Boy Toy: Chapter Three

Clay

I was just draining the pasta when I heard the front door being unlocked. 

I nervously fixed my hair, hoping I looked okay.

Then I cursed at myself.

What’s wrong with you, Clay? You don’t need to impress him!

Then why’d you cook dinner for him?

I sighed and made sure all the water was drained from the pasta as I heard Erik enter the house and close the door behind him. 

“Hello,” he greeted, sounding surprised and almost suspicious.

I turned around and said, “Hey,” trying not to sound too enthusiastic to see him…even though I may have been little happy.  

He walked further into the house, taking off his tool belt which held things such as his handcuffs and his gun. He began placing the tool belt on the counter, then he looked at me. He picked it up again and said, “I’m going to take this upstairs.”

“I’m not going to steal your gun and shoot you,” I said while rolling my eyes. 

That wouldn’t be beneficial to me at all. 

I turned away from him and pulled out some plates from the cupboard. I had done a lot more snooping and found out where all the silverware and plates were while he was gone.

“I made dinner,” I said, stating the obvious. But Erik hadn’t moved from his spot by the counter and I wasn’t sure if he was in shock or not.

I glanced over my should to see that he was putting his tool belt back on. I sighed a little bit. I guessed we would have to take some steps to get to him to trust me more.

Did I want him to trust me more?

I wouldn’t be here that long would I?

Well, you don’t really want to leave, do you?

“I see that,” Erik said. “It smells great.”

“I just found some stuff in the cupboards, it’s nothing fancy.”

I didn’t know what had come over me to make dinner for him, but I didn’t want to be a total waste of space in his house. I knew it might be a little bit before I could start making my own money and until then I didn’t want to totally mooch off of him. 

I had warred with myself for awhile—not wanting to be so domestic and cook him dinner. But that was the only thing I could think of to say thank you.

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t know how to cook much so most of the meals I make are pretty easy.”

I put some canned sauce I’d warmed up on the pasta, studiously not looking at him as I said, “Well maybe we can go grocery shopping so I can make some better meals.”

He was quiet for a moment but then he quickly said, “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

I smiled a little bit since he couldn’t see my face.

Before I turned around, I put a blank expression back on my face.

I brought two plates over to the small table by the window and set them across from each other.

Erik didn’t seem to know what to do about me cooking dinner for him, so he just stood there in the entrance of the kitchen.

“Sit down,” I told him. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

He didn’t need to be told a second time because he pulled out the chair closest to him and sat down.

I brought silverware and glasses of water over to the table before sitting down myself. 

He was pausing, not eating and I said, “You don’t like pray before the meal do you?” I may have sounded a little disgusted.

He chuckled. 

My eyes widened as I realized that was the first time I had seen him smile or laugh.

He shook his head with a small smile. “No, but don’t tell my mother that.”

The corners of my mouth twitched and I nodded. 

We both began eating without another word spoken between us. 

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to start some kind of small talk. I had never been good at that sort of thing, but I didn’t want to sit in complete silence.

Luckily, Erik said something before I did. “What did you do today?” He asked and then took another bite of pasta.

I certainly did not tell him about snooping around the house and finding the locked chest at the end of his bed. “Nothing much. I watched tv and took a nap. It’s nice having a bed.”

I glanced at him and saw that his eyes looked a little sad—probably because my last statement. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything. Because I knew I would get defensive and end up saying something nasty, totally ruining this nice dinner.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said. “This was totally unnecessary but I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, feeling something flutter in my belly. “I’m glad I could do something…to repay you.”

We seemed to be getting along better than ever and I wondered how long it was going to last. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get along with Erik, but if I felt myself getting too attached I may get defensive and attack him instead—not physically, but I would push him away with my attitude and words. 

And who knows, maybe he would get sick of my nasty attitude and eventually kick me out of his house. I still didn’t understand what he saw in me anyways.

Why would he want me here?

“You don’t have to repay me, Clay,” he said earnestly. 

I looked down at my plate, feeling something I didn’t like much. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.

We continued dinner, but we didn’t talk much.

He asked me a few questions about what I watched on tv since we didn’t have much else to talk about. But that line of questioning never went anywhere because I wasn’t that enthusiastic about what I watched and didn’t have much to say about it.

I wondered if there was ever a time in my life when I was better at conversing with people. I had never been a people person. My childhood hadn’t been…the best. It hadn’t made me a friendly person and I couldn’t make friends easily.

I hadn’t made friends while I was in Somerhearst and I definitely hadn’t made friends while I was homeless for the past few months…I supposed that Erik was the closest thing I had to a friend now.

And that was fucking sad. 

