Page 25 of A Totally Platonic Thing
My own erection hadn’t gone down either, although the loose shorts I had on disguised it more. A little more, anyway. He’d still notice. Not to be too arrogant or anything, but I had enough to show no matter what I was wearing.
“Lucas,” he said, sounding a little hoarse. Maybe from all the yelling he’d been doing while I spanked him. I tore my eyes away from the ridge of his cock back to his face.
“Yeah?” I didn’t sound much better. I still vibrated with that electricsomething, my skin feeling too hot and tight. My hands twitched with the urge to touch him again. Pull his boxer-briefs back down. To do what? He’d had his punishment.
Chris swallowed hard and tried to turn his face away, cheeks red. Not as red as his other cheeks. Oh, fuck, I couldn’t keep thinking about how his ass had looked when I was done with it.
I grabbed his chin, not hard but firmly, and turned his face back, forcing him to meet my eyes. Jesus, his were even greener when he was turned on and embarrassed and unsure. I wanted to pull him back into my lap again and just hold him this time, pet and soothe him, let him cry if he needed to. Because he kind of looked like he needed to.
But again. This wasn’t supposed to be a good thing, right? He had to learn the damn lesson. This wasn’t about what I wanted.
“You’re not going out tonight. You know that, right?” He nodded, biting his lip, face flushing even redder. His ass had felt hot to the touch. Would his face, too, if I stroked my fingers down his rosy cheek? “Okay. And you’re not jerking off, either. I know what you meant when you said you needed a minute.”
Chris’s mouth dropped open. “What? No, I mean, I’m not—you can’t stop me!”
A weird thrill went through me. Icouldstop him. I leaned down over him, holding his face still. “You can go take a piss and brush your teeth, whatever. But you’re leaving the bathroom door open.” He started to protest again, tried to push himself up on his arms, and I planted my other hand in the middle of his chest and pushed him right back down again. “No. You were acting like a brat, and you got what you deserved. You don’t get to come afterwards. And don’t think you’re going to wait until I fall asleep. You’re sleeping in my bed tonight where I can keep an eye on you.”
His eyes glittered—with anger this time, I thought. And his chest rose and fell really fast under my hand, his heartbeat thrumming through my palm.
On the other hand, his cock still looked painfully erect. And I thought the fabric over the tip had gotten a little damp.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he said, ridiculously defiant for someone lying there pinned and spanked and sexually frustrated. “You’re not in charge of me. If I want to go get drunk and—and—limp home at dawn, then I will. I’m not your problem.”
My teeth ground together. Oh, yes he was. And right now, I was in charge of him. Maybe I didn’t want to be as a general rule, but right at this moment? Yeah. I was calling the shots.
“Aren’t you? Because you seem like my problem when I have to come pick you up in the middle of the night. Or when you crawl in bed with me at six AM on Sunday morning after—” I broke off abruptly, horrified at what I’d been about to say.
But Chris flinched anyway. He knew what had almost come out of my mouth.
And I instantly felt like shit.
He’d been so happy when that asshole boyfriend of his had told him he was finally ready to have Chris sleep over. He’d texted me about it, in fact. They’d fooled around in Chris’s car, in a couple of hotels—because supposedly Eli had roommates who didn’t like noise—and sometimes at our place. But never at Eli’s, which had seemed like a big enough red flag to make the president of China happy, but it wasn’t like Chris had listened when I told him so.
And then our apartment door had opened at dawn, Chris dragging himself inside, pale and with his eyes all swollen from crying. He’d gotten directly into my bed, put his head on my chest, and sobbed out how Eli had shoved him out the door after getting a text message.
From his girlfriend.
Saying that she’d be home from her night shift a little early, and could Eli move their breakfast plans up a little bit?
And I’d finally figured out that Chris hadn’t let it go after a few days—that maybe he’d been agonizing over it ever since, even though Sebastian and I had both told him how he wasn’t the asshole in that scenario, and he’d appeared to believe us.
Finding the girlfriend on social media and messaging her about her cheating douche of a boyfriend had helped too.
Fuck. Chrisreallyhated cheaters. And I’d gone there, hadn’t I? Pushed right where it hurt, because I’d been so angry I wanted to make him feel as bad as he’d made me feel.
Jesus, I could be such an asshole.
I rubbed his chest where my hand still rested, giving in to the urge to pet him just a little. Christ. What the hell was I doing? This was so fucked up. I still wanted to get off, and he wanted to get off, and it all felt surreal.
And yet totally normal, because this was Chris. Everything was normal with us, because none of it was.
I had to comfort him. That was why I had to touch him, and why I had to say something better. Something that’d get us closer to…our more normal normal.
“You know I know you’d never go after Sebastian’s guy, Chris. Iknowthat. And I’m so fucking sorry for saying—a lot of that. But you get that it’s shitty, the way you’ve been treating him? And treating me? And treating yourself, most of all?”
“Yeah.” Chris flicked his gaze back to me and licked his lips. They looked like he’d done nothing but bite them while I spanked him, all puffy and crimson-red. He let out a long, miserable-sounding sigh, and I felt that, and then felt most of the tension drain out of him. “I know. I’m still a little messed up over…but it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. And I promised I’d be better, but…you’re really not going to let me come?”
He sounded so pitiful and plaintive.
