Page 36 of Freddie

“Prepped beforehand, figured you might show up,” he confesses as he lubes up two fingers and plunges them into his hole in front of me. Stuck watching, I don’t even offer to take over; instead, placing my hands on his pale, soft skin and just enjoying what he is giving me.

He knew I would show up? Am I really that obvious with my obsession? After a third finger is added and he is moaning my name softly, I give in and line up my cock, thrusting to meet his ass in one go.

“Oh, God, yes. Give it to me,” he whines with his eyes closed as I take my time, pulling out of him slowly and then pegging his prostate just the way he likes it. There’s a moment where I think he’s forgotten about this promise and then his hands, that have been pinching his pretty nipples, come down to the cage and he slowly takes it off.

Anticipation thrums through my veins, and my breathing becomes laboured and heavy as I watch with lust-filled eyes and cheeks burnt red with desire as I see his cock for the first time.

“This is what you want?” he hums as he pulls it away, revealing his soft, small cock. It’s perfect. Groaning my answer, I suck the spot he loves between his shoulder and neck. His head falls to the side as he watches me in the mirror. My fingers draw lines up and down him as he plumps up to full hardness. My hands, large already, completely encapsulate his cock. Thick but small, maybe only three inches.

My mouth waters and without an ounce of hesitation, I pull out of him, throw him onto the comforter and bury my face in his crotch before my knees even make contact with the black shag rug.

“Fuck… Fuck… Sim… Simmons, god,” Freddie whines, writhing as I lick, suck, and nibble his cock. My arms go under his thighs; I pull him closer, tighter as I consume him. Will he let me do this always, or is it a onetime thing? I want to wake him up by coming down my throat. I need to have his taste on my tongue every day. What will it take to make it possible?

Blowjobs, wet and messy, are the best kind in my opinion, and I sincerely hope they are for Freddie too because he is slick with my saliva, and it’s running between his legs to meet his hole. I take each of his balls into my mouth one at a time, taking care to suck lightly and hum my enjoyment.

Freddie is gone, moaning gibberish and lifting his hips to show that he wants more. I stand, stopping to stare at his beauty until he opens his gorgeous eyes with a hint of curiosity before I flip him over and return to the heat of his ass again.

It’s all over too soon with both of us coming within minutes of heavy pounding on my part. I kiss his neck, his hair. I bask in the sweet nothings of the post-sex seconds I have before he shoves me away. But then, he doesn’t.

After I roll off him to save him from suffocating under my enormous weight, he pulls me closer, and we find ourselves under the comforter, staring at one another as we regain composure. Unsure what to say, I just wrap my arms around him then lightly kiss his plump lips. He sighs against me, and I smile with his head snuggled beneath my chin. That’s when I make my decision.

I’m going to fight for Freddie. I’m going to ask the man I love to stay.

Chapter 39

Freddie

“Are you leading me to an underpass to buy drugs?” I guess Simmons drives us under a bridge and takes a left.

“No. Just wait and see. You’re such a brat,” Simmons moans at my overly bratty nature today.

I know he secretly loves it, though. Or maybe loves me? I’m still unsure and have made no moves yet with asking him to be my boyfriend. But we aren’t doing a scene today, at least he hasn’t said otherwise.

He texted a few nights ago asking to meet him outside my apartment building today and not to wear the cage. Having instead put on boy clothes for our trip, I’m wearing baggy jeans and a white crop top that says cum get me. I even wore briefs, who am I?

We’ve been on the road for about twenty minutes, and for about half of that, I’ve tried to guess where we are going. Nothing I’ve suggested has been right, and so I just made them more ridiculous because I got bored. Leaning over the console, I rub the back of Simmons’ hand, and he looks down, then over to me with curious eyes. I pout best I can.

“Sir, pleaaaaaase tell me where you are taking me? Have you had enough? Are we going to the docks for you to ship me back to Scotland?” Rolling his eyes, he signals into a little cobbled street, then parks. Turning to face me, he looks unsure of himself.

“Freddie, there are no docks here, so I can’t ship you anywhere. Look, I don’t know if this is actually a mistake, so we can just leave it and go for some lunch instead if you want.” I snatch his wrist and pull it to me as he looks back over at me.

“Simmons, no. Just tell me what it is and I can make up my own mind, okay? Despite the bratty nature, I can be a man and decide myself.” I widen my eyes with what my Ma would call the look. Relenting with a sigh, he gets out of his car and rounds it to open mine. Oh, a gentleman too. I swoon as he takes my hand and keeps it in his paw as we cross to the other side of the street.

“You recently said that you didn’t need as much pain anymore. I wondered whether a one-off would still be okay?” he asks as we walk side by side. It’s dry but overcast. People mill about, but it’s not too busy as it’s just before lunchtime on a Sunday.

“I… yes. But you don’t dish pain, and I didn’t prep. Kind of thought this wasn’t a scene kind of day out… “ I trial off because I basically just admitted that I hoped this was more than a D/s scene day and I still don’t know if he wants dates and shit with me as a man and not just as a sub.

“Well, the thing is… it’s not a scene. And not me giving the pain. I booked you to have your cock pierced… “ he confesses and my brain goes offline.

“Freddie? Fuck, I knew it was a dumb idea,” he mutters as I pick my brain cells off the floor and shove them back in.

“No… no. Wait, fuck, I need a second. I think I might cum,” I rasp as I clutch his hand harder. Simmons’ eyes widen at my admission like it’s the last thing he was thinking I would say.

“My friend opens for appointments only on Sundays. I helped his boyfriend with his uni application and we got talking. Are you sure you want to do this?” he tells me, and I want to shout yes, but say it with only a little excitement, and I drag him in the direction we had been heading in.

“Okay. Want me to come watch you get it done?” he asks as he licks his lips, his pupils blown wide. My honey bear is hungry.

“Yes. I might need you to help restrain me, Sir,” I whisper as we pass an old couple with bag trolleys of groceries.