Chapter 12: Encounters
The scent of fresh-cut grass and hydrangeas lingered in Dominic’s nostrils as Daveed guided him towards the curb. Parked there, nestled between a sensible minivan and a souped-up Land Rover, sat Daveed’s car. It was deliberately forgettable: a five-year-old Volvo S60 in a common silver, its bodywork clean but bearing the minor scuffs of daily life. Utterly anonymous. The perfect camouflage on Elm Street.
Dominic slid into the passenger seat, the cool leather upholstery sighing under his weight. The interior was a stark, jarring contrast to the bland exterior. Sleek digital displays glowed softly on the dashboard, projecting navigation, vehicle diagnostics, and encrypted communication feeds Dominic couldn't decipher onto a heads-up display on the pristine windshield. Ambient lighting, a cool blue, traced the contours of the cabin. The air held a faint, expensive aroma of ozone and leather. It felt like stepping into a hidden command centre disguised as a commuter car.
Daveed started the engine. It purred, almost silent, a sophisticated hum rather than a rumble. He pulled away from the curb with effortless precision, the immaculate gardens of Dominic’s street blurring past the tinted windows. The quiet hum of the car felt soothing after the charged silence of the house.
"So," Daveed said, his eyes fixed on the road but his attention palpably focused on Dominic. "Assuming you are actually as 'spent enough for coherent thought' as I am now, any questions bubbling up? There's nothing you can't ask, but I will always give a reason why if I can't tell you. And that is likely to be a... er... developmental reason." A small smirk escaped his lips, but Dominic didn't notice.
Dominic stared at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. The physical relief Daveed had promised felt distant now, replaced by a growing, clenching dread in his stomach. The scent of his own sweat, mingling with the car’s leather interior, was nonetheless a soothing balm to his fraught nerves. "Hilary," he blurted, the name sharp and painful in the confined space. "What… what if she finds out?" His voice cracked. "About this? About everything?" The image of her trusting face, laughing over dinner just last night, slammed into him. "It would destroy her."
Daveed didn’t flinch. He adjusted the air vent slightly, a small, precise movement. "Destroy is a strong word, Dominic. If she does find out, and that is a big 'if', there will be reactions. Unsettled, certainly. Disappointed, maybe. But destroyed?" He glanced sideways, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "People are resilient. Especially those built like Hilary. Practical. Resourceful. Our arrangement requires discretion. Your discretion. That’s paramount. Think of it as… compartmentalization. Your life with her remains intact, untouched, allowed to run it's course as if this had never happened, as long as you manage the boundaries. My boundary is absolute. Her ignorance is part of the structure. And I am here to guide you in managing all of that. There's a lot you still don't know, but almost all of it will make these worries much easier. I can promise that."
The cold dread solidified into a smaller icy knot. Manageable. Compartmentalized. It sounded so clinical. So impossible without Daveed next to him. He pictured Hilary’s sharp eyes, missing nothing. He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the quiet car. "And you?" he asked, the question direct, converned. "Who… who looks out for you? In this… organization? You said you answer to someone." He needed to understand the chain. Needed to know if Daveed was just another link, as vulnerable as he felt. "Who protects you, Daveed?"
A slow, enigmatic smile touched Daveed’s lips. He took a corner smoothly, the car gliding past a park where children’s distant shrieks floated on the air. "Protection? An interesting choice of word." He drummed his fingers lightly on the leather-wrapped steering wheel. "I have responsibilities. I have oversight. A handler, if you will. Someone who ensures the efficiency of my operations. My well-being is intrinsically tied to my performance. But... as you already know, I lack a certain kind of support in my private life. That they do not offer unless it is dire. The current ethos is that someone worthy of being one of us should be able to deal with normie issues without assistance. So... I am doing my best, but pushing the boundaries a little so I could get the support I need from you. Rules can be useful, but they don't often allow for humanity."
