your room, young man!”
Brian whirled around and stomped off, slamming the bedroom door as he went.
Paul rubbed his bald pate. “I'm all at sea here.”
“You'll do the right thing,” Jim said.
Paul looked at him.
Jim gave him an encouraging nod. “He needs you to be clear about this, Paul.”
“I wish I could be sure.”
“He ate every bit of sugar he could find. I'm surprised he didn't throw up from it. Or go into some kind of hyperglycemic coma. He's testing you, Paul.”
Paul nodded. He eyed the closed bedroom door, and with a definite air of a man girding his loins and preparing for battle, he walked toward the room.
Brian took his time cleaning himself out. He was so furious at first he could barely hold the enema hose steady. But the warm water helped, and then he bothered to do it right. He shaved himself and washed his hair, and then he stood in the shower, letting the spray beat down on the back of his neck awhile.
By the time he had the towel wrapped around his hips and padded into the bedroom, his outrage had settled into a kind of nervous anticipation.
He'd messed up. He'd been worried for weeks that he would, and now he'd done it. Paul had looked pretty angry when he'd sent him to the shower. Angry and a little betrayed, even. Like he hadn't expected this of Brian.
The harness was worn enough so it fitted over him like an old pair of jeans, comfortable and comforting. Brian focused his mind wholly on the act of buckling himself in. His hands shook, and he realized he was scared. Not of Paul, though. Brian had to stop and rest, both palms on his knees, and take deep breaths for a few minutes.
Brian was scared that this wasn't going to work, he and Paul. He looked up at the closed bedroom door, licking his lips nervously.
The cock and ball ring was something Paul would expect, but the dildo he fastened to the harness and slid inside himself would be, he hoped, a pleasant surprise.
He pulled a pillow from the bed, turned down the lights, and knelt on the pillow. Head bent and hands folded behind himself.
He was breathing a little hard, he could admit that. They'd been approaching this act by inches. They hadn't said the words, but Brian knew that this was where they were going. And he suddenly realized, kneeling there in the dark, the room so still it seemed to be holding its breath, that he, Brian, had told Paul that he wanted to go there wholly. And now...
What worried Brian the most was that Paul might not want to take him there.
He kept his head bowed, eyes on the floor, when he heard the door open.
There was a long silence. The door clicked softly shut. Paul's step on the floor, until Brian could see his feet there. Oh, God, he thought. I love his feet.
“Brian.” Paul's voice was struggling for authority over the emotion so obviously there. “Look at me.”
Brian raised his eyes. I love his ankles, his knees. Who wouldn't love those thighs. Oh, God. He looked up. “I love you,” he said.
Paul laid his fingers on Brian's head. Brian could feel his Daddy's hand shaking. “Do you know what you need, Brian?”
Brian had been ready for this question. He'd thought about it for a long time. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Looked up at Paul with clear eyes.
“No,” he said. “But you do.”
Paul nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Stand up and kneel on the bed, Brian.”
Brian stood. His knees were a little stiff from kneeling and waiting for Paul, and his Daddy helped him to stand steadily, to walk to the bed. Helped him kneel on hands and knees on the bed. Paul ran his hands over Brian's harness, in that habitual way of his. And Brian felt the energy in the room go up about a hundred notches when Paul's fingers found the butt of the dildo.
“Good boy,” whispered Paul. Daddy stroked his crease gently and made tingles travel up and down Brian's ass, to his spine, to his balls. “Good boy. We'll leave this here, Brian.”
Brian swallowed. Nodded.
Paul crossed
Brian whirled around and stomped off, slamming the bedroom door as he went.
Paul rubbed his bald pate. “I'm all at sea here.”
“You'll do the right thing,” Jim said.
Paul looked at him.
Jim gave him an encouraging nod. “He needs you to be clear about this, Paul.”
“I wish I could be sure.”
“He ate every bit of sugar he could find. I'm surprised he didn't throw up from it. Or go into some kind of hyperglycemic coma. He's testing you, Paul.”
Paul nodded. He eyed the closed bedroom door, and with a definite air of a man girding his loins and preparing for battle, he walked toward the room.
Brian took his time cleaning himself out. He was so furious at first he could barely hold the enema hose steady. But the warm water helped, and then he bothered to do it right. He shaved himself and washed his hair, and then he stood in the shower, letting the spray beat down on the back of his neck awhile.
By the time he had the towel wrapped around his hips and padded into the bedroom, his outrage had settled into a kind of nervous anticipation.
He'd messed up. He'd been worried for weeks that he would, and now he'd done it. Paul had looked pretty angry when he'd sent him to the shower. Angry and a little betrayed, even. Like he hadn't expected this of Brian.
The harness was worn enough so it fitted over him like an old pair of jeans, comfortable and comforting. Brian focused his mind wholly on the act of buckling himself in. His hands shook, and he realized he was scared. Not of Paul, though. Brian had to stop and rest, both palms on his knees, and take deep breaths for a few minutes.
Brian was scared that this wasn't going to work, he and Paul. He looked up at the closed bedroom door, licking his lips nervously.
The cock and ball ring was something Paul would expect, but the dildo he fastened to the harness and slid inside himself would be, he hoped, a pleasant surprise.
He pulled a pillow from the bed, turned down the lights, and knelt on the pillow. Head bent and hands folded behind himself.
He was breathing a little hard, he could admit that. They'd been approaching this act by inches. They hadn't said the words, but Brian knew that this was where they were going. And he suddenly realized, kneeling there in the dark, the room so still it seemed to be holding its breath, that he, Brian, had told Paul that he wanted to go there wholly. And now...
What worried Brian the most was that Paul might not want to take him there.
He kept his head bowed, eyes on the floor, when he heard the door open.
There was a long silence. The door clicked softly shut. Paul's step on the floor, until Brian could see his feet there. Oh, God, he thought. I love his feet.
“Brian.” Paul's voice was struggling for authority over the emotion so obviously there. “Look at me.”
Brian raised his eyes. I love his ankles, his knees. Who wouldn't love those thighs. Oh, God. He looked up. “I love you,” he said.
Paul laid his fingers on Brian's head. Brian could feel his Daddy's hand shaking. “Do you know what you need, Brian?”
Brian had been ready for this question. He'd thought about it for a long time. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. Looked up at Paul with clear eyes.
“No,” he said. “But you do.”
Paul nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Stand up and kneel on the bed, Brian.”
Brian stood. His knees were a little stiff from kneeling and waiting for Paul, and his Daddy helped him to stand steadily, to walk to the bed. Helped him kneel on hands and knees on the bed. Paul ran his hands over Brian's harness, in that habitual way of his. And Brian felt the energy in the room go up about a hundred notches when Paul's fingers found the butt of the dildo.
“Good boy,” whispered Paul. Daddy stroked his crease gently and made tingles travel up and down Brian's ass, to his spine, to his balls. “Good boy. We'll leave this here, Brian.”
Brian swallowed. Nodded.
Paul crossed
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