Who would’ve thought that a cop would be the closest thing I would have to a friend?

It was certainly unexpected.

When we were done eating, Erik insisted on washing the dishes. And just so we weren’t crowding each other in the small kitchen, I decided to disappear into my room. 

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do now that we were both in the house.

It wasn’t so bad last night when we were both sleeping. And today he was at work, so I didn’t have to deal with him. 

But now he was home and it was too early to go to sleep. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do.

It wasn’t like we were going to hang out on the couch and watch Netflix together…right?

I laid on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. 

Don’t be silly. He probably wants to be around you as little as possible. He is not your friend.

But you wish he was.

I groaned a little at myself and turned over on the bed, burying my head in the pillow. I groaned louder, the pillow muffling the sound.

“Are you having some kind of problem?” A deep voice that was slowly becoming familiar asked.

I tensed and then slowly sat up, turning towards the door.

Erik was standing in the doorway, looking amused. He was still wearing his uniform, but he must have put his tool belt away. He gave me smug expression and I glared at him.

“Ooooh, scary,” he said, pretending to shake a little.

“Shut up,” I said, growling a little.

But he didn’t look intimidated in the least.

I did not appreciate him making fun of me.

I groaned again and said, “Fuck you.”

“Do you really want to talk to me that way?” He asked, tension in his voice. It got me more excited than it should.

Fuck you,” I said again but with a more snotty tone.

He growled and stalked into the room. He loomed over me as I stared up at him from my spot on the bed.

“Say it again,” he said, a warning in his tone.

I opened my mouth to say the words again but his arm reached out quickly and he wrapped his hand around my throat, gripping it firmly.

But he wasn’t holding me as tightly as I wanted him to.

We stared at each other for a moment and then I looked at him defiantly and said, “Are you going to fuck me or what?”

He moved his hand away from my throat and my heart sank.

He really didn’t want me like I wanted him, did he?

His expression was serious when he said, “Come out into the living room. We can talk.”

My eyebrows drew together and he left the room.

I watched him go before getting off the bed.

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of this but I left the bedroom, slowly walking down the hall and into the living room. 

He was sitting on the couch, patiently waiting for me. I kind of wished I had made him wait longer.

I hesitated at the edge of the hallway, a guarded expression on my face.

“Sit down, Clay,” he said with authority in his tone.

There was a part of me that always wanted to listen to a man that talked to me like that. 

I walked over to him and wanted to scoff at my eagerness.

I sat down on the couch but not very close to him.

He looked over at me, seeming to study me. I may have narrowed my eyes a little bit.

He finally began talking. He said, “I think it’s pretty clear that we’re attracted to each other.” I may have perked up a little bit at that, happy to hear that he was attracted to me as well. “And I think we need to talk about what we both want while you’re staying here.”

I turned on the couch so I could look at him better. I was more interested in this conversation.

“Okay,” I said.

He swallowed and then said, “Do you know what Domestic Discipline is?”

I had been interested and tried out BDSM relationships since I had began having sex, but that wasn’t something I was familiar with.

I shook my head.

“Well,” he started. “Basically, I would be the head of the house, we would have rules that needed to be followed, and certain punishments if those rules were broken.”

I raised an eyebrow. “So you’d be my Dom?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “If you want to call it that.”

I didn’t understand how this differed from a regular BDSM relationship.

He seemed to sense my confusion because he said, “The rules we set are more centered around day to day routines. For example, I didn’t want you to leave the neighborhood. If you broke that rule, then I would punish you. The rules can be very simple,” he said.

I was trying to understand, “Like a rule could be that I cook dinner for you every night?”

He seemed surprised by that. “Yes. If you want that to be a rule.”

“But don’t you decide on the rules?” I asked. 

“I want us to be in mutual agreement on what the rules and punishments should be. If we aren’t then that’s just asking for problems.”

I was silent for a moment as I thought about everything that he was saying. This wasn’t like anything that I’d done before.

He continued, “I think this could be good for you. It will set concrete boundaries and I also want it to show you that I’m not going to kick you out without notice like you seem to think I am.” 

I looked down, feeling a little guilty. Was he really not going to kick me out just because he got tired of me?

Don’t trust him so easily.

“I’m a masochist,” I told him flat out. He seemed surprised by my candidness. “I need more than just simple rules to follow. I need pain to be apart of the equation even when it’s not part of a punishment.”

He seemed to take in my words and think for a minute.

“I’ve never done that before,” he told me truthfully. “But if that’s what will make you happy, then I’ll try it.”

