Chapter 1
Pete was buzzing off Midori Sours as Stitch dragged him through the crowd and towards the men’s room. It had been Stitch’s idea to go dancing (and to wear their matching shirts), because Stitch had just dotted the Is and crossed the Ts on another script for Gel. The short film “Sweet” had garnered just enough attention to get Gel a real(ish) budget for a full(ish)-length film. Stitch had been thrilled to be asked for a second script, then he’d fallen into a deep depression and drank for weeks. Eventually, he’d cut back on drinking (drinking only after 4 pm), and he’d started writing. For months, Stitch wrote and drank (and occasionally snorted coke) and alternated between being irritable and unapproachable and being full of love and affection.
The night before, Stitch had stayed up all night to finalize his first draft. Then he’d got drunk, slept the day away, and woken up saying he wanted to take Pete dancing.
Pete flushed and ducked his head as Stitch pulled him into an empty stall. Pete had no problem getting off in public-far from it-but he felt shy under so many admiring eyes. He knew people were wondering what someone like Stitch saw in someone like Pete. Stitch was tall and handsome, and it was obvious just from looking at him that he was well smart-he had one of those intelligent faces-while Pete was short and bony and always managed to look like a child dressed in adult clothing.
“I know I’ve been an arsehole,” Stitch whispered between passionate kisses. “Thank you for putting up with me.”
Pete tried to show Stitch with his kisses that he could never, ever be anything but thrilled to be his boyfriend. After six months of living together, Pete was still in a constant state of excitement over their relationship.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life,” Stitch continued, “but I am so fucking grateful.”
Pete moaned as Stitch sucked on his neck and moved his hand under Pete’s shirt. Stitch was obsessed with Pete’s scrawny body. He seemed to love all the bones poking out at odd angles. Even in his relationship with Poppy, Pete hadn’t been crazy enough to expect someone to love his boniness, but Stitch was better than anyone Pete (or Dave) could dream up.
Stitch unbuttoned Pete’s flares and fondled him through his pants. Pete was still continually impressed of the size of Stitch’s hands and his skill at using them. It only took a few strokes before Pete was ready to come in his pants, and he had to push Stitch’s hand away.
“I’m too excited,” Pete whispered.
Stitch’s eyes went soft and he gave Pete a slow and gentle kiss.
“You are amazing, Pete Sweet, and I am a lucky man.”
Because Stitch was the kind of guy who thought Pete coming in his pants like a horny teen was sexy. How could Pete not be in love?
Stitch pulled Pete’s trousers and pants down and turned him around so he was facing the stall wall. Pete braced himself physically (and mentally) for whatever Stitch had in mind. When he felt Stitch’s hard cock bobbing between his naked thighs, Pete moaned loudly. He was rewarded with the sound of Stitch spitting on his hand and wetting his cock before sliding it into the crack of Pete’s arse.
“Oh, Stitch. Your cock is so big.”
“You’re drunk.”
Pete wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but his legs went wobbly when Stitch began probing his arse with his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me, Stitch. Fuck me right here. Fuck me so hard that everyone can hear…”
Stitch slapped his big hand over Pete’s mouth as he began fingering and stretching him. Stitch got off on public stuff, but he was still a bit of a worry-wart.
Pete trusted Stitch to muffle his noises as Stitch pushed inside. Most of the time, Stitch took forever making sure Pete was properly stretched, but tonight, he was moving quickly. It wasn’t that Pete got off on the pain of Stitch pushing in too fast; what he got off on was Stitch not worrying about everything being perfect. Sometimes sloppy, drunk sex with Stitch was the hottest sex.
Pete pressed his face to the graffitied wall of the stall as Stitch pounded into him. As soon as Stitch let his hand fall from his mouth, Pete began begging to be fucked harder and faster. He loved the way a little dirty talk drove Stitch wild. Stitch knew all about freaky sex, but Pete knew all about talking.
Pete closed his eyes and savored the feeling of Stitch fucking him until a sixth sense made him open his eyes. There was a strange pair of eyes staring at him through a crack in the door. Pete locked eyes with the stranger for a panicky moment. He had no idea how to respond to such a situation. He was accustomed to people being more subtle in their voyeurism. He might have continued to stare until Stitch was done, but then Stitch’s big hand suddenly slammed against the wall, blocking the stranger’s view and rattling the whole stall. Pete came hard, his semen hitting the stall wall, while Stitch chuckled and kissed the back of his neck.
