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He was living and breathing Branson Financial, and I tried to support him from the sidelines.
He’d let me spank him a few times but only reluctantly. I wished he’d let me do it more, for his sake. It reset his brain and allowed him to function better. But my man was laser focused on work, not on his well-being.
I intentionally arrived at his apartment a little early tonight. I’d planned on him being late; otherwise, I’d have a hard time pulling off my grand plan.
Me: I’m at your apartment. I’ll wait in my caruntil you get here.
Pretty Boy: Oh shit. I lost track of time
Me: No worries
Pretty Boy: It will be at least an hour
Me: I may or may not have a delicious item that needs to be frozen. Would you mind if I put it in your freezer?
Pretty Boy: My stomach wants to come home now! But go on in. It’s fine
I’d been hoping for that response, but I knew it was hard for him. He wouldn’t add “it’s fine” if he didn’t have some reservations. I hoped my plan was worth it.
By the time Shane arrived two hours later, I’d accomplished everything and also gone down a rabbit hole on Reddit. I heard his crutches clopping down the hall. My nerves kicked in, afraid my gesture had crossed a boundary for Shane. I decided to act like this was any other night and not like there was a possibility he’d kick me out.
“Hey,” I opened the door, greeting him with a kiss, taking his work bag off his shoulder.
“What’s all this?” Shane asked as I settled him on the blanket in the middle of the living room, carefully raising his ankle on a pillow.
“It’s too cold for the beach, but I thought we’d have a late-night picnic.”
While he rearranged himself on the pillows, I clicked on the lights I’d strung around the room and turned off the overhead lights. The room glowed, and Shane’s expression of gratitude gutted me.
Shane always had a reaction of disbelief when I went out of my way for him. As if bare minimum boyfriend behavior was new to him. I retrieved dinner from the fridge and arranged everything on the blanket. I’d picked foods I could feed him.
Shane moaned at the first bite, and his body melted into me. Swallowing his moans would have to wait until he was fed and willing. Tyler Shaw’s song “When You’re Home” filled the apartment, and we used our bodies instead of words to talk to each other.
When Shane sucked my fingers into his mouth, I lost control. The sparkle in his eyes told me that was his plan. My mouth devoured him, and we forgot all about the food. Shane felt so good under me as I thrust my hips into him. We ended up rolling onto the plates laughing.
“Do you want dessert ordessert?” I waggled my eyebrows.
Shane leaned in and kissed me again before saying, “I have been fantasizing about the dessert you brought.”
“Mmmm.” I chased his lips before getting up to clear the dinner container and get dessert. “Sit and relax,” I told Shane when he started gathering dishes.
“You’ve gone out of your way, the least I can do is pick up my mess.” Shane’s scowl prevented me from arguing.
I picked him up and handed him his crutches.
Shane opened the fridge and froze. After a beat, he yanked open the freezer and then a cabinet I hadn’t closed all the way.
“Cole,” he spat, “you bought me groceries. I am capable of doing that myself.”
I raised my hands in defense. “It’s not about you being capable; it’s about me trying to help you while you’re injured and slaying the world of finance.” He didn’t relax. “You’ve worked so many hours this week, I wanted to take a couple things off your plate, so you’d have more time to recharge. I want to make your life easier, and if you’re mad, I won’t do it again,” I promised. His reaction was worst-case scenario.
“What other things did you do?” He folded his arms over his chest.
“I cleaned your bathroom,” I admitted, at a loss for words and confused over his level of anger. “I’m sorry.”
His crutches slammed onto the floor with each step as he exited the room, and I plated his dessert for him. His favorite chocolate cake with peanut butter ice cream.
“Why is there only one plate?” Shane’s face held no emotion as he hopped over without his crutches.