been together while I fix things in this cottage. So this whole thing, swapping bodily fluids, isn't something I do with friends. Jake and I don't do it, and my friends online and I don't do it. I just don't know what to say now.”

He stands from the bed and comes around to my side. He's naked, his cock half hard again already. I watch it as he prowls closer.

Then he kneels in front of me. His hands clasp my knees, blocking me in. I don't feel bothered by the pose because he's not threatening me. It's just that he wants my attention.

“I want you to listen closely, honeybee. This wasn't just a hookup for me. It wasn't just a way to celebrate buying a house. In fact, I really need to know what kind of people you hang around with that celebrate houses with sex.”

I snort, then cover my mouth. That noise should not be coming out of me. Especially when we're still naked in the bed where we were together.

“I thought I was saying this is more to me with my actions. It's something else. I can't put words to it. I just know that it's a big deal. I think we should work together to figure out what it means."

At his confession, I nod. Though I want so badly to bring up the Daddy word, he's already given me more than I thought possible. Why risk it with conversation about something that doesn't matter? Not yet anyway.

If I get a couple of good weeks of getting to know him and maybe sort of dating, I'll take it. Especially if he's going to leave.

Once he realizes I'm no longer freaking out, he tugs me up and stands. I'm dragged into the shower, to which neither of us remembers is broken until the cold water rains down on us. We cry out in unison, which turns to loud, belly-busting laughter.

I'm trying to suck in gulps of air as I pant to him, "You… me… cold… scream."

He nods. "It is quite funny.”

By the time we get control of ourselves, the cold water doesn't bother us, so we clean up. I reach for my clothes to redress, but Luke stops me. He slips a shirt over my head, then grabs a pair of basketball shorts. He has to tug the strings tightly to get them to stay, but it'll do the job until I get back to my apartment. He throws on a similar outfit, and we take off for my place.

It's not too far of a drive, and because of the euphoric morning and the night before, I forget all about the condition of my apartment.

Of course, with it being morning and us not really wanting to part ways, Luke tells me he's going to walk me up to my door. It’s obviously a mistake because the second we walk in the door, his face drops.

My studio is admittedly small. Much smaller than even the cottage Luke is temporarily in.

“Timothy,” he says, voice aching and sorrowful, "This is your apartment?”

I look around the space, taking in all the tiny things that make it mine. "It is," I say. "This is home."

The lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

It used to be home, sure. But somewhere between then and now, it changed. It doesn't feel like home. Rather, home feels like when I'm with Luke. Like when we're at his place, and I'm fixing something, or he's insisting on feeding me. Or even standing in the backyard of his brand-new house and looking out at the land, picturing what he'll do with it.

That's home.

Even though I have no right to think of it as such, that’s how it feels.

He says he wants more. That he is trying to express his feelings. But at the same time, I have no clue what any of it means.

I'm left on the cliffhanger of a story, and I can't fast forward to the end.

“I need to get dressed for work, and I'm sure you've got to get back to get ready too,” I tell him when he says nothing else.

Luke stares at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched, and his hands fisted tight. As quickly as his mood shifted before, he gives me a fake smile, nods, then rushes out the door. My mouth falls open at his practical sprint down the hall to the staircase. I lean out the door frame to watch, afraid I might miss the second he turns around to look back.

Sadly, he doesn't.

There's no glance back or curiosity. Just a man who looks terrified as he runs away from me after what is arguably the greatest sexual experience of my life.

I'm falling in love with Luke Swift, and he's running in the opposite direction. Actions have always spoken louder than words. His just told me exactly how he feels.