Drawing Closer

Charles walked down the stairs slowly, resisting the urge to go back. He was expecting to hear Gray call to him soon to be released; expecting Gray to leave. Turning his back on him with that thought in place was difficult. The shimmy and stifled moan of panic Gray had given, looking stunningly erotic as he pulled at the lengths of twisted silk holding him -- Charles was never going to be able to wear those ties again, not that he cared -- had almost given him what he wanted.

Almost.

Replaying the memory of Gray's fingers unconsciously caressing the silk even as he tugged and fought their hold on him, Charles poured himself a glass of water and sat down, sipping at it slowly, his eyes staring unseeingly at the living room.

The purr and nudge as his cat made his presence known woke him from his thoughts. Placating him with a serving of cat treats, he shut Rudegar into the kitchen and glanced at his watch. Thirteen minutes. It would have felt like thirty to Gray but Charles didn't even consider cutting the time short. You gave a number -- minutes to wait, strokes from a cane – and you stuck to it. Had to.

He couldn't believe how easy it was to fall back into this; how natural it felt. Forcing himself to remember that Gray didn't have the faintest idea of what to do, and wouldn't want to if he did, he tried to plan out something mild enough not to leave Gray running out screaming and yet sufficient to get his message over.

Fifteen minutes.

He turned and walked up the stairs as slowly as he'd come down them, his cock full and hard, his hands curled loosely, shaking slightly.

That would stop as soon as he saw Gray. His breathing would even out, his voice would be calm, inflexible. He knew that and it still didn't stop them from trembling now, excitement and apprehension forcing his body to react.

He pushed open the door and met Gray's eyes.

God.