Tag: gay captions

Gallery
by ccallenreese

lookingfortheman:

I’m the kind of guy who still believe that a kiss can fix everything….

There was my pride, and there was him. I could have walked away, using the pieces of my bruised ego to build a wall around me to block logic out. I could have convinced myself I was right. But I wasn’t. And I knew it. Admitting you fucked up, that you over-reacted is one thing. Telling him that is another. Is that what television had taught me, that it’s not masculine to admit you’re wrong? and when a man is wrong, aren’t they supposed to just charm their way out of it?

Caspian would have seen right through that through. He would have not been amused at being brushed off. There are a lot of guys that want to date Caspian… but Caspian likes me. The First Argument in a relationship is the benchmark between celebrating monthly anniversaries and annual ones. If I skirted this, it wouldn’t be long before Caspian brushed me off. I needed to apologize, no matter how much it stung if I wanted to keep my man.

I texted him and said I wanted to meet up. He didn’t respond, and I started to panic. Then, an hour later, “Hey sorry, my phone died. I’m around. Come over.”

I drove over there, nervous. I parked the car and got out. He was waiting on the walk up to the house.
“What’s up?” he asked, casual and cool. I sighed. It would be easier to walk away from this fuck up if I wasn’t so smitten with him.
“I … I….”
Caspian looked at me, hopeful. His gaze still held a bit of pain from the stinging words I threw at him. I leaned forward and dared to kiss him. Caspian didn’t pull back. He just stared at me in surprise.
“What was that for?”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, “I’m sorry Caspian.” I dropped my gaze to the ground. “I fucked up, I took things out of context, and said some really hurtful things… I was having a bad day and just blew up. I feel really awful, god. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
Caspian tilts my chin up his fingers. “Hey… it’s alright.”
“It is?”
“Yes. I’m really happy that you came back. When I told you to ‘get out’, I was pretty terrified that you wouldn’t ever come back. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“No no I totally deserved it.”
“Yelling doesn’t have a place in relationships. You only should yell right before you cum,” Caspian says with a teasing smile.
I melt as the relief flows through me. God, he’s handsome. I put my arms around his neck. “I see. Does this mean we’re still… you know. Together?”
Caspian tilts his head and kisses me back. “I hope so. Mmn. I missed kissing you.”
“You can do it again if you like,” I say eagerly, giddy he’s taken me back. “I owe you anyway.”
Caspian nuzzles me. “Let’s go inside. We got time to make up for.”

_______________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Bert wrapped his hand around the thick, swollen meat of Roger’s cock. It was throbbing in his hand and it made him excited. It was a really gorgeous cock, not too long, but thick, taut and cut. It begged to be sucked. For Bert, it was a relief to just let his thoughts about the war and occupation fall away and let his basic instincts take over. He stopped suddenly, his lips hovering over the slick flesh of Roger’s glans. Roger was looking down at him, his brow lightly furrowed in concentration.
Bert froze. “Did – did I misinterpret something when you took off your pants?” he asked hesitantly. He still didn’t release his grip on his prize.

“No….that’s what I wanted. I knew you wanted it too, the way you were rubbing me like that. You’re all pent up and horny, just like me.”
Bert nodded shyly and began to lap at the pre-cum beading on the tip. Roger continued talking as he sucked on it like a lollipop.
“I know your type too. I bet back home you’re the all American boy. Wholesome. The pride of your mother. There’s probably a girl from your childhood who thinks she’s gonna marry you one day. You probably first joined the Navy to see the world and make your dad proud, but you were really in it for the men. I bet you had a taste for men for a while. I bet some nights the craving to be with one just makes you lose your marbles. I bet you lie awake in your bunk too and wonder what it’d be like to have sex, to be taken like a girl from behind.”
Roger was delighted to see that boy between his legs blush hard.
“You’re not going to return home a virgin, Bert. You’re too eager, you love cock too much to let that stone be unt– nnnng! Ahh yeah, do that again. Mnn hell, that feels good.” Roger lost his train of thought a moment, watching through heavy lids as his cock slid in and out of Bert’s pretty lips.

