by Quin Perin
Reaching for Eugene’s side, I tightened my grasp on my cane. It was hard to use in a place like this. You would think people would pay attention to the blind guy with a stark white cane angled out in front of him, but they didn’t. They bumped into my cane, jerking it around. I was disoriented in the worst way. If Eugene wasn’t near me, close enough I could reach out to touch his arm, his side, I would have gotten turned around and ended up lost and curled up in a corner, crying.
“Right on time,” Eugene commented, batting my hand away from his jacket. “We’re at the gate.”
I nodded and held my cane to my chest. “Okay,” I whispered. “How much longer?”
Eugene grasped my shoulder, tips of his fingers pressing in. He pulled me around, grip tight, and then pushed me down into a chair. I barely had time to register it. “About fifteen minutes or so until boarding,” he said. “You stay here. I’m going to get something to drink.”
“I can go with,” I said quickly, reaching for him. I didn’t want to be left alone. Not with all these people around me. Not when I didn’t know where I was.
He sighed. “I’ll be quicker without you,” he responded as if it was common sense. “I’ll be right back.”
“Gene...I’m not really—”
“I will be right back,” he cut me off, detaching my hand from him. “Just sit here and don’t move. It’ll be fine.” He made me feel like a child being scolded by its parent.
Closing my eyes, I nodded and rested back in the chair, letting out a shaky breath. I’d never been to Paris, but it was a place I’d always wanted to go to. I don’t know why I’d never found the time. No, that wasn’t true. I hadn’t wanted to go when I had the chance because it was “typical,” something that basically everyone did. Go see Paris. A tourist destination. Eat at an overpriced café. Buy some bread. Look at Notre-Dame. I’d been haughty, thought I was too good for it. I wanted to be special and see places that weren’t so popular. After all, there was always time.
I should have been excited to go to Paris. I was excited. But I wasn’t going to see it. All those sights I derided for being too touristy, they would forever remain a mystery to me. It was bitter-sweet.
Someone bumped against my legs, muttering a quick “sorry,” and I pulled my feet closer, tucking them under the chair. My cane could be unscrewed and folded smaller—for storage—and I played with it now. Twisting loose and then tight, moving it through my hands anxiously. I’d never liked using it, and I’d avoided it as much as possible. It marked me as different. Made people feel sorry for me.
I’d have to get used to it again.
Turning my head, I tried to listen for Eugene’s footsteps. The faint tap-tap of the hard soles of his expensive dress shoes, but there was too much going on to focus. He could be standing in front of me, and unless I whacked him in the dick with my cane, I wouldn’t even know. He was that man who always dressed up for flying as if it was the fucking 60s or something. I could still picture him. Hair perfect. Clothes, without wrinkles, pressed to perfection. And that half smirk almost always adorned his pale lips. He’d been confident—or cocky, depending on who you asked—and he’d always known what he wanted. Hell, he knew how to get what he wanted. I’d liked that about him. He was strong and bold. He said all the right things, made me feel like I was special. Until I wasn’t.
The intercom came to life again, and I covered my ears with my hands. Sensory overload in the worst fucking way. Eyes closed, I hunched over, trying to block everything out.
A hand wrapped around my wrist, tugging hard. “Dima!”
Eugene.
“Come on. It’s time to go. They’re boarding.”
He didn’t wait for me to get up, hauling me to my feet. “Did you get your drink?” I asked, trying to sound calmer than I felt. Pretend I wasn’t about to fall into a full-blown panic attack if I didn’t go somewhere quieter.
“Mhm.” He placed his hand back on my shoulder, holding tight as we walked toward the gate.
FORTY-SEVEN
Tony
I’d planned to spend the night at Dima’s apartment. To give myself one last taste of him, but it didn’t work. I smelled him on the pillows, on the blankets. Saw him smiling wearing a shirt, leaning against the counter. It was too much.
The sun was about to set when I dragged myself up to Sara’s apartment, feeling like a kicked dog with his tail between his legs. I turned the key—the one Sara had given me months ago and never asked me to return—and dropped the two bags I carried in the hallway. One with my stuff, the other full of laundry. Leslie ran toward me as I shouldered the door closed. She grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet, holding a piece of paper in her hands.
I didn’t want to see or talk to anyone right now, but I didn’t want to push her away either. Instead, I pulled off my shoes and picked her up. “What’s that, princess?” I smiled, holding her against me. She showed me the picture she’d drawn. It was of Jan, Sara, and me and Dima. I stared at it for a moment, at the colorful lines on the crinkled piece of paper and then kissed the side of her head.
“It’s very pretty.”
Leslie giggled and rubbed at her chin; I guessed my beard had tickled her.