"Anyway," Daveed continued, "You’ll meet him soon enough. As your understanding deepens, when you’re ready for that new layers, more understanding will come." His tone was kind and understanding, but his words dealt in blunt facts. "Curiosity is good, Dominic. It helps to reassure me that you won't hold back. For this to really work, we need to develop trust and honesty that I wasn't sure you were ready for."
"How do you do that thing where you change from meek and reserved to strong and imposing?" Dominic blurted out. The question came to him suddenly. He'd been so wrapped up in his own changes and desires, he hadn't had the bandwidth to think.
Daveed glanced over at him and smiled. "We are not far away from you finding out all about that. So be a little patient for now. Once we arrive..." They had stopped at a red light. Daveed slipped his hands down his pants for a moment and brought it up to Dominic's mouth. It was coated in precum. As the scent reached his nostrils, Dominic's tongue instantly jutted from between his lips, cleaning Daveed's fingers, quietly moaning and grunting as he did so. He could feel his nipples getting warm and wet. He pulled back from Daveed's hand worriedly and looked down.
"It's ok. The undershirt I gave you is designed to manage your delicious emissions. So if those beautiful titties starting milking at an inappropriate time, you're covered. I thought you'd appreciate a demonstration. And a taste," Daveed grinned slightly. Dominic smiled back and relaxed a little more, savouring the taste of Daveed in his mouth. Wanting more, but knowing he didn't have to rush to get it. It looked like it wasn't going anywhere any time soon.
They finally stopped at the a supermarket, inexplicably passing the first perfectly decent two. Daveed reached out, not touching Dominic, but resting his hand palm-up on the centre console, an implicit request. "Give me your phone."
Dominic fumbled in his pocket, his fingers desperate to obey, and handed over the device. Daveed took it without looking, replacing his own phone in a partially concealed dock beneath the dashboard screen. Instantly, Dominic’s display vanished, replaced by complex lines of scrolling code.
"There," Daveed said, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "A little upgrade. Encrypted comms, secure browsing channels. And a direct line to me." He glanced at Dominic, checking his response. "Remember, this is all to protect you, to make the life you have chosen easier." He briefly explained the upgrades, some of which wouldn't make sense yet. The important thing was it only worked if only Dominic's, or another member of the organisation's, face was in view. Otherwise it would revert to it's previous state. Another reason for Dominic to relax.
The cool, conditioned air of the supermarket hit Dominic as they pushed through the automatic doors, the busy Sunday afternoon a jarring contrast to the Volvo’s hushed interior. Daveed grabbed a cart, the metal handle cold and sticky under his palm and began to scan the brightly lit aisles, his posture relaxed, utterly unremarkable in khakis and a dark polo. "Right," Daveed murmured, his voice low, almost conversational. "Essentials first. Think about what you actually need."
They moved through the produce section, Dominic mechanically grabbing the usual essentials Hilary requested. Daveed added vibrant peppers and a bag of oranges. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, reflecting off the polished floor. A woman bumped Dominic’s cart with hers, muttering a distracted "Sorry", her focus entirely on her phone. Dominic flinched, his skin suddenly prickling with hyper-awareness.
Rounding a corner stacked high with canned beans, Daveed spotted a momentary gap. The aisle was deserted, just for a few seconds. He pressed Dominic back against a towering display of soup cans on a thankfully sturdy shelf, the metal cool through Dominic’s thin shirt. Daveed’s hand slid smoothly down the back of Dominic’s jeans. Dominic gasped, a sharp intake of breath catching in his throat, as Daveed’s fingers worked his sensitive ring with a knowing pressure. Pleasure, sharp and shocking, ripped through him. He could feel the warm ooze beginning to coat Daveed's finger. Or was it plural? He had no time to think. It was over almost before it began, leaving Dominic trembling, leaning heavily against the shelf. Daveed licked his fingers, both of them, clean of Dominic's fluids, crushing his mouth briefly to Dominic's to share the experience. "Better?" he asked, his tone almost musical as he adjusted a can that had tipped. Dominic could only nod, his face burning, his knees weak. The casual sexuality amidst the frantic mundanity left him reeling. But the taste grounded him, quietening his sensitivity. Reminded him who he was, where he was, and what his role was.
