Emotional Boys 1990

03

His breathing is peaceful and precious, eyes softly closed, showing the perfect curl of his full eyelashes. For a delinquent, he's quite beautiful I must say. I want to coddle him, treat him as a sweet little pet in daylight, and use him as my sexual play in the dark. Yeah, I've gone off the deep end of sure.

He lets out a groan before shifting unconsciously, turning his back to me and covering himself better in the plush blanket. I find myself smiling at his strong form. He could beat me to a pulp in a second if he wanted, I'm quite frail in comparison to his well-built figure, yet he yields to my every command.

I have no issue with him staying with me, it's quite nice. He doesn't cause much trouble and asks permission to do just about everything.

I decide that it would be adorable to make him breakfast in bed, so I slowly and quietly pull back the blanket and lift myself off the mattress softly. I open my bedroom door silently and close it behind me, walking out and into my kitchen which ultimately takes me two steps. I grab the ingredients to make French toast. I read in some recipe book about how to make the best French toast, so I'm just gonna wing it off of what I remember. I sway around the kitchen grabbing things, mixing others, and pouring mixtures. I'd like to think I look quite graceful but I can't see myself from out of my body... if only...

I went through a period of my life where I felt little emotion in regards to anything. I lacked the wherewithal to grasp any fragment of happiness. I suppose that's on account of my mother's death, but I didn't enjoy her company too much regardless. Death has never scared me, it is something that happens, a part of my existence and everyone else's. However, I recognized that if I went on living with dread about something undefinable, then I in part have died on some level... maybe spiritual? I'm not sure.

I soon finish the toast, presenting it on a plate with whipped cream and drizzled caramel sauce. Just what my baby deserves.

Yes, I've just met this guy yesterday, and yes I can tend to get in way over my head, but I sense things will be good with us. I often cling to something that I think will turn out well, passing myself over to intoxicating optimism where I'd otherwise be skeptical. I have little trust with people but the exciting thing about him is that he just needs to trust me... I'm the one in control.

If he steps out of line you wonder? Oh, I have a whip for that of course.

I grab the plate and saunter back into the bedroom with it excitedly. Upon opening the door, he seemed to just awaken, having sat up and begun rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning" I greet him, placing the plate in from of him and getting a perplexed look in response. "It's good I promise" I giggle, getting back in the bed and scooting up right beside him, watching the blood rise to his cheeks as he grabs the fork and turns his face to look at him.

"You made this just for me...?" he asks, clearly flustered by the gesture.

"Mhm, only the best for my little pet" I coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek, leaving him shocked, darting his eyes from me to the plate in front of him. "Well go on, enjoy" I urge on with a subtle laugh leaving my lips afterward.

"Yo, I'm sorry for how I treated you the day before, saying that shit... I just got frustrated with everyone picking on me and it just... I don't know, felt like you was mocking me..." he admits, eyes not reaching mine as he nibbles his lower lip.

"I figured... it's fine, I get it, now eat the food I've made you" I laugh softly, getting a nervous ghost of a smile out of him.

He cuts his first bite and slowly brings it to his mouth, his face instantly morphing into pleasant surprise. "Holy shit... woah I didn't expect it to be this good" he groans, closing his eyes appreciatively as he chews.