“Yeah that’s it…god you have such an eager tongue. I bet after this war is over, you’re gonna go home and find yourself miserable. Too hard to be a queer in a small town these days. You’re gonna move to the city and just drive the boys wild. Especially in that uniform…”
Bert blushes again.
Roger smirks. “Yeah…that’s it. Nice and slow. We got a whole day off and the bowels of the ship to ourselves. Don’t rush that now. It’s all yours. God, what an eager little cocksucker you are.”

___________________
Text is fictional

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Mmmnng. Mnnng.” Kevin grumps, waking up. He rumples his hair. “What happened?” Kevin wracks his brain. He remembers a handsome face at the bar, a beautiful lithe body, and a plump cock that he played with for hours and that ass… he sniffs the air. Cum. Lube. Sex. “Nng…”

Suddenly, the bathroom door opens and from the darkness steps the boy from his dreams. He stares at the lad from under a mop of ruffled hair.
“Oh hey there cowboy, you’re up?”
“What time is it?” Kevin slurs.
“About 2 in the afternoon. Hard to tell. There’s no windows in here.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Lucien. You picked me up from the bar last night cause I needed a ride. Also, I needed a ride home. You gave me both those things.”

Lucien saunters forward. Kevin watches his hips roll; he was wearing clingy underwear in sky blue. Lucien ruffles his hair and Kevin’s hands gravitate toward his hips. “I remember the sex. The sex was very good,” Kevin says.
“It usually is with me,” Lucian replies with a smirk. “Lucky you, I usually charge a lot for access to my ass-”
Kevin jerks his head up. “You’re a prostitute?” He immediately regrets the tone he used when saying that.
Lucien tilts his jaw down and purses his lips in thought. “I rather like the term "boywhore”. It makes me feel fancy.“ He could only keep a straight face for a moment, then he giggles childishly into his wrist. "Yes, I take men on the side, but not tonight. I was just plain-ol horny and you looked fun. Plus, you got me halfway back to Cordova.”
Kevin wonders if this brown haired boy is some sort of demon or something because just listening to him talk was mesmerizing, and his cock was beginning to stir again. “Well uh…I drank a lot last night, and to be honest, I probably shouldn’t have been driving, but we actually overshot Cordova by like 10 minutes. We’re in my friend’s crashpad in Spring Creek.”

Lucien grins. “See? Being a slut gets you far!”
Kevin couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll take you back, don’t worry. I gotta head back up that way to get to the highway anyway.” He works his fingers into the elastic of Lucien’s underwear. “No real rush though…don’t have work until Monday.”
“What do you do?” Lucien asks, still combing his fingers through Kevin’s tangled hair.
“I work at the Dr Pepper bottling plant. Was in West Virginia helping my aunt move.”
“That’s nice of you,” Lucien notes. “You know you can pull those down if you like.”
“Mmmn I think I will,” Kevin says, cupping Lucien and pushing his cock around with the fabric between them. “In a moment.” Lucien breaths slowly and softly as Kevin plays with him. He can hear crickets or cicadas outside, some loud little insect things.
“What’s it like being a prostitute?” Kevin inquires.

“Hmm…” Lucien exhales. “I get laid for a living. I couldn’t ask for anything more. The money’s great, I meet interesting people and hear about their life stories. You wouldn’t believe how different a penis can look. And god, some people have ugly testicles.”
Kevin laughs in earnest. “Now I wonder what you think about mine…”
“I can’t remember – I drank so much. Let me see?”
Kevin pulls his underwear aside so they fall out.
“Decent enough. Good shape.”
“I like yours more,” Kevin replies, putting his away and turning his attention back to Lucien’s body. He tugs down the elastic hem and enjoys the sight of the young man’s genitalia. “You are gorgeous.”
Lucien smiles. “They all say that too.”

“Do you get tired of being fawned on?” Kevin asks, wrapping his hand around Lucien’s cock.
“Oh yes, for sure. But I think if the praise stopped and the customers stopped, I would get horribly depressed. I need the attention.” Lucien adds a Southern-belle tone to his voice. “Without it, then I’m just a sad lonely homo from Cordova.”
Kevin chuffs. “God you’re funny. That turns me on so bad.”