"Good," Daveed said. He didn't look at Dominic, just nudged the cart forward. "Now. This way." He steered them towards the back of the store, past the bakery section smelling faintly of sugar and yeast. Dominic followed, a strange mix of shame and desperate need churning in his gut. Daveed pushed open the heavy door marked ‘Men’, the air inside thick with antiseptic and stale urine. Empty. He strode to the largest accessible stall at the far end, the one with the flimsy metal door and a wonky latch. Dominic followed him in, the cramped space amplifying his ragged breathing. Daveed locked the latch, such as it was, with a decisive click. "This is why I chose this place. The quietest bathroom with the largest stall," he mumbled into Dominic's ear. "And this is the type of situation you will be finding yourself in, Slut. Not just safely secluded in private, but relishing in excitement and a little danger."
Without preamble, Daveed unbuttoned his own pants, allowing his meaty, half hard cock to flop out of his snug underwear. He then pulled Dominic’s t-shirt up and over his head, tucking it into his back pocket for safety. He then drew the hem of the undershirt up, Dominic's belly and breasts seeming to tumble free, but not from a prison, from a safe house. Daveed folded the material, baring his chest, and showing the signs of his earlier leak, but no stains marked the fabric. He turned his sweatshirt inside out and laid it on the floor, guiding Dominic to his knees. Dominic knew what to do. He remembered the photos. That was Daveed's cock. And he would be the one to receive it now. He bunched his breasts together to create a deep, open valley between them. Daveed smiled and spat roughly into his palm, slicking himself, then pressed Dominic back against the cold porcelain tiles. Dominic gasped as Daveed slowly thrust his cock firmly between Dominic’s accentuated breasts, the warmth of his length a delight, his skin was fiery with passion. Daveed’s grip on his shoulders was strong, holding him firmly in place as he fucked the cleft of his chest. As if by instinct Dominic's mouth began to fill. Ensuring his t-shirt was well-clear, he let the watery substance run down his chin and into that waiting opening. It was rough, urgent, the slap of skin echoing slightly in the tiled room, but Dominic's saliva was part of the special sauce. The quiet, slick squelching washed over Dominic, enlivening and filling him. Daveed used his hands to massage Dominic's tits, smearing his milk into the cleft to join his saliva slocked cock. Dominic let his tongue fall as far out as he could and Daveed responded by sliding his cock head up and onto it. Tasting him and feeling him made Dominic feel both loved and used. Both cared for and craved. Dominic could smell Daveed’s sweat mixed with the cheap bathroom cleaner. He reached down, fumbling with his own fly, needing to ensure any release didn't make a mess as the relentless pressure built. Daveed grunted, low and guttural, his thrusts becoming erratic. Dominic's eyes rolled back into his head, the sensations shattering inhibitions. Daveed's need for Dominic, for his body and his juices, driving them on to greater planes of pleasure, knowing Dominic was feeling it too. Dominic came first, hot stripes hitting the stall floor and wash stand with a wet slap, a small, mindless cry escaping him. Daveed followed seconds later, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he spilled over Dominic’s tongue, somehow expertly guiding every drop into Dominic's waiting mouth, yet still lost in his sexual release.
Daveed helped Dominic up from the floor, collecting his sweatshirt. He scooped up the last of Dominic's jizz and smeared the juices into his own chest and nipples, a deep guttural groan escaping him. He made sure Dominic was clean and presentable before restoring his own clothes. Dominic's gaze was ecstatic as he watched Daveed's nakedness disappear, so it was a good system. Dominic first, then a show. They stood there for a moment, panting, the air thick with the smell of sex, listening for any sound outside. Silence. Daveed kissed him, his tongue lolling around Dominic's mouth with a thickness and intensity that thrilled Dominic.
