She really is a bully. He was a good older brother while they were growing up. I think once he realized the truth about himself, he overcompensated in some ways, and their relationship became more her walking all over him while he tries to placate her.
Fortunately, his ethics and his sense of duty to his oath to uphold the Constitution far outweigh her ability to be bitchy.
We return to the White House, where our lunch is delivered to his office within minutes of our arrival. Elliot asks his admin assistant to hold all calls and visitors, meaning I can lock us in his office while we eat without any interruptions.
I sit behind his desk and put him on the floor in front of me after I’ve removed his glasses, blazer, and tie. Taking a towel I grabbed from his bag of supplies for Duck, I spread it over my lap, so I don’t end up making a mess on my slacks. I tuck a paper napkin into his collar to help protect his shirt.
Hand-feeding him most of his meal won’t be practical, because I don’t want to make a mess, so I use implements. That’s not his preference or mine. He enjoys sucking on my fingers when I hand-feed him. Unfortunately, in this case, that’ll also make both of us horny as hell if I let him do it, and we don’t have time for that right now.
I can feed him like that once we’re safely locked in his hotel room tonight.
With him leaning against my other leg, and tipping his head back against my thigh, he drops hard into pet mode while we eat without talking.
At least he finally relaxes. That’s the important thing. He watches me through heavy-lidded eyes and opens his mouth when he’s finished chewing and is ready for his next bite.
I don’t know how I’m going to split my time between him and Shae during the campaign if or when Elliot declares. I’d feel guilty about abandoning Shae, Kev, and Chris and leaving them possibly open to exposure but I’m almost certain Elliot won’t make it through the rigorous campaign without me. A national presidential campaign—while also vice president—is a whole different beast than being an unknown running for a US House seat in fricking Nebraska.
When he ran with Shae both times, she was the focus and he was more a decorative accessory. Sure, he headlined plenty of events on her behalf, but it was her administration, not his. She was the head of the ticket, and people were voting on her.
He’ll be the one laying out his vision for the country. It’ll be his administration, his responsibility.
I have full faith in him and his abilities, mostly because I know he’s not a narcissistic sociopath with delusions of grandeur. It’s his vulnerability that makes him perfect to be POTUS, because he’ll carefully weigh every decision and won’t act because of his ego or pride. Calm under fire. Someone who doesn’t beat his chest.
In other words, the perfect POTUS. Presidential.
If he doesn’t win, however, I don’t know what that’ll do to his psyche.
Does it make me a horrible owner that I consider trying to talk him out of running at all? That I know I could bring every mental and emotional trick in my arsenal to bear on him and manipulate him into changing his mind? That I want him to retire from public life so I can hold him close to me and finally start helping him work on his issues?
Pot, meet kettle.
Fortunately, my family issues aren’t as bad as his. My family knows I’m gay, except they don’t know anything about Elliot, other than we’re best friends. Elliot and I both have other emotional issues which are intrinsically wrapped around and through our lives and our responsibilities, and we both feel guilty over events and deaths that aren’t really ours to own.
Unfortunately, emotions aren’t logical. Emotions just…are.
And all his life, Elliot’s aimed for this goal, thinking it’s what he needs to be complete. If I take that away from him, it’ll be me he blames eventually, and I damn well know it.
The problem is, DC is a vicious, high-pressure fishbowl filled with starving piranha who won’t hesitate to take down anyone they feel is a weaker guppy than they are.
Except Elliot has a secret weapon—me.
I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my pet and keep him safe, no matter what I have to do.
Even if it means going after and taking down his family in the process.
Chapter Thirteen
Then
After dinner, it doesn’t take long for me to tidy the kitchen and for us to make our way back to my bedroom.
That’s where Elliot spies my open implement bag on the floor near the closet, where I left it after retrieving the collar and cuffs.
“Ohh!” His eyes go wide in the good kind of shock and awe that makes my cock twitch.
I hope I have enough lube and condoms on hand for this weekend. At this rate, I’ll be completely out by Monday morning.
Yay.
Still using the desk chair, he rolls himself over to my bag. It’s absolutely adorable how curiously eager he looks right now as he glances back to me, like he’s asking my permission to poke through it.
“Go ahead. Pick a few things.”
He smiles. “Really?”
Oh, my god. He’s seriously fucking adorable. “Really.”
He climbs out of the chair and sits on the floor to start sorting through the contents of my implement bag. Meanwhile, I put music on. Things got heated so fast when we arrived that I didn’t want to pause long enough to do it.
He almost immediately finds the ankle cuffs and holds one up. “Can I wear it, Sir?”
Something deep inside my gut twists hard. It nearly chokes me up how eager he is. “Of course, pet.” I walk over, take it from him, and kneel to buckle it around his right ankle. “I wasn’t sure if…” I meet his gaze. “I didn’t want to push too hard.”
He fucking grins. “I appreciate that, but I want to do everything. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.” His smile fades. “I prefer you don’t walk on eggshells around me.” He pats the chair. “This? Logical, and appreciated. But I don’t need special treatment, aside from a physical accommodation.”
