Page 22

22

Griffin

Was I really going to do this?

I’d intended to from the moment I’d led him into the living room, but now that I was faced with the idea of actually doing it…

I gazed down at his face, so beautiful where his head rested against my leg, and I had to see more. I had to feel more. I’d already touched him last night, and today… Today, he was following my lead on everything. He seemed to be accepting it all, and I wanted to see how much more he’d be willing to accept.

“If I asked you to give me a blowjob, would you?” I asked, threading my fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he replied after a brief hesitation.

“Why?” I hadn’t meant to ask the question, but it was out there, and I could barely breathe as I waited for his answer.

He was quiet again, closing his eyes. He didn’t open them as he said, “Because I’m going to do it anyway, whether I want to or not.”

I flinched. “I don’t want it to be like that.”

He opened his eyes, looking at me as directly as he ever had. “But that’s the way it’s going to be. I can’t say no to you, not for long. This…” He shrugged, something helpless in the motion that sent guilt racing through me. “This is going to happen.”

The words hurt. “Is it that hard to think about touching me?” I asked him.

“I’m not gay,” he said with another shrug, looking a little flustered, a little awkward. “I don’t like guys that way. It has nothing to do with the way you look.”

“You came when I touched you last night,” I told him, desperate, pleading for him to say something other than the fact that he felt obligated to give me a blowjob. I didn’t want it to be that way.

He averted his eyes, staring down at the floor. “I know. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe things are different with you.”

His voice was a little lackluster, but I chose to ignore that. I pounced on the words themselves instead. “Do you think I’m hideous?” I asked. There was something deadly in my voice that even I could hear, as though daring him to give the wrong answer — and I’d know if he lied. I always knew when people lied about that. It always showed in their faces, making their feelings perfectly obvious to me.

He shook his head. “No.”

That word, at least, rang true. I took a deep breath, letting it go slowly. I could push this, or I could wait until he was really ready.

Before I could decide, the doorbell rang. I froze, looking down at my ungagged captive. Oh, fuck. Fuck. He’d just tried to escape the night before. There was no way in hell he wasn’t going to try to get someone’s attention.

I put my hand over his mouth, but he didn’t try to wrestle away from me. A tear trickled slowly down his cheek as he hunched down, slumping to the floor .

“Shh,” I whispered unnecessarily.

The doorbell rang again, but I couldn’t just get up and answer it. It was bad enough that there was a chance someone could see the shadows through the blinds and wonder. I didn’t need him racing off to try to fuck this up for me.

The leash stayed slack, though, and he didn’t try to pull away from me. I looked down at him, surprised, but he had simply closed his eyes again.

He wasn’t fighting.

He’d accepted this.

My heart pounded in my chest.

He’d accepted this .

If he hadn’t, he’d have been desperately trying to scream around my hand, trying to wriggle free, trying to do something. But he didn’t. He chose to stay there, held beneath my touch on my floor moments after I’d asked him to give me a blow job.

The walls were — mostly — soundproof, but I waited a long time before sliding my hand away from his mouth. He didn’t move, instead resting his head against my knee again. I petted his hair, grateful, relieved, unable to comprehend the sheer magnitude of what had just happened.

“You don’t have to do anything,” I promised him fiercely. “That can wait a little longer. All I need is for you to stay with me.”

And I didn’t realize until that moment that I was crying too, that the idea of him choosing to stay meant more to me than I could ever hope for. My beautiful boy had had an opportunity to alert someone to his situation and his presence, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even tried.

That had to mean something.

Didn’t it ?

He let out a soft sound, something almost like a whine, and I sagged back against the couch. That had been close… but it had been good, too.

Because now I knew he was done trying to run.

He wanted to stay with me, and I’d wait until he was ready for anything more…

As long as he didn’t take too long.

I slowly stood, murmuring, “Come on. Let’s go lie down, okay?”

This time, it would be safe enough to take him into my bedroom and let him share my bed. We might not be lovers, but he had just proven he was done fighting. He was so close to being the perfect pet.

All he had to do was give in just a little more.

I led him to the bedroom, unclipping the leash to let him climb up on the bed. I followed, pulling him into my arms. He pressed in close to me, and I could feel him trembling.

“You were so good,” I told him, kissing his throat. “Do you want a reward?”

He nodded, the gesture more tentative than anything else, fractional and barely perceptible.

“How about we take off the mitts, huh? I know you don’t like them, and I think you’ve earned that.”

He nodded more vigorously. “Please, Master,” he said, already offering his hands out to me.

I smiled at him then got the key to the tiny padlocks, removing the things just like I did every day and letting him stretch his fingers. I tossed the mitts themselves onto the bedside table.

He looked down at them in wonder, then glanced warily at me.

“I won’t put them back on yet,” I told him. “We’ll just use them when I’m in the mood. Okay? ”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “This is really good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Toby.” I smiled as I pulled him back against me… just where he was supposed to be.

Sooner or later, he’d understand that. He’d know, too, that this was what his life was supposed to be.

All it would take was time.