Confounded: Part III - 16. Chapter 10

--==Mitchell’s POV==--

I had no idea how to plug in a car; Tom hadn’t told me how and I’d never done it before but it couldn’t be hard; I located the wall connector for it, labeled as well, in the garage. It was a bit of a thing for me, finding out how to do all of it, feeling quite pleased with myself when I got his car to start and drive it inside, and then get it charging. Now this was handy. It made me think about going electric all over again. I had given it some thought before. I really should look into that, these cars were amazingly quiet.

Getting back inside, I locked the front door behind me and checked it, continuing on downstairs, going by every door and window. Then I went upstairs, turning off the lights. Yep, that felt much better. Habits…

**********

It was a little strange being here; I’m not one to just poke around someone else’s house without them present, it feels…off, somehow. You’re fumbling, not knowing where to go, so you have to go by sight and sound. Tom had left the bedroom door open, so a faint glow guided me as I went up.

His bedroom was very nice and the bed was huge. It was bigger than mine and that’s rare; it’s not often I see a bed that will actually fit me, with my being so tall. This one would and with ease. I chuckled to myself, imagining him in it; he’d be hard to find!
The room felt more like him than the rest of the house. Dark red, almost brown, bed linens with cream colored carpeting that invited you to take off your shoes and let your feet sink in. The soft lighting gave it a relaxing mood. It even smelled like him in here, a nice woodsy scent. There was a dressing room off to the side and, once I walked in there, I found all his clothes on hangers; an insane collection of clothes, my god.

This wasn’t a closet, it was more like a room, all done up in dark wood. In the middle sat an island to sit on while you were dressing or putting on shoes. It had drawers all around, but I didn’t look into those; they were probably filled with underwear and whatnot; a very nice, organized room. Racks and racks of shirts, pants, sweaters, jeans, sportswear and suits. Stacks of t-shirts and sweatpants. Very impressive. I located some space to hang my stuff.

I started to undress and was about halfway down the buttons of my shirt when Tom came in.

“Find everything you need?” He asked, toeing off his shoes. I’d thought he was already in the bathroom but apparently he hadn’t been.

I shook my head. “Sorry,” I replied, “I took my time looking around; this room is amazing. I love the space.”

He grinned. “I know, right? Best room in the house, by far. Wherever I go next, I want it to have something like this. I call it ‘The Vault’. It’s my safe space, all my precious stuff goes here.”
Then he pointed to several, by alphabet. “Armani, Cucinelli, Dior, Ford, Lauren, Versace.”

I hadn’t even noticed the shoes section until he pointed there.

“Balenciaga, Ferragamo, Gucci, McQueen, Nike, Timberland, Louis Vuitton.”

“What; no Costco’s?”

He gave me a ‘piss off’ look, then laughed.

“Told ya; you should see my monthly clothes bills. Don’t even count the bottles of aftershave in the bathroom; there’s too many; I like a different smell, every day. It’s kinda nuts. That’s what making too much for your own good does; you tend to splurge.”

Well, from what I’d seen, and could see here, he had good taste. And yes, there definitely would be several paychecks in here.

I’m not as fashionable as I used to be, when Taylan still chose for me, but I do remember the bills. They were stupendous, especially when a ‘new season’ came. At first, I’d objected to, what I believed to be, frivolous spending. We could afford it but that didn’t mean we should. Perhaps old thinking. Taylan had waved those complaints away as soon as we began sharing finances. Or rather, when he dumped all his bills on my desk one day and told me to deal with it, right after he moved in. He pretty much put on that ‘you wanna be the male, you go do this shit for me, I can’t be bothered’ mentality, which is when I realized I had to sit him down and show a few things. If we were going to share our lives, the finances should be clear to him.

I still remember that evening clearly. Up to then, he never asked, not even once, what the house might be worth or rather, what I was worth. When I showed him, I could’ve knocked him over with a feather. I’m not insanely rich but I did do quite well. I made enough money that I’d never have to work again if I retired, even in those days, nor my partner or my son. Perhaps even his children. There was enough.

And from the very beginning, I also knew that Taylan wasn’t after any of that. Once he realized that there would be no monetary problems though, there were some…changes. Nothing extravagant, that wasn’t his style; bread was still bread, cheese was still cheese, but certain products were discarded and better quality appeared instead, especially in fashion.

