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Managing my time between the boys persists as a neverending story of living several lifetimes in what hardly feels like a long time at all.
Early in the morning, as Nimh quietly departs the house leaving behind a fat tall stack of pancakes he typically makes for us every other week, another hawt fella stumbles into my living room and flops face-first onto a couch adjacent to me.
As I continue idling away at the videogame I had just opened about fifteen minutes ago, Volks growls a deep sigh and dumps to me about just getting back from a crazy shoot scheduled at the most unreasonable hour. I can tell just by looking at him, even without knowing the context, that he is just about totally drained of energy for the rest of the day.
“You don’t mind if I just…y’know, crash here for…however many hours I’ll need to recover, yeah?” He struggles to keep his eyes on me—surely merely some sort of lupine instinctual remnant.
“Of course, hun—more than enough space ‘round here.” I try to flash a warm smile, but it comes off as a cheeky bedroom (evil lair) grin.
He crinkles and quickly swipes his nose, perhaps because I still have yet to find a deodorant by which his canine sense is unbothered. He idly scrolls through his phone, mindlessly twitching his seemingly perpetually–bare feet on the ottoman. My eyes could not help but be superbly attracted to their allure. For a good several minutes he does not notice my gaze wandering from my game.
I’ve told each of the manimals at least once, in passing or otherwise, that they really ought to start taking proper care of their feet. Scale pretty much brushed that off, Garret and Albert slapped on some cream maybe once about a year ago, and while most of the others made it a semi-regular habit, Eli and Dmitri and Xianyun took it to heart quite well and sometimes join me for pedicures.
Volks, being a model, had already been quite serious about the rituals for quite a while, and I could immediately tell as much by looking at his splendid feet compared to the others’. For a good while I half-worry I might have a miniature heart attack should his intense broody citrus eyes catch me drinking in my deepest kinky desire—especially since he has said in the past that he desires elongated periods of mutual eye contact.
Instead of jumping straight for it like a tiger, because there are actually very few dudes who would actually be cool with that, I decide to go for a light distracting approach. These kinds of moments are exactly why I keep a feather duster right by the sofa.
He does not immediately notice even the scratchy ostrich feathers initially slope up the terrain of his arches. But after about a second, he reacts as if he had seen a cheap jumpscare. His eyes widen, he gasps through his nose, and his entire body flexes somewhat, but mostly the muscles in his feet. The way his toes splay and his ankle flexors tense up with the feathers’ movements simply stings me with a pang of the equivalent of kinky adrenaline. He then quickly regains his awareness and composure, pulling his legs in under his butt and shooting me his signature model’s death stare.
“Don’t.” His tone slips into that of a serious loner nature, but I can sense in his quivering lips that he himself got a pleasant throe down there as well. “Not right now. Or I’m gonna show you the meaning of ‘hungry like the wolf’ in more ways than you can count.”
Impressive bedroom threat. His always seemed to have more of a bite than that of just about everyone else—even Eli, to a surprising degree. My cheeky grin now does have that remarkable desire behind it. “Even in the state you’re in, you seem to be down to get it anytime,” I chuckle. Filled with that classic hunger of my own, I make a reach for his still-hidden feet. Now he’s onto me with that attentiveness, shifting his body to hide his feet even more out of my reach. To that, I set my hands on his sides, making him freeze in anticipation of me possibly digging into his torso. “Give it. Or I’ll take it. And you really don’t want that.”
A few more seconds passed. It was as if our minds were one and we could both hear Earned It playing in our trains of thought. He leans in over me and grabs my shoulder for a rather forceful but brief kiss. We both glare into each other’s eyes. He then smirks, and nods signaling his giving in. He unfolds his legs and presents his feet for me.
As I grab one foot and ravishedly drag my tongue all over the sole’s surface with a few nibbles for good measure, savoring the wonderful reminder of his unique taste and feel, I try to maintain eye contact in a kind of power move. He scoffs, knowing that sort of thing never came naturally to me. He then leans back into his initial laidback position. “Now who’s the dog here, eh?”
I blush and flash him a scowl, but promptly return my attention to the feet. I wrap my arm around his ankles and slowly scribble a finger all over the unlicked foot. He softly chuckles, but tries his hardest to stay still and humor my indulgence. A faint blush washes over his own face and his already-tight pants get just that much more tense.
Maybe in an hour or two, we might head on back to get it on properly, and subsequently cuddle for up to eight hours. But for now, I got everything I need right in my lap. As long as he, too, is pleased by our mutual company, all these little quirky interactions will always be worth it.