“I love you, Pete Sweet.”
Xxx
Pete loved running with the dogs, even though they were terrible at it. Captain just wanted to pee on everything, while Beefheart tried to hump every object in sight, but they made Pete laugh. Stitch wanted to get them properly trained so they would behave, but Pete liked them the way they were. Besides, it was a good excuse for falling behind when they went running. Stitch’s legs were twice the length of Pete’s, so Pete had to run to keep up with his partner’s light jog. Pete had never been a fan of exercise. He liked jumping and dancing and fucking and running when he had somewhere to be, but he didn’t like anything that felt like exercise. He was only jogging with Stitch because the goofball had decided he wanted to get rid of his “succulent man breasts.” Pete was amazed by Stitch’s ability to find flaws with himself. At first it had made him nervous, because he’d imagined Stitch must have seen even more flaws in Pete, but then he’d realized that that wasn’t really how Stitch worked. Stitch hated himself, so he found reasons to support his self-loathing. He hated his beautiful hair and his beautiful body and his beautiful writing for no reason other than Stitch wasn’t comfortable liking himself.
“Hello, Pete Sweet.”
Pete cringed at the rumbling voice that greeted him. Stitch’s ex-lover, Charles, was Pete’s complete opposite. He was staggeringly tall and built like an armored truck. He was square-jawed and handsome, like a Superman comic come to life. Pete was intimidated by Charles’s physicality, his success, his air of sophistication, and his apparently vast knowledge of sexual positions, but mostly he was intimidated because he knew Charles’s opinion still meant something to Stitch. Stitch wasn’t ready to call his relationship with Charles abusive, but he at least recognized that Charles was manipulative. Still, Charles had a way of poking at Stitch’s sore spots and saying just the right thing to make Stitch doubt himself. It wasn’t fair. Stitch was ten times the man Charles was, but Charles had a high paying job, a fancy car, and a killer apartment. He had all the adult indicators of success that Stitch longed for, and Charles dangled his material accomplishments over Stitch’s head at any opportunity. Charles couldn’t use all his money and status to keep Stitch interested, so he seemed determined to keep Stitch from being happy with someone else. He wasn’t obvious about it; Stitch wouldn’t have tolerated that. Charles was sweet as pie and dug the knife in under the guise of wanting to make amends. Sometimes Stitch could shrug it off, but other times Pete could see him physically crumple under the weight of Charles’s offers to lend him cash or equipment or pull some strings in his favor. If Stitch had any ability to manipulate, he could have made Charles his sugar daddy without having to put out, but that wasn’t Stitch. Stitch just quietly suffered and turned the anger inward. Stitch seemed to think he should be too smart to be manipulated, which only proved how little he understood the nature of manipulation.
Pete was an imbecile, and he’d wormed his way into Stitch’s life with hardly any effort. He’d seen Stitch looking handsome and sad, literally standing behind a “help wanted” sign with the word “Sweet” about his head, and even Pete wasn’t too thick to see it was a sign that Stitch needed a friend. The last thing he’d expected when he’d approached Stitch about a job at his kiosk was to actually get a job at his kiosk. Stitch had tried to fight Pete off and pretend he didn’t want a friend, but he’d soften at the tiniest gesture and he’d listen to Pete ramble on about anything and politely stifle his yawns instead of telling Pete to shut up. For all his prickly armor, it only took a little kindness for Stitch to show his soft side.
Pete couldn’t know how much of Stitch’s sadness was because of Charles and how much had already been there waiting for Charles to take advantage of it, but either way, Charles was an arsehole.
“I see the puppies are still crazy as ever,” Charles said with a warm smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Pete felt a hint of embarrassment at his puppies’ behavior and wondered where Charles had learned his emotional jujitsu.
“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “They’re puppies, so they act like puppies. It’s fun.”
Beefheart chose that moment to aggressively hump Pete’s leg.
“Funny, I never would have pegged Henry for the puppy type,” Charles observed in a tone completely devoid of malice. Pete was tempted to sic the puppies on him, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t make very good attack dogs.
“Stitch thinks he wants some boring, old, well-trained dog,” Pete explained, “but what he needs is a love-sick puppy to give him all the attention he don’t even know he needs.”
Pete and Charles stared at each other. Pete was pretty sure Charles was trying to figure out if Pete was clever enough to realize they weren’t talking about dogs. He gave Charles his most dazzling smile and shrugged like he didn’t have a thought in his head. It was better to be underestimated.