To his credit; he spent his own money first, before I figured that out and forbade it. Or rather, insisted he not do that (I’d learned quickly that throwing my weight around was not going to work with him and the exact opposite would occur), so I proposed giving him a monthly allowance equivalent to what he’d made before he stopped working. He was offended by that as well (but didn’t say a word); then spent all of it and I wasn't any the wiser until a few months later, when I noticed no withdrawals came from cards I’d given him, yet suddenly, Kit was wearing three different kinds of Nike’s a week, apparently owned a very expensive pair of designer sunglasses, designer underwear daily (don’t ask how I found that out) and sporting a hundred-fifty-dollar haircut. Tay still just used his own account, the stubborn mule.

Our first major fight happened, where I did something I normally wouldn't do; a show of drama. I cut up his cards, right in front of him (again don’t ask where I got em; alright, Kit swiped them for me). In return, watching his shock as I let the pieces of his cards fall to the carpet, I went on my knees and proposed, asking him to marry me, but only if he would, PLEASE, please, please, let me put his name on our accounts. He asked for a neon green Ferrari with purple interior in return (I hope it was jokingly but I'm still not sure), I said absolutely not, then he said yes. 120% yes. He was an ass.

We never had an argument about money, ever again and Taylan had very good taste; I was given enough looks and compliments at social functions to realize that. Kit was his next target and he took to it like a fish to water. And then Tom, I guess. Looking around, I realized I was looking at Taylan’s legacy.

I began to laugh, causing him to raise an eyebrow at me.

“What are you braying about over there?” He inquired, curious. I told him. He stilled then, looking around.

“Oh, you gotta be…you’re right! Oh. My. God!” He began to laugh as well. “You’re so right! This is all him! Somewhere up there,” he pointed at the ceiling, “he’s having a great time, looking down on us, and this silly shit is still continuing. That fucker!”

I laughed even harder and he grinned.

“You think he is?”

“Oh yes. He definitely is. God…listen to us.”

I pointed like he had, not a minute ago. “Armani, Dior…Taylan, Taylan, Taylan.”

“Fucker,” Tom repeated, nodding, laughing. “But he had awesome taste. I remember when he took me to Armani, that first time.” He snickered. “He actually convinced those guys to come out to the car, when I refused to go in.”

“Of course he did; we were some of their best customers,” I said, chuckling. I could definitely believe this. Tay would do that.

“I still am. Toine tried to do my inside leg; at his direction! Right there, in the parking lot.”

I laughed out loud. I didn’t know this, he never told me.

“Just imagine that; him getting people to bring out shit from the store and getting a fitting in a PARKING LOT. That was nuts!”

Tears were starting to come, I laughed so hard. Tom chuckled. “That bastard.”

Classic Taylan. Oh, that was nice, hearing that. He had antics you wouldn’t believe. There were far more of them, many as humorous as this one. They were a source of many chuckles still, years after the fact. Drying my eyes with the back of my hand, I continued with my shirt, shrugging it off my shoulders. By now, Tom was down to his undies; bright yellow boxer briefs, and I got a quick look at the tattoo; then he was gone, excusing himself to the bathroom.

Undoing my pants, I laid them next to my shirt, then got some hangers, put them in the free space and followed him to the bathroom; he was brushing his teeth, using a sonic bush. In the mirror, his eyes flicked to me as I came in, then raked over me.

There were two sinks in here, which was handy; nothing worse than having to have to wait while the other finishes his business. And he was right; the amount of luxury items in here was insane. There had to be at least fifty bottles of cologne, dozens of tubes with creams and lotions lining the mirrors and the sinks, whoa! Lowering himself, Tom opened a cabinet below the sink and got me a regular toothbrush, newly sealed, handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I said, self conscious.

He was checking me out while nodding, his mouth full of paste.

I still look good. I know that. I may not have a six pack anymore, those days are long gone for me, but my skin is still tight and my stomach flat. I still run and exercise yet it did feel weird, sharing this moment, standing there with nothing on but your boxer shorts as he pointed to the toothpaste. I got rid of the packaging and squirted some on the brush, then stood next to him, stealing glances in return, beginning to brush as he finished up, bending over to spit out and using some water to clean the sink. Good, he didn’t rinse his mouth after brushing. I always hate it when I see people do that on TV; what would be the point of brushing your teeth, then rinsing? That’s stupid; the fluoride does its work while you sleep!

