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Fifteen minutes later, the fashion show I encouraged him to give me is over, and I’m placing the last of his things beside mine in my dresser. Everything I got him fits, including the fleece pajamas, which my sexy, perturbed kitten is now wearing.

Unlike the ones he wore last night, the pair I brought him are the right size, and he looks adorable in them. Although I’d prefer him naked and sitting in my lap, grinding his cute ass against my leaking dick.

“Do you want to watch TV downstairs or in bed?” I ask.

“Downstairs,” he says quickly, darting his eyes to the bed, then back to me again.

Swallowing down my disappointment, I open the dresser and take out a pair of shorts, pulling them on and hiding my hard cock from his view. Henry’s eyes have fallen to my blatant erection more than once while he was trying on clothes, and I didn’t try to hide it, instead, I paid it no mind.

Henry’s hard again too, his slim, long cock tenting the pajama bottoms he’s wearing. A part of me wants to tease him a little, maybe even pull down his pants, part his cheeks, and toy with his ass again, but I refuse to make this sexual, no matter how aroused we both are.

Reaching for his hand, I lead him from the bedroom, down the stairs, and toward the couch. Handing him the remote, I head for the refrigerator and open the door. “Do you want beer, soda, or water? I might have some juice.”

“Soda would be great, thanks.”

“Grape, orange, or Pepsi?”

“Grape, please.” He doesn’t say it, but the upturn in his voice belies his excitement, and I make a mental note to keep the house stocked with grape soda from now on.

Grabbing a beer for myself, I place the drinks to the side, then throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, adding extra butter and a bag of M&M’s into the bowl before carrying the drinks and snacks back to the couch.

Instead of lounging, Henry is perched on the edge of the seat, the TV still on the home screen.

“You couldn’t find anything to watch?” I ask.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“I’m a sucker for reality TV, but I’ll pretty much watch anything, so pick what you want.”

“You can pick, I’m pretty easy too,” he assures me, handing me the remote the moment I flop down into the corner of the couch.

A part of me wants to insist he choose something, but I get the impression he’s finding this hard, I just don’t know why. Thinking back to his apartment, I try to picture where in the small space his TV was. But I don’t remember seeing one, and after he showered and I freaked out about the water being cold, we’d gotten into bed and gone to sleep.

“Do you watch much TV at home?” I ask cautiously, scrolling through the on-screen guide without looking at him.

“I don’t have a TV.”

“It is supposed to rot your brain,” I say with a forced laugh.

“That’s true,” he says, his faux upbeat tone fake too.

“Well, buckle up, buttercup, because this show is going to have our brains rotting to a pile of mush,” I say, picking a terrible reality TV show where the contestants spend weeks being surrounded by attractive singletons to see if they’re tempted to cheat on their partners.

For the first ten minutes, I don’t push Henry to relax. He’s tense, and it’s clear from his rigid body language and ultra focus on the show that he’s uncomfortable.

Unlike Henry, I’ve deliberately sprawled myself across the couch, manspreading until my entire thigh is pressing against his. The bowl of popcorn is perched on top of my dick, and each time I lift it up to offer it to Henry, I catch him glancing at the obvious tent in my shorts.

“Kitten, you can’t watch this kind of car-crash TV sitting all rigid like that. Come and snuggle with me.” It’s hard, but I make sure there isn’t a hint of an order in my words or voice. I could demand he come to me, and I’m fairly sure he would, but I don’t want that. I want him to be comfortable and willing, not coerced.

His skin blanches for a moment, and he holds his breath. After a painfully long minute, he inches backward until his shoulders are just about resting on the cushions.

“Slightly better,” I tell him, fighting the urge to simply put him where I want him. Henry might be a fully grown man, but I’m bigger, stronger, and more than capable of physically manhandling him if the situation requires it.

As the show continues, Henry’s tense muscles gradually start to soften.

“Kitten, I don’t like you all the way over there. Would you please come and snuggle with me?”

“I’ve…I’ve never done that with anyone before,” he says, grimacing.