Ryan woke up when he felt Spot jump on the bed. He had been half asleep until that happened, not wanting to move even though he knew he had a lot to do today. Spot snuffled and wiggled in pleasure when Ryan started to drowsily pet him.
“You’re getting a bit too big for this,” Ryan told him affectionately. Spot made a sound that might or might not have been some sort of agreement with the statement.
The solid mahogany bed creaked under the additional weight, and so Ryan decided to get out of bed, since he was truly awake now. He wandered down to the kitchen, Spot following him eagerly, hungry for his own breakfast and very willing to share Ryan’s. Ryan cooked his own meal of bacon and eggs and fed Spot his usual fare. Spot was rapidly approaching the size of a small horse, and Ryan knew that he was still growing.
Ryan knew Spot wasn’t hungry but still gave him scraps from his breakfast when he begged for them. Ryan knew he would be scolded by Wil for doing that, but he couldn’t resist Spot’s begging, because he was so cute when he did it. He cleaned up the breakfast dishes and walked to his studio, wanting to load up the pieces he was taking into town before he showered.
Ryan petted Spot when he tried to follow him into his workshop although he knew he wasn’t allowed in there. “I know that you want to help,” Ryan told him. “But you can’t. This stuff is delicate.”
Ryan spent most of his time carving odd bits of folk art to sell in town, along with bigger pieces that the villagers requested, because he couldn’t spend all his time getting fucked by his lover. He was beginning to make a fair bit of money with it, too, something that surprised him. But he guessed that tourists were willing to spend a lot of money on bits of wood, bragging that they had gotten some sort of folk art on their vacation.
Spot drooped at Ryan’s comment, folding himself so that he was a small—for him at least—ball on the floor, looking up pitifully. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t go into town with me,” Ryan told him, feeling guilty even though he knew he was being manipulated.
Spot perked up. “You have to wear your collar,” Ryan told him. “You know that certain people don’t like it when you don’t wear one.”
Spot snorted, but he trotted over to get his collar. Ryan buckled it on him, noticing that it barely fit Spot now. He was going to have to get a bigger one soon, probably having to special order it, because this was the largest he had been able to find.
Ryan loaded up the Jeep Cherokee, an older model that seemed to be more rust and replacement parts than Jeep. He liked it, and since they rarely used the vehicle for more than getting around the area, getting a newer model didn’t seem to make any sense. But he’d talk about it with Wil when he saw him next. Wil had been busy getting the harvest planted, so he hadn’t been home for more than an hour or two in the last couple of weeks.
Today was the summer solstice and the end of the busy season for Wil, who helped look after the three dozen or so scattered farms that made up the village. Even with modern farming methods and technology, the villagers still clung to many of their traditions when planting their fields. Wil had spent the last week or so with the few dozen families that made up the community here. Since Wil’s family was the oldest one in the community, some of his ancestors having been here since before there was a village, he was the one called upon to lead most of the rites the community followed. Ryan knew he usually wasn’t asked to be involved with their planting rituals because he wasn’t considered one of them.
Ryan was hot and sweaty by the time he got done loading up the Jeep, glad that he had waited for a shower. The weather was getting warmer finally, the spring rains having stopped and the woods starting to show some green.
He turned the hot water on full, glad that the bathroom was up to date, even if the rest of the place seemed to be stuck in the 1700s. Retro chic went out the window when he wanted a decent shower. Wil agreed with him and had helped him update the kitchen and the bathroom when Ryan had moved in with him.
Ryan washed up, lingering for a while on his genitals, horny after a couple of weeks of celibacy. He stroked his cock with one hand, his other reaching around to play with his ass. He worked a finger into his body, moaning and groaning over the way it felt, finding that special spot inside him quickly. He teased himself to the edge a couple of times, stroking himself inside and out before stopping. Wil didn’t even have time to do this for himself, so it wasn’t fair that Ryan could. Tonight wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t wait. Ryan reluctantly stopped masturbating and finished his shower, firmly reminding himself that he was going to get to see Wil tonight, and he doubted that he would be walking straight the next couple of days, because they were going to be making up for lost time.