Charles saw Stitch and waved just as Captain and Beefheart nearly ripped Pete’s arms off, trying to run to their other daddy.
“I was afraid the dogs had pulled you into a lake,” Stitch called as he jogged towards them. “Or pulled you in half.”
“They just found a couple blades of grass that ain’t covered in their bodily fluids,” Pete explained. He kept his eyes focused on Stitch. He didn’t want to see Charles admiring Stitch. It wasn’t that he was jealous, it was just that Charles didn’t deserve to leer at Stitch. He’d had his chance and had fucked it up in every way possible.
Stitch gave Charles a half-hearted greeting, but Charles was not deterred.
“I saw you guys at the Lucky Star the other night. I was going to say hello, but you seemed to be… in a hurry.”
Pete blushed as he tried to remember the eyes staring at him through the stall door. His memory was foggy, but he knew Charles’s eyes. He’d spent months studying Charles and trying to understand his hold on Stitch. He would have recognized those eyes.
“It was a long night,” Stitch said in a surprisingly even tone. “And they play way too many Madonna songs, even for a gay club.”
Pete felt an urge to point out the club was named for a Madonna song, so no one could really complain about the track choices, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be a welcomed addition to the conversation. He knew when Stitch had suggested the club that he was really thinking about the men’s room. It was one of the cleaner, better-maintained restrooms (that was nearly entirely devoted to toilet sex) in the city.
Pete barely remembered having left the club, but he remembered the way Stitch had put his jacket on Pete’s shoulders as he’d held him close and guided him out of the club. There was nothing like a bit of kinky sex to bring out the protective side of Stitch. Pete was game for just about anything as it was, but the added incentive of Stitch cooing over him made everything all the more compelling.
Of course, Charles knew exactly why Stitch and Pete had been at the Lucky Star. The night Stitch and Pete had gone to Charles’s apartment, Charles had told Pete all about Stitch’s taste for kinky sex. Pete had ended up practicing having sex in public with Poppy just to make sure he’d be able to handle it. In retrospect, Pete hated that Charles had so easily betrayed Stitch’s confidence, but he was glad to know about Stitch’s interests. Stitch was incredibly uptight for a kinky bastard, and Pete wondered if he would have ever realized Stitch needed more than the tender and sweet lovemaking that made up most of their sex life. Pete still hesitated to initiate a bit a spanking or bondage, for fear that Stitch would insist on wanting ‘normal’ sex, but each time, Henry acted like a starving man being offered a banquet.
Pete was so busy staring at the dogs and trying not to blush that he jumped when Stitch put his hand on Pete’s waist.
“Time to get the puppies home,” Stitch suggested with a curt nod to Charles.
Charles simply replied, “Have fun with your puppies, Henry.”
Pete wanted to say something clever with a double meaning, but nothing came to him, so he just took Stitch’s hand as they walked away.
Xxx
Pete ran his hands over Stitch’s rear end. Stitch didn’t seem to think jogging was helping with his “bouncing breasts,” but even he had to admit his arse was looking good.
“How long are you planning on admiring my arse?” Stitch asked. “I know it’s looking good, but…”
Pete silenced him with a smack on the buttock. The second smack made Stitch squirm. Pete enjoyed spanking Stitch. He enjoyed the way it looked, felt, and especially the way it sounded. He was all in favor of spanking Stitch, and yet he always found it difficult to get the process started.
“Please, Pete,” Stitch whispered. Pete quickly obliged with two more smacks. Something strange happened in such moments when Pete was submissively trying to please Stitch by dominating him. Pete couldn’t keep Beefheart from humping his leg. He was not a dominant type of person.
But he enjoyed the games they played. He loved the way Stitch put himself in Pete’s hands and trusted him not to fuck it all up. He liked having a chance to prove he was truly the opposite of Charles in every way.
The next smack was harder than Pete had intended, and Stitch sucked in his breath through his teeth. Pete rubbed the reddened skin and gave it a gentle kiss.
“Good boy, Stitch. You didn’t flinch,” Pete purred. Stitch ground his face in the pillow and moaned, which Pete took as his cue to continue. He kept his smacks at what he hoped was a light sting until Stitch began to moan and squirm about: Pete’s signal to get serious. He spanked Stitch hard, until he could see the marks left by his hand.
“Are you hard?” he asked, as though there were any doubt. Stitch didn’t answer; he just moaned some more.