I scoffed, getting a little angry. “Well, don’t do just to make me happy.” I stood up from the couch. I didn’t know why I was acting like this. But I was reacting like snake that had just been poked at. I was getting angry and defensive and I didn’t know how to stop. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to. I don’t want it to be a chore for. Fuck you.” 

I stated walking away from the couch, but he quickly grabbed me, pulling me back. I fought against his hold, but before I knew it, he had me bent over his lap and he laid a hand on my ass—hard.

I let out a breath I had been holding.

I didn’t fight him any longer as he yanked down the sweatpants I was wearing and laid a hand on my bare ass.

My eyes rolled in the back of my head.

He wasn’t even hitting me that hard—not yet at least—but I had just missed this so much that I felt I would bust at any second.

He laid three hard smacks on my right ass cheek and then said, “You don’t get to act like a brat, got it?”

I let out a small moan as he began abusing my other asscheek.

“I may not be your boyfriend or your fucking whatever, but you’re living in my house and we talk about things here.” He kept slapping me the whole time he was talking and it was hard to concentrate. 

My dick was hard as rock and I wanted to come.

The skin of asscheeks burned so deliciously. It wasn’t the most pain I had ever endured, but it had been so long since anything like this had happened and I had almost forgotten how much I loved it. 

Was this turning him on too?

I had always wanted someone that enjoyed inflicting pain as much as I loved being in pain.

But I had never found someone like that. 

I moved my arm back and put my hand on Erik’s crotch.

I was surprised by the feeling of his hard cock in his pants.

I closed my eyes and let out a happy sigh. So he did like it.

He kept smacking my ass until I could take it no more. 

I cried out as I came, a shudder wracking my entire body.

His hand then became soothing on my burning ass.

“You really needed to come, didn’t you?” He asked with a slight chuckle. 

I sighed and his hand continued its soothing touch.

I wanted to move away from him and tell him that I didn’t need him to be nice to me. That wasn’t what I wanted, but it was so comforting that I couldn’t move. I slightly hated myself for that, but I continued to stay right there.

His hand even roamed further up, sliding over my back beneath the shirt I was wearing.

My eyes kept drifting shut. As much as I tried to keep them open, they kept closing.

I was so happy.

Happier than I had been in so long. And I told myself that it was okay to relish in this happiness, just this once.

Just this once.

_____________________

The next thing I knew, I was on the bed in my room as Erik pulled the blankets over me.

I frowned and looked up at him.

“You fell asleep on my lap,” he said in amusement. 

I glared and turned over in the bed so I wouldn’t have to look at him. 

I felt vulnerable and I didn’t like that.

I didn’t need him to treat me like someone precious. 

He could’ve just rolled me off his lap and let me sleep on the floor.

Really, Clay? Is that really what you wished he’d done?

Or maybe you wanted to cuddled with him a little while longer?

“I told you I didn’t want you to be nice to me,” I said, slightly hissing the words.

He sighed. 

He placed his hand on my shoulder. I scowled and moved away from him. I scooted to the other side of the bed.

“I’m not a mean guy, Clay. Is that really what you want?” He asked. Did he sound sad?

I didn’t say anything. 

Because I didn’t know what to say.

All my past “lovers” had been complete jerks and that’s what I was attracted to. I wanted an asshole guy that would push me around and show me that he was in charge and I was just an insignificant person in the grand scheme of things.

If I told Erik that he would think I was crazy and messed up.

But aren’t you? 

I pulled the blankets tightly around me.

I was silent for so long that Erik seemed to give up.

“Goodnight, Clay,” he said, sounding almost defeated.

I didn’t say anything and he left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

My lip began trembling.

Then I growled at myself and began punching the pillow.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” I told myself.

My lip had stopped trembling and I moved to the center of the bed, getting more comfortable.

I told myself to just go to sleep. 

Nothing was changing tonight and I could deal with everything in the morning.

But I felt emptier than usual—more lonely.

I felt like I was drowning in an abyss, but really it was just this empty bed. 

I told myself that I didn’t need anyone—and I certainly didn’t need Erik.

I could leave tomorrow—just disappear.

He wouldn’t care.

I could disappear completely—gone forever.

And no one would care.

_________________

Erik

After I made sure all the lights were turned off downstairs and both doors were locked, I slowly walked up the stairs, letting everything that had happened tonight replay in my head.

I reached the second floor and headed into my bedroom, letting out a sigh.

I barely knew Clay. 

But I wanted to help him…for many reasons.

And Clay needed help, but I didn’t think he was willing to accept it.

I was the saving type. It was in my blood. I just wanted to help everyone that I could.

But I think I needed to accept that that boy didn’t want me to be his knight in shining armor. 

…And he probably never would.

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