Lucien pushes Kevin down back onto the bed and straddles his thighs. He arches his back and rubs the underside of his hard shaft against Kevin’s clothed bulge. Kevin groans and squeezes his fingers into Lucien’s hips again. “Oh I like that…” he breaths.

Lucien moves again and again until dark spots of moisture began to appear on the fabric from the cock trapped inside. “Hey Kevin.”
“Mmhh.”
“Tell me I’m ugly, I want to see if I can stay hard.”
Kevin blinks at him. “What?”
“Tell me I’m ugly.” Lucien is grinning like a fool. “Tell me what an ugly, dirty boy, I am.” He punctuates this by leaning over Kevin and grinding his pelvis against the man’s own.
A moan escapes Kevin’s lips. He steals a kiss from Lucien and tries to think through the fog of arousal.

“We- well,” he began, trying to think of how to respond to this as he gazed up at Lucien’s sweet face. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can. Make stuff up if you have to.”
“You’re um. Your eyes are a bit far apart. You have a cowlick on your eyebrow. One of your ears is a bit… larger than the other?”
Lucien’s eyes were sparkling. “More!” he insists, never breaking stride.
“I – I don’t know! You’re too skinny! You need to eat a sandwich. A – a meat sandwich. With like, really fatty bacon in it! I bet you only appreciate really gross condiments like Miracle Whip. White boys love Miracle Whip.”
Lucien loses it and dissolves into giggles. ‘What the hell Kevin?“
Kevin was starting to get a hang of this. "You sound like a goose when you laugh. Your cock leans slightly to the left. Your eyes are the color of … of…pond water! You’re far too sexy for your own good and your ass is like a bowl of jello. Not like, the good red Jello either – the weird green shit that tastes like Windex.”
Lucien had to stop because he was laughing too hard. “Ok ok stop! I can’t. I give up, I can’t do this. Wait – how do you know what Windex tastes like?” It took him a minute to catch his breath. His diaphragm hurt. “Oh god, look I’m getting soft.”
Kevin’s cheeks ache from smiling. “I wounded its pride. Sorry buddy, there’s nothing wrong about leaning to the left.” He gives Lucien’s cock a sympathy pat.
Something about that set Lucien off again and he rolls off of Kevin, clutching his sides. “Oh god Kevin! Stop! I can’t!”

Kevin sits up and moves on top of Lucien and tickles him until they were both screaming and wrestling like little children. Neither heard the footsteps until the door opens. Light floods the room, making them both squint.
“Hey, keep it down in here! I told you Kevin, you could use this room if you kept quiet. I got the game on.”
“S- sorry,” Kevin stammers.
John shuts the door with a humph and stormed off.

Lucien looks at Kevin, bewildered. “When you said this was your buddy’s crash pad, I didn’t actually think he was home.”
Kevin shrugs. “Me neither.”
There was a pause, and they began to snicker again. Lucien took a big breath. “God, my sides hurt. Will you fuck me now so I can go home?”
“Oh you bet,” Kevin smirks, shucking off his underwear. He pins Lucien to the bed, rolls a condom on, and parts Lucien’s legs. Lucien is warm and smells like clean air after a good rain; Kevin nibbles his shoulder and ear as he enjoys the grip of the the boy’s body. He is dripping with sweat by the time he is done thrusting in and out of Lucien’s tight little ass. The lad really makes him work for the orgasm. Kevin ejaculates in a gush, breaks their kiss, and collapses on top of him. “You know, it’s gonna be hard going back to work knowing what a weekend I had.”
“Oh pshaw,” Lucien says once he catches his breath. “You’re gonna tell everyone you fucked some Southern darling to hide your sexuality and when they ask how pretty she was, you’ll say -” Lucien changes his voice to a Texan accented one now – “well, hell if I know, boys, she was so ugly I fucked her backwards with the lights off. Name was Paperbag Betty.”
Kevin laughs until he wheezes. “Shit, Lucien. Paperbag Betty. Christ, I’m gonna have to remember that. Alright Betty, get up. We both need showers and a good hot meal. Then I will regretfully leave you in Cordova and we shall part.”
“Send me some freshly bottled Dr Pepper would ya?”
“I …think I can arrange that,” Kevin says. “Or you could come try it yourself.”
“They pay you that much?” Lucien teases.
“Oh is how that is?”
“Yes, that’s how it is. I hope you understand.”
“I do, and I consider myself a lucky man you fancied me at that bar.”
Lucien pauses. “…God, what bar was that again?”
“…Christ, I can’t remember!”

