“You take forever to brush your teeth, and I had a belly full of noodles.”
Watching Kitten slurp down a bowlful of noodles had been an exercise in restraint all its own. I’d indulged in some dirty fantasies while lying in bed next to him, then came fast and hard and wiped myself down with a dirty sock.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said with a coy smile.
“What are we, ten?”
He reached for the elastic band of his underwear and slowly tugged it down, until his cock popped out, smooth and circumcised with a little patch of brown curls at its base. “Your turn,” he said, staring up at me with lust-drunk eyes.
“You want some special attention now?” I asked and he nodded, still with a dazed smile on his face. I reached for a bath towel and dropped it on the peeling linoleum floor. With some effort, I went down to my knees and enveloped his sweet, stiff prick in my mouth, tasting a burst of his essence as it danced across my tongue.
“Cipher.” He squirmed in his seat with one hand splayed against the medicine cabinet and the other gripping my shoulder. His smooth legs wrapped around my neck as I took him in deep, working my tongue along the underside of his shaft and sucking the dew from his plump, mushroom tip.
“Oh my gosh,” he gasped when I pulled his underpants down to his thighs, so I could really smother my face in his groin. His soft balls cushioned my chin as I bobbed on his shaft. It didn’t take long for his ass to tense and his cock to go rigid in my mouth. He arched back, panting in between pleading with me to continue–fuck, he’d better not have an asthma attack–urging me on like a jockey with both heels digging into my spine and his fingertips clutching my shoulder.
“Cipher, please. Oh, yes, please. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
His politeness charmed me; he was a good boy who’d been raised right. I’d make it good for him, whatever it was. His keening cries escalated to a single high note as warm cum flooded my mouth. For the first time in my cocksucking career, I swallowed it down, every last drop. (That was how much I liked him.) Kitten was a quivering mess and a little bit shell-shocked as I nursed him through the final tremors of his first blowjob.
When his legs finally unlocked and he released me from his grip, I stood and scooped him into my arms. He was hot all over and his cheeks were pink.
“How was that, sleepy head?” I murmured into his ear.
“So good. I liked it a lot. I’ve never done that before. Was I too fast?”
“You came right on time, cutie, I promise.”
“Okay, that’s good. Can I do you now?”
The thought of Kitten on his knees with his pink lips wrapped around my cock made my dick throb even harder, but chasing after it was guilt. Right now, I was his best shot at survival, and he knew it. Not to mention what it might do to me if some other guy (or girl) caught his eye. It seemed risky, even if we were boyfriends, so instead of allowing my fantasy to take shape, I kissed his blushing cheek and said, “Later, sweetness. I’ve got a big brother to find.”
* * *
I droppedKitten off with Artemis and Teresa, who were going with Macon to check out the local markets, both sanctioned and not. Tucking my weapons underneath my clothing discreetly, as well as a couple of Kitten’s childhood photographs, I managed to get past the security at the Prosperity Tower by chatting up a resident and walking in alongside them.
Once inside the building, which didnothave fire escapes, I showed whomever I encountered Santiago’s picture and asked if they’d seen him around. Surprisingly, no one had.
I rode the elevator next, even though I’d developed a slight phobia after being trapped in an elevator for several hours in D.C. with an individual I suspected was very near Rabid stage. They didn’t attack me, but the experience had left me a tad claustrophobic.
Maintaining a stiff upper lip while the elevator rattled and lurched, I talked to everyone who got on or off, but still no leads. I could only conclude that Santiago was no longer a resident of Prosperity Tower on Walton Street, if he ever was one, since literally no one claimed to have seen him. Maybe the woman at the intake desk had lied to me about his last-known address, but why?
It didn’t make any sense
I grabbed what was advertised as a “chicken salad sandwich” from the deli down the street and spent the rest of the afternoon questioning the shop owners and residents of neighboring buildings, but it seemed Santiago was a ghost. The only conclusion I could draw was that if Santiago had been assigned government housing, he didn’t stay long.
Tomorrow, I’d try the hospitals and after that, the morgue.
* * *
Three days later,I was no closer to uncovering big brother’s location. Neither the hospitals nor the morgue had any record of him, so I could only assume that he wasn’t injured and he wasn’t dead. Kitten was relieved when I gave him that update, though still worried that I hadn’t yet been able to find him.
Day four in Atlanta dawned, and I was going over the possibilities of Santiago’s whereabouts while Kitten slumbered in my arms. His cat was laying across my foot, which seemed to be her favorite spot to sleep. I’d taken off my prosthetic leg to let the skin of my stump breathe, and the loss of mobility always made me restless. Kitten stirred at last, yawning like a lion, and smiled sweetly up at me. “Did you sleep?” he asked.
“A little,” I said, though hardly at all. The lack of good sleep was catching up with me. I was exhausted at day’s end but unable to relax, needing to stay vigilant in case of fire or some other unexpected catastrophe.
“That’s not good,” he said.
“I’ll manage.”
