Chapter Seven

 

 

 

A half dozen days of ordering in and eating at restaurants and Peter suggested they go and pick up groceries and make some of their own meals. They’d eat better, and they could get to know each other too—he’d always found that working with someone let you know about them in a different way.

This afternoon they were making stew, and it involved cutting about five million vegetables. Peter was doing carrots, Christian was working on a rutabaga, both of them cutting methodically.

“There’s almost a zen to this, don’t you think?” Peter asked.

“It’s nice and mindless. Sort of easy, huh?”

“Exactly. You can just let your brain float. Or chat with your lover.” Peter paused for a moment before adding. “Your boy.”

Christian’s cheeks heated, but his boy’s lips curled at the edges.

He bumped their hips together. “Chatting is where we started, after all, isn’t it?” Up until this week, they’d only talked online.

“It was. I never did that before, go into one of those rooms. If I’d been caught, the guys would have given me no end of shit.”

“Yeah, I gathered that. Which was one of the reasons why I suggested we move to Skype. Well, that and I think it’s important that you’re compatible with the person you’re entering our kind of relationship with. And that’s easier to judge if you can actually speak with the person, see facial expressions, hear inflections and stuff.” Peter knew you just couldn’t tell from text only. There were too many variables.

“I wanted a friend.” Christian kept working, head down.

“You wanted a friend, but you were hoping for more. I could feel your need, even through the screen.” He began cutting the now-peeled rutabaga into small squares.

“Why were you in the chat room? Don’t you have…options?”

“I’d exhausted my options. I’d visited a number of clubs, was set up by friends.” He shrugged. “I didn’t find anyone I had a real connection with, and at the clubs there’s all these expectations, especially if you take someone home. I knew there was someone out there for me, though.”

“I guess that sucks for the local guys, but good for me.”

“And good for me. I was lucky I found you. And I’m so happy it was me who found you, if you know what I mean.”

“I didn’t talk more than once to any of the others. I didn’t want to.”

“I passed over quite a few men myself before I saw you chatting with Toppy224.” Peter shook his head. “A top should never take a screen name that makes it sound like he’s just one of many.”

“Yeah. I knew I wanted to talk to someone, but…I didn’t know who. You found me, though.”

“I could tell from your questions that you weren’t sure what you were looking for, but that you were serious about looking. It felt natural to get to know you better. I was drawn to you as soon as we started talking together.” He’d connected with Christian from the start, felt more for this man on the other end of the computer than he had with anyone in person.

Christian pushed the chopped vegetables over and moved to wash the knife.

“What did you think about me at the beginning?”

“That you couldn’t be real.” Christian’s laugh was self-deprecating, but held real humor. “I thought you were catfishing me. No one’s exactly what another person is looking for. I couldn’t stop answering your messages, though.”

“We were exceptionally well-matched right from the start, weren’t we? I’m glad you didn’t stop answering, even though you thought you were being catfished.”

“You had to worry, too. Some random soldier trying to get…”

“To get what?”

“Topped? Laid? I don’t know.” Oh, there was some anger, a hint of shame.

“Once I could see you, once I could see your eyes, I knew you weren’t shining me on. You wanted this, you didn’t want to want it, but you did.”

“Men like me aren’t supposed to do things like that.”

Peter shook his head. “I keep telling you, there’s no shame in the things you need. That there are no rules as to who is a top and who is a sub. As long as everyone is getting what they need.”

“I know that, but it’s harder to believe it. I want to be the strongest.”

“You are. I know I’ve told you before that subs have to have a core of strength. Being a submissive does not make you weak.” Peter didn’t believe Christian was anything but strong.

“Who thinks that but Doms?” The words didn’t sound strident, simply honest.

“Well, I haven’t taken a poll,” Peter murmured dryly.

“Me either.” Christian chuckled, then shrugged. “I just mean that most people—people just living their lives—think about men that need to, that want to, you know. That they’re just little twinks.”

Peter had to laugh at that. “You’re no little twink. You’re not even a big twink.”

“No. I’m just a…soldier. A big one.”

“So clearly those assumptions by ‘people’ are wrong. Besides. Who cares what other people think? What you and I know is what’s important.”

“I guess I care. I mean, that was one of the reasons I joined up. I wanted people to be proud of me, to respect me.”

“I respect you. And I’m proud of you. Even more so because I know it’s not easy for you.” He knew how hard it was for Christian just to be here.