The laughter begins yet again, and they were both in the shower together by the time John came to bang on the door.

________________________________________________________
Text is fictional. I really wish I had another word for “laughter”, sheesh. Lucien is one of my reoccurring characters. Source of this photo unknown.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

“Oh hey, there you are,” I say, climbing out of the window and up to him on the roof.
“Shit,” he mutters, immediately trying to hide his cigarette.
“No no, it’s ok. You can smoke.”
“I can? You hate when I smoke.”
“Just one,” I say, settling next to him. “You’re under a lot of stress, but I don’t want you hooked again.”
He takes a long drag and exhales. “Thanks.”
I sit next to him in silence for a few minutes.
“What am I going to do?” John asks forlornly, “I am totally fucked.”
“You’re not fucked,” I assured him.

“Yes I am! I totally am, and I deserve it all. I finally, finally got the courage to admit the reason my marriage wasn’t working was because I’m gay. I found a great man, a man I could love, and I had the audacity to think I might actually be happy. I thought Sharon would be happier too, but then…” he taps the ashes off the cigarette and inhales again. “She gets pregnant. From the time I meet her to the day I marry her, she goes on and on about how she hates kids, doesn’t want kids, detests motherhood, etc, etc…and now she’s like "oh I want to keep it.”
I don’t know what to say.
“And she did this on purpose.”
“Why on earth would you say that?”
John puffs out his cheeks. “Because her brother told me she suspected I was cheating. And so when I took the trash out, I dug that nasty condom out from the bottom of the trash bag – there was a hole in it.”

“Jesus christ, John,” I gasp.
“So now! Nooow. We have to raise a kid she doesn’t want, and that kid will be raised by parents that don’t love each-other. And I’m going to lose you.” His voice cracks.
I rub his back in soothing circles. “I am not going anywhere.”
“But…but why?” he sniffles. “I’ve been a horrible person. I don’t deserve you.”
“Because I love you,” I say, kissing his temple, “And you’re going through a very hard time and you’re all alone. You need someone for support. And honestly, I think you should leave her. Poking holes in condoms is psychotic. Children are not bartering tools. Once you tell her you’re breaking up with her, she’s going to realize she’s gonna deal with that kid all by herself and she will…will…” I trail off, realizing the mess I’ve gotten myself into.
John’s voice is very small. “I can’t let her abort it.”
“Then let’s do this. Wait until it’s too far along to abort, then tell her you’re breaking up with her. She’ll have the kid, she won’t want the kid, and we’ll raise it.”
John blinks at me. “What?? Us?”
“You always wanted kids didn’t you? You love kids, you get along with my niece fantastically.” I’m pleased to see him blush a little. “We’ll give her an exit.”
“But you haven’t even known me a year yet…”
“But we have our whole lives ahead of us John,” I reply. “And hey, I sort of gave up on the idea of being a dad when I found out I was gay. This can benefit all of us, if we play the cards right.”

John just looks straight ahead, trying to keep his emotions in check. I take the cigarette out of his fingers before it burns his skin and stub it out on the roof. He sniffles. “I’ve never felt so fucked, and so lucky at the same time. Ugh, I should save that condom, for evidence.”
“eew…but you’re right,” I chuckle. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be ok.”
He leans against me and sighs. “It’s going to be alright.”
“Yes, it’s going to be alright.”
“Eli?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
I put an arm around him and snuggle him close. “I love you too.”

