“He’d just ask me to tie him up with it,” I reply.
“Ha! True story.” Leo’s focus returns to the fireworks. “If the boy survives your test can I play with him later tonight,Mister President?”
I laugh and thumb the off button on the controller. “Sure. I can be a nice guy, I suppose. Don’t tell me I never gave you anything.”
Between us Jordan’s body sags as he sucks in deep, relieved breaths.
We can’t get too rowdy with a residence full of house guests. Even though we no longer have to uphold the charade of Jordan having his own room and sleeping there we still need to watch ourselves.
Unfortunately, by the time I’ve endured the taxing schedule of public appearances and speeches, wearing my public face for far longer than I usually do on any given day, I realize it’s smacked me harder than I expected it would. Also, my stump aches from me being on my feet more than normal today and I really don’t want to let on to Jordan about that. He’ll immediately dive into caretaker mode which is, ironically, a pretty damned Toppy mindset for him. And he’d likely drag Leo into that mix, too. If the two of them gang up on me they’ll flip me into pet mode and I won’t have a choice about it.
Before bed I free Jordan from the chastity cage and give him a kiss. “You can play with Daddy tonight, baby. No restrictions.”
“What about you?”
I ignore the disappointment in his question. “If I feel like joining in at some point I will, don’t worry. Might get a blowjob from you before I fall asleep. I want you to have fun. You’ve earned it.”
Leo turns and pulls Jordan against him, reaching around him to pull me in, too. Then he slants a kiss over Jordan’s lips, smiles, and kisses me. “Six months left, baby.”
“Not exactly,” I counter. “But close enough.”
I climb into bed and I fully intend on lying there and watching them, maybe even fluffing myself while they do. I get as far as reaching over and lacing fingers with Jordan, where he’s on his back as Leo’s starts kissing his way down his body…
…and then I awaken to find the bedroom dark and quiet, and that I’ve been snuggled in the middle between my two sound-asleep hubbies.
Well, fuck.
Carefully lifting my head, I squint and make out the time on the cable box. Not quite 4:00.
Sighing, I settle in again because with me in the middle it’s nearly impossible for me to make it out of bed without disturbing one or both of them.
At least the fireworks display didn’t give me nightmares this year. Sometimes they do, although far less frequently now than in the early days where the sound would send my heart skittering into a gallop and I’d break out in a cold sweat, with days or even weeks of nightmares to follow.
Our families aren’t leaving until tomorrow so today we’ll be able to relax with them. Jordan has something planned for us but I didn’t ask the details.
I don’t need to know until I’m told.
Around 4:30 I realize I’m not falling back asleep. If I lie here I’ll end up getting restless and waking them up anyway. Steeling myself for the pushback I’m certain I’ll receive from them for me wanting them to stay in bed, I carefully sit up and extricate myself from under the sheet. I pause when Jordan rolls toward me, stirring a little before he quickly falls asleep again.
Hmm. Maybe I will make it out of bed this morning.
It takes me nearly five minutes but I manage to crawl my way to the end of the bed without waking them. There, I slide out and onto the bench, stand, and hop over to where my wheelchair sits parked nearby.
I freeze when I hear the covers rustle. I look to see Jordan roll over and close the distance between him and Leo, where he spoons his ass against Leo. Leo drapes an arm around him before they both settle again.
I smile when I spot Jordan’s leather collar buckled around his neck but however they played last night I slept right through it.
I grab shorts and a T-shirt and wheel into the bathroom, where I close the door before switching on the light. A few minutes later I’m silently easing myself through the bedroom door out into the Central Hall and carefully closing it behind me so it doesn’t make any noise.
Swinging through the kitchen first for coffee, I prop a travel mug between my thighs and wheel toward the elevator to head upstairs.
“Good morning,” I say to the agent stationed on the main landing. “Workout.”
He nods and turns to hit the elevator call button for me. “Good morning, Mister President.” Then he quietly speaks into his wrist mic as I roll into the elevator when the doors slide open. There’s not an agent on the third-floor elevator landing because I’d requested they pull back last night. There is one at the far end of the central hallway, however, by the back stairs, and he returns my wave with a nod and speaks into his wrist mic as I wheel down to my destination.
The home gym sits at the far end of the residence from our bedroom on another floor entirely so I don’t have to worry about waking anyone. Without one of my Ducks on I really can’t do the treadmill or stationary cycles easily. Not that I feel like running today. I’m certain if Jordan gets a good look at the residual reddish rub marks on my stump from yesterday he’s going to both flip his lid and flip himself back into my Toppy Sir to take care of me.
I put on music because I don’t want to watch the TV while I workout this morning. I start with crunches, sit-ups, and pull-ups before I set up a machine and get busy working on my arms and chest. It’s 5:30 when I sense movement by the door and look to see Mom walking in with a mug of coffee in her hand. By now I’m covered in sweat, my shorts and T-shirt sticking to me.