“On your knees,” Pete ordered. “I want to see.”
Stitch rose up onto his knees, but kept his head buried in the pillow. He spread his knees wide, so he was just the right height for Pete to enter him, with all his most private parts fully on display. Pete felt dizzy as he grabbed the lubricant and drizzled it on Stitch’s reddened skin. He gave Stitch’s cock a squeeze before giving his arse another smack.
“Perfect, as always,” Pete observed. “I think you’ve earned a little something.”
Stitch was still, other than some trembling in his legs as Pete fingered him. He dragged the process out until Stitch was making a sobbing noise into the pillow before he actually put his cock inside. He immediately felt Stitch’s muscles tighten as he came on their quilt. Pete pushed Stitch down so he was prone on the bed while he fucked him. He went harder than he normally would, because he felt full of adrenaline and aggression, but mostly because he knew that was how Stitch liked it after a spanking.
After he came, he curled up next to Stitch, but the larger man refused to look in his direction, so Pete kissed his shoulder and neck and worked his way back to Stitch’s well-worn arse. He kissed and petted the sore skin and told Stitch he was beautiful and amazing until Stitch rolled over and pulled Pete into a bear hug.
“What did I do to deserve you, Pete Sweet?”
“Must’ve been something awful,” Pete answered. Then it was his turn for a spanking.
Xxx
Pete’s grandmother had taught him a trick when he was a little boy. She’d said that whenever someone made her nervous, she gave them a friendly nickname, so they didn’t seem so scary. Whether it was someone twice her size or an MP, she called them cute names and - like magic - they all seemed to become docile in her presence. Pete had watched his grandmother running her restaurant for years, calling everyone “sweetheart” and “dearie,” without giving it a second thought. His grandmother had been a wise woman.
“Stitch…”
“You can call me Henry,” Stitch mumbled groggily. He was already half-asleep. A spanking always put him to sleep.
“Stitch,” Pete continued, “what do you reckon Charles would do if I started calling him Charlie?”
Stitch gave him a sleepy smile. “He’d hate it.”
Pete gave him one more kiss on the lips before letting him fall properly asleep.
Charlie. Charlie, the desperate ex-boyfriend. Charlie Boy, who thought it was okay to mess with Stitch’s heart.
Once he was sure Stitch was asleep, he said it out loud to see if it felt different.
“Charlie. Genius. Fuck you, Charlie Boy. You heard me!”
Stitch stirred and Pete returned to whispering.
“Piss off, Charlie. Stitch is with me, now.”
Pete smiled. He felt better already.
The night before, Stitch had stayed up all night to finalize his first draft. Then he’d got drunk, slept the day away, and woken up saying he wanted to take Pete dancing.
Pete flushed and ducked his head as Stitch pulled him into an empty stall. Pete had no problem getting off in public-far from it-but he felt shy under so many admiring eyes. He knew people were wondering what someone like Stitch saw in someone like Pete. Stitch was tall and handsome, and it was obvious just from looking at him that he was well smart-he had one of those intelligent faces-while Pete was short and bony and always managed to look like a child dressed in adult clothing.
“I know I’ve been an arsehole,” Stitch whispered between passionate kisses. “Thank you for putting up with me.”
Pete tried to show Stitch with his kisses that he could never, ever be anything but thrilled to be his boyfriend. After six months of living together, Pete was still in a constant state of excitement over their relationship.
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life,” Stitch continued, “but I am so fucking grateful.”
Pete moaned as Stitch sucked on his neck and moved his hand under Pete’s shirt. Stitch was obsessed with Pete’s scrawny body. He seemed to love all the bones poking out at odd angles. Even in his relationship with Poppy, Pete hadn’t been crazy enough to expect someone to love his boniness, but Stitch was better than anyone Pete (or Dave) could dream up.
Stitch unbuttoned Pete’s flares and fondled him through his pants. Pete was still continually impressed of the size of Stitch’s hands and his skill at using them. It only took a few strokes before Pete was ready to come in his pants, and he had to push Stitch’s hand away.
“I’m too excited,” Pete whispered.
Stitch’s eyes went soft and he gave Pete a slow and gentle kiss.
“You are amazing, Pete Sweet, and I am a lucky man.”
Because Stitch was the kind of guy who thought Pete coming in his pants like a horny teen was sexy. How could Pete not be in love?