They emerged from the bathroom, settled, unphased, composed, focusing on the cart. Daveed, all relaxed confidence again, steered them purposefully towards the water aisle. He loaded the cart with multiple heavy cases of bottled water, the plastic crinkling loudly. Then he moved to the gourmet section, selecting large, expensive bottles of avocado oil and the most premium extra virgin olive oil he could find. He added coffee, bread, milk, eggs – the basics Dominic should have bought days ago. Dominic held on to the cart, feeling almost childish in his lack of purpose. He reminded himself he had just served his purpose. He smiled and let Daveed lead on.
Daveed paid at the self-checkout with a sleek black card, the transaction swift and silent. Dominic was going to question who should pay, but felt that he knew better, really. He watched Daveed bagging the groceries mechanically, his mind a blur of images – the wetness in his ass, his moment to shine in the stall, Daveed’s thick cock filling his vision. He sighed contentedly.
They pushed the laden cart out into the fading early evening light, the store closing behind them, the heat and humidity wrapping around them again. Birds chirped in the trees lining the parking lot. As they approached the unassuming Volvo, Daveed stopped walking. He turned to face Dominic, his eyes suddenly intense, focused. The casual and cool urban persona flickered. "Okay," he said, his voice taking on a low, resonant quality. "Pay attention. Remember how different I was? The meek downtrodden lad versus the strong, domineering knobhead?"
Dominic nodded, he smiled slightly. He remembered the dizzying shift in presence, the way Daveed seemed to physically swell or reduce.
Daveed took a step closer, invading Dominic’s space. He didn't touch him, but Dominic felt a sudden, strange pull, a low thrum deep in his core, like a tuning fork vibrating. "Look at me," Daveed commanded softly. Dominic stared. It started subtly. Daveed seemed to shrink inward, his shoulders rounding, his posture becoming tentative. The sharp angles of his face softened; he looked younger, vulnerable, almost lost in the parking lot. A woman walking past with her empty shopping cart gave him a brief, sympathetic glance. Daveed smiled at her and she smiled back. No threat, no issue. Dominic blinked, the transformation unsettlingly complete.
Then, just as quickly, the energy shifted again. That deep thrum intensified within Dominic. Daveed seemed to physically expand. His shoulders squared, his spine straightened impossibly tall. His jawline hardened, his eyes gained a piercing, dangerous focus. The faint aura of menace Dominic had felt that morning returned, amplified. He radiated an invisible force, a quiet, terrifying command. The same woman walking back to her car now averted her eyes entirely, quickening her pace, clutching her keys tighter. Daveed held the imposing stance for only a few seconds before letting it dissolve. He was just Daveed again, something inbetween those two states, opening the trunk and beginning to load the groceries. "That," he said, his voice back to normal, casual but loaded, "is what the connection does. What you allow me to do. The energy we create together is very, very potent." He slammed the trunk shut. The sound echoed in the quiet lot. "Useful, yeah?"
Dominic leaned against the warm metal of the car, his legs still shaky from the stall, his mind reeling from the brief engagement out in the aisle. The bottled water rustled inside the trunk. The clink of the expensive oils chimed faintly from one bag. He stared at Daveed, the ordinary man who wasn't actually ordinary at all. The sheer scale of what he’d signed up for, the hidden currents beneath the suburban surface, slammed into him. His voice came out hoarse. "Daveed... what exactly is the organization?"
Daveed slammed the Volvo’s trunk shut, the metallic thunk echoing across the near-empty parking lot. He leaned back against the sun-warmed car, crossing his arms, his gaze fixed on Dominic’s bewildered face. A slow, patient smile spread across his lips, softening the lingering intensity from his earlier display. "The organization? That’s the big question, isn’t it?" He chuckled, low and warm, pushing off the car to stand closer, his presence settling like a familiar, comforting weight. "Think of it as a collective. People with specific talents, operating discreetly. Discovering themselves. Understanding their place in the world. Finding solutions where conventional systems fail."
