Matteo turned his gaze from the muted television screen and smiled, while Vincent snuggled up close to me and said, “Naked furniture?”
I took his hand in mine.
“Have you ever been used as a serving platter?”
“Never,” he said. His blue eyes went wide, and he shuddered.
I smiled, quite benignly. “Only if you’re into it. Think about it, please.”
Vincent glanced at Matteo, who seemed intent on Vincent’s answer.
“I want to.”
“You sure?”
“Well, all I have to do is lie there, right? Nobody’s going to touch me inappropriately or anything?”
“No, Vincent, I’m not letting anyone touch you. We will ensure that our guests abide by strict rules of conduct. Don’t worry.”
He nodded, then flushed and squirmed.
“Are you hard just thinking about it?”
“Yes.”
“Well, well, well, a serving platter with an erection. I can’t wait to see it.”
Vincent went even redder at the thought of it. “Oh, God.”
“I’ll probably cage you, because an erection of your”—I glanced at the bulge in his pants—“staturemight be distracting for our guests.”
“Oh,” he said, and it was almost a moan.
“It will be challenging. You’re going to have to lie as still as you can, for at least thirty minutes. Maybe sixty. I haven’t decided yet.”
His forehead wrinkled. “I didn’t think about that. What if I get an itch?”
I shrugged. “Well, you’ll have two choices. Move and risk the food falling off, or tough it out and be the exquisite piece of living furniture I know you can be.” I leaned in and kissed him. “With any luck, you won’t be alone. I’m going to ask Charles to serve as well. If he’s willing, we could have two tables, or one large table, if we put the two of you together somehow.”
“Oh my goodness,” Matteo said.
I met his dark gaze. “Right?”
“And what would you like me to do?” Matteo asked.
“Why, prepare the food that will adorn our two beautiful slaves, of course. And also, walk around in a tuxedo and serve champagne.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Matteo’s gaze met Vincent’s.
* * * *
I had Charles visit me at work the next day. I wanted to check in with him anyway, and it was convenient to speak in the privacy of my office. It was only a ten-minute walk from their apartment.
Charles seemed pleased to see my office. I swept my hand in a grand gesture at the modest space, strewn with papers and random objects. “I contemplated asking Vincent to organize it for me, but that would be simply too pitiful and not really fair. He already takes excellent care of our home. I couldn’t have him responsible for my workspace as well.”
Charles smiled. “It’s cozy.”
