Page 69 of Inferno

“That’s right, Boy. This cock is mine, and I get to say how and when and how often you come. And you don’t get to come again until I pick you up from work and have my dick impaled in your ass. So, calm the fuck down.”

The stern, authoritarian timbre of his voice makes me feel both chastened and excited as I squeeze my eyes closed and will my dick to soften. It doesn’t work, but my arousal does lessen to a point where I’m not worried I’m going to explode without being touched.

“Good Boy, now let’s get you ready for work.”

Nodding, I let him turn me and nudge me toward the bathroom. Following close behind me, he steers me toward the toilet, then reaches around me and holds my hard dick down until I pee.

The oddly intimate gesture still feels weird, but I’m surprised by how quickly I’ve gotten used to it, not even trying to stop him or take over the holding of my junk.

“Last night was fucking perfect, you’re perfect. The perfect Kitten and all mine. I’m a lucky man,” he croons, pressing soft kisses to my neck and making me sigh happily.

Anders has this uncanny ability to make me feel cherished while he oversteps a boundary, and I’m unsure how I feel about that. Insisting that he be the one to hold my dick while I pee is weird, but praising me and kissing me while he does it counteracts the weirdness and makes it sweet and caring.

Maybe this is what he meant when he said he had to be careful not to allow himself to take over my life. Maybe he actually meant that he’d want to be part of every aspect of my personal care. I don’t think I’d mind that, especially not if he waskissing me and telling me how perfect I am and how lucky he is while he did it.

Once we’re washed and dressed, he makes us both pancakes with fresh fruit, then hands me a brown bag from the refrigerator.

“Lunch,” he says when I stare at the bag questioningly.

“You made me a brown bag lunch?” I question, still not quite believing what I’m seeing.

“I can come and pick you up at lunchtime and take you out for something to eat if you’d prefer?” he offers.

“No,” I say quickly, not quite ready for everyone to know we’re…dating, just yet.

His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t question me, instead, he wiggles the bag and I reach out and take it, holding it to my chest like it’s treasure not a sandwich.

He doesn’t realize it, but this is the first time in twenty-two years that anyone has ever bothered to make me lunch or even care if I eat at all.

Something like this may seem like a small thing to him, but to me it’s huge, and this is it, this is the moment when I admit to myself that I’m in love. I’m in love with Anders, and from this moment onward, I’m his—heart, soul and everything else in between.

FOURTEEN

ANDERS

The moment Henrywalks into the garage and out of view, I regret allowing him to come to work at all today. He can’t drive, I could have turned off the alarm and still been in bed with him right now. I could have him spread out beneath me, my dick fucking his perfect ass. We could spend the day taking turns sucking each other off, but instead he’s hidden at work and beyond my reach for the next eleven hours.

Frustrated, I turn my car around and race off toward home, angry with myself for allowing him to have a job and for not locking him naked in my house where I could gorge myself on him and keep him needy and ready for me twenty-four hours a day.

Except even thinking that in my head makes me feel like a psycho. He isn’t my prisoner, and even though I might want to, I can’t isolate him just because the idea of anyone else having his attention makes me feel furious.

By the time I get home, I’ve narrowed my racing thoughts from locking him in a cage so I don’t have to share him to just dirty, sweaty fantasies. I imagine all the things I plan to do tohim, all the ways I’m going to fuck him, and all the things I’m going to buy him.

He’s dressed in the clothes I bought him today. A pair of navy-blue slacks that hug his tiny, pert ass in the most delicious way, and a soft pale blue button-down with a knit sweater over the top.

Honestly, I’d love to see him in fitted jeans and a shirt tight enough to show off his narrow waist and flat stomach. But I’d rather buy him things he’ll be comfortable in, and the new stuff I got him is similar to the style of clothes I’m used to seeing him wear.

I didn’t choose his outfit for him this morning, but I did get us both matching pairs of white Calvin Klein briefs from the dresser. After I pulled on my own pair, I crouched at his feet and helped him slip his pair up his legs, making sure that his semi-hard cock was positioned comfortably inside the cotton.

Seeing him in tight white briefs made my own cock weep, and if it wasn’t for my determination not to imprison him, he would probably still be impaled on my cock instead of starting his day at the garage right now.

Throwing my front door open, I stomp into my house, then slam it shut behind me. Curling my fist around my hard dick through my pants, I try to decide if I need to rub one out or if I want to save all of my cum to fuck it all into my boy later tonight.

Deciding I’d rather see my cream dripping out of his hole than in my fist, I inhale a sharp breath, then let it out slowly, loosening my grip on my dick and forcing my fingers to hang loose at my sides.

It takes me more than a dozen exhales, but eventually I feel calm enough to move, and I walk into the kitchen and pour myself a cup of coffee. Filling a mug, I add creamer, then take a seat on the couch, turning on the TV.

I decide to watch the same cop comedy show Henry chose the first time I brought him here, but just like then, the show doesn’t capture my attention, and instead I find myself scrolling through a sex toy website, picking out things for Henry. I add several plugs to the basket, trying and failing not to imagine how he’d look with them peeking out between his cheeks.

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