And I really couldn’t help but stare; seeing a piece of art, that being his tattoo, on a picture on your phone as opposed to seeing it in, and on, the flesh, is an entirely different experience. I didn’t even pretend to brush anymore when I got a clear view as he bent low. It showed an intricacy that was downright stunning. I could see the letters of text now, and notes that ended right into the fork. And where did that point really end?

He rose and our eyes met; I resumed brushing. He smiled, didn’t say a word but he knew I’d seen it and probably why I stopped brushing for a bit; that was some artist, who’d done that. Beautiful. And I somehow liked that it was only on one half of his body. The other half showed no ink of any kind.

Then Tom left, leaving me alone.

I wished I could’ve seen the front. Heck, I wanted to see the whole thing, not covered by anything.

**********

When I came back into the bedroom, Tom lay on his left, on the right side of the bed, his elbow propped up, resting his head on his hand, watching me come in. His eyes traveled over me again, pausing at my boxer shorts and he smirked.

“I could never get used to those,” he said as I walked around the foot of the bed and got in. Rolling over, he settled his head on his other hand.

“Get used to what?”

He pushed back the duvet to our hips and hooked a finger under the waistband of my shorts, pulling and then letting it snap back in place.

“These. Too roomy.”

I sniggered, also turning on my side, facing him. He was looking at my chest, his eyes slowly going down.

“Everything dangles free.”

Letting my eyes travel over him, I returned the favor.

“Ah, blatant ogling time?”

“Ogling time,” I agreed, nodding.

Reaching over, I touched a tendril of his tattoo that started on his shoulder, snaking down to his heart. Even though the soft light from the lamps on the nightstands wasn’t very bright, I could make out more now. Some of the lettering was so small, it’d seemed like lines before, on the pictures he’d sent. Now I could see that the whole tattoo was always four lines with notes scattered all over and where there were lyrics, it was underneath. It swirled and branched even further than I had seen on the pictures, sometimes just a few keywords. At places it was very fine, yet readable.

“I like that it doesn’t show when you’re dressed.”

Dipping his chin, he followed my finger as I traced the lines with the pad of my index, down his arm. Reaching the end, right above where normally a t-shirt or short sleeve shirt would stop, I traced back up and down his shoulder to his chest, following another tendril.

“That was a deliberate choice. I like tattoos, but not in plain view, like those in the neck, forearms or in the throat.” Looking back up, he sought my gaze. “You don’t mind?”

I shook my head. “Not when an obvious artist makes it like this. It really is beautiful.”

He smiled. “I’ll tell Ibrahim you said that. It’s his design. He’s proud of it.”

“More will be added?”

A definite shake of his head. “Nope. I’m happy with this. It’s the story of how I got where I am. I wanted to...I dunno, have a permanent reminder of it? Because it wasn’t easy. And now I’m here and I’m still okay. But I go in for touch ups.”

My finger had traveled on as he spoke, now circling his pierced nipple. His eyes darkened somewhat when I grazed the hardened nub with the pad of my finger; his nostrils flared a little. Then, when I took the piercing gently between my fingers, his hand shot up and he took my wrist, moving it away. I let it go.

“Nuh-uh.” He smiled.

“Why?”

“Don’t touch unless you want to make me horny as all hell.”

Very interesting. He gave me a lopsided grin.

“I have another piercing. Two, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow. I already knew his upper body, I’d have seen it.

“Where?”

He shook his head, reaching over and tapping my nose, chidingly. I tried to catch his finger with my teeth; he yanked it back and chuckled.

“I’m not telling. You’re gonna have to find them.”

Hmm…I was still on that horny comment; I wouldn’t mind seeing that.

Leaning in, I extended my tongue and lightly touched his nipple with the tip, then covered it with my mouth, suckling gently. A hand of his slid in my hair and he moaned softly.

“God, you don’t know what that does to me. We don’t have to do anything; I just like being here with you.”

Giving him a gentle push, he rolled onto his back while I kept sliding over the hard nub with my tongue. His fingers massaged my scalp. Raising my head slightly, I glanced at his face; his eyes were closed.

“I know,” I said softly, scooting a little closer, then lowered to his nipple again. From there, I followed the swirls and circles down to his hip.

He hissed, muttering a soft ‘that goddamn beard’, making me smile.

I then slid to his belly button, which was clear of any piercings; I hadn’t seen anything else on the pictures he’d sent either. Where, then? “Warm?”

“Warmer,” he smiled. When I went further, over the band of his undies and down his leg to about where the duvet covered us, he shook his head. “Colder.”

