Pretty boy

Miles pov

“Oh shit..”. I bit my fingers in a panic as I stared at myself in the mirror. It’s just an illusion right? I have… Jesus I’m dead. It has to be an illusion, no one touched me yesterday, definitely not my stepuncle. It must be the drug, making me imagine I was being touched by him. It wasn’t a new thing I have always fantasized about my uncle, I have always cum to the thought of him every fucking time.

But the actual thought of him touching me, making me cum. Shit, my dick thickened at the thought. I had imagined his fingers in my hole last night, fucking me with it and making me cum thrice.

“No… no… I touched myself. I did it all by myself. It was a fucking illusion. Uncle wasn’t here last night, I’m even in my room, not the couch like I had imagined. So nothing happened..”.

Oh god, I face palm myself. Why can’t I imagine another guy instead of him? Like the handsome guy from my work? Or Noah, the hot guy from my college days? Or those strangers I sex text for work. In case you don’t know, I work as a sex caller, where people call and tell me their fantasy.

But uncle kale? Fuck, his hotness was out of this world. He was hands down the sexiest man I have ever seen. Last night… his touch felt so real… so freaking real. I had called him daddy as he made me cum again.

“It can’t be true. He doesn’t even like me!” I said. One week living here and he’d barely spoken to me. He left before sunrise, came home long after I’d gone to bed. If we crossed paths, it was a curt nod, a flicker of those eyes that pinned me in place, made me drop my gaze and mumble something incoherent.

Sometimes I caught him watching me, too long, too intently and my stomach would flip, heat pooling low. Then he’d look away like I’d burned him.

I’d convinced myself he regretted letting me stay. That he hated having me underfoot. So why the hell would he touch me? Why would he kneel between my legs, hook my thighs over his shoulders, and finger-fuck me until I screamed?

Because it wasn’t real.

I pushed away the thought and took a shower. I still have to go to work and listen to people sex talk to me. Some even tried to hook up with me. Can’t blame me for being too good at my job, unfortunately none of them seem to turn me on.

I stepped out of the bathroom and checked my phone. “Oh? So many missed calls”. Most were from Rose and her boyfriend. I just dropped a text saying I’m fine and was too high to call yesterday.

Then I shoved the phone in my pocket and headed for the kitchen. Toast. Coffee. Get out before—

“Morning, Miles.”

I froze in the doorway.

Kale sat at the far end of the dining table, black coffee steaming beside a half-eaten plate of eggs and toast. He wore a plain white T-shirt that clung to every ridge of muscle across his chest and shoulders, sleeves tight around biceps that flexed when he lifted his mug. His hair was still damp, curling at the nape. And he was smiling.

A small, almost gentle curve of his lips.

At me.

For the first time since I’d moved in. Please don’t tell me the imagination was real? I have never met him in the morning before, he would have already left for work.

“Un—good morning, sir.”

My voice cracked. Heat roared up my neck, burning my ears. Sir? Why the fuck did that slip out? But it felt right—respectful, submissive, the way my body wanted to be around him.

“I made pancakes. They’re in the microwave. Why don’t you join me?”

My heart slammed so hard I thought he could hear it.

Oh fuck me. He’s gonna give me the talk. I nodded, heading to grab the food he made before walking to the dinning. He pointed to the seat beside him. And I shyly walked there.

Very silently, I picked my cutleries and dug into the meal. Oh fuck, that good. I almost moan.

“So, you wanna tell me where you went yesterday?” He asked. I raised my head to meet his gaze, as usual he was staring at me with his signature intensity. I tried to gather my courage. It's perfectly legal to go to a club and have fun.

“The club sir?”

“With whose permission?” He set down his fork, folding his eyes, his full attention was now on me. My cock twitched. Oh shit, this should not be turning me on, he looks angry.

“I.. my… we don’t… you didn’t give me any rules sir. I’m 21, it's legal to visit the club with friends”. The power this man has over me is insane. I don’t even stutter yet he had reduced me to that.

“And get drunk and drugged?”

“It was a mistake”. I swallow hard and continue. “And thank you… for last night. I know it shouldn’t have happened. But it was very kind of you to help me… help me get relief and not take advantage of me. Even though it shouldn’t be the kind of help a uncle should be rendering to his nephew. For that, I appreciate your help sir. I promise it won’t happen again and I will behave myself and we can act like it never happened”. I stared at my plate, pulse roaring in my ears. I most definitely want it to happen again.

I wanted his hands again. I wanted his fingers to stretch me until I cried. I wanted to feel that sting on my skin, hear that growl, come apart while he called me pretty boy and made me beg.

Kale was silent for so long I thought he might let it drop.

“Is that what you want?”

I almost blurted no. Almost told him I wanted more… wanted him to shove the plates aside, yank my joggers down, spread me open on this table and fuck me raw until I couldn’t walk. But I kept my head down. Shame and hunger twisting into a knot in my gut.

He exhaled softly.

“No problem, pretty boy. We most definitely can act like you didn’t call me daddy and cum on my fingers.”

I gasped. My fork clattered against the plate.

“You can’t… you can’t say stuff like that.”

“My bad.”