He reached out and brushed a stray hair from Dominic's shoulder, his touch lingering just a fraction too long for anyone on the outside to see. "But Dom, listen. Throwing all that detail and nuance at you now? It’d be like trying to swallow the ocean." His voice dropped, earnest and kind. "I might have fucked up, showing you my skill so soon – that rush was on me, my eagerness, not yours. You’re doing brilliantly. Truly." The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, a warmth that seeped into Dominic’s tense muscles more effectively than words. "You learn in layers, okay? Slowly. Safely. Trust the process. Trust me."
Dominic nodded, the knot of anxiety loosening slightly under Daveed’s steady regard. Daveed squeezed his arm briefly, a grounding pressure, before turning to open the passenger door for him. "Come on. Let’s get this stuff home before I titty-fuck you over the bonnet of my car." The both laughed. The drive back to Elm Street was quiet, filled only by the Volvo’s near-silent hum, the breeze through the partially opened windows and the rhythmic thump of the bottled water shifting in the trunk. Daveed's hand lay open, upturned, on the armrest between them. Tentatively Dominic lay his hand on top, Daveed's bigger hand curling around his, the tinted windows breaking no boundaries. Dominic watched the familiar streets blur past, his mind replaying the day’s impossible moments: the bathroom, the transformation, the sheer, terrifying scale of what he’d stepped into. But the simple warmth of Daveed's hand, coupled with the awakening happening inside of him, just felt right.
Pulling into the driveway, the scent of Dominic’s immaculate lawn – damp earth and fresh-cut grass – washed over them. Daveed popped the trunk. "Right. Operation Relocation." He hefted two cases of water easily. "Grab the oils. They’re going to the pool house." Dominic was confused. The pool house was practically abandoned at this point. But he lifted the heavy bottles from the bag of other groceries, their glass cool against his palms. Daveed led the way down the side path towards the detached guesthouse, a quaint old structure with faded cedar shingles, hidden behind a screen of hydrangeas, the large, bright blue in-ground pool reflecting glimmers of light on it's walls. They didn't use the pool much these days. Dominic would relax in it occasionally. In a t-shirt. If no one was around. The large, infinity shaped luxury was long enough for a decent lap, but exercise had never been their thing. He'd hoped the neighbours might use it, but they'd never gotten that close. The pool cleaner still came once a week to keep it in top condition though. He'd set that up so he could use his garden as a show room. But the business didn't need it any more, given the innovations in computer generated mock ups.
Inside, the guest room was musty and neglected, filled with discarded patio furniture and boxes of old holiday decorations. The living area was sad and lifeless, dust motes danced in the late afternoon sun slicing through the blinds. Daveed dropped the water cases with a solid thud. "This," he declared, sweeping his arm towards the cluttered space, "is now your sanctuary. Your Slut Room." He grinned at Dominic’s startled expression. "Needs work. But the bones are good."
He immediately started pacing the perimeter, tapping walls, his eyes sharp and assessing. "Sturdy floor. Thick walls. Perfect." He gestured towards the stack of water. "Store most of this here. Oils too. We’ll need supplies close." He pulled out his phone, opening a design app. "It will need a total renovation and then we can be sure of your privacy. After that, priority one will be a solid locking door. Soundproofing. Then, custom furniture." His finger traced shapes on the screen. "Think modular. A reinforced platform bed, anchor points built-in. Storage for toys, restraints, oils. Maybe a sturdy bench, something versatile." He glanced up, catching Dominic’s slightly overwhelmed look. "Exploration requires the right playground, Dommie baby." His tone was matter-of-fact, almost cheerful. "Comfort matters too. Proper lighting control. Climate control. Can’t have you sweating like a sinner in church, can we?"
Dominic interrupted. "This all sounds... great. And I hate to put a dampener on things, but what about Hilary? She hasn't been in here in a while, but I can never tell what part of the house will get her focus next". Daveed paused, tapping the phone against his chin. "Yes, Hilary. We need a reason why she can’t come in here." He met Dominic’s eyes. "Asbestos. Old pipe lagging. Hazardous. We’ll say it needs specialist removal. You were thinking of getting this remodelled as a surprise, a space just for you, somewhere to put your mess. You want to move your office out here for some privacy and distance from your daily life in the house. The contractor who came out suspected the issue and you managed to get it confirmed that day." Dominic frowned in thought.
