Chapter 16: The Grass Is Always Greener?

There was no possible way to reason with the guy, nor did he take hints. Simon was like a stupid dog that needed a lot of training. After closing the door a few more times in his face, and a few others telling him to just go home already, Carter had had to open the door wide and try to have a conversation with the guy.

“Do you have any idea how this looks? The neighbors will see your car parked in the driveway!” he pointed the finger at Simon.

“It’s not the first time I come to your house,” Simon said defensively. “And I’m a co-worker. People will just think that I’m here about work. Plus, it’s not like I’m visiting you at night. That would look suspicious.”

“Wait, how do you know Aron is not at home this weekend?”

“At all?” Simon’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t know. Ah, that means that I can sleep over, even.”

“Wait, you didn’t know?”

“No,” Simon shrugged. “But I’m glad he’s not. Because I want to show you something.”

With that, Simon pulled his polo out of his slacks and began dragging it up. Carter was just about to tell the guy to stop undressing in the doorway, when his eyes fell on the strange leather belts crossing the guy’s chest.

He put his head out the door, and looked to the left, and then to the right. Oh, no, fuck, someone was coming. He grabbed Simon by one arm and pulled him inside abruptly.

His back against the door, like he was expecting someone to come knocking it down, he stared at Simon in disbelief.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” he whispered angrily.

“I thought about having some initiative, seeing that you are into this master thing,” Simon replied, rather miffed.

“So, you thought about coming over, dressed in this harness or whatever it is, and showing it to me?” Carter began to massage his temples.

Great way to start the day. Just fucking great.

“Pretty much, yes,” Simon confirmed.

“What if Aron was at home?”

“Then I would have just talked about work. And, the moment we were alone, I would have shown it to you,” Simon said with a very pleased smile on his face.

Damn, the guy looked like a kid who thought he got all the answers right at a quiz test.

“You are...” he was lost for words.

“What? You don’t like it? I’m sorry, I’m new to this submissive staff,” Simon spoke, now looking a bit embarrassed. “But I’ll do anything. I want you to like me.”

“All right.”

Stop staring at me with those puppy eyes.

Great, now he needed to play the master or whatever.

“Well, it’s Saturday, so all I want to do is chill. If you want to grab some popcorn with me and watch some sports, you’re invited,” he made a sign for Simon to make himself comfortable, while he headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower and to wake up properly.

“You’re testing me!” Simon exclaimed, looking happy for some stupid reason. “You want to see if I’m good as a submissive. So, no, master, I could not share your popcorn with you. I will be your coffee table, so you can rest your feet on me.”

What kind of logic was that? He stared at Simon in shock for a couple of seconds and then shook his head. Okay, the idiot looked happy. Let him do whatever. He just turned on his heels and went for his shower.

He grabbed his bowl of popcorn, throwing a few in his mouth on his way to the living room. The sight in front of him made him almost drop the bowl.

Simon was on his fours, carefully placed in front of the sofa, his head hunched between his shoulders, looking down. He was naked, save for the leather straps that were hugging his lean body tightly, and it was quite clear that a thinner one went straight through the guy’s ass, parting his buttocks, and then going a bit wider to cover his balls.

If Carter had been a gay guy into submission play, he might have just appreciated the view. Simon was a beautiful male specimen, and the attire was not looking ludicrous on him at all. He kind of understood why Alex liked the beautiful idiot. Simon was like a cute dog, with perfect pedigree, and the ideal length between ears and tail, or whatever counted as a sign of a pure breed in canines. So, it didn’t matter that he was so damn dumb.

With a sigh, he jumped over Simon’s prone form and dropped himself and the popcorn bowl on the sofa. Maybe it was too early for TV and popcorn, but he wasn’t in the mood for anything else.

It was awkward as fuck to flick through the channels while Simon sat there, completely silent and unmoved.

“Please rest your feet on me, master,” Simon begged, eventually.

The truth was he didn’t have enough room for his legs, so it was easy to just lift them off and place them on Simon’s smooth back, trapped in leather straps. Eh, it felt kind of nice. He sank into the sofa. Simon shifted just a little, as Carter found the most comfortable position.

It was probably the most idiotic thing he had ever done in his life, but he had no idea what else to do. He had been the one to hint at that kind of play, and Simon was just eagerly obliging. Like a dog wanting to be in his master’s graces.

The game was interesting enough, so, soon enough, he forgot about thinking how weird the whole thing was.

“Do you want any popcorn?” he angled his head to look at Simon.

“Will master feed me? I cannot move,” Simon spoke.

He sighed and grabbed a few popped corns, careful to avoid the duds, between his fingers, bringing them closer to Simon’s mouth. The man took them delicately, his lips brushing slightly by Carter’s fingers.