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot.” Christian grabbed an onion. “Just one?”

“Yeah, just one. And I love how that sounds, by the way.”

Christian didn’t pretend not to understand. “Respect, you know? You deserve it too.”

“Thank you, boy.”

“Do you want garlic too?”

Christian was beginning to relax, to honestly relax and just talk to him, with him.

“Yes, please. I love garlic.”

“What’s your favorite meal?”

Peter tilted his head, considering that. “For what? I mean, to celebrate? For breakfast?”

“Yes. I want to know all of them.”

“Pancakes and bacon for breakfast. Surf and turf for celebrations. I like a nice roast dinner, with potatoes, veg, the whole deal. Love chocolate mousse cake for dessert. And seafood of any kind.”

Christian nodded, a warm smile on his face as he chopped.

“What about you? What’s your favorite meal?”

“Fried chicken and mashed potatoes.”

“Yeah? Why that?”

“I don’t know. It’s always been my favorite. I used to ask for it for my birthday, every year. My mom makes amazing mashed potatoes and gravy.”

“Yeah? That’s cool. We should get the stuff tomorrow and make it.”

“I don’t know how, Peter.”

“We’re smart guys, we’ll figure it out. I mean, that’s what Google is for, right?”

“Right. Worst case scenario, we’ll order some in.” Christian grinned over. “Well, worst case is we set the kitchen on fire…”

Peter laughed and moved in for a quick hug. “Yeah. We’ll do our best not to let that happen.”

He threw the chopped onions into the pot and began to let them sweat down.

“What else do you want me to do?” Christian’s body was close, heat against him.

“I think we have everything cut up. We’ll just need to throw it all together and then we can let it stew while I tell you exactly what I want you to do.” He had more than a few things in mind.

“To the food?”

He shook his head slowly, holding Christian’s gaze. “No. Not to the food at all.”

Christian licked his lips, heavy muscles clenching under his T-shirt.

Peter put his hand in the middle of Christian’s chest, simply feeling those muscles moving, enjoying even the sensation of Christian’s lungs rising and falling with every breath. The sweet nipples were hard, tight under the jersey, and Christian was right there, breathing with him, in sync with him.

“We need to cook the meat and throw in the rest of the ingredients.” He was reminding himself more than Christian.

“Uh-huh.” Christian leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth.

He turned his face so their lips slid together, and smiled.

“Stir your onions, huh? They’re sizzling.”

He waggled his eyebrows and reached for Christian’s balls, fondling them through his jeans. “They are indeed.” Grinning, he turned to stir the onions with his free hand, leaving the other one right where it was.

Christian gasped and rocked up on his tiptoes. He squeezed gently, then stroked them. He could totally do some over-the-kitchen-island fucking.

In fact, the thought of Christian with his jeans around his knees, bent over with his pink ass showing made him moan.

Food first, he reminded himself. The damn stew could sit and work on its own once they put it altogether, but these first ten minutes or so, it needed to be watched. Making himself let go of Christian’s balls, he turned his attention back to his pot. He added the meat to the onions to brown.

Christian moved away from him and started cleaning up. Peter liked the vision of Christian in his kitchen. It felt homey and right, like this was how things belonged.

Smiling, he stirred the meat, making sure it got browned on all sides. Then he added the beef stock and the beer, making sure to scrape all the way down to the bottom before adding all the cut vegetables into the pot. He stirred it up a few times and put on the lid.

“There we go! Now we can forget about it for a while.”

“It smells good. I’ll make biscuits later if you want.”

“That would be totally amazing.” He washed his hands, his belly growling softly at the thought of homemade biscuits.

“Good deal.” Christian tossed him a towel to dry his hands.

Catching it out of the air, he made a show of drying them slowly, knowing he had Christian’s eyes on him. “We haven’t made love in here yet,” he noted casually.

“This is a kitchen. Burning, cutting, slicing—none of these are sex words.”

Christian’s words had him chuckling. “No, but there’s the island with no fire or knives. It’s a decent height, too. And there’s always olive oil if we need extra lube…” He would need to grab some condoms and lube from the bathroom if they were going to do this.

Christian snorted. “Olive oil?”

“Sure. Would be better than butter, I’d think.” At the look on Christian’s face he had to go on. “Or sour cream. Yogurt. Barbeque sauce.”

“Dude! Barbeque sauce would sting!” Christian hooted, slapping his leg. “Salsa. Sting and chunky!”