"Whatever you say," Daveed continued, "Should be close to the truth. It's much easier to compartmentalize when there isn't so much to worry about. You're excited to have some personal space. Is there something Hilary could use your office for?" He enquired. Suddenly it came to Dominic. "She was talking a few weeks ago about her women's group needing a space to congregate. She felt we had the space but didn't want to rearrange the living room. I suggested this place, but it was more work than she wanted to undertake and they need the space by the end of the month." "Perfect," Daveed grinned. He leaned against a dusty dresser. "And, while they’re ‘fixing’ it? That’s when we build down." His voice lowered, conspiratorial. "A basement level. Secret access. Your true space. Soundproofed. Secure. Just yours." The plan unfolded with alarming simplicity. "Just ours," Dominic corrected as he imagined the diggers, the hidden stairs, the subterranean room – a private world beneath his own lawn. Daveed leant in and kissed him deeply. "Thank you," he said. "And there is rear access in the garden?" He questioned. "Yes, Dominic said, "We had it closed off as it wasn't needed. I can say it would be easier for my clients to have private access. And somewhere to offer if they need a place to stay?" He suggested. Daveed looked at him with complete devotion. His skin thrilled. "She buys the asbestos story, and believes your desire to help her, we get your fortress," Daveed finished. "Clean and efficient. I'll have people here on Friday."
"Right," Dominic breathed, the reality sinking in. His gaze darted around the main house, visible through the poolhouse window. "Evidence. I… I should handle the sheets. The bed." The memory of their earlier, frantic activities suddenly felt glaringly obvious. "Just in case." Daveed nodded, approval clear in his eyes. "Good man. Thorough. Go on. I’ll start fixing this up. But just one thing, a first warning. As soon as we are alone, I expect you to be in your garments. I understand your forgetting, but this mustn't happen again." Dominic flushed. "Of course, how could I forget. I'll go right now".
Dominic hurried back to the main house, the familiar rooms now holding hidden clues. He rushed up to the bedroom, his torso barely moving under the new undershirt. He removed the shift from the drawer, removed his undesirable clothes and slipped into the fabric. It felt like a second skin, even better than the undershirt. It glided over him and with him. He felt supported by it, but easy and comfortable in it's folds.
He stripped the rumpled master bed, bundling the sheets, the faint, unmistakable musk of sex clinging to the fabric. He threw in towels from the ensuite floor, stained with oil and other fluids. He scoured the living room, retrieving Daveed's discarded t-shirt from earlier. From the kitchen floor, he picked up a single, stray button popped off his shirt in haste. Every found item relieved the tightness his chest – tiny landmines disarmed from Hilary’s sharp eyes.
He pushed the illicit pile into the washing machine, setting it on the hottest, longest cycle, adding the maximum amount of detergent to make sure everything was dealt with. The rhythmic churning filled the laundry room. Leaning against the humming machine, he watched Daveed through the window. Daveed had throw open the windows and doors of the guest house and was arranging furniture and deep cleaning. Working quickly and efficiently. Barely breaking a sweat. He must be full of energy, Dominic thought. But then, of course he was. That energy, the energy that came from their unions. He couldn't grasp it, so he decided not to. He decided to let his sexually sated, dumb himbo brain take over.
The late sun caught the edge of Daveed's profile, etched with focus and quiet determination. Daveed looked up, sensing Dominic's gaze. He didn't wave, just held Dominic’s look across the lawn – a silent, intense promise shimmering in the space between them. Daveed's eyes took in his clothes and then smiled. Dominic admired the man's body, no longer jealous, but ravenous. The washer thumped heavily, the scent of clean linen poisoning his air. Dominic took a shaky breath. The purge had begun. The construction was imminent. His old life felt paper-thin, already tearing at the seams. Daveed turned back to his work, the bulge of his muscles and cock the only sight Dominic needed. He knew for certain the only solid ground left in his life was whatever Daveed would build for him.