Coming back up, I approached the yellow material of his boxer briefs. “Getting warmer again.”

“Why isn’t this awkward? I can’t get over that,” I smiled. ”Oh christ, it’s not a…” what was the name of it, “Royal Albert, is it?”

He laughed softly.

“That would be a Prince Albert,” he corrected, “and no. Why do you keep saying that it isn’t awkward?” Pulling up his leg, he blinked calmly. “I like that it isn’t awkward. You’re very close, though.”

It had to be covered by his briefs then and he followed my gaze.

“I’ll not stop you from doing anything you want to do. But Quid Pro Quo.”

Fair enough.

"Show me."

Lifting up his butt, he handily slipped off his briefs, carelessly throwing them to the floor.
"Agile, aren’t we…"

He lay back down, stretching out languidly, making a little show of himself. He really had a beautiful body; hard and defined muscles everywhere and mine responded in kind, my penis stirring.

“I feel like a dirty old man,” I chuckled, “gawking at you.” I found I wanted to do things that might shock him but his response surprised me.

“You can be a dirty old man,” he grinned wickedly, “if I can be a very naughty boy.”

Oh hell; I swelled to fully erect then. I buried my face in the pillow, groaning, causing him to laugh. Lifting up from the pillow, I said, “You’re not making it easy for me.”

At that, he rolled onto his stomach and then, continuing the wicked grin, pushed his perfect ass up a little. “That easy enough?”

Heaven, help me; who could resist that! I lightly slapped his butt. “You are naughty!”

“I’ll be as naughty as you want me to be.”

I left my hand on his skin and caressed it, then moved a little closer, looking at the tattoo. And now knew where that point of the fork really ended. Right at his buttocks.
Sliding my hand up over his back, I followed the lines again, swirling this way and that and when I returned to his ass, having followed the fork all the way to its conclusion, he spread his legs a little, a clear invitation.

“Bad boy,” I whispered.

His only response was another languid stretch, a deep sigh and a push against my hand.

Sliding further, going for a cupping of him from behind, my finger then encountered something hard. Frowning, I carefully explored by touch. I felt like a broken ring with small bulbs on each end, right behind his testicles.

“Found one…” He smiled.

“It’s a Guiche. When I’m close and it’s pulled, it increases the sensation when I come. Same as the nipple one.”

To test, I pulled on it just a tiny bit.

“Mmm, like that, yeah.”

How very interesting. “Do you need pain? To come, I mean?” I asked, curious.

He smiled again, shaking his head. “No. Not pain. Absolutely not. It’s more that I need the stimulation to get hard?”

Ah. I’d encountered that a few times, the guy needing to be taken before he got an erection. I guessed this worked the same way. Continuing my exploration, cupping him and causing another rise of his, further off the bed, I chuckled when I found another, this one a small rod, again with two small bulbs on it.

“Another Guiche?”

“No, that's called a Hafada. It’s there for nothing else than knowing it’s there. And…only you know it’s there. No one else. I got it earlier this year…”

That was awesome! Only me, huh? Now I really wanted to see.

“Turn on your back?” I asked, tapping his ass again with a light slap. “I wanna see.”

Grinning, he rose onto his elbows, then pointedly looked down, to my shorts. “Lose those and I’ll consider your request.”

Chuckling, I did as asked; as said, it was only fair. Rolling onto my back I rose my butt up and slid them to my calves, then down my legs and with some flourish, sent them sailing after his own undies. There was no hiding my excitement.

Rolling back onto my side, I caught him staring, his eyes wide and muttering ‘dayum’, then closing them and bringing his hands together, sending a quick prayer to the ceiling, mouthing ‘thank you, thank you, thank you.’

He quickly rolled over, but onto his side again, ending up much like he’d begun, with his head resting on his hand, then resisting me when I gave a gentle push so he’d roll onto his back.

“Nuh-uh…my turn,” he grinned, reaching to my chest. “I like that you’re not that hairy. This is nice. Do you groom?”

I dipped my chin, watching as he splayed his fingers, trying to catch hair between them. They were too short for that.

“Yes…” I caught that train as soon as it launched. I may not be up to snuff with all modern things, but that was certainly one I was familiar with.

His hand moved up to my armpit, finding it smooth, then withdrew and raised his arm, smiling.

“Same. I like a man who takes care of himself.”

I could appreciate that as well but I couldn’t help it; I teased him a little, jerking my thumb over my shoulder.