Stitch pulled Pete’s trousers and pants down and turned him around so he was facing the stall wall. Pete braced himself physically (and mentally) for whatever Stitch had in mind. When he felt Stitch’s hard cock bobbing between his naked thighs, Pete moaned loudly. He was rewarded with the sound of Stitch spitting on his hand and wetting his cock before sliding it into the crack of Pete’s arse.
“Oh, Stitch. Your cock is so big.”
“You’re drunk.”
Pete wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but his legs went wobbly when Stitch began probing his arse with his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me, Stitch. Fuck me right here. Fuck me so hard that everyone can hear…”
Stitch slapped his big hand over Pete’s mouth as he began fingering and stretching him. Stitch got off on public stuff, but he was still a bit of a worry-wart.
Pete trusted Stitch to muffle his noises as Stitch pushed inside. Most of the time, Stitch took forever making sure Pete was properly stretched, but tonight, he was moving quickly. It wasn’t that Pete got off on the pain of Stitch pushing in too fast; what he got off on was Stitch not worrying about everything being perfect. Sometimes sloppy, drunk sex with Stitch was the hottest sex.
Pete pressed his face to the graffitied wall of the stall as Stitch pounded into him. As soon as Stitch let his hand fall from his mouth, Pete began begging to be fucked harder and faster. He loved the way a little dirty talk drove Stitch wild. Stitch knew all about freaky sex, but Pete knew all about talking.
Pete closed his eyes and savored the feeling of Stitch fucking him until a sixth sense made him open his eyes. There was a strange pair of eyes staring at him through a crack in the door. Pete locked eyes with the stranger for a panicky moment. He had no idea how to respond to such a situation. He was accustomed to people being more subtle in their voyeurism. He might have continued to stare until Stitch was done, but then Stitch’s big hand suddenly slammed against the wall, blocking the stranger’s view and rattling the whole stall. Pete came hard, his semen hitting the stall wall, while Stitch chuckled and kissed the back of his neck.
“I love you, Pete Sweet.”
Xxx
Pete loved running with the dogs, even though they were terrible at it. Captain just wanted to pee on everything, while Beefheart tried to hump every object in sight, but they made Pete laugh. Stitch wanted to get them properly trained so they would behave, but Pete liked them the way they were. Besides, it was a good excuse for falling behind when they went running. Stitch’s legs were twice the length of Pete’s, so Pete had to run to keep up with his partner’s light jog. Pete had never been a fan of exercise. He liked jumping and dancing and fucking and running when he had somewhere to be, but he didn’t like anything that felt like exercise. He was only jogging with Stitch because the goofball had decided he wanted to get rid of his “succulent man breasts.” Pete was amazed by Stitch’s ability to find flaws with himself. At first it had made him nervous, because he’d imagined Stitch must have seen even more flaws in Pete, but then he’d realized that that wasn’t really how Stitch worked. Stitch hated himself, so he found reasons to support his self-loathing. He hated his beautiful hair and his beautiful body and his beautiful writing for no reason other than Stitch wasn’t comfortable liking himself.
“Hello, Pete Sweet.”
Pete cringed at the rumbling voice that greeted him. Stitch’s ex-lover, Charles, was Pete’s complete opposite. He was staggeringly tall and built like an armored truck. He was square-jawed and handsome, like a Superman comic come to life. Pete was intimidated by Charles’s physicality, his success, his air of sophistication, and his apparently vast knowledge of sexual positions, but mostly he was intimidated because he knew Charles’s opinion still meant something to Stitch. Stitch wasn’t ready to call his relationship with Charles abusive, but he at least recognized that Charles was manipulative. Still, Charles had a way of poking at Stitch’s sore spots and saying just the right thing to make Stitch doubt himself. It wasn’t fair. Stitch was ten times the man Charles was, but Charles had a high paying job, a fancy car, and a killer apartment. He had all the adult indicators of success that Stitch longed for, and Charles dangled his material accomplishments over Stitch’s head at any opportunity. Charles couldn’t use all his money and status to keep Stitch interested, so he seemed determined to keep Stitch from being happy with someone else. He wasn’t obvious about it; Stitch wouldn’t have tolerated that. Charles was sweet as pie and dug the knife in under the guise of wanting to make amends. Sometimes Stitch could shrug it off, but other times Pete could see him physically crumple under the weight of Charles’s offers to lend him cash or equipment or pull some strings in his favor. If Stitch had any ability to manipulate, he could have made Charles his sugar daddy without having to put out, but that wasn’t Stitch. Stitch just quietly suffered and turned the anger inward. Stitch seemed to think he should be too smart to be manipulated, which only proved how little he understood the nature of manipulation.
