Page 92 of Rhymes with Metaphor
Joel stirred and lifted his head.
“Morning,” said Reg.“Or should I say ‘Evening’?Come and eat.I’ve got to keep my personal secretary and muse properly fed.”He balanced a small plate with a croissant on Joel’s chest.
Joel rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and sat up.“I’ve pulled all-nighters before, but I never felt this wiped after.”
“That was before you had mono.”
By the time they’d finished the coffee and only a few scattered flakes of croissant remained, Joel was looking more spirited.
“Now,” said Reg, setting the tray on the floor.“Take your clothes off.”
“You first.”
“If I must, I must.”Reg got his clothes off and dropped them on the floor.Joel watched, looking solemn.
Joel got out of bed and stripped off his clothes, not slowly or seductively, but with alacrity.
Reg patted the bed.
“I should have a shower,” said Joel.
“Not yet, cariad.But you’ll want one after I’ve finished with you.”
Joel climbed onto the bed.He was trembling.
“Don’t you look a picture?”said Reg, regarding Joel’s body appraisingly.
In the bottom drawer of his desk was a plastic bucket filled with drawing implements: Crayons, pastels, coloured pencils, and markers.Reg dug out a fistful of markers and placed them on the bed.
“What are those for?”said Joel.
“You’ll see.Lie back for me.”
Joel did, and Reg touched him here and there, light caresses that visibly excited Joel.
“Shut your eyes,” said Reg.
Joel did, and Reg picked an ultra fine tip marker from the pile.He straddled Joel and held his left eyelid down with the tip of his thumb.The marker needed only a light touch to leave a mark.Reg wroteaddolion Joel’s left eyelid andcariadon his right.
“I can see stars,” said Joel.
Reg lifted his thumb and capped the marker.
Joel blinked.Reg could almost feel the force of devotion in his gaze.
Reg picked out a green, food-grade marker from the pile.“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”
Joel complied, and Reg pulled on his tongue and wroteapsewhile Joel’s saliva pooled around his thumb.
Reg whispered, “I’m putting words in your mouth.”
Joel closed his mouth around the marker and sucked.
“What you do to me.”Reg drew the marker slowly from between Joel’s lips.
Joel let out a drawn-out sigh.“Your thumb tastes of marzipan.But the marker’s bitter.”
“It’s for writing on cookies, cariad, so it won’t poison you.”
