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“I’m, uh. Two fingers,” Channon said, not wanting Jack to get bored.
“How does it feel?”
Channon licked his lips. “It’s not as good as when you do it, Sir.”
“That’s all right. If I can’t be there with you, though, I want to know you can take care of yourself.”
Of course. “I can, if you tell me to.”
“That’s my boy.” He sounded pleased. “Get your fingers as deep inside you as you can. Try for a third.”
The third took a little while, but Channon managed it. Doing it himself made everything more difficult, but Jack’s low reassurances helped. Soon, Channon breathed, “That’s as far as I can reach,” into the phone, and Jack hummed with pleasure.
“Good boy,” he said, and then. “Hold on a moment.”
Something rustled over the line. A muffled sound was followed by another. Voices? Was Jack speaking to someone?
Channon held still, the fingers of one hand buried in his ass and the other wrapped around his cock. He stroked himself, slow as dripping molasses, feeling the warmth and heat pooling between his thighs as he waited for Jack.
Then Jack said, “All right. I’m back.”
“Everything okay, Sir?” Channon asked breathlessly.
“Ewan’s going to bed.”
Channon had forgotten about Ewan. He clenched around his fingers, wondering if he was selfish for forgetting. “Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He asked if he could say hi. I told him you were busy,” Jack said with amusement.
Oh…god. Ewan probably thought they were doing exactly what they were doing.
And it didn’t matter. Channon reminded himself that Ewan had seen him do far worse. And if things went the way Channon half-hoped they would, Ewan would certainly see him like this one day.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?”
“Good, Sir,” Channon said. “I, uh. I kept jerking off.”
Jack hummed. “It sounds like you’re ready for your present.” The words didn’t immediately make sense. “Wipe your hands and open the box Nate gave you.”
Oh. That. Channon had forgotten about it entirely. He wiped his hands and reached for the box. Black, sleek, unlabeled—it was intimidating. Whatever it was, Jack clearly had a plan.
Warily, Channon opened it. He sucked in a breath, eyeing the contents with alarm, but no real surprise.
Nestled inside some molded packing foam was a dildo. Of course. It wasn’t as big as the biggest Jack had bought for him, not the enormous one Jack liked to tease him about. It was still huge, though. Huge and somewhat realistic, with fairly realistic balls at the base. The color was a few shades lighter than Jack’s own, the head blushing pink, veins ridging the length of it.
Channon breathed out. “Uh. I think I know where this is going, Sir,” he said weakly.
Jack laughed. “Yeah, sweetheart, that’s going in you. You’ll have to thank Nate tomorrow for delivering it.”
God, Nate had brought this through TSA? Channon couldn’t imagine doing that. The thought of it was face-burning.
“Get comfortable,” Jack prompted. “This is going to take a while.”
It did. Channon propped his hips up on a cushion with the towel over it and worked the thing in slowly. Every inch of it felt like three, and he had to stop and breathe and listen to Jack’s encouraging reassurances.
“You’re doing so good. Such a good boy. You can take it. I’ve seen you take bigger than this. No need to rush.”
Channon didn’t rush, but time seemed to run slow. It felt like hours as he rocked the dildo in, feeling his body open up for it.