“Did he leave?” I heard Sara ask from behind.
I nodded.
“Oh, Tony.”
I put Leslie back down and patted her head.
“Are you sad?” Leslie asked, looking up at me with a pout.
“A little,” I said, ruffling her hair.
She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be sad.”
I smiled weakly. “Believe me, I’m trying.”
She looked thoughtful, shuffling her feet. “Would another picture make you happy?”
“Mhm. I think it would.”
“Okay!”
She nodded quickly and then bounded off, slipping into the living room. I picked up the bag full of laundry and dragged it to the washing machine in the bathroom. I stuffed everything in there and stopped at one of my shirts Dima used to wear. Crouched in front of the machine, I held it and sighed.
“I’m so sorry,” Sara said. She’d followed me into the bathroom, looking down at me. “I didn’t think he would go for it.”
“I made him,” I said and slammed the lid of the machine shut. Sara jumped visibly at the force I used, and when I looked up at her again, her brow creased. She didn’t know the full story, didn’t know how Eugene wouldn’t allow me to come with him.
“You did what?”
“I couldn’t give him what he needed. So I told him to go, live his life,” I reasoned before I got back up to toss all my stuff into Jan’s office. I’d be camping there until I figured things out.
“Tony, you were all he needed. I’ve never seen him so happy.” Sara followed me back into Jan’s office, the desk full of open folders and unfiled paperwork.
“Well, I have seen him happier.” I dropped my backpack next to the couch where it used to be and folded the laundry bag up. Man, it looked like I’d never left. Like nothing had ever happened. While everything went back to how it used to be, I refused to listen to her speech. I had made this decision, took it from him, and I already regretted it.
“But...you love him,” Sara breathed out; she was right beside me, touching the trees on my forearm and gazing up at me, pity in her eyes. “Oh, Tony,” she whispered. It drove me fucking crazy. I couldn’t do this.
“Don’t oh Tony me. I need a moment. I need space.” I stepped back, but she wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t leave the room. So I did. Again, Sara went after me. She kept saying my name while I pulled on my shoes. But I wasn’t listening. I zoned her out. Without a jacket, just like I’d come in, I left.
The ice-cold air clawed at my skin when I crossed the road and jogged over to the beach. To the bench. I inhaled lungfuls of freezing air when I saw it. Here I’d seen him for the first time. Here I’d fed him Oreos and milk. I scrubbed my hands over my face, the sand crunching under the soles of m
y feet.
The waves against the sand. The seagulls. It brought back so many memories.
I dropped down onto the bench, elbows resting on my knees. Raking my fingers through my hair, I took slow, deep breaths to calm myself.
“I’ve seen you around a couple of times...I, uh, I’m Tony.” Not once had he glanced at me. I laughed at the memory and shook my head. He’d been so smooth.
“Wait, and you are?”
“I am pleased to meet you.”
From the moment I’d laid eyes on him, ogled him from the bench a couple of feet away, I’d been so damn smitten. I was still grinning when I hissed, “Fuck!” and squeezed my eyes shut, fingers folded together between my knees. I’d gotten too attached. Given him too much when I could never give him all he needed. Groaning, I blew out a breath, gaze fixed on the sea. It never changed. Always the same.
So beautiful yet so very dangerous. Like Dima.
“Hey…” I heard from the side. I whipped my head in the voice’s direction. “I’ve seen you around a couple of times,” he said. My heart rate skyrocketed, goose bumps prickling against the ice-cold wind. I sobbed out a laugh, tears springing to my eyes. “I’m Dima, and you are?”
“I’m pleased to meet you.”
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
“Pout for me, kitten. More. Oh, yeah, like that. Now roll onto your stomach. Mhm, and arch your neck to show off that pretty ribbon.”
I tried my hardest not to giggle at Tony’s commands. He was always so specific with what he wanted, yet at the same time, it seemed so easy to please him. Everything I did when I posed delighted him. Seemed to inspire awe in him.
“Now stick that cute little ass up in the air. And curl your arms. Perfect. Now rest your head down.”
His footsteps came toward the bed, and he brushed a strand of hair back from my face. A gentle touch guided me into the position he wanted, and he practically cooed with delight.
“There. Perfect.”
I lay across our bed, adorned in what Tony told me was the most perfect pair of underwear that had ever been invented. Actually, he said they were perfect and had clearly been made by a wizard somewhere because they hugged my ass in a way that bordered on obscene. He was a bit cheesy like that. A pair of fluffy black—brand-new—ears were clipped in my hair, and I had my ribbon and bell around my neck.