He ignored the slight frisson climbing up his arm and pretended to watch the game, but he started alternating throwing popcorn in his mouth with handing Simon his fair share. The lips caressing his fingers began to grow bold, but for a while, he didn’t make anything of it.

The game was in recess when he noticed that he had forgotten to move his hand, and now Simon was sucking his fingers gently. Looking at the guy’s sultry eyes was a bad, bad idea. He withdrew his hand, and Simon looked down right away. The second part of the game happened without feeding the dog. Aka the unexpected visitor.

He turned off the TV and decided that the game happening in the living room had gone for too long. Putting his feet down, he began thinking what could he say to Simon to send him on his way now.

“Was I good, master?” Simon whispered.

“Yeah, good pet,” he patted the guy on his head.

Simon pushed his head into Carter’s palm. This was insane. What if Aron liked the same kind of play? But Carter was pretty certain he wanted to be the pet, not the other way around. Or, if Aron wanted, it didn’t matter.

“Can I jerk off, master?” Simon asked.

“Jerk off? Why? Does popcorn make you horny? Were the corns sprinkled with Viagra or something?” he threw an odd look to the bowl on the sofa.

“You make me horny,” Simon replied. “You’re so good to me, master. Can you please be a little more?”

He had no idea about this kind of roleplay, and he didn’t care. So maybe Simon knew the rules or something.

“Then go ahead, by all means,” he threw his hands up in surrender.

Simon leaned back on his heels, and now Carter could take a good look at how that weird getup looked from the front. Damn, whoever created that thing had a kinky mind. Metal circles were neatly placed over the guy’s nipples, showing them off. And the material was stretched over the guy’s nether parts, leaving no room for mistake. The guy was sporting a pretty nice bulge.

How would Aron look in that kind of thing? Simon was smooth and lean, and the bondage attire was making him look vulnerable. In Aron’s case, a fully grown man packing muscles everywhere, that would have looked ... Damn, he was not going there.

“Jerk off already,” he said, his voice strained.

“Could master lend me his foot?”

“What?”

Simon didn’t care to explain further, and just grabbed Carter’s right foot by the ankle and pressed it against his bulge, using it to rub himself.

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled through his teeth.

Simon threw him a mournful look.

“Just do it,” he waved. “And this is me, ignoring you, as I told you.”

He grabbed the TV guide from the real coffee table and began browsing through it, trying to ignore how his foot was used as some sort of masturbation device. Blocking the sounds Simon was making was even harder.

But, at least, the guy didn’t take long. Apparently, this whole situation was to Simon’s liking, much more than his. Of course, if he were to play with Aron ... No, shut up, brain. Why the fuck are you thinking about Aron? He left you prey to perverts, like this one.

He shook his head and looked at Simon. The guy mouthed something softly, his eyes sultry and hazy, and began coming.

Carter rolled his eyes. That was, hands down, the most fucked up sex he had ever had. Not that usually, he was particularly adventurous.

“You ruined your leather thingie,” he noticed.

Simon was breathing heavily, but also laughing, as he looked down.

“Alex, I gotta say, this whole BDSM thing you’re getting me into...”

You’re getting yourself into this whole BDSM thing, Carter commented in his own head.

“Great!” he clapped his hands, as Simon let his foot down gently. “Now get out!” he added brightly.

Simon’s face fell.

Carter grimaced and then whispered.

“It’s all part of the roleplay, okay?”

Simon’s handsome face lit up. Carter could swear there was no other, more gullible guy in the universe. Simon was like those dodo birds, threatened by extinction. He needed to be protected by all means.

“So ... out!” he pointed at the door, and the guy stood up quickly to get dressed.

“Can I come to see you again tomorrow?” Simon asked as he pulled his polo shirt over his leather strapped torso.

“Aron comes back tomorrow. I don’t know the hour.”

“Okay,” Simon nodded. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his puppy eyes directed straight at Carter.

This was getting him weary.

“No,” he said, and just walked over to Simon and placed a small kiss on the guy’s forehead. “Now off you go,” he added and patted the guy’s ass while pushing him towards the door.

“Ah, Alex, you play such a great master,” Simon murmured but posed no resistance to being thrown out the door.

“Of course. Because I’m me,” Carter said cheerfully and pushed the guy through the door.

“See you at work,” Simon barely had the time to say, before the door closed in his face, again.

Carter sank on the sofa and clenched his fists into his hair. Clearly, there had to be a place in hell with his name written all over it.

Lingering around the house with nothing to do was just making him feel tired. He didn’t want to think about anything, not about Aron, who was now doing who knew what, not about Simon who was getting into rough play because he thought his lover was into it, not about Mark and his silly warnings, and definitely not about his parents in tears.