Pete was an imbecile, and he’d wormed his way into Stitch’s life with hardly any effort. He’d seen Stitch looking handsome and sad, literally standing behind a “help wanted” sign with the word “Sweet” about his head, and even Pete wasn’t too thick to see it was a sign that Stitch needed a friend. The last thing he’d expected when he’d approached Stitch about a job at his kiosk was to actually get a job at his kiosk. Stitch had tried to fight Pete off and pretend he didn’t want a friend, but he’d soften at the tiniest gesture and he’d listen to Pete ramble on about anything and politely stifle his yawns instead of telling Pete to shut up. For all his prickly armor, it only took a little kindness for Stitch to show his soft side.
Pete couldn’t know how much of Stitch’s sadness was because of Charles and how much had already been there waiting for Charles to take advantage of it, but either way, Charles was an arsehole.
“I see the puppies are still crazy as ever,” Charles said with a warm smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
Pete felt a hint of embarrassment at his puppies’ behavior and wondered where Charles had learned his emotional jujitsu.
“Yeah,” Pete agreed. “They’re puppies, so they act like puppies. It’s fun.”
Beefheart chose that moment to aggressively hump Pete’s leg.
“Funny, I never would have pegged Henry for the puppy type,” Charles observed in a tone completely devoid of malice. Pete was tempted to sic the puppies on him, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t make very good attack dogs.
“Stitch thinks he wants some boring, old, well-trained dog,” Pete explained, “but what he needs is a love-sick puppy to give him all the attention he don’t even know he needs.”
Pete and Charles stared at each other. Pete was pretty sure Charles was trying to figure out if Pete was clever enough to realize they weren’t talking about dogs. He gave Charles his most dazzling smile and shrugged like he didn’t have a thought in his head. It was better to be underestimated.
Charles saw Stitch and waved just as Captain and Beefheart nearly ripped Pete’s arms off, trying to run to their other daddy.
“I was afraid the dogs had pulled you into a lake,” Stitch called as he jogged towards them. “Or pulled you in half.”
“They just found a couple blades of grass that ain’t covered in their bodily fluids,” Pete explained. He kept his eyes focused on Stitch. He didn’t want to see Charles admiring Stitch. It wasn’t that he was jealous, it was just that Charles didn’t deserve to leer at Stitch. He’d had his chance and had fucked it up in every way possible.
Stitch gave Charles a half-hearted greeting, but Charles was not deterred.
“I saw you guys at the Lucky Star the other night. I was going to say hello, but you seemed to be… in a hurry.”
Pete blushed as he tried to remember the eyes staring at him through the stall door. His memory was foggy, but he knew Charles’s eyes. He’d spent months studying Charles and trying to understand his hold on Stitch. He would have recognized those eyes.
“It was a long night,” Stitch said in a surprisingly even tone. “And they play way too many Madonna songs, even for a gay club.”
Pete felt an urge to point out the club was named for a Madonna song, so no one could really complain about the track choices, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be a welcomed addition to the conversation. He knew when Stitch had suggested the club that he was really thinking about the men’s room. It was one of the cleaner, better-maintained restrooms (that was nearly entirely devoted to toilet sex) in the city.
Pete barely remembered having left the club, but he remembered the way Stitch had put his jacket on Pete’s shoulders as he’d held him close and guided him out of the club. There was nothing like a bit of kinky sex to bring out the protective side of Stitch. Pete was game for just about anything as it was, but the added incentive of Stitch cooing over him made everything all the more compelling.
Of course, Charles knew exactly why Stitch and Pete had been at the Lucky Star. The night Stitch and Pete had gone to Charles’s apartment, Charles had told Pete all about Stitch’s taste for kinky sex. Pete had ended up practicing having sex in public with Poppy just to make sure he’d be able to handle it. In retrospect, Pete hated that Charles had so easily betrayed Stitch’s confidence, but he was glad to know about Stitch’s interests. Stitch was incredibly uptight for a kinky bastard, and Pete wondered if he would have ever realized Stitch needed more than the tender and sweet lovemaking that made up most of their sex life. Pete still hesitated to initiate a bit a spanking or bondage, for fear that Stitch would insist on wanting ‘normal’ sex, but each time, Henry acted like a starving man being offered a banquet.
