The Butler - 24. Chapter XXIV

“World War III? Hmm, I’ve seen you go nuclear before,” I said, tightening my arms around him, “You can stay.” Greg smiled and the seriousness of the moment passed. Gesturing at the clothes, I asked, “Shall I hang these?”

“Yes, please.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Think you can resist doing the floor with them, while I go get the rest?” Oh, Mr. Funnybone was back, eh?

“I’ll try but no promises. I did note the bathroom floor could use a little clean.” He softly laughed against my lips.

“Don’t even think about it.” Another kiss. “I’ll be right back.”

**********

“All done,” I remarked about three quarters of an hour later; Greg had installed himself at the desk, having to attend to some business. That really never stopped. He made several calls and also gotten his laptop. The clicking of the keys actually was rather soothing in the background while I went about storing his stuff in the closets.

Frowning, he looked up and I noticed something just now; he wore glasses. I hadn’t seen him wear those before. Kind of professor-y, frameless. Just for reading?

“What? Oh, good. Thank you. I’ll finish this email to Alan.”

“Can I go take a shower?”

He smiled and inclined his head. “You don’t have to ask permission for that. Go ahead.”

Right.

I began to undress, undoing the buttons of my shirt, then unbuckling the belt. It wasn’t a conscious moment, really; I’d undressed in front of many lots of times before and I didn’t feel shame. Toeing my shoes off, I quickly unzipped. Then, just as I was about to undo the button, he softly commented, “Slower, please.”

Looking up, I saw that he’d closed the lid of the laptop, his attention fully turned to me. His hand was at his throat, loosening his tie.

Slowing my movements, I turned fully to him, opening the button and pushing my trousers down, stepping out and glanced over again, letting my shirt slide down.

Greg had moved forward, elbows planted on the desk, his fingers clasped as he watched, his eyes traveling over my body. He leaned back, slowly, patting his lap.

Obeying, I went over and sat down, sliding my arm over his shoulder as I did. He sought my lips for a long open-mouthed kiss and his hands began a free roam over my body, lightly caressing, while he took my mouth by storm, getting me excited until I jerked when his hand slid into my crotch, hard due to his caresses.

“Mmm, very nice,” he murmured against my mouth. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered and he groaned, his lips traveling to my jaw, softly biting, kissing, nuzzling.

When he slipped inside my boxers and took me fully in his hand, I arched my back. It felt so good to feel him wrapped around me, and it’d been so long since someone touched me, I feared I’d blow in seconds. Which was almost exactly what happened when his hand pumped up and down a few times; the orgasm washed over me, surprising me with its speed and I reached down to stop him.

“No, wait!” I breathed, moaning deeply while pulsing began in his moving grip. “Oh fuck!”

“Mmm, my, my,” he murmured close to my ear, running his thumb over the very sensitive tip, evoking another soft groan from me, “now that’s even nicer.”

Softly snickering, he pulled back a bit and we both looked down at my crotch. His hand was still hidden from view by the fabric, gently moving still, milking me; my boxers revealed a rapidly spreading dark stain. Perhaps I should feel embarrassed but I didn’t and I softly joined him snickering. “Oops.”

“Oops indeed,” he smiled, slowly taking his hand out. His fingers glistened with seed. And then I watched him slowly raising it to his mouth as his eyes found mine and, extending his tongue, he licked some off. Then he brought his hand to my lips. “Open.“

Doing as he asked, he inserted his thumb and rubbed it over my tongue, where an explosion of salty taste spread. Then he pulled me toward him and covered my lips with his, snaking in to share in the flavor. He hardened noticeably underneath me as I tasted myself in the kiss.

“Do you feel me?” He sighed into my mouth.

“Yes, sir,” I answered.

“I want to see myself between your lips.”

He directed me to sit on his knees, facing him so that I could use both hands to open up his pants. “No, just the zipper. Not the button. I want to see it jut out…reach for you.”

Apparently he liked to direct everything I did. I found it very stimulating and so I did as requested, lowering his zipper; underneath my fingers I could feel him throbbing. Reaching in, I felt his heavy flesh in my hand and pulled him out. God had been benevolent it its creation of him; beautiful length and thick, uncut; hard as steel and gushing already. His pubic hair was neatly trimmed, black.