“Extra friction,” he suggested, somehow managing not to burst out laughing himself.

“No, man. Extra friction would be salt.”

He rummaged through the spices in the pantry and produced the extra coarse kosher salt. He shook it. “Any takers?” He did finally start laughing at that. Though it was less than funny if you really thought about it.

“Yeah, no. No salt on delicate parts, thank you.” Christian rolled, the laughter splitting the air.

He put the salt away, eyes widening as he saw the brand new containers of lube and condoms. “Oh man, I must have bought these when I did groceries a while ago, then unpacked everything into the cupboard here.” Whatever the reason, he now had everything he needed to bend Christian over the kitchen island and fuck that sexy ass into tomorrow.

“You perv,” Christian teased. “Lube doesn’t go in the kitchen.”

“I imagine I was planning to bring it and the condoms into the bathroom when I was done here. I’m glad it got left here, though.” He grabbed both and sauntered over to the island. He hit the marble top. “Pony up.”

“Pardon me?” That wide-eyed shock was delicious as fuck.

“Pull down your pants and underwear and bend over the island. I’m going to ride your beautiful ass until you scream.” He couldn’t make it any clearer.

“I—”

“Now, boy. Don’t make me spank you again today.” Although there was great appeal to that as well. He could feel it, Christian’s ass warming his palm… A man could grow addicted to that.

He spun Christian around to face the island. “Unfasten your belt.”

Christian hesitated and he growled, pressing up against Christian’s back. “I am prepared to spank you before I fuck you if you keep hesitating.”

“Fuck you!”

It was going to be like that, was it?

“No, I’m going to fuck you.” He pushed Christian’s feet apart and grabbed at the button, tugging it open, then drawing down the zipper. His boy was hard as nails, a wet spot on Christian’s tighty-whities.

He gave the cotton-covered cock a rough fondle before tugging Christian’s pants down, baring the lovely ass for his perusal.

He loved the way the elastic plumped Christian’s ass up, framed the warm, still pink skin. He was going to make it a deeper red again, his hand itching for this spanking. “Naughty boy, not paying attention.”

He let the first blow hit, palm bouncing off Christian’s ass. Christian bucked and cried out, but Peter didn’t stop, laying another spank down. “I warned you, boy.”

He tugged Christian’s jeans down farther, hamstringing him at the knees. Then he laid a few more swats down, watching his handprints appear and disappear. Damn, that was lovely. Ass burning and red, swollen and pert. He moaned loudly and let a few more swats fly.

“Stop it.”

“Nope.” Peter held Christian with a hand on his lower back, and spanked again. He knew how important the fight was for Christian. He knew that Christian needed it.

More than that, he knew Christian craved it.

He peppered swats over Christian’s ass, and the tops of his thighs, the heat building between them.

“Please. Please stop. No more, sir. It’s sore.”

“Not yet. When I decide it’s time.”

“Goddamn it!”

“You can swear all you want—it isn’t going to change my mind.” He worked Christian’s crack.

“You…you motherfucker.” Christian went up on tiptoe, thighs shaking violently.

“No, I’m a you-fucker.” He pressed his fingers into Christian’s crack, pushing against Christian’s hole and making his needy boy grunt for him.

Grabbing for the lube, he got hold of the bottle as he kept the pressure up on Christian’s hole. “I’ve never met a boy I wanted as badly as I want you.”

His words sent a shudder through Christian and he nodded. Yeah, he wanted to be affecting Christian too.

“Gonna open you up now.” He slicked up his fingers.

Christian arched his back, pushed back toward his touch.

“Such a needy boy.” He got his fingers wet and pushed two into Christian, twisting his fingers inside Christian’s body.

His boy took him in, body riding his touch like a needy slut. He quickly added a third finger, eager for Christian to be ready so he could push his cock into the tight hole.

“Uhn.” Christian’s head lifted, arms shaking.

Peter pulled his fingers out. “Ready for me now, boy? Ready for me to take you right here in the kitchen, bent over the island?”

“Yes, sir.” Oh, excellent answer.

He grabbed the condoms and tore one off the strip, tossing the rest back on the counter. It took only a moment for him to work on the condom, then he was pressing his cock between Christian’s ass cheeks.

He held the tiny abused hole open with his thumbs, watching Christian’s body struggle with the pressure. Finally, he pushed in, Christian opening fairly easily to him, the sweet hole well-used over the last few days. He had to moan as the tight heat surrounded his cock and held him close.