__________________
Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

As he put away my coat, a bing came from the kitchen. “Ohhh the roast is ready.”
Before I could say anything my houseboy jogged back to the kitchen, his pert butt bouncing behind him. I followed him there. “Henry, what is that smell?”
“Roast chicken,” he replied, matter of factly. “I put a lot of butter on the potatoes this time cause I know you like that.” He pulled out an impressive looking dinner and set it on the stove.
“Damn, that looks amazing. But no I mean, the other smell. It smells like a candle factory exploded.”
My boy pulls off his oven mitts and blinks at me. “Ohhh that.” He moves to the cabinet and begins to make me a vodka cranberry. “It’s spices. I thought since we live in a climate where we actually get seasons now that it would be appropriate to get into the mood of things.”

“Things…?” I repeat.
“You know, fall! Autumn! Pumpkins. Pies. Cinnamon. Apples. The leaves outside are turning colors! Here’s your drink Sir.”
I accept it, and sip it. “Thank you, boy.” I enjoy watching him move about the kitchen, fussing over the chicken and setting the table. “So you lit a candle?”
“No Sir, I had to change the air filters so I rubbed a mix of cinnamon and allspice and cloves on them.”
“How did you come up with that?”
“Well they were at the grocery store, but they were expensive, so I just decided to do it myself.”
I stare at him. “Well that’s quite intelligent.”
“Is it? Thank you Sir.” Henry frumps around with making gravy. “You know, I was thinking, why don’t we have a little house warming party?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Boy, I don’t think that’s a great idea. People are avoiding me at work because I was upfront that I was gay. I just moved here, I don’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

Henry pauses and tilts his head. “Forgive me for saying this Sir, but I think having a housewarming party would be even more useful this way. Perhaps the people you work with aren’t used to ‘homosexuals’, or whatever they call us. It’s a perfect opportunity to show them that you’re a normal person, you live in a normal house, have a normal life. We don’t have a dungeon in the basement… well, yet. Plus, I’m a damn good cook.”
I smile. “That you are. You know, you might be right.”
“Ooo that means I can decorate the house. I could carve a pumpkin. Make that cinnamon apple cake I like… god I love parties.”

I set the drink down on the kitchen table and sink into a chair. “Come here for a moment, Henry.”
He sets a serving spoon down on the counter, wipes his hands on a towel, and walks over to me. “Yes sir?”
“Sit on my lap, boy.”
He lifts up the apron and straddles my thighs. I give him a kiss on the lips and squeeze his ass with my hands.
“God I love it when you’re domestic,” I admit, low and husky in his ear.
“Do you Sir?”
“I have no idea why, but it makes me want you. You just get this glow about you when you get into one of your moods…”
“Well, I am happy when serving the man I love.”
I capture his mouth with another kiss. My right hand moves forward, under his apron. I give his locked cock a proper tug, then cup his balls in his hand and massage them as I kiss him. Henry moans against me and grinds into my hand.
“You must really like buttered potatoes,” he breathes.
“Mmnn…I think I just really like autumn,” I say. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes Sir. I always lube up right before you get home, just in case you want to relieve some stress.”
“That’s a good boy,” I murmur. “Stand up a minute.”
He does so, so I can unzip my pants and extract my cock. I groan when the wet tip touches cool air. Henry takes over and strokes me with his hand, his eyes fixated on me. He’s flushed, but I can’t tell if it’s from cooking or from stimulation. When I’m breathing slow and properly stiff, Henry crawls back into my lap. He holds onto my shoulders so he can raise his ass up and position my cock in the right spot. I bite off a cry when I feel his body envelope me, a slow, tight heat around me, down to the hilt. I plunder his mouth again and push his waist downward so he’s sitting on my lap once more.

“God that’s it, Henry,” I murmur. He rides me, without even asking. I watch in fascination as his pelvis and hips roll while his shoulders stay mostly still. His eyes are glazed over now. I notice there’s a wet spot flourishing on the apron. Soon, I cannot stay still any longer and drive up into him. Henry cries out, begging me to keep moving. We collide over and over until he’s squeezing my shaft so hard I can’t even breathe.

