He blushes, eyes turning down. Seconds later, the phone moves with him and everything is out of focus until he reaches the floor. His knees are in view first and then a beige shaggy rug. He runs his fingers through it, and I can see the pale line of where he had a ring. Does he still wear it sometimes? Does he miss Travis and that’s the real reason he put the cock cage on? My stomach twists at the thought of him picturing his face as he was wearing it. I have no right to be jealous but it’s hard not to be.
Especially when he leans too far forward and part of the metal cage comes into view. It’s because I want to be the only one he wears it for.
My fingers itch to touch him, but all they’d be met with is my phone screen. “Try on the other side,” I say, trying to distract my own mind. It’s hard to help him while being so far away sometimes. If I was there, he’d already be out of the cock cage and back to baking cookies or whatever it is he does when we aren’t on the phone together.
Spinning around, he lowers the phone and a light turns on from above. “Hmm . . . maybe we should check under the bed. Can you feel for the bed and then slide your hand to the floor.”
“Yeah.” His hand sticks out, patting the mattress, and he drops in slowly to the floor, sliding his fingers over a layer of dust. He sneezes and I smile at the cute sound.
“Bless you.”
“Thanks,” he says quietly, continuing to feel around.
“Let me see where you’re touching.”
“Oh, right.” His voice jumps. “It is why I called you.”
“It is.” I chuckle, leaning forward and resting my chin on a closed fist.
The phone is moving under the bed with his hand, and he lifts the skirt up higher to let more light travel underneath. Metal shines like a star in a dark sky inches away from where he’s touching.
“I think I see it. Two inches to your left.” He pats a little higher and his fingers freeze on the eye-catching object.
“I think this is it.” His voice wavers and he pulls back, lifting himself from the floor. He holds the key between his face and the phone, waving it from side to side.
“That looks like a key to me.”
The muscles in his cheek tick, eyes widening as his fingers squeeze around the tiny piece of metal.
“What’s wrong now? Did you lose something else?”
He shakes his head, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I . . . I can’t see where it’s supposed to go.”
I lick my lips unintentionally, and my hands press to my thighs. “Okay. It’s okay. I’m still here to help you and won’t go anywhere until I’m done.”
“I’m sorry.” His face falls and he clenches the key to his chest.
“It’s okay.” I stop myself before I can say sweetheart. It feels so natural saying the other term of endearment I can’t stop myself from calling him. It still does when I repeat it in my head while looking at him. He looks so lost. I want so badly to reach out to him and say, “It’s okay, I found you, and you no longer have to go through all this alone.”
Once he finds out what kind of person I really am, he’ll wish he’d gone to someone else.
“I really am sorry. I’m about to make things weird and . . . and is this sort of thing okay on this app?”
I look down at the phone screen. “Maybe not. We never know if any of this gets screened or recorded. How about we take this to our regular phones to be safe?”
I hope I don’t ever make phone calls while I’m sleeping too. I mean, I’ve never used the app in my sleep, but isn’t it the same thing. Shaking off my thoughts, I switch to the notepad in my phone to jot down his number, and as soon as he hangs up, I punch it in to call him.
“Hello?” he says, answering on the second ring. I request a video chat with him, and he takes a while to figure out where to hit accept.
“Can you see me?”
“Yeah.” I nearly choke on the word, eyes locked on the beautiful sight in front of me. His flush works its way all the way down to his thighs, his pink cock peeking through the cage. His chest rapidly lifts and falls, his pink nipples hardening as he shivers.
“Okay. Not sure I want to ask how much, so how about we get this over with?”
“Sure,” I say, unable to manage more than one word. ”Are you cold? Want to wrap a blanket around yourself or put a shirt on?”
“I’m okay.” He scoots closer. “I had a shirt on, but I was worried it’d get in the way of you seeing where the hole is.” His face grows a deeper red. “I mean of where the key goes.”
