Chapter 13: Consummation
The rhythmic thump of the washing machine was the only sound competing with the frantic lust buzzing in Dominic’s skull. Daveed moved in the poolhouse like a whirlwind – shifting dusty patio chairs, sweeping decades of grime, his silhouette sharp and purposeful against the fading afternoon light. Every muscle flex, every efficient motion, sent a fresh wave of heat through Dominic’s core. His energy. Fuelled by their connection. The thought was dizzying, terrifying, and utterly intoxicating.
He tore his gaze away, forcing himself back into the main house. The familiar spaces felt strange now, charged with secrets, but underscored by lies. He remembered the rest of the groceries and retrieved them from Daveed's car. He was sure Daveed had used the fob to lock it, but it opened easily for him. Once they were safely packed away, he flitted between rooms, a ghost in his own home. He straightened cushions Hilary had plumped perfectly before she left. He wiped down already gleaming countertops. He paused by the mantel, his fingers hovering over the wedding photo – their smiles wide, oblivious. A sharp pang of guilt stabbed through the haze of arousal. Compartmentalize, Daveed had said. Easier said than done when your entire reality felt like shifting sand. But he stood still and tried to embrace his earlier empty-headedness. The easy vacuity. He looked up to see that he was casually brushing his nipples in the mirror. He smiled easily, noticing how sweet and kind his face was, how sexy and voluptuous his chest was. The familiar ease returned.
The doorbell chimed, a bright, intrusive sound dispelling the quiet. Dominic froze. He wasn't expecting anyone or anything. And Daveed hadn’t mentioned ordering anything. He panicked - his clothes. What if it was a neighbour? Or someone they knew? Cautiously, heart suddenly hammering against his ribs, he peered through the peephole.
It was him. The delivery guy from yesterday. He stood on the step, holding another large, bulging paper bag, looking as spectacular as the day before. His gleaming bald head and strong jaw, the open necked top showing deep, rich skin, fanned with hair, the loose linen pants that barely hid a prominent and thick cock. He opened the door just a crack and felt