Gallery
by ccallenreese

puppixel:

Learning some new tricks today

Howard looked down. That was odd. Normally when he was fixing lunch, his pup was at his feet begging. Curious, Howard dried his hands on a towel and went looking for his boy. Was he napping after Christmas excitement?

Howard found him in the living room and had to smother a laugh. His pup was sitting in a chair, and very seriously reading his new book. It was comical to see a pup take such a formal, human pose. How nice that he liked his present so much though!
His pup looked up at him.
“Learning some things?”
“Ruff.”
“Good boy,” Howard said with a smile. He’d fill the boy’s bowl and let him get lunch when he reached a break in the chapters. He didn’t want to get in the way of his boy learning some new tricks.

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Captions are fictional. This photo is actually a week or so old, not taken on Christmas. <3 @puppixel though. Super adorbs.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

It didn’t feel like Christmas for Elliot. Or rather, Elliot didn’t feel like celebrating Christmas.
Elliot’s

boyfriend was still deployed. It was cold and sleeting, and it didn’t snow either.
Elliot

sat off to the side and sulked. Despite being surrounded by family, and one large dog,
Elliot

felt more alone than ever. The separation was a lot harder than he thought. So was not getting laid and having to use your toys to get off.
Elliot

mom’s tried to cheer him up by telling him he had a Christmas present coming on a late delivery Saturday night, but as it got later,
Elliot

was informed that because of the sleet, it was delayed. It would get there probably on Monday.

Figures. One bad thing after another, Elliot thought.

 Elliot was confused Sunday morning when his mother called him from downstairs. “El honey are you awake? The postal service made a special delivery. Your present is here, come downstairs.”
Sunday? The post office doesn’t deliver anything on Sunday. Still, Elliot was in no rush. He wanted to go back to bed and sleep the whole day away.
“Coming mom,” he said.
Apparently he took too much time because his dad got impatient. “Come on, we’re waiting here.”
“Jesus what the heck is everyone on about?” El complained, stomping down the stairs. At six foot one, he couldn’t go much of anywhere without making noise. “I’m coming, I’m coming…” He crossed the kitchen, wondering why his sister was giggling her ass off, and then El looked into the living room.

He was so startled that he took a step back and gasped. “Wha – what? Jesse…?”
Jesse couldn’t keep his straight face and broke into a huge smile. “Merry Christmas, baby. I’m home.”
“Jesse!” El shouted, running across the room to leap into Jesse’s arms. Jesse caught him, and the dog began to bark from all the excitement.
“Oh my god it’s really you,” El said in a tiny voice out of his tight throat. He buried his nose in Jesse’s neck. Tears poured down his cheeks. “It’s really you.”
“Yes, I’m here, I’m here. Christ, I missed you,” Jesse whispered in his ear, somehow able to hold up Elliot who had wrapped his legs around his waist like a koala. “Shh there there. Ah shit, you’re making me cry…”

El refused to let go until Jesse kissed him hard,
There was a gentle round of applause, and a barrage of “awwws”. El’s dad filmed the whole thing.

Elliot he slid down and dropped his legs to standing position, but he didn’t want to unhook his arms from around Jesse in case he was a hallucination. Goddamn, he looked hot in that uniform! “Are you really here?” he whispered.
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry I lied to you about not getting the holidays off, but I wanted to surprise you. Supposed to come in yesterday but the flight got delayed.”
“You were here last night??” Elliot cried.
My sister laughed. “He sounds so mad. Yeah, he slept at my apartment.”
“What?? You guys!” Elliot was too happy to be mad at them though. “Thank you all so much for doing this for me.” Elliot began crying again.

That got more “aaawww”s. Someone gave El a tissue. He couldn’t stop smiling, and his cheeks hurt.
“Jesse’s home,” Elliot said.
Jesse smiled and held him. “Merry Christmas.”
“You know, besides that time I got a Gameboy for Christmas, this is the best Christmas ever,” Elliot remarked.
His dad laughed. “You know I think Elliot got this same gift when he was a kid, he just likes his military action playsets life size now.”

That got a big laugh and even Jesse blushed.

El’s Dad beamed. “Ok, who wants some of my famous waffles for breakfast?”
“We do!”

Elliot found himself ravenous and feeling giddy and smiley. Now it felt like Christmas morning.

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Captions are fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

inordertobetterserve:

sir-erik:

temptingdominance:

puppyastro:

Christmas time for puppies 🙂

What beautiful time of year.

No peeing on the puppy-mas tree. Only smell.