“I may need help with my back hair, though. Sometimes the trimmer just jams…I can’t reach…”

I actually roared with laughter when he audibly yelped, disgusted; then, in some deft move he executed lightning fast, he pulled me forward and gave me a shove. I went down onto the mattress, planted face first into the pillow. A second later, he slipped on top of me, sitting down on my lower back, smoothing his hand over my skin. He would find nothing there.

“You’re an asshole, scaring me like that!”

Ha!

Sure, as a man grows older, certain things happen. Body hair in places you don’t want it is one of them but that doesn’t mean we just stop maintaining. We notice! We’re modern! Perhaps some men are not, and that’s on them, but I definitely wasn’t one of those men just yet.

“Sucker,” I returned in answer, making him chuckle.

I enjoyed his touch; his hand sliding over me so I remained in this position, resting on my elbows. He slipped off again and lay almost flush against me, his head resting on one hand again, the other making lazy circles on my back.

“Is it awkward yet?” he smiled.

I gave him a slight bump with my shoulder. “No.”

“Good,” he answered softly. “You okay?”

Seeking his eyes, I nodded. “Yes.”

His hand continued to slide over my back and he didn’t say anything for a long while. Finally, “You’re a beautiful man, Mitch.”

I’d never been called that before, but before I could comment, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my shoulder and inhaled. “I love your scent.” He touched me lightly with his tongue.

Then he slipped on top of me again, settling on my lower back and used both of his hands, starting at my sides, sliding them upward, applying some pressure; his thumbs, I think. And Christ, did that feel good. Repeating it several times, I relaxed, just listening to him breathe, inhaling deep as he drew back, then exhaling when he pushed back up to my neck.

“Still good?” He asked, after long minutes of doing this.

“Mhm,” I replied. Very! It felt amazing, actually. “But you don’t have to…”

“Shhh… let me…” He spoke softly. “Just let go. Next time, I’ll use oil. It’s great, you’ll see…”
.
Now normally, I prefer to be the, ehr…aggressor in the bedroom; I don’t enjoy bossy lovers. But this wasn’t like that at all. He wasn’t being bossy, he was just being...himself, I guess? He continued it for quite a long while; then he lowered himself on top of me, deeply sighing.

“You feel so good,” he whispered.

So did he! It felt great actually, feeling him lying on top of me, his body heat warming me. And when he stretched out, covering me with his legs as well, fully on top, I barely managed a grunt, having relaxed to the point of falling almost asleep. It felt really good!

“I love how warm you are.”

“If you’re trying to get me to sleep, try no further,” I chuckled. “I’m there.”

He chuckled similarly in response. “Dammit, went too far. Now he’s ready to sleep. Well, fuck! You’re such an ass! Come on! Gimme a bone, here!”

I began to laugh. “I can give you a boner?””

“Oh yes, please,” his deadpan response came.

I belly laughed at that. Ridiculous goof!

Turning onto my back, he gave me some room to maneuver, then settled on my belly, smiling down at me. Placing his hands on my chest, he continued what he’d been doing to my back.

“Still okay?”

“Mhm,” I confirmed. I very much liked this form of play. Very much.

Placing my hands on his arms, I followed those up to his shoulders, tracing the swirls that began on his upper arms, toward his chest, then down to his stomach, the pads of my fingers feeling the hard muscle contours there. Moving down further, I took him in my hand.
Reaching behind him, and finding me fully erect, he pressed me to his buttocks.
He cocked his head.

“D’you wanna fuck me?”

“Yes...” God yes!

A corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned sideways, reaching for the nightstand. He rummaged in there, taking out a small bottle of lube. And then a blistering, expletive ridden comment followed right after, aimed at himself, then letting his head land on my chest dejectedly.

“Motherfucker…”

“What…?” I asked, confused.

“I forgot to get the fucking condoms!”

Oh… Oh! Seriously?

“You forgot? After belittling me to a garden glove pinky size at the store?”

He had the decency to sit back up, his cheeks blushing deep red.

“Consider me…educated on the pinky bit, Mr Cucumberdick,” he smirked.

Oh, that did it. Grabbing both his sides, I tickled him relentlessly. He practically flew off of me, hiccupping with laughter, his legs and arms flailing.

“Stop! Stop! Owww, fuck, stop! Haha!”

Ass! Absolute ass! Settling on top of him instead, I pinned him down to the mattress with my weight. Immediately, his legs wrapped around my waist.

