More Than a Contract (mxm)

Part 9: Dream On, Kid.

In the morning I examine the bathroom closely. I'm using a toothbrush that was in the medicine cabinet. There are condoms in there and lube, too, as well as some general things like Advil and Neosporin. Everything a boy would need.

In the wardrobe there are all kinds of casual clothes, mostly, as well as some sexier clothes that don't look brand new. Yeah, I'm not touching those.

Next, I examine the drawers. In the top one there are some towels and sheets, the one under that there are sex toys – dildos, fleshlight, butt plugs.

If those were ever used, that's gross.

I don't even examine the rest of the drawers, because I feel a tightness in my chest that wasn't there before. I'm just one of many boys who have lived here and who eventually left Jaxson's life for good. Then again, I'm being paid to do all this, so maybe I shouldn't fucking complain. Maybe I should swallow the damn pill life's given me and make the best of things. Or at least try.

This time Jaxson's making eggs and bacon. It smells delicious.

I sit down on a chair, watching his back as he works. Hearing me, he turns around and smiles, actually smiles, so I smile back, or I try.

He frowns slightly, then goes back to making his scrambled eggs. When breakfast is done, I think I should be grateful that he doesn't kick me out right after we have sex and put some money in my hand.

I wait for him to sit and dig in. It really is delicious.

"Everything okay, baby?" he asks.

"Mhmm," I hum, stuffing my mouth with eggs.

Still frowning a little, he eats slowly, never rushing, never making a mess. He keeps watching me, as though he's trying to figure something out, but when I give him nothing, he sighs and says, "By the way, I've got your first check. I'm sorry it took me a while to remember to give it to you."

I swallow hard. There we go. I'm basically a prostitute.

"Thanks," I mutter.

He gets up and brings it, probably so he won't forget later, and I look at it in front of me, avoiding his eyes. This is a reminder that what we're doing is just sex and always will be. After six months, there's going to be nothing.

I feel stupid, like I've brought this on myself, wishing I could be more like Sam and be happy and delirious right now, thanking Daddy.

But I'm just me.

"Do you have work today, baby?"

"Mmm," I say. "Maybe I should get going."

I've left half of the eggs in my plate, but I'm not very hungry. Jaxson stands up when I do and I feel the familiar tug of my hand. He's frowning at me. "Remy, if there's something wrong, you have to tell Daddy, so I can fix it."

You can't fix this, I think, but say, "Thanks, Daddy, for everything." I kiss him on the cheek and go to find my stuff.

He insists that I borrow his car, so I agree, and before we part, he tugs my hand again and kisses my lips briefly. It's sweet.

I smile at him, he smiles at me.

Then it's back to reality.

***

For the next couple of weeks, I mostly work and spend my nights with Jaxson, who makes me crazy in bed, then ignores me after. I am now used to sleeping alone without tossing and turning in bed all night. I don't stay long, I just have breakfast and leave, and after work, I usually go home to talk to Sam, and Daddy picks me up later. It's our new pattern.