Hahaha

“What do you mean I can’t mark these presents? They have my name on them.” My pup asks, his voice muffled from the mask.
“That means they’re already marked. No peeing. Smells only. Be a good boy.”
“Arfffff.” He says with a sigh.
”Did you put out cookies for Santa?”
“Arf.”
“Cause these look like dog biscuits.”
“Santa might be a pup too.”
I chuckle. "I don’t see why not. Ok pup, up to bed with you.” He’s been sleeping with me these last few nights because it’s been so cold in the house.

My pup looks at me, then drags his pup bed over to the tree by his teeth. “Awww,” I coo. “You want to sleep here and wait for Santa?”
My boy nods. “ARF!”
“Aw look at your tail go. Ok, you can sleep here, but I’ll have to bring the down blanket down here so you don’t get cold.”
“Woof!”
“But no peeking in the presents ok? Or you’ll get spanked.”
The pup nodded eagerly.
“Alright then. I’ll fill your water bowl down here then.”

The next morning, I woke up with my pup sitting on me with one of his presents to me in his mouth. Could there be a cuter Christmas morning? I was convinced not.

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Captions are fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Margaret pursed her lips. She was embarrassed by her son’s obnoxious behavior. She pulled aside her brother, Ralph. Uncle Ralph had always been closer to Victor than Victor’s own father, who dipped in and out of their lives.
“Ralph, please do something about Victor. He’s spoiling Christmas Eve with his nasty attitude, his vulgar words, and he’s teasing the small children by ripping their presents. He’s not cleaning up after himself and put loud rap music on the stereo and refused to turn it off. Please do something. Ever since he moved out, he’s been so hard to control…”

 Ralph polished his glasses on his shirt. This didn’t surprise him. With an absent father and a push over mother, Victor had been a hellion in his school days. The sound of breaking glass got his attention. Victor was using a laser pointer to get the cat to break ornaments on the tree.

“That’s it,” Ralph said, putting his glasses back on. He marched over to Victor.
“What are you gonna do to me old man?” Victor sneered.
“What your Daddy should have done to you every day.” Ralph grabbed him by the ear and lead him to the basement steps.
“Ow! Ow hey! Stop you fucker! CUT IT OUT Let me go! What are you doing??”
Ralph ignored him. He took his nephew downstairs, bent him over his lap, and spanked him until his hand throbbed. He spanked Victor until the boy was in tears and begging for mercy.

“You listen to me. You be nice to your mother. You behave yourself on Christmas Eve. You learn some respect, and you clean up after yourself you hear me? I hear you’ve been screwing up on paying rent. Can’t hold a job I bet? You fuck up, you are going to move in with me, and I am going to spank you like every. single. day. Until you straighten up. You understand?”
Victor sniffled in his lap, “Yeah yeah I got it.”
Ralph gave another swat. Victor yelped. “No, not yeah. Yes. Yes sir.”
“Yes sir,” Victor said meekly.
“Good boy. Good boy,” Ralph said in a warm tone. Now, pull your pants up. Wash your face, and think about what you’ve done. When you are ready to be part of the family, you can come back upstairs. Am I clear?”
“Yes sir,” Victor said in an even smaller voice.
“Good boy.”

Ralph left Victor to stew in the basement. He went upstairs, and saw his worried sister’s face. “I took care of it, Margie,” Ralph said. She looked relieved. “Do you have ice for my hand?” She was relieved. That meant he had been thorough. Christmas Eve went much, much better after that, although Victor made himself scarce until just before the party ended up, when he came upstairs to apologize to his mom after most people had left.

Ralph was proud, but knew it would take more spankings to straighten the boy out.

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Captions are fictional. If the image looks pixelated, click it, and a clear version should pop up.

That cancer story was sad :( I was expecting a happy long life with Darren..

That cancer story was sad :( I was expecting a happy long life with Darren..

by ccallenreese

It was sad. A lot of my boys get long happy lives with their partners, their men, their handlers, their alphas, their keyholders, or their Doms. David got his happily ever after and a long life, and he experienced true love twice. If David hadn’t met Judd, Judd would have relapsed and OD’ed. And the children him and David later adopted would have remained in foster care. So even though losing Darren is sad, one door closing means many others opened. Or at least, I like to think of it like that.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