By force of habit, he logged into one of the servers he used for collaborative coding, letting the hours fly by. In the end, he just ended up dozing off on the sofa.

He woke up by midnight, from a frightful dream. The strangest thing was that now, fully awake, he could still recall the nightmare in vivid colors.

It was like the day of the accident was replaying in his head. That morning, he had woken up from a bad hangover after a previous night spent in a dive with a bunch of people whose sole purpose seemed to have been to drink him under the table. He had taken a shower, eaten something, and then headed for the basketball court where he was to meet up with some guys.

That day had been so sunny, like blinding bright. Or at least that was what his dream was picturing it to be. Barely a gentle breeze in the air. The exercise on the basketball court had done him good and now he was heading back home.

And on any day, since forever, he had thought of Aron and how much he wanted nothing of that to have happened, not Aron’s marriage, not him leaving, not him being no longer friends with Carter. He had been walking down an empty street, his head filled with memories of other summers when he and Aron had had so much amazing fun together.

How many casual embraces had he missed? He had never made too much of them, back then, when he had had no idea that Aron was crushing on him. By all means, he should have suspected something. A hand left to linger on his shoulder one second too long, a head resting against his shoulder on Sunday afternoons while watching sports, the sometimes hooded eyes searching his.

It had been surreal to notice that the guy walking in front of him, bouncing on his designer’s loafers, was actually Aron’s husband. He could not have been able to turn, at first, but, at one point, the guy had stopped and turned to look at something in a shop window. Carter had slowed down the moment he had realized who the guy was. Then he had let the guy gain an advantage on him again.

The day in the dream was gradually getting hotter, the image brighter and brighter. The silhouette walking in front of him was getting thinner and thinner like it was about to disappear.

The strangest thing about his dream was the silence. The deepest silence Carter could ever remember witnessing in his entire life. Like everything was going terribly still, the entire existence holding a breath. Waiting for what?

He had stretched one hand in front of his eyes, flexing the fingers as if to capture the vanishing silhouette walking further and further away. And then, like in a fantastic movie, his hand had begun to grow larger and larger, covering the man in front. All of a sudden, his arm had broken free from his shoulder, following the hand in its motion, and Carter could feel the pain like it was real.

Just like that, he had woken in the hospital again, making him wonder if he was trapped in a loop like Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. Luckily, a second later, he had woken up for real. So it had been just a dream in a dream in a dream ... Like Inception!

What if everything was a dream? Like everything everything? Carter shivered. There was no point in getting all Schopenhauerian, without at least getting a blanket. He was freezing and his shoulder hurt like hell. He dragged himself to the bed in the bedroom and there he finally returned to sleep.

Half the Sunday he spent around the house, trying to find something to do. He could just go back to coding, but the fact that he was anticipating Aron’s comeback wasn’t letting him concentrate. In the end, after being done with eating, showering and watching TV for half the day, he decided to blow off some steam in the half basketball court in the back.

He had never run short on friends after high school. Acquaintances, he considered them. The term ‘friends’ was just unsuitable. If no one called the next day, he could have not cared less. And he doubted anyone could have been disturbed by his prolonged silence or even disappearance.

Maybe he was a loner at heart. But there was one thing that didn’t fit in that picture. Or better said someone. Aron. Carter was the noisiest when he was with the guy. He was the funniest. Most girls he had been with had approached him after seeing him in Aron’s company, only to be slightly surprised later when they were witnessing this duller version of him. It was like Aron was there only to ... make him whole.

Women thought he was too cool to care. Guys thought he was laid back and fun. But what did Aron really think of him? How could Aron crush on someone like him? Apparently, it had something to do with him being funny. Strangely enough, he wasn’t doing or saying anything funny on purpose. It just happened. But was that really enough to make someone like Aron crush on him?

Ah, the guy had said something about him being handsome. Well, women had often told him the same thing, so there had to be some truth in that. He had never particularly cared for his appearance. He wore his brown hair too long, he was just a normal guy, and he could not imagine anything that could make him stand out.

He sent the ball through the hoop again. Well, even playing alone was nice. So, what had those girlfriends used to say about him?

Oh, Carter, you have such kissable lips.

Ah, so he did make a good kissing partner, that was good to know.

I like it that you’re a bit rough.

He remembered that girlfriend well. Apparently, she had enjoyed it best when he wasn’t shaved and liked to kiss her everywhere. Or maybe that girl simply liked having rashes everywhere.

Hmm, Mr. Muscles.

Hmm, was that the correct way to describe him? The woman in question had really had a thing for mapping his entire body, muscle by muscle, like she needed that for some anatomy lessons. He was well built, apparently, not as Aron, but, clearly, women liked him that way.