This was our weekend hobby and had been for the past year. Little things like this made me glad I’d left Eugene behind at the airport. I’d almost stepped onto that plane; I’d been in line. They’d scanned my ticket. I’d been ready to go. But it hadn’t felt right. It wasn’t right. Eugene was short on patience. Had been ever since we’d gotten into the cab. The entire time we’d been together at the airport, I kept comparing him to Tony. Tony wouldn’t do this. Tony wouldn’t leave me alone with so many people around. On and on. I realized I couldn’t stop thinking about him. And so, I’d left.
And while I might have given up professional modeling for the opportunity to stay with Tony, that didn’t mean I’d given up modeling entirely. Right after the new year had begun, Tony had had the brilliant idea to create tons of social media accounts for me—I didn’t even know how many we had at this point—and post my pictures. It wasn’t always me in my kitten attire, but those were definitely the most popular. The number of people who followed us, who seemed to enjoy what we did, it always boggled my mind. At this point, more people knew me than probably would have if I had gone to Paris.
We had a ritual now. Sunday evenings before we went to bed, we’d lie on the couch together. Tony fed me milk and cookies while reading off all the comments we got throughout the week. All the ones he read to me were sweet—or filthy and funny—and I knew he probably kept some mean ones from me, but I didn’t mind. It was nice. Tony always told me I was the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. It made me feel good of course, but there was something satisfying about hearing it from other people. From strangers who didn’t know me. Didn’t love me. And I knew Tony understood. I was sure that’s how he came up with the idea in the first place.
“Wiggle your ass for me a bit,” he ordered.
That was definitely for him and not the camera. That didn’t stop me from doing what he wanted though, swaying my hips from side to side. I heard him growl quietly and hid my grin away.
“Now...maybe some completely naked?” His tone edged toward hopeful.
Somehow nearly all our photo shoots ended with him asking me to take my pants off and pose completely naked. At least, all the ones in our apartment...and the one at the beach last summer. And the one in the café after closing. And...well, yeah, nearly all.
Laughing, I pushed myself up onto my hands and cocked my head. “Tony,” I mock-scolded, unable to help the smile that spread across my face. “Stop thinking with your dick.”
“Dima,” he mimicked my tone. “Stop expecting me to do anything else when you look so fucking gorgeous.”
I giggled at that and shook my head. “Silly Tony.”
“Pretty kitten,” he shot back.
I pursed my lips in his direction and purred. My fingers curled up in the blankets, kneading them. Well, I was his pretty kitten, and if we were at the point where he asked me to get naked, it meant we had enough pictures on hand.
“Meow?”
Tony chuckled, and I heard him set down the camera and come toward me. His hand cupped my cheek, holding my face so that he could press a kiss to my lips. Another content purr and then I bit sharply at his lower lip.
He moaned and let his fingers fall away. “Kitten,” he breathed. “You’re being very naughty.”
Meowing again, I rolled over onto my back. My hips arched from the bed, letting him see my underwear cling to my hard cock. He let out a sharp breath, and I turned so my cheek rested against the pillows. I wriggled, bending my knees, my feet against the blanket. My hands lifted over my head, fingers clutching at the air. I purred again. Showing off for him. Giving him what he liked.
The bed squeaked as Tony entered it, kneeling beside me. “Someone’s a happy little kitty,” he murmured. A large hand rested on my stomach and slid up my chest. He rubbed me, petting me, and I pressed toward the touch. “Does my kitten want to be petted?”
“Mew!”
He leaned down, lips grazing mine. “Does my kitten want to be kissed?”
“Mew!” I reached out, dragging my nails down his arm.
“Does my kitten want to be touched?” he asked huskily, hand dropping to palm my cock.
I bit back a moan, lashes fluttering. “Mew!”
His voice dropped to a lower rumble. “And does my kitten want to be fucked?”
“MEOW!”
The End
Bonus
Did you ever wonder…what would have happened if someone dropped by and Dima was still in his kitty outfit?
If so, you can find the bonus scene of Jan running into Dima as a kitten in our secret dungeon that holds many free, smutty booklets. You can get access to it if you sign up for our newsletter here. Get ready to laugh…
Meow…enjoy!
About Quin&Perin + connect
As a pair of genre rebels, Quin and Perin—from the US and Germany—are constantly maneuvering time zones and plot bunnies to whip up Gay Novels. Expect plenty of heat and elevated smut. With a dash of drama, a pinch of sweet, and a hefty amount of kink on the side, they serve up stories that will leave you full and satisfied.
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More by Quin&Perin
Gay Erotic Romances
Lost and Found
A Daddy Kink Romance
Obsessed
A Gay Erotic Romance
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Gay Erotica
Take it All
Steamy Encounters Collection
Be notified when the books are released.
Work in Progress site for updates.
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