‘Hey,” I say, with a knock. “You ok?”
“Nn.” Came the reply.
“I’m coming in.”
“Nn.”
I step into the bathroom, not knowing what to expect, but I had a ball of dread in the bottom of my stomach. I’m relieved Darren isn’t hurt, but then I see what he had done with the scissors and his hair. “Hey,” I repeat softly. “What are you doing?”
“It’s coming out,” he says quietly.
I sat on the closed toilet. “Your hair?” I ask.
Darren nods, blankly.
“That happens with chemo.”
“I thought I’d shave it off, but you can’t bring electronic shavers in the bath. And so I tried to cut it off but I can’t.” He hugs his knees. “I can’t. And it’s just falling out.” He begins to cry.
I furrow my brow and purse my lips. I’m only a few inches away but it feels like I can’t reach him. I swallow my emotions, stand-up, and begin to take off my clothes. Darren doesn’t look up. “Scoot forward,” I instruct, and he scoots up. I slip in behind him, but can’t fit my long legs folded. I place them on either side of Darren’s body, and then pull him against me. He leans against me, still a hard ball, shaking in the tepid water. I turn on the warm water to a gentle trickle, then tighten my grip on him. He begins to unravel, until he is laying on me. His body shakes softly as he cries.
“Darren?” I whisper.
“Y-yeah?” he hiccups.
“It’s going to be alright.”
“You don’t know that,” he accuses.
“I mean…” I exhale softly. “It doesn’t matter if your hair falls out. Or if you lose weight. Or if you get tired more easily. It doesn’t matter, no one is going to think negatively of you for it. It’s gonna be alright. You got friends. You got me.”
“…I don’t want to die from cancer.”
I squeeze him even tighter and kiss the top of his head. “We all die someday Darren. But you won’t die now. Not soon either.”
He doesn’t answer.
”You know, they say – live each day like it’s your last. But that’s silly, cause you’d do some stupid things or blow all your money right?”
Darren shrugs.
“Well, I think it’s silly. Especially because even if one of our days was the last, I’d still just want to spend it as a normal day with you. Because each day with you in it is a good day.”
Darren sniffles. “You will love me through out this whole thing?”
“With intense, passionate, unlimited love.”
Darren relaxes against me a little. “I love you, but I can’t believe you would give it to me back knowing what we’re up against.”
“I will always love you back,” I answer firmly, hoping he can’t hear my words shaking.
“That makes me happy. Hey, David?”
”Hm?”
“Would you shave my head?”
“Yeah. I will. Want me to shave mine?” I asked.
“No,” Darren says, “I like to play with your hair cause it’s long.”
I smile a little. “Ok. Just yours. And no more scissors ok?”
“Ok,” Darren says, “No more scissors.”

I kiss him on the head, and reach back to turn off the water. We sit in the silent bathroom, cuddling in contemplative quiet, until the water becomes cold. Darren falls still.
For a terrifying second, I think he’s actually dead.

No, just asleep. Rattled, I wake him up and help him dry off.

I put him to bed. After he’s tucked in, I go downstairs and turn on the living room light. I take the presents out of the hidden spot behind boxes in the closet and put them under the tree. I stuff the stockings with trinkets. Then, I sit down by the tree, stare up at the pretty twinkling lights, and begin to sob.

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It wasn’t my last Christmas with Darren. I got four more wonderful, merry Christmas Eves with Darren. We got a dog. There was a wedding. We bought a house. I let myself be happy.

Then the cancer came back. It didn’t respond to chemo anymore. I shaved Darren’s head again. It never grew back. I lost my Darren on a rainy July evening. I thought by December, that I was recovered enough to handle it. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t OK with the empty tree and the silent house.

My sister, who was worried about my lack of presence on Christmas morning, came to check on me. She found me in the garage. Just in time, the doctors said. But I could see it in their eyes. It was close. Too close. I was mad at first that she had stopped me, but by the time New Years rolled around, I just felt numb. I got therapy. I sold the house. I kept the dog.

A few days into therapy, my therapist told me about a group for gay persons who have lost their spouses. I went, and sat in the back. But I kept going once a month, and fourteen months later, a new person started coming.
“God how California is this that there’s vegan donuts over here?” Judd asked, chuckling.
“The coffee is organic too,” I noted.
“Good lord, this city. When I want to feel pitiful, I just want gas station coffee and shitty donuts made by people who don’t speak English and run a Chinese restaurant next door. Why is that hard?”
I actually laughed. “Now that you mention it, why are there so many Chinese restaurants next to donut places?”
Judd shook his head. “I really wish I knew. Gets me every time. Hm, actually this donut is pretty good..”
“I think you need to apologize to the donut, Judd. I don’t think the donut appreciated you judging it.”
That made him laugh back.

