Shopping Spree
“Ry, you’ve got to be kidding. It’s 8 am on a Saturday. I’m not going shopping.” Blade pulled the thin blanket over his head and flipped over to emphasize his point.
Ryan stared down at his boy. Only Blade could draw out the first syllable of his name so it hung in the air like the slow toll of church bells. Blade was adorable when he was obstinate and pouting, but it wasn’t something Ryan encouraged. His boy could go crazy, and having just changed jobs to a far more prestigious school and position, a full display of Blade at his finest needed to be kept at bay or at least until Ryan had a chance to sweet talk the head master a bit more. Sweet talk, Ryan though grimly. The woman was impressive, but he doubted if the word sweet entered her vocabulary; austere and icy were the terms that came to mind.
Ryan knew that most women goggled at his looks. Unfair perhaps, but why not play it to his advantage? He never hid his orientation, but there was no harm in letting them study the wares. Ms. Dorothy O’Rourke was no wide-eyed, instantly smitten teenager. At his interview, she’d stood, shaken his hand, and looked him up and down once with unwavering grey eyes that reminded Ryan of the high born women of English period drama that was making a comeback on TV. He’d suddenly expected to sit down to tea or to be labeled a working class lad and to be sent to shovel coal in the cellar.
Fortunately after the first inspection, she’d been more than civil and almost animated as she spoke of her plans for the institution. She wasn’t window dressing or an ornament to attract rich donors. In fact, she’d made it more than clear that Ryan’s duties were wooing donors since he already had connection in such circles. She’d arched her thin eyebrow when she made that statement and a slight smile had ghosted her lips.
Enough reminiscing, they’d both been hired and now they were desperate for household goods. They actually had a house and not an apartment with teenage boys for neighbors, a house that was desperate for furnishings. Milton had offered them a roam around the vast attic of the Green Mountain Boys’ semi-palace in Vermont, but the free shopping hadn’t covered everything. They’d be fighting over the single bath towel and trying to squeeze queen sized sheets onto the king sized mattress was bordering on insane. They had a full set of cut crystal wine glasses and no water glasses. They had to go shopping.
“Up.” Ryan landed a friendly swat on Blade’s upturned ass, or at least he would call it friendly, but Blade levitated from the bed as if he’d been burnt with a hot branding iron.
“Bastard,” Blade cried, rubbing his ass and throwing Ryan the most adorable pout over his shoulder.
“I can be more of one.”
“You know I hate shopping,” Blade whined in a tone that made Ryan long to add several more handprints to that delectable flesh.
“So what will it be? Shopping or shopping with a sore ass?”
“Some choice,” Blade griped with a grimace. “Where’s the choice of no shopping and hot sex?”
“Is someone feeling neglected?” Ryan asked with a raised eyebrow.
Blade made a show of looking at his watch which was tossed on top of his pile of clothes. “Well, it’s been more than eight hours. I think I’m due.”
“You’re due all right,” Ryan said sternly and snapped his fingers.
Blade scuttled toward him, head down, shifting on his bare feet. He hovered just out of reach until Ryan made a lunge for him. Ah, his boy’s ass was far too cool. He kneaded his hand over the vulnerable, naked flesh. Blade squirmed, but nuzzled closer, his legs widening automatically as he surrendered himself to Ryan. The boy had a smart mouth, but his body never lied.
“Someone is feeling neglected,” Ryan whispered into his boy’s ear as his teeth set to work on the delicate skin.
“Ry,” Blade moaned.
“Over my knee, I have just the cure for this.” Ryan had long experience in such moves. In one easy motion, he sat, flipped his boy over, and stroked the enticing round globes.
Blade shuttered and made a feeble attempt to crawl away, his hands flailing until Ryan trapped his right one behind his back. Blade wasn’t truly trying to escape, but it was part of his shtick when his boy was in a bratty mood, and bratty his boy was to the tee today.
“Not so fast, my dear little one.” Ryan landed a light slap, not enough to hurt or even sting. They were playing; they both knew the game.
“Beast!” Blade swung his feet and tried to rock himself off Ryan’s thighs.
“My wee one,” Ryan laughed and increased the power of his hand against his boy’s tantalizing flesh. Blade was such a lovely boy to spank. His pale skin, dotted with the freckles of a red head, took color so beautifully. Blade usually preferred something more dramatic: the belt, the crop, the whip, but he’d let Ryan indulge in an old-fashioned spanking.
The boy was starting to mewl and rub himself against Ryan, desperate for friction.
“Ah, ah,” Ryan chided. “We have no towels, so you’re going to be holding it, boy. I’m not going shopping all splattered.”
“I’ll shop, please,” Blade pleaded. “I’ll never complain about shopping again.”
“Don’t promise what you can’t give.” Ryan rained down a flurry of blows, enjoying the hot flesh under his palm and the crack of his hand against his boy’s ass. “Anyway, I need you all tender. How else will I be able to test the softness of the towels?”
“Bastard!”
“Yep, and I have you pinned over my lap. This bastard’s going to enjoy himself, and you’re just going to sit tight and suffer.”
Blade groaned, a pitiful sound that was all show as his body spread and melted into Ryan. This boy had needed this; they had both needed it.
