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I wondered how long it would be before we went from a couple days a week to twenty-four seven TPE, because that was clearly what we both wanted in the end.
Patience wasn’t my strongest suit.
Archie made time fly. We were almost home when he declared he only had a few questions left for now, and they were about personal hygiene and grooming.
I was a fan of this topic.
I reached over and grabbed his jaw. “I like this.” I swiped my thumb over his stubble. “Don’t feel the need to shave every day.”
“Good to know.” He grinned and nipped at my hand. “What about the rest of me?”
“I like that too.” I smiled and dropped my hand to his upper thigh. “No, but…considering my tongue will spend a lot of time in your asshole, I’d appreciate it shaved or waxed in the back. Trimmed around your cock, definitely not bare.”
He squirmed in his seat and jotted that down. “Waxed, trimmed, understood.”
“One more thing,” I said. “If we’re around the house or there’s any opportunity for me to fuck you—so this includes the house in Mclean and right here in my truck—your ass will be prepared for my cock. At a moment’s notice, so I suggest you carry oil with you wherever you go. I wanna be able to bend you over wherever I please and take you.” I paused. “Make sure it’s edible. Coconut oil and almond oil work great. So, for instance, if you stop by my work for whatever reason one day, you’ll finger yourself a little and make sure you’re lubed up before you leave the car.”
Apparently, that didn’t stop his squirming.
“You okay, boy?” I stroked him higher up and brushed my hand over his crotch.
“Uh-huh.” He abruptly closed the notebook. “I’m horny and a little motion sick.”
I chuckled and winced. “Maybe keep your eyes on the road for a bit.”
“That doesn’t help with the horniness, Sir.” He stared down at my hand as I rubbed him unhurriedly over his sweats. “Will you please take me when we get to your house?”
Yeah, I couldn’t foresee a scenario in which I wouldn’t.
“After you’ve put Kyla to bed and you’ve showered me,” I said.
“Oh God. I can’t wait.” He sucked in a breath and tried to shift into my touch, but I removed my hand. “Tease.”
Sometimes.
“We’ll be home in ten minutes,” I said. “That gives us enough time to discuss a little bit of what you need from me. How many days a week do you want to spend with me? Keep in mind that the further we sink into a TPE dynamic, the more control I want over your everyday life.”
With such an intense, time-consuming, intimate fetish like domestic servitude, it was important we found a balance between two kinksters who wanted nothing more than to be Master and slave…and two men who’d just started seeing each other.
It wasn’t going to be easy.
“May I be bold, Sir?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I propose a trial run,” he said. “A week where we test things out instead of merely speaking about them.”
I thought that was a great idea. “How’s that bold? That’s what we’ll do.”
I caught his bashful grin as I drove onto Route 679 and Indian Hollow Road.
“I don’t know, I don’t want to push too much,” he admitted. “I mean, I have Kyla too, and she’s only quiet when she sleeps.”
If that was his worry, we didn’t have any problems at all. “I don’t know how many times Sloan has tried to warn me about children’s behavior, but I’ve babysat my thirteen nieces and nephews at all ages, and I see Sloan’s rowdy bunch almost every week. The upstairs of my house is dedicated solely to kids. You have nothing to worry about, Archie.”
I recalled the look on Ma’s face when I’d moved in to my house. I’d bought it for cheap and fixed it up myself, and room by room, whenever I finished a new area, she would ask, “So, not a home gym? Not a study or perhaps a pool room? You do love to shoot pool, sweets.”
No, I didn’t have a pool room. As Sloan and my brothers had produced more and more kids, I’d turned all six rooms on the second floor into guest rooms. And one common area by the stairs, where Crew and Kaden could bitch it out over Call of Duty, and Emma-Jo and Jamie could fight over which Pixar movie to watch next.
Archie would see for himself in a couple minutes.
We reached the dirt road leading up to my house, and he squeezed my hand.
A one-week trial. A whole week with Archie and his daughter staying with me.
Maybe I should call in sick on Tuesday too. Maybe my stomach bug tomorrow would actually be the flu.
“I can’t wait to meet your dogs,” Archie mentioned. “Since you’re so awful at sharing on social media, I had to read about them from your nephews.”