“You’re an ass!”

He grinned up at me. “Haha! I’m sorry, alright! Hey, look! Ass at the ready!”

Chuckling, I dipped and gave him a hard kiss. Jackass!

Sighing, I raised myself up from him. Then, glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand, I muttered a soft expletive myself.

“Maybe it’s for the better; we really should go to sleep.”

Following my gaze, he groaned. “Oh come on, it’s only…oh crap…”

Exactly. “It’s after 1am.”

“But…” he protested again.

“No. You wake at 6. Less than five hours from now.”

He grudgingly agreed. “Fine. But I formally object, your honor!”

“Noted. I formally object to there being no protection.”

“Sustained,” he muttered.

“And as a consequence, no nookie,” I continued.

“Sustained, goddammit, sustained! First thing tomorrow, I’m getting raincoats.”

“Where, on the way to church? Talk about sin.”

“Ha! Well….yeah!”

I chuckled at that and rolled off the bed, picking up my shorts, pulling them back on. Then I noted he was snuggling himself right back under the duvet and shook my head, pointing at his undies, right next to me on the floor.

“On, please.”

“Oh, come on! Can we at least sleep naked? I like feeling you against me.”
I shook my head, getting back into bed.

“No, I hate sleeping in the nude.” Not to mention leaking on the sheets; we both had blue balls. “How about spooning?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Face to face, please.”

“You don’t like spooning?” I’m a fan of it.

“I can’t stand it if someone turns his back on me in bed. I always think he’s mad.”

“So? Turn your back to me. I’ll hold you.”

“Okay, that works for me.” I pointed at his undies on the floor again. “On. Please.”

“Yes sir,” he grinned, jackknifing up and getting them. Pulling them on with a loud snap, he got back in, scooting toward me, facing me and offering his lips.

“Goodnight kiss?”

Definitely. He tried to cop a feel again during the long kiss, but I grabbed his wrist and steered him away. He chuckled and turned, scooting into me, his back against my chest.

“You’re no fun.”

“Sleep.”

“How am I gonna give you a blowjob in the morning if you keep your underwear on?” Sinful boy.

“Somehow I think you’ll find a way. Now sleep…”

“I still think we should have sex, right now. I’m okay with bareback, I’m safe. Take the edge off. I feel jittery. Dickpain in my ass might help with that. There’s lube in the nightstand on your side too. Maybe some toys, I don’t remember.”

Heaven help me. “Tom!”

He snickered. “Maybe we should try naked spooning. You could just…aim. Just slide into my boypussy. I’ll do the rest.”

I’d never heard a more wonderful word than that. Boypussy. My dick twitched at the suggestion. I repeated my earlier display of face planting myself into the pillow and groaning. He laughed out loud.

“Alright, alright…fine. Sleep. I get it.”

“Thank you. You’re an ass.”

He chuckled. “Lights off?”

“Yes, please.”

Reaching blindly above us, he yanked a chord, engulfing the room in darkness. Then he snuggled right into me and sighed deeply.

“I’m glad you stayed.”

I smiled in the dark, tightening my arm around him. The other I’d snuck under his pillow, stretched out. His head was below my chin. So was I, glad that is. And I knew he wasn’t going to sleep just yet. I just knew it. He hadn’t relaxed fully. He was still worked up. So was I.

“Mhm,” I responded. It took about a minute.

“You really don’t wanna have porn? Jerk off?”

“Will you stop?” I smiled. And yes, I did want to. But it’d be better to wait.

“Just checking…” Another minute. “How ‘bout now? I could put on a tutu and do cartwheels. You’ll see my ass every five seconds as I go around the room. You wanna jerk off on that?”

“Stop it,” I said, chuckling, “just…stop. Turn your brain off.”

“Alright, fine. But you owe me a fuck.”

I groaned and pressed myself against him.

“Ooh, now?”

“Tom, I swear…” I flared up. Seriously…

He snickered. I smiled.

“Okay, I’ll stop. For now…”

“Thank you.” I closed my eyes, waiting.

“Mitch?”

Sighing deep, I didn’t respond right away. “What?”

“G'night.”

Tightening my arm around him, I brought my mouth to his ear.

“Good night. Now stop. Quiet your brain. Go to sleep.”

“Okay…” And then he finally relaxed.

I sighed deeply a few times, listening to his breathing. Then, when it evened out, I slipped right into dreamland.