Christian’s ass muscles rippled and rocked around his cock, milking him. He pressed all the way in, a shudder rocking through him at the sensations rippling around his cock.

He settled his hands on Christian’s waist, fingers digging in as he pulled back out again.

“No…” Christian pushed back against his hands, trying to keep him in.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, pushing back in hard before withdrawing again.

This time Christian trusted more, pushed less. His boy was learning.

He kept his movements long and slow, taking his time so they could both feel every inch of their skin dragging together. He would get to the good, hard fucking in a moment. He wanted to savor this first. As he moved, he could feel Christian begin to breathe, to believe that the pleasure would continue. To trust him.

He moved faster, changing his angle every few thrusts.

When he hit Christian’s prostate, he felt the response all around his cock. That was when he stopped shifting, concentrating instead on pounding into Christian’s ass and hitting that sensitive gland. He loved the way Christian flushed, the way he could see evidence of Christian’s pleasure.

He curled his fingers tighter around Christian’s hips, knowing he was leaving bruises. Marks that Christian could see, could feel. Could revel in.

His boy. His.

Christian moaned, head bobbing as if Christian had heard his thoughts.

He moved faster, driving into Christian now, pulling the strong body back into each and every thrust, and Christian pushed himself up on his hands, driving down faster.

“Yes! That’s it!” He pushed even harder, slamming up against Christian’s ass, feeling the heat of it against his hips.

They ground together, their bodies slapping loudly. He could feel them breathing in tandem, the huffing of air from their lungs loud.

He reached around, pinching and tugging on Christian’s taut little nipples. He felt Christian’s reaction all around his cock, Christian’s tight body getting even tighter as he played with the little bits of flesh.

“Please. More.”

Because Christian had asked for it instead of demanded it, he pinched harder, pulling and tugging and twisting the bits of flesh.

Every tug made that tiny, hard-muscled ass work his cock harder. His breath panted out of him as he thrust faster, going to town on Christian’s ass, and taking his nipples along for the ride.

Christian’s sounds filled the air and his boy rode him like a prize pony.

Both their bodies were soon shining with sweat, and he groaned, increasing his speed yet again, looking to bring them both off.

Christian’s ass slid against his skin, slick and burning, and the tight ass clenched tighter.  

“Okay, boy. When I give you the command, you’ll come for me.”

Christian nodded, chin bobbing. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” He slammed in a few more times. “Now! Come for me.”

Christian’s grunt was loud, raw, perfect as seed sprayed from him. He rode it as Christian’s ass clamped down on him, then he cried out, letting the milking pull his orgasm right out of him.

“Perfect boy.” He patted Christian’s ass, gently.

Groaning, he pulled out, catching the condom and getting rid of it in the garbage. Then he leaned against Christian, pressing soft kisses along Christian’s spine.

He kept touching the sweet, hard ass, petting the skin.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Christian’s mouth.

“I want it—this—with you. I want more.”

That felt amazing to hear. And he rejoiced that Christian had managed to verbalize it, too. “Me too. I want us to work. I want you to come back and live here once you’re out.”

“You’re sure? That’s a lot to take on.”

“I’ve spent time with you online and now I’ve met you in person. We’ve had some days together. I’m sure.”

“I won’t disappoint you, Peter.” Christian sounded so sure.

“I’m not worried. I know that when you put your mind to something it’s as good as done.” That was the kind of person Christian was. And Christian was offering that gorgeous, amazing mind to him.

He checked the stew, gave it a stir and turned the heat down under it. Then he took Christian’s hand. “Come on. We’ll sit in front of the TV and relax until our supper is ready.” He thought Christian had more than earned some downtime.

“Sure. I’ll make biscuits in a little while. They only take twenty minutes.” Christian pulled his jeans up, walking a little bowlegged.

“The stew needs at least an hour to cook. Well, we could eat it now, but the longer we can let it simmer, the better it’ll taste.” He poured two glasses of water and added ice, handing one to Christian. “We can watch NCIS: LA. Maybe we’ll actually make it through a whole episode without either falling asleep or making love this time.” He didn’t actually care whether they did or not, but it was fun to tease Christian.

“My money’s on not, but we can try.”

He laughed, delighted by Christian’s reply. “We sure can. Even if not is way more fun.”

Grabbing Christian’s hand, he tugged his boy into the living room for their down time. And for whatever came up during it.