I shout and explode inside of him. Henry whines, a loud needy noise, and then I feel something hot and wet pool through my work pants. I realized I haven’t breathed in what seems like forever and so I inhale, sharply. The world spins around me, and I cling to my houseboy. He is staring me with love all over his face, looking completely blissed out. I bless him with a few more kisses, then we slide apart. He looks upset at the loss, but enjoys playing with my softening cock after settling back down without it inside of him. My seed drips out of his hole and back onto my legs too. Instead of feeling filthy, I feel deeply possessive and horny again.

“That – that was a wonderful surprise Sir,” he says, his sternum heaving.
“Mnnnh…you were divine. Did I trigger something? You made a mess on my leg.”
Henry lifts up the apron corner. “I think you triggered a small anal orgasm, Sir…I felt like someone was blowing up a balloon in me and it popped and then it just felt wonderful. I feel so light.”
I smirk. “That is how it should be. That is the joy I give you.” I plant a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Thank you Sir, for that gift then.” Henry nuzzles my cheek. “I am afraid I have soiled your pants Sir.”
“You can scrub the semen stains out after dinner. I don’t think I can get up right now Henry, fetch me a clear pair of slacks would you?”

I watch in great amusement as a pouting Henry dismounts me and wobbles off like a baby deer, one hand pressed between those round ass cheeks. I sip my cranberry vodka and look over at the chicken roast. I must be the luckiest man in the world. 

As I sip, my thoughts drift back to that idea of a housewarming party. I like the idea more and more. I want every homophobe in that office to be jealous of what I have with Henry. I want them to see our chemistry, our happiness. I also want them to see hickeys. I swirl the ice in my glass. Yes, yes, for sure. I can hear Henry approaching with my pants. After dinner, after he’s scrubbed my pants and done the dishes, I will fuck him silly and give him those lovebites for the week.

______________________________________________
Text is fictional. I pulled this image from this post.

Remote Control

Remote Control

by ccallenreese

slave2766:

2 weeks 2 days and counting..1 week 5 days and counting…

When Sir travels it’s tough. He isn’t just heading to another town he is continents or countries away. This time is different this time he left me wearing his collar and with my cock locked away. Technology means we are in contact but it doesn’t change the distance and the lack of physical contact.

Work can’t fill the space, gym is only a minor distraction its like part of me is in a holding pattern.

Sometimes I wonder if Masters’ understand the level of disconnect subs and slaves feel?

This slave is lucky because Master knows. When he travels he leaves me tasks to complete take care of his boots, sort out the play equipment, a schedule for gym, working naked and collard.

None of it is big stuff but it helps me keep my head on straight it reminds me of his care.

The tasks help but they cant get me over the building sexual need. A few days are easy,  week not so much, 2 weeks and I’m crawling the walls. This time I’m locked even if I wanted to and he had given permission I cant cum. It has created a roller coaster of emotions.

Some days its a slow burn, others a burning ache, now I drip when he sends a message. My cock throbs and my cunt twitches at even the simplest sexual thought. He knows and winds me up even more when we chat online. What is funny when he is in town becomes torture when he is away. He talks about what he will do when he gets back, he lets me tell him about the pictures in my head.

The truth is I could go online and hook up take care of the physical need. I could but I won’t.

Once the choice was made I knew control of my sexual expression was no longer mine. The choice was made freely and with full understanding of the reality his career imposed. Being locked added to his control.

A consequence of the choice is that for now I suffer. Master can get sexual release knowing I can’t, he can experience his power and control over the miles.

This reality is far harder than I ever imagined. First he allows me to re-engage my deepest sexual needs, then he teaches me how they can be met in service to him, after what seems an age he collared me then just when I have settled he ups and goes for a month.

He said I would “learn my place” its hard to know that you are not the first priority. It goes against the messages that our culture sends us. He said he would become the center of my sexual life and he has.

Submission is not for sissies, its hard work every day. He is the single most important relationship in my life, he gets to set the rules, I mold my needs to his.

None of this changes when he travels his control might be remote but it is as concrete and complete as if he was sitting in front of me as I’m writing. 

For now I will deal with crashing hormones and emotional swings. I will look after my tasks and communicate when we can. I will spend my night imagining what he is doing and dream of how this slave will show it’s devotion when he gets back.

Because he is Master and I am slave.