Pete was so busy staring at the dogs and trying not to blush that he jumped when Stitch put his hand on Pete’s waist.
“Time to get the puppies home,” Stitch suggested with a curt nod to Charles.
Charles simply replied, “Have fun with your puppies, Henry.”
Pete wanted to say something clever with a double meaning, but nothing came to him, so he just took Stitch’s hand as they walked away.
Xxx
Pete ran his hands over Stitch’s rear end. Stitch didn’t seem to think jogging was helping with his “bouncing breasts,” but even he had to admit his arse was looking good.
“How long are you planning on admiring my arse?” Stitch asked. “I know it’s looking good, but…”
Pete silenced him with a smack on the buttock. The second smack made Stitch squirm. Pete enjoyed spanking Stitch. He enjoyed the way it looked, felt, and especially the way it sounded. He was all in favor of spanking Stitch, and yet he always found it difficult to get the process started.
“Please, Pete,” Stitch whispered. Pete quickly obliged with two more smacks. Something strange happened in such moments when Pete was submissively trying to please Stitch by dominating him. Pete couldn’t keep Beefheart from humping his leg. He was not a dominant type of person.
But he enjoyed the games they played. He loved the way Stitch put himself in Pete’s hands and trusted him not to fuck it all up. He liked having a chance to prove he was truly the opposite of Charles in every way.
The next smack was harder than Pete had intended, and Stitch sucked in his breath through his teeth. Pete rubbed the reddened skin and gave it a gentle kiss.
“Good boy, Stitch. You didn’t flinch,” Pete purred. Stitch ground his face in the pillow and moaned, which Pete took as his cue to continue. He kept his smacks at what he hoped was a light sting until Stitch began to moan and squirm about: Pete’s signal to get serious. He spanked Stitch hard, until he could see the marks left by his hand.
“Are you hard?” he asked, as though there were any doubt. Stitch didn’t answer; he just moaned some more.
“On your knees,” Pete ordered. “I want to see.”
Stitch rose up onto his knees, but kept his head buried in the pillow. He spread his knees wide, so he was just the right height for Pete to enter him, with all his most private parts fully on display. Pete felt dizzy as he grabbed the lubricant and drizzled it on Stitch’s reddened skin. He gave Stitch’s cock a squeeze before giving his arse another smack.
“Perfect, as always,” Pete observed. “I think you’ve earned a little something.”
Stitch was still, other than some trembling in his legs as Pete fingered him. He dragged the process out until Stitch was making a sobbing noise into the pillow before he actually put his cock inside. He immediately felt Stitch’s muscles tighten as he came on their quilt. Pete pushed Stitch down so he was prone on the bed while he fucked him. He went harder than he normally would, because he felt full of adrenaline and aggression, but mostly because he knew that was how Stitch liked it after a spanking.
After he came, he curled up next to Stitch, but the larger man refused to look in his direction, so Pete kissed his shoulder and neck and worked his way back to Stitch’s well-worn arse. He kissed and petted the sore skin and told Stitch he was beautiful and amazing until Stitch rolled over and pulled Pete into a bear hug.
“What did I do to deserve you, Pete Sweet?”
“Must’ve been something awful,” Pete answered. Then it was his turn for a spanking.
Xxx
Pete’s grandmother had taught him a trick when he was a little boy. She’d said that whenever someone made her nervous, she gave them a friendly nickname, so they didn’t seem so scary. Whether it was someone twice her size or an MP, she called them cute names and - like magic - they all seemed to become docile in her presence. Pete had watched his grandmother running her restaurant for years, calling everyone “sweetheart” and “dearie,” without giving it a second thought. His grandmother had been a wise woman.
“Stitch…”
“You can call me Henry,” Stitch mumbled groggily. He was already half-asleep. A spanking always put him to sleep.
“Stitch,” Pete continued, “what do you reckon Charles would do if I started calling him Charlie?”
Stitch gave him a sleepy smile. “He’d hate it.”
Pete gave him one more kiss on the lips before letting him fall properly asleep.
Charlie. Charlie, the desperate ex-boyfriend. Charlie Boy, who thought it was okay to mess with Stitch’s heart.
Once he was sure Stitch was asleep, he said it out loud to see if it felt different.
“Charlie. Genius. Fuck you, Charlie Boy. You heard me!”
Stitch stirred and Pete returned to whispering.
“Piss off, Charlie. Stitch is with me, now.”
Pete smiled. He felt better already.