“Jesus, oh my god. Oh, fuck! That’s wild.” I have no control over my lower body any more and I’m thrusting upwards to meet his fingers, urging him to move faster. But he keeps things at his agonisingly slow pace.
“You’re so greedy,” he says, holding me still with a firm hand on my tummy. “Shall we try the toy?”
“I think it might be game over if we do that.”
Lando removes his fingers, and I immediately miss the sensation, the pressure, the warmth. He squeezes some lube onto the asparagus spear, which aside from being pretty chonky is fairly realistic looking, and nudges it at my entrance. The tip of the vibrator is wider than his fingers, and the stretch of my skin as it swallows the first few inches is noticeable. I’m trying to decide if it’s painful or just uncomfortable when the spearhead brushes my P-spot and I forget all about any negative sensations.
It’s wild that I’ve been living alone for about eight months now, and I have not optimised my free will and bought myself a vibrator.
“I’m going to turn it on now, okay?”
“Yes . . . please,” I plead.
I’m bucking my hips, trying to claw non-existent friction from the air, but Lando ignores my aching cock, which is probably for the best.
The second he switches it on, I know it’s a mistake. I’m too far gone, too close to that edge.
“Oh my god, stop. No, actually, keep going. Fuck.” I throw my forearm over my face and whine into my flesh as my orgasm blindsides me and stripes my stomach.
I reach down and stroke myself through the tail end of it as all the tension leaves my body and I become boneless beneath him.
Lando removes the dildo, and I feel spent. In every sense of the word. Spent and empty.
“I think my king likes it,” he says, as I finally make eye contact again.
My asshole is slimy, and cum trickles down my hip. I sit up, and use the towel to clean myself as best as I can.
I clear my throat. “Are you feeling like you might need . . . uh.” Why am I suddenly shy? I just let Lando fuck me with a rubber asparagus spear.
“I’m good, but thank you for asking.” Lando looks down. He’s very obviously erect. “It does that sometimes. I’m sorry, but honestly . . .I don’t need sorting out or anything.” His cheeks are turning pink.
“You never have to apologise to me for who you are.”
He stares at me, unblinking and unmoving.
“Can we get under the duvet?” I ask. “Because I’m getting cold.”
Together we climb under Lando’s covers, and he flicks the TV on with the remote.
“What are we watching?”
“Oh, this new Netflix movie came out yesterday. It looks pretty good. It’s calledKPop Demon Hunters. A Harry Ellis film if ever I saw one.” Lando lines up the movie, then runs to his walk-in wardrobe and comes back in wearing black-striped PJs.
He hops onto the bed, opens his mouth to say something, and closes it again. After a few more moments, he speaks. “Just because I don’t necessarily want things reciprocated, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy every second of it.”
I shimmy down in the sheets and leave a big enough gap for Lando to slot himself into. “You’re good. You don’t need to apologise to me, and you don’t need to explain yourself, okay? You’re the first ace person I’ve known, or . . . at least the first one I’ve been intimate with. I’m not gonna question your motives. Whatever you tell me is up to you, so long as you promise never to do something you don’t want to because you think I want to.”
Lando nods, then slides into the space in front of me. His hair is still a little damp, but I rest my cheek on his head and wrap my arm over him. “I promise.”
“You’re not broken either. I think you’re perfect, by the way. Exactly as you are.” I’m extremely glad he can’t see my face as I say those words, and that I can’t see his reaction.
19
Thursday 14th August 2025
Harry
My great-grandfather was eighty-seven when he died.
