Chapter Twenty
Spats.
Spatterguards.
Spatterdashes.
A simple covering worn over shoes to protect them from grime and dirt, that was all they were. Yet the sight of them over Cold’s boots made Jimmy’s dick ache on the spot.
He didn’t know where Cold had gone tonight, but he had chosen tall black and white Oxford boots to coordinate with his black pinstripe suit. The spats were white, as white as his tie and suspenders, and Christ, they matched his white gloves and the pearly white trim of his black fedora.
Jimmy was on his knees before Cold had even shut the bedroom door.
“Well, hello there,” Cold rumbled with a knowing smile, watching Jimmy bowing before him.
“Hello,” Jimmy said with an eager expression on his face.
“Hmm.” Cold tilted his head, asking, “I take it this means you think you’re ready to play now?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy replied eagerly, pressing his cheek against Cold’s hip. “I really do feel so much better. You took such good care of me, I’m totally fine now.”
“Mmmm...” Cold grabbed Jimmy’s chin, raising his head up until their eyes met.
Jimmy’s lashes fluttered at the stern hold, gazing up at Cold hopefully.
Cold looked over him for a few moments before finally saying, “Luckily for you, I agree.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jimmy gushed in response, crouching down low to nuzzle against the cotton fabric of the spats, breathing in the sweet leather of the boots. He had to reach down and hold himself, pleading, “God... please. Please let me...”
“Patience, Mr. Poe,” Cold warned. “Strip first, put your clothes away, and I will be here waiting for you.”
Jimmy took off like a flash, getting naked in record time and practically running back out to the lounge. He found Cold had taken off his jacket and hat, and now he was resting comfortably in the plush recliner. His boots had definitely been wiped down, waiting for Jimmy’s attentions.
“Safe word, Mr. Poe?” Cold asked.
“Ice.”
“You may proceed.”
Jimmy was all over the shoes in a heartbeat, nuzzling against the smooth cloth of the spats and the slick leather of the boots. He slid his hand up Cold’s ankle, taking in the height of the boots and the perfectly tied laces, tracing his fingers along each and every grommet.
Cold was calm, relaxed, letting Jimmy explore however he wanted to. He smiled as he reached down to gently trace a gloved finger through Jimmy’s hair. “Do you like these, Mr. Poe?”
“Yes, sir,” Jimmy whined, leaning up into Cold’s hand.
“Make sure they’re clean, Mr. Poe.”
“I will, sir,” Jimmy promised earnestly.
