Hell, what’s that, when I’ve already killed for him?
Would Elliot be disgusted if he ever learned I did that? Would Leo?
Since I’m never telling either of them, I guess it’s moot.
Elliot’s still touching his daith and I know what he’s waiting for.
I reach up and touch mine, dipping my head the way my boy usually defers to me.
And still, my cock throbs in my slacks.
The sexy, borderline evil smile that curls Elliot’s lips as he finally drops his hand and nods to me has my cock so painfully hard it’s all I can do not to reach down and adjust myself.
Then the handsome sonofabitch slowly strolls over to me. Practically saunters. Whatever Leo did or said to him behind closed doors is irrelevant—this man is now recharged and ready to take on the entire world.
Fuck, is he gorgeous.
When he stops in front of me, he stands with his hands in his pockets, feet shoulder-width apart, just like he did that night onAir Force Two. He smiles down at me.
Yep. Suit fetish still intact—check.
“How am I doing,Sir?” he asks in a voice too low for anyone to overhear.
“Looking good,MisterVice President.”
His lower lip catches under his teeth and he sucks in a sharp breath.
Then, smiling, he tips his head to me, back to my boy, even if only Leo and I can see that side of him here.
Ooooh, yeah. There will likely be alotof fucking tonight, once we make it back to the residence. The plan is for Leo to ride home with us. At this point, I don’t even care what permutation the fucking occurs in. It’s been close to two weeks for me and the boy, because we’ve been running practically nonstop.
Now that I think of it, unless Leo’s been jerking off, it’s been weeks beyond that since he was last with either of us.
The hours tick past. Then the polls close on the East Coast and anticipation swells. Elliot’s giving another interview when I hear Leo’s voice whisper in my left ear.
“Look at him, standing there. Tonight he’ll be on his knees again, swallowingyourcock. Maybe I’ll stand there and fuck you while he does it.” I have to force myself to breathe so that powerful image doesn’t knock me off my feet.
Goddammit, my cock’s hard again.
I reach up to my ear and touch the daith. Elliot chooses that moment to glance our way, and when he sees me touching my daith, he reaches up and touches his ear without missing a beat in what he’s saying to the reporter, but I know what he’s doing.
Call and response.
Leo softly chuckles. “Who owns who now?Thatis the question, isn’t it?”
I can’t take my eyes off Elliot. “Yes, Sir.”
“He’s addictive, isn’t he? Like an intoxicating drug you can’t get enough of.”
My throat goes dry, so I simply nod, because he’s absolutely right.
“Never forget he’s a slave at his core. Give him the freedom to be who he needs to be when he needs it, and he willalwaysreturn to his knees for you when his emotional tank hits empty.” His hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing hard for a moment before releasing.
Like that, he’s off to go talk to someone else, and here I am, mesmerized by the sight of Elliot talking about trade with China and India.
I can’t get enough of him.
These last few weeks have sucked without Leo in our bed, but it’s cemented something new between me and Elliot. There are an increasing number of times we’ve naturally downshifted out of Sir and boy mode without any discussion or agreement about it first. Our dynamic seamlessly flows into what I’m starting to think of as “executive equals” mode, with Elliot always slightly to the Top of things. And then when the orgasms are over and we’re catching our breath, my sweet, gentle boy is back, refreshed, snuggling with me, as if not a thing had changed. Or even without orgasms involved. Sometimes, it’s just Elliot sitting on the bed and me kneeling in front of him with my head on his knees and his hand massaging my scalp.