“Duly noted.” I fist his hair and tip his head back for another crushing kiss. I cannot get enough of kissing him. He’s quickly growing used to me and learning how to kiss me back. It’s so damned perfect, I can’t begin to tell you. “Then you’d better go through there, take out the things you don’t want me to use on you this weekend, and everything else will be fair game.”
That glazed look has returned to his eyes. “Really?”
“Really.”
He smiles. “Thank you, Sir.”
I change from fisting his hair to massaging his scalp. His eyes drop closed, nearly making me laugh as I watch him.
This is something pure and special. This is a man finally able to be his genuine self, and I’m the only person privileged enough to witness it.
Even better, I’m the person he’s trusting to guide him through this experience.
Making him mine is now my priority in life. It’s weird how the adrift feeling that’s filled my life ever since the plane crash is now…gone.
“This weekend is just the start, pet. I can’t wait to teach you everything.”
He pries his eyes open and meets my gaze. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Let’s hope you’re still saying that by the end of the weekend.”
He grins. “I’m sure I will.”
God, I hope he is.
* * * *
We spend the better part of thirty minutes going through my toybag after I set my phone to play a light rock station on Pandora through my Bluetooth speaker. I sit on the floor with Elliot and show him how to test implements on himself to see what they’ll feel like. I teach him the difference between thuddy and stingy, explain the various kinds of floggers to him, demonstrate how different paddles and canes and crops give a range of sensations.
Show him the two chastity cages I have.
I watch how his tongue flicks out and licks his lips as he stares at the chastity cages. I see eager hunger burning in his gaze. “I…I don
’t think I could wear those at work. Metal detector.” There’s definitely regret there.
Longing.
“No, but there are plastic and silicone ones available I could close with a cable tie. No metal.” I carefully watch him. “I could always buy one of those and lock it on you one morning before you head to the office. Keep it on you all day, until you return to me that night.”
A nervous swallow. “Really?”
Dammit, he’s adorable. “Really.” I reach over and ruffle his hair. “Let’s save those for a later time. I’m going to have too much fun making you come this weekend to lock you in chastity.” I drop him a wink. “Maybe we can play with those on date three or four, buddy.”
“But…we can play with them?”
“Absolutely.” Fuck yeah, we’ll play with them. I want Elliot addicted to me and our play.
“I’d like that, Sir.”
Yeah, I know. There I go, getting my hopes up again. Nothing beyond this weekend is guaranteed with him but my heart already wants to start planning a future together.
I’m even creeping myself out a little over how eager I am to do this with him. Especially since I know better than to jump into something like this.
When we get to some of the insertables I own, like the three different prostate massagers, his eyes really widen as he holds one of them up after I explain what they’re for.
“Can we play with these this weekend?”
I try not to giggle. “Sure. You’ve never used one?”
The pink in his cheeks darkens. “I’ve always been afraid to buy any toys. I didn’t want it tracked back to me. I’m too scared to go into a store, in case anyone would recognize me.”
Poor guy. I was fortunate I never had to worry about that. “Then I guess we’ll need to let you explore a lot this weekend.” I point to three butt plugs also in the implement bag. “And those.”
I check the prostate massagers, because it’s been months since any of them have been used. Two are USB rechargeable, and one takes batteries. Fortunately, I have fresh batteries on hand. I get charger cords and start the others charging, trying not to giggle while I do because he watches me with possibly the most adorably eager expression I’ve ever seen an adult wear.
Oh, no, make the handsome pet come all weekend, so he’s eager to spend more time with me next weekend?
What a hardship.
Not.
After he finishes going through my implement bag, he doesn’t remove anything to take it off the table. I reach over, cup his chin in my hand, and spend a moment staring into his eyes.
He blushes again, which is, of course, fucking adorable.
I know, I know. I can’t help it—that’s the best word to describe him.
It’s the perfect word.
“You ready to feel what it’s like to be tied up and have your ass tenderized, pet?”
He nods as much as he can with my hand holding him like that. “Yes, Sir. I want that.”
“Do you want to try a blindfold?”
His eyes positively light up. “Yes, please. And one of the gags?”
“We’re definitely using a gag this weekend but not this time.” I release his chin and boop his nose with my finger.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to be able to hear you if you safeword.”
Close enough. I also want to hear the yips and moans I’ll be drawing from him in short order.
But that answer seems to satisfy him. “Oh. Yes, Sir.”
Still, I don’t miss the longing in his gaze as he stares at the three different gags I own.
I’ll give him credit for trying to make up for lost time.
“Remember, we don’t need to do everything this weekend. I don’t want you burning out and hating me.”
Pink returns to his cheeks. “I won’t hate you, Sir.”
“You say that now, but I haven’t used a single paddle on you yet.” I stroke my fingers along the inside of his right calf. In response, his cock, which is definitely interested, gives another twitch.
Tentatively, he reaches out and rests his hand on my knee, where I’m sitting next to him.
I understand how much courage that takes him.
With my gaze meeting his, I lay my hand over his and slowly draw it up along my inner thigh. My cock has thickened again and would love to be buried inside him right now. Ass or mouth, either one.
I’m not picky.
But I want to take my time.
I’m watching his reaction as I pull his hand between my thighs and close his fingers around my cock. He looks eager.
“Tell me what you want, pet.”
“I want to make you happy, Sir.”
God. My heart wants to break for him. “You are making me happy, pet.” I slowly slide his hand up and down my cock. “If you want to make me even happier, you’ll climb up on that bed and stick that gorgeous ass of yours in the air so I can start putting marks on it.”
He nearly falls over while scrambling to obey.
I can’t help but giggle. I can’t remember when I last had this much fun with someone, and we’ve hardly done anything yet.
While he’s complying, I move the suitcase closer to the bed and pick a couple of milder implements to start with. A gentle mop flogger, a strap, a small, lightweight acrylic paddle. Those I lay on the bed next to him.
He’s on his knees and elbows, his head down, just the way I want him. I grab the blindfold and walk around to the side of the bed so I can lean in close, my mouth by his ear.
“I’m going to totally own you this weekend, boy. You won’t want anyone else by the time I’m finished with you.”
A wave of gooseflesh sweeps over his body.
When was the last time I had this effect on anyone? It’s an intoxicating feeling that primes my sadist and sends the psychologist off to the break lounge for a few hours.
Elliot’s cock is hard again. A thin string of pre-cum is already dripping onto the towel underneath him.
I kiss him. “Don’t hesitate to safeword if you need to. I’d rather you do that if you feel you need it. Never a penalty for that.”
He nods. “Yes, Sir.”
I stare into his eyes and realize I’m already love with him.
It’s crazy, it’s reckless, and it could easily be doomed out of the gate.
Worse?
I don’t care, because I want it.
I want Elliot.
No matter what I have to do to keep this going between us, I will.
Chapter Fourteen
Now
We leave the White House, the Secret Service ferrying us in an armored SUV. We’ve left staff behind, because they’ll ride over in vans and meet us at Andrews.
During the ride, Elliot sits slumped against his door on the driver’s side, eyes closed. I make no effort to pretend I’m paying attention to anyone but him. We’re the only ones back here, and the driver and special agent riding shotgun in the front seat won’t look back here unless we call to them.
I’m seriously worried about Elliot now. He looks even worse than he did earlier, and I wonder if there’s more going on than just our issue over the weekend.
He’s horrible about taking care of himself. He’ll work himself into exhaustion if not checked and forced to take time off.
Which is usually my unofficial job but one that I’ve slacked off on as of late.
I slide my left foot over until it bumps against his right, and I rub it against his.
His weary sigh fills me with more guilt, but he returns the gesture and then, finally, looks over at me and tips his head.
And keeps his foot tightly pressed against mine.
Back at his place, I lock us inside and, even though I don’t need a shower, I strip and shower with him. He rests his head against me as he sits there while I shampoo his hair and rub his scalp for him.
“I’m so tired, Master,” he whispers.
I shove my guilt away. I can beat myself up later. Instead, I wra
p my arms tightly around him and hold him, keeping track of time in my head. We’re on a schedule and I don’t want to make us late. Which’ll make Elliot feel shitty because it’ll impact air traffic as they hold everyone else while we take off from Andrews.
“I know, pet. I’m sorry. You can sleep on the plane.” I planned for him to dress casually for the flight for this very reason. Just before we land, I’ll help him change into the suit he’ll wear for the rest of the day. That way, he’ll look fresh and not rumpled. He can also remove Duck and snuggle with me during the flight. His staff and the flight crew know he’s not fond of flying, and to disturb him as little as possible. Once we’re aboard, I’ll be his go-to unless there’s some sort of emergency.
I use a razor and shaving gel there in the shower to shave him again. Otherwise, he’ll need a touch-up once we reach California. He’s not super-hairy, but while his hair is light brown, his body and facial hair are darker, and he always starts developing a five o’clock shadow not long after noon.
One of these days, I’m going to make him grow it out and see what he looks like with a full beard and mustache.
But not right now. Definitely not during the campaign.
If he runs.
I know it’s delusional to hope he won’t run, and it’d be borderline criminal on my part to manipulate him into not running when it’s been his goal for so long.
Won’t say the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, especially now.
I can’t help it. I’m not perfect, and I’ve never claimed to be. I’m a very bad man. It’s only sheer luck I’ve been blessed enough to have two magnificent men who’ve loved me as deeply as Elliot and Jordan love me.
Although I really don’t know how Jordan feels about me now. Maybe it’s better I don’t know.
Then I can deceive myself that perhaps there’s still hope for him to return to me, one day.
* * * *
After Elliot finishes his shower, I help him don Duck, and help him get dressed. Then I leave him sitting on his bed while I take one last tour of his bedroom, closet, and bathroom, and move everything downstairs into the entry in preparation to leave.
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 12