Judd lost his own husband, Mark, three years go. Brain aneurysm. Judd took it harder than me. He had no time to prepare. Woke up next to his husband t to find him dead and stiff. Can you imagine that? Judd, who had a problem with pain killers already, turned to heroin to numb his pain. He was climbing out of his own hole, but sober, and cautiously optimistic.

And quite unexpectedly, I made a friend. And then a close friend. And then, a lover. One day, I caught myself thinking, “if it wasn’t for Darren, I wouldn’t have ever met Judd.” I felt guilt for that. But my therapist said Darren would probably like that he could still make me happy.

At Christmas now, I sit at the sofa and sip coffee while I stare at the mesmerizing beauty of the lights on the tree.
Darren’s favorite ornament hides shyly off the side, keeping Mark’s ornament company too. The tree is even more beautiful now, even though there’s two small children destroying wrapping paper underneath it and screaming over presents. Judd comes and sits next to me on the sofa, and puts a box in my lap. “Merry Christmas,” he says kissing me. I smile and kiss him back. I am happy.
“Merry Christmas, Judd.”

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Captions are fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

The kitten mewls. “What is it?” I ask, looking up. Every time a droplet hits the window, her eyes dart to it. She looks silly, and I giggle. I scoop her up and cuddle her. “Your first rain huh?’

The droplets double, then triple, their tempo increasing as they patter down on the glass and on the roof. The sky darkens from a dove grey to sheet metal, and a black shadow looms from the north. This may look like a rainshower, but it’s going to be a storm. I scoop up the kitten and go to tell the houseboy to bring the outdoor plants in the garage and check the outside of the house before it gets worse.

Even as I’m giving him instructions, he nods and acknowledges me with that same mechanical aloof attitude of his. He’s always been kind of distant and formal with me, which is fine, because I hired him primarily for work. Even having sex with him is like a formal act. Get on, go through the motions, ejaculate, slide off. It satisfies him. Cumming for me, in that situation, is more of a biological response than anything.  I get my rocks off with my other partners.

My houseboy notes my instructions with a final nod, then goes back to rolling out dough for savory pies that I love. I make sure to tell him I love them, just for good measure. He gives me a pleased smile, responds with a “Thank you, Sir, I appreciate that,” then turns back to his work. See? I’m pretty sure he’s a robot.

Thunder rumbles. We both look toward the window. Rain splatters on it. The boy makes a soft exhale, and goes to wash his hands. “Better do it now.” I agree this is a good idea, and feeling bad that I’ve sent him out into the rain, I put on my housecoat and help him drag the big planters into the garage. The others we put into the sun room closest to the backyard.

Soon as that’s over, he’s back to the bread. I go back to my writing, and I wait.

I’ve never brought it up after it happened the first time, and he never looks like he expects me too, but I know it will happen. Around 1:30 am the next morning, it does. I hear the footsteps. I hear the door creak ever so softly. I feel someone moved the sheets, and a body slide in. I feel his warmth against me, and I can smell his shampoo from his recent shower. He always thinks I’m asleep, but I’m a light sleeper. I let him think that.
He’ll be awake before me, slide out, and pretend he was never there – even go so far as to adjust the sheets to cover his presence.
The first time he did tried to climb into bed with me, I woke up and harried and ruffled. I was completely baffled and demanded an explanation. His sullen, embarrassed face told me we were very close to that Line that he doesn’t like to cross. His eyes looked pained. I rubbed my face, as he stood there shifting, but eventually I just lifted up the blanket and invited him in.
No more questions.

Now, I look forward to inclement weather and his mysterious visits. This storm was particularly bad, and he was early tonight. I was glad my smile was hidden in the dark.

You can’t imagine how astonished I was to wake up and find him still in bed with me. I stared at his sleeping face in complete fascination, doe-brown hair fanned around the soft lines of his face on the pillow. With intense caution, I moved his arm off of me, and slid out of bed, doing my best to be in ultra stealth mode. It took me a full minute to tip toe to the bathroom. God, why did I wake up to pee at 5 am? I never get up to pee this early. The light of dawn was just coming through the window. I do the deed, and hurry back to bed. It’s chilly out here!

Climbing back in is just as agonizing as getting out was. By some miracle, I don’t wake him up. He barely stirs. I reset myself, then praise myself for my incredible accomplishment. I spent the rest of my time awake, staring at his beautiful face, listening to the weakened rain pitter-patter on my window until I doze off again.

When I wake up again, he has already escaped.

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Captions are fictional.