The slave learns that the night of relief that will follow when his Master returns will be worth all the waiting. His Master will use his body and obtain pleasure from his slave, and in return the slave will benefit from his Master’s happiness to his obedience.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

I wake up quite suddenly to screaming. I flail in my bed, gasping, suddenly awake and confused. My heart is jackhammering from the surprise. The screaming deteriorates to raw shouts, and the sheets are moving around me like turbulent waters. The shouting turns into words, “Neil! Neil! No don’t go! Neil! NEIL! Wait! Don’t go!” The fog clears from my head as I awaken, although my pulse will not calm. It’s my boyfriend. He’s waking from a nightmare.

“Grady! Grady! Grady, wake up!” I bark at him. I reach over and grab his flailing wrists, trying to calm him. “Grady, wake up!”
He’s still fighting me, begging for Neil. I give him a gentle smack across the face.“GRADY.”
His eyes shoot open. His chest is heaving; he’s covered in sweat. Grady stares at me, trying to process what was happening. “…Rowen…?” he says, sounding entirely baffled.
“Yes, it’s me. It’s Rowen. You were having a nightmare,” I said firmly.
“Rowen….” he says, his voice cracking. “I- I saw Neil. He – he spoke to me – and-” Grady’s throat closes and be begins to cry.
I bite my lip to prevent from getting emotional. Grady needs a rock. I pull him into my arms; he squeezes me tight and buries his face in my neck. I can feel his tears running down my shoulder. I lean backwards and we fall back onto the pillows. “Shhh…it’s ok…deep breaths. Deep breaths, in…out…in…out…very good,” I murmur trying to keep him from hyperventilating. He is soon hysterical, sobbing loudly in my arms. I rock Grady and let him vent.

“Grady you need to breathe. Come back to me, honey.”
He groans against me, then hiccups loudly. “Rowen, I saw him. I saw Neil! He smiled at me, he spoke to me.”
“What did he say sweetheart?”
“He said that I looked happy. He said…he said that he missed me, and he was sorry he left me.” Grady sniffled, “and he said, he was relieved I’d met someone.”
“He mentioned me?” I repeated, intrigued.
“Yes,” Grady sighed, “He liked you. He said it was going to be ok. He just wanted to check on me. Oh god, Rowen, he looked just like the last day I saw him before – before…”
I kiss the back of Grady’s head. “Today is the 8th anniversary of his death isn’t it?”
He nods and sniffs again. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but …gawd, Neil, I miss him.” Grady goes still against me, exhausted.
“Oh honey, I’m not upset. You and Neil were married; his death left a big hole in your heart, love. No one is expecting you to "get over” that. Certainty not me. There is a place for Neil in our lives, but don’t forget I am here and I love you.“
My shoulder feels wet again. It’s a moment before Grady speaks again. "Neil was right. About you, I mean, Rowen. I am really lucky, to be loved by two fantastic men in my life. I need to…I need to let Neil go and move on. He was ready to go. I need to move on.”
I kissed him again. “Whatever you do, I’ll support you.”
He sighed. “I’m sleepy.”
“Go back to bed, love. I’ll hold you. I’ll be here when you wake up.

Grady lifts his head and kisses me on the lips. "I love you, Rowen.”
“I love you too.”

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Text is fictional.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

chastepup:

slaveboy13:

I have a beautiful 4MB version of this GIF… But I bought a harness today and decided to celebrate my playing the piano.

Ahhhhh! This is adorable!

I was sitting on my sofa, reading a romance novel and drinking my tea, when I noticed it. I watched him quite intently, although I was afraid he would sense my eyes boring holes into him and stop. Although the playing happens in the front, his long fingers sweeping over the keys with hypnotic grace, I prefer to watch him from the back. My eyes were first attracted to the bunching of his muscles moving under his skin and the new harness he wears all the time. Then, my gaze slid own to his stiff back, pausing to admire his excellent posture, before resting on his butt. He has a cute butt. It’s one of my favorite parts of him. Well, all of him really. There isn’t a part of him that isn’t adorable – even his toes are frankly, adorable.