“You’re soaking wet,” I whispered, sliding my thumb through and bringing it to my mouth. His eyes were dark as he watched me do it.

“How do I taste?”

“Sweet.”

“I drink a lot of juice. It makes your seed taste sweet, did you know that?” I shook my head. “Take me in your mouth.”

Moving off and kneeling on the floor between his spread legs, I looked at him, thick and hard, jutting out of his zipper. Every time I moved my hand, his glans disappeared and appeared again, more moisture oozing out with every upstroke. I squeezed harder. He liked it.

“Why don’t you show me how it moves under your skin, right here?” he murmured back, reaching out to touch my cheek. Leaning in, I licked him once, circling the head and lapping up all his juice; then I lowered over him, tilting a little to show him as he moved underneath my cheek. “Yes, like that. You’re wonderfully obedient, Chris…”

Wanting to be even more obedient, I followed all his directions. He had a specific way he wanted to be sucked off. I wasn’t allowed to touch his balls, still hidden in his pants. And then, when I looked a little closer, I noticed something glistening.

He wore a cockring.

“Wow,” I whispered, lightly touching it, letting him slip from my mouth, “didn’t expect that.”

“You’re undisciplined,” he groaned, his head resting on the back of the chair, “we’ll work on that. Continue...”

“Yes, sir.” I took him in my mouth again. He really tasted amazingly sweet.

Sucking harder and deeper, I added the friction of my hand to the motions and enjoyed the slide into my throat for long, slick minutes until he indicated that he was nearing orgasm. It took him far longer than it had me; thanks to that cockring.

“In your mouth and on your face,” he growled, suddenly, tapping my shoulder.

Letting him slide free from my mouth, I let my hand do the rest until I felt the first pulse in his throbbing flesh; then thick ropes of his seed ejaculated from the wide opening on the tip, landing on my waiting tongue. Another spurt shot deep in my mouth, coating the entrance to my throat. Then the rest landed on my cheek and nose, the last one on my chin before I took him between my lips again to catch the rest as it trickled to a stop.

“Sit,” he mumbled as I released him, having licked him clean.

Moving back onto his lap, he then slipped his hand into my neck and pulled me closer, slowly licking my chin, continuing on until it came to the seam of my lips, pushing inside to share. He repeated it several times, lapping my cheek tenderly, murmuring softly, showing his appreciation for his release.

“You’ve distracted me from very important work,” he chided against my lips, taking the sting out with a soft kiss. “You’re a bad boy. Now go take your shower, while I finish this email.”

“Yes, sir,” I grinned.

Bad? He didn’t seem all that mad about it. Not at all.

**********

Later in bed, I got very nice surprise. After my shower, I felt nice and warm and getting a little tired, so I prepared to go to bed, turning off most of the lights. In the meantime, Greg had finished his email and was finishing up a call (probably to Alan, from the sound of it) and announced he was going to take a shower as well, which is when I got a little strip show of my own; and held my breath when his shirt came off.

His naturally bronzed chest was covered in a beautiful matting of trimmed black hair.

I’d seen his arms, or rather only his underarms, and they’ve been covered lighter so I didn’t expect him to be that blessed. His legs were similar, muscled calves with a softer, black down. But that chest; my fingers itched to bury into that.

And he had a tattoo!

Written slightly in an arc, part of it showed right above the waistband of his boxers. A string of words in some flowing script I couldn’t read but before I could ask, he disappeared into the bathroom. It occupied my thoughts for the duration of his shower; when he appeared again, I pointed at it as he got in.

“What does that say?”

His knee on the bed, he followed my gaze and pushed the waistband of his boxers down to show it fully.

Θα σας καθοδηγήσω. Θα με υπακούσετε

“It’s Greek. It says: I will guide you. You will obey.”

Reaching out, I traced it with my finger. “Why in Greek?”

Getting in, he smiled, facing me as he settled in. “My mother was Greek. It’s an homage to my roots; she always told me I reminded her of a real Greek male. Proud, hot-tempered yet loving.”

“Helen.”

