Page 38 of Whirlwind

Once the boy assured him that he wasn’t too hurt by the fall, just embarrassed, the conversation quickly turned.

Whatever the boy wanted to tell him, he seemed convinced that Eric would lose interest, and Eric was equally committed to erasing those hopeless feelings.

His mind flashed through a myriad of options. Was the boy HIV positive? Or did he have a different STI? Did the effects of the CP extend to his sexual organs, or maybe his nerves there? Did he have a boyfriend or girlfriend who didn’t know he was here? Or had something frightening from his past suddenly re-emerged?

Eric steeled himself for the answer, knowing that whatever he felt would be communicated to the boy through his body. Even if it was a deal breaker, he’d want to let the boy down easy instead of flipping out. He waited for the boy to answer.

“I’m trans.”

Oh. Oh! Ok. Um, trans. Not at all what he’d been expecting. “Trans meaning transgendered? FTM?”

He thought that he knew the answer, but he wanted to confirm and he needed a moment to get his head together. He’d met exactly five trans guys at the club, as far as he knew. One was a good friend, but they hadn’t talked much about his transition. Another he’d played with, but it was a long time ago and his memory on the details was a bit fuzzy. Mostly he knew enough to know that he needed to ask for more information.

“Yeah.”

That single syllable broke through his swimming thoughts. The boy gave him all his confidence and fear of rejection, mingled with that irresistible neediness and hope.

Which meant it was Eric’s job to get things back on track. “Yes, what?” he demanded, knowing how it would ground and comfort the boy.

“Yes, Sir!”

Oh, he was proud of this boy. So strong and courageous. Not that he would say that, and risk sounding demeaning.

The boy was positively melting into him now, and he enjoyed taking more of his weight. He ushered them to the nearest chair and then slung the boy into his lap, enjoying his desire to follow his lead.

The boy settled himself as commanded, squirming artlessly to arrange himself and driving Eric nearly out of his mind. Much more of that and he’d come before anything even happened.

He hoped that by folding the boy’s legs up on either side, they’d be contained enough to avoid the spasms that he was concerned about. It was a tight squeeze, but his bent knees just fit between Eric’s thighs and the stuffed leather arms of the chair.

If it got uncomfortable, he could change it. For now, he wanted all the sub’s attention on him.

The boy’s plump lips were close to his and begging to be kissed. Eric enjoyed the feel of the sub’s breath on his cheeks, knowing that the boy would be feeling his breath in return. He wanted to prolong that moment before their first kiss, build up to it. He had a feeling it would be explosive.

“Let’s talk,” he said. It was more to remind himself than the boy. He needed to go over limits and safe words, maybe even get some insight into the boy’s secret fantasies. Right. They’d talk.

He ran his palms over the boy’s flat chest. Touch would calm the boy, while leaving no doubt that Eric desired him. He loved the look of the leather straps wrapped around those ribs, just inviting someone to tie him down.

There must be surgical scars under those sexy leather straps, Eric realized. Now that he was looking, he could just see the outlines where the nipples had been grafted back onto skin.

He wondered if the boy had full sensation there and pinched one before he even thought it through. The sub arched back delightfully, his eyes rolling upward and his shoulders shaking.

Eric wanted to keep pinching the dusky nubs, but he forced himself to still his hands at the sub’s waist.

Being so greedy and grabby wasn’t like him at all. Something in the boy just brought it out in him. That was exactly why he needed to slow things down. He wanted to get this right. They really, really needed to talk.

He rested his hands on the boy’s thighs. The outside of his thighs.

“What’s your name, boy?” A question he should have asked a while ago.

“Micah, Sir.”

“I like it. It suits you.” It was perfect for him. He wondered if it was the boy’s given name or if he chose it. Probably the latter. But he was pretty sure it would be rude to ask.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Now before we do anything else, we need to talk about what you’re interested in and what your limits are. It’s OK if you don’t know yet, but if you do you should speak up.”

“I, um… I…Aren’t you supposed to decide?”