But that’s not what I noticed. What caught my attention to the point that I lost focus on my book was his tail. It was moving in sync with the metronome on the piano. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. I smiled, privately. I feel privileged to see my boy wrapped up so entirely in the music that’s playing. It seems to be a part of him; the muscles moving and bunching under his skin show striking similarity to the way the the hammers and actions move in waves under the wooden lid.

I also realize that I’ve never seen him play piano without some sort of gear on. After we have a session, like tonight, we cuddle, we shower, and then he gravitates toward the bench after supping. I wonder what he’s feeling. I wonder if this is just a way for him to unwind, or if he’s pouring love and passion into the music which is why it sounds so beautiful.

I feel lucky that he’s mine. I set my book aside and clutch my tea cup in my hands, sipping it patiently as I watch his tail bob back and forth. It never falls out of sync.

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Text is fictional. This is slaveboy13.

Gallery
by ccallenreese

Abraham lingered on the curb, letting the noise of the carriages and horses and pedestrians fade away to a background buzz. He clutched his gloves in his left hand, not putting them on again despite the cold chill of approaching winter numbing the tips. Instead, he glanced down at the apple creating a noticeable bulge in his front coat pocket. Abraham had been residing in Italy and had a special fondness for winter and the produce it brought. He’d made it a priority to grab an apple from any cart he saw when out conducting his affairs. He’d just bought one from this young man…

Abraham made his decision and turned back around. He strode down the block with a straight back and steady gate, despite the limp from a childhood accident. The young man didn’t see him coming. He was restocking fruit from a crate.

“Excuse me.”
Ethan looked up and he blinked at the stranger. “May I help – oh you were just here.” He set down the create. “Is there something wrong with your apple Sir?” He puffed warm air out of his cheeks into cupped hands, rubbing them together.

Abraham couldn’t tell how old he was. A young man, clearly, still dressed like a boy. They were almost the same height, but it was impossible to see his shape under that stretched sweater he was wearing dotted with holes and trousers patched far too many times. Abraham felt embarrassed standing next to him, because he felt foolish, like a ponce. He envied the natural beauty of this fresh-faced pauper.

“Here,” Abraham said, a bit too loudly, straightening his arm. “Please, take these.”
Ethan’s jaw slackened. “I – I can’t Sir I -“
“I"m not asking. I’m tell you. Take them.”
Ethan hesitantly took the gloves out of Abraham’s hand, as if this were a mean trick. When Abraham didn’t mock him or pull them away, the young man dared to inspect them. They were fine leather – calfskin, maybe. They were hand-stitched and lined with wool. Ethan slipped his hand into one and was surprised at how warm it was, and how well it fit. It was if it had been custom-made for his own size. His hand began to tingle from the sensation returning.

Arbaham saw the happiness on his face, and it occurred that it was the first true, earnest emotion he’d seen in a while. It made him feel contentment he didn’t know to be possible. He nodded, tipped his hat, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Ethan interjected.
Abraham turned.
“…I can really keep these?”
“Yes. I’ve bought apples from you before, and you’ve always been pleasant. It’s getting cold, and it’s nonsense that a boy your age shouldn’t have a pair of gloves in this city. I have an extra pair. It’s no bother.”
“My god, thank you Sir, these are – these are – I can’t even form words to describe my gratitude.”
Abraham smiled. “I hope better fortune finds your way soon.”

Ethan nodded eagerly and watched in awe as Abraham went. He watched Abraham go. He was a handsome fellow, and even with his uneven gate, had a commanding presence. Ethan felt a knot of arousal flair up low in his hips but quickly pushed it away. It wasn’t nice to lust after a man who just gave you a present, even if he was handsome. He was a dandy, and his mother said to be wary of men like that. Still, Ethan doubted a man of such fine standing would court a boy of such low standing such as himself.

When Ethan slid his hand into the other glove, his fingers bumped against something. He’d missed it before because the glove had been on the bottom and folded in half. With confusion on his face, he pulled the heavy thing out – it was a half sovereign coin. Ethan softly gasped. It was his weekly wage in the palm of his hand.

He looked up for the stranger but found him gone.

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Text is fictional.