“Helena,” he corrected, adding a slight accent to the name. “When she came here with her parents, they dropped the ‘a’ because it made her stand out too much, or so she always explained, but her real name was Helena, named after the wife of the king of Sparta, abducted by a prince which sparked the Trojan War.”

“Do you speak Greek as well?”

He shook his head. “No. She never taught us.”

Sliding my hand onto his chest, I sighed, enjoying the soft rasping sound it made. “I always loved hairy men.”

“Men…” he repeated, incredulous. Bringing up his hand, he caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers. “How did you end up in New York the way you did?” Not a question I had expected. I pulled back my hand, or tried to; he grabbed it and held it to his chest. “I’d like to know.”

“Do we have to talk about that now?”

“It’s driven me to madness for six years. All I know is hearsay, long after the facts, and I want to know the truth. From you.” I sighed.

“Believe it or not; it was completely by accident.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Again I sighed deeply and then proceeded to tell him about my ex, Rob, and about Randy; the true story I had told his father, long ago.

“So, after the police let me go, I went back to the house to find it sealed up, pending the investigation. I had a little money left on me, got me a cheap place and from there started looked for a job. Got something but that didn’t hold all that long, so my cash dwindled down to nothing. I think I had about five bucks left and was returning from a job interview, a failed one, when this guy pulled up next to me and mistook me for a hustler. Asked me how much, and me being a smartass, I told him a hundred. Next thing I know, we’re in the backseat, he’s doing his thing and five minutes later, I got that hundred in my wallet, looking at his tail lights disappearing. And that’s how it started. And I remember thinking; if it’s that easy…why the hell not. There’s worse ways to make money, and they needed the affection more than the money, so…from there, there was another, and another…”

Greg remained silent for a long time. As I was telling it, his hand had let mine go and resumed the place on my cheek.

“Before I knew it I was…well, you said it, a wh....”

He covered my mouth with his before I could finish the sentence.

“Shh, stop. I can never take that back, I was way out of line.” I gave him a sad smile.

“Thank you. Anyway, that’s how it happened,” I said, harking back to my explanation. It actually felt good to have him know exactly what had happened. He processed it for a long while.

“Mmm…and you’d lived on the street for seven months, when you met my father?”

“Yes. And believe me when I say; nights, in winter, in New York are really cold.” I shuddered in remembrance and moved my leg closer to his; as I did, he covered mine, its glorious heat warming mine. “If not for a theater usher named Eddie, who worked at the Loews on 34th Street, I wouldn’t be here now; he allowed me to sleep in the theater sometimes, and he always gave me coffee, and the leftover popcorn.”

“Ah yes, Mr. Eddie Ward. Actually, the last time you were seen was by him. The PI talked to him and he did remember you. And he remembered you talking to the occupant of, and then getting into, a foreign made black car. And not having seen you since. That’s the last piece of the puzzle the PI brought back.”

“May 22^nd, 2005,” I remembered, nodding. “One week from now, six years ago. The day my life changed. I’ll never forget it. I was on my regular spot, right across from Loews. It’s how I met Eddie, because of that spot. The new Star Wars movie had just come out and I was trying to get in, but I needed some funds so….I was hustling. I was a bit bored so I kicked a can off the sidewalk and hit Mr. Montgomery’s car. He stopped and lowered his window and looked at me like he’d seen a ghost. He called me Charles.”

At that, Gregory looked at me, frowning. His eyes roved over my face and then he began to slightly nod, and an amazed expression crept onto his features.

“Yes, you do look a little like Charlie, when he was younger,” he said. “I hadn’t noticed that before.”

“Especially if you add overly long shaggy hair,” I said, to which he nodded. These days I wear it buzz-cut, much easier to maintain. “Maybe that’s why he originally called out to me, because I looked like Charles. I don’t know. I do know he made the proposition, later on, to come and work for him, because he wanted to get rid of Basil quick. He really didn’t like him. So he had me checked out by a doctor, gave me everything I ever needed; clothes, food, guidance. Sent me back to school, do courses. I even got trained to give him his shots.”

The clock chimed once and as if on cue, I yawned.

Christ, this had been some rollercoaster of a day. I was emotionally exhausted and physically...well, I was tired, definitely. But it was a good tired.

And a new beginning.