He rests his head on my shoulder. “And spankings?”
I snort. “And spankings.” I reach up and rub his head. His eyes fall closed. Yeah, he is like a Labradoodle, in some ways, I guess. If Labradoodles liked to and could consent to be spanked, that is. “As many spankings as my pet wants.”
That finally wins me a smile. “Yay.” I get another kiss. “I’ll go up and change, Master.”
“You do that.” I slap him on the ass, which wins me another smile. “As little as possible, pet.”
“Yes, Master.” He won’t go full naked. Not outside the bedroom. Even here, in his sanctuary. And I won’t force him to do that, either.
Though I cannot tell you how glad I am to be here tonight, mostly because I didn’t have to ask him.
Heaskedme.
That’s…massive.
I go back to prepping the chicken, getting it and the veggies in the pan so I can start on the sauce for it. During moments like this, I can focus on the past before Jordan walked into my life. I can think about the times Elliot came over to my place and we cooked, talked—existed in a sweet, perfect bubble.
Not all sweet. Lots of dark and dirtiness inside that bubble, too. Nothing that either of us didn’t want, though.
This man’s been in my life twelve years. Maybe it was stupid and selfish for me to bring Jordan into all of that.
Maybe?
Okay, definitely.
When I hear a noise behind me, my breath catches when I turn to see Elliot standing in the kitchen doorway and using his walker.
Completely naked.
Not even Duck. I can see Duck out in the living room, by the sofa, and a bathrobe tossed over the end, easily pulled on, if needed.
His gaze meets mine as he lowers himself to his knees, pushes the walker out of the way, and crawls across the kitchen floor to me on his hands and knees.
My cock goes completely, achingly hard. Without thinking, I reach down to adjust myself.
The triumph in my pet’s eyes as he watches me spins my heart in crazy ways and, for this moment, centers and anchors me to his soul.
It’s another huge victory.
Once he’s before me, he sits on his knees and deeply bows, his forehead touching the tops of my bare feet.
I want to scoop him over my shoulder and haul him upstairs to bed, but I won’t.
Dinner first.
Fucking him on the kitchen counter can be dessert.
I finally find my voice. “Such a good boy. That’s a gorgeous sight.” I pat my thigh. He sits up and moves in close, pressing his face against me and wrapping his arms around my legs while I hold him. “I’ll have dinner ready for us in a little while. Do you want to sit here with me while I cook?”
“Yes, please, Master,” he mumbles against my shirt.
I scratch the top of his head. “You have to let me turn around, pet.”
He sadly sighs. Still, he moves and takes up position next to me, sitting with his back to the cabinets. He reaches out to touch me, or curl his hand around my ankle, whenever I’m standing close enough. I’m careful not to drop anything on him, and to step around him, and like hell will I make him move.
This isus. This hails back to all those hours of him sitting on a cushion on the kitchen floor in my apartment while I cooked. This is us at our core. This is the man he wishes he could be all the time, and the partner I wish I didn’t have to share with the world.
Once I have dinner ready, I plate our food and drinks and take everything out to the den, where we’re going to eat on the comfy sofa there. Then I move his walker and hold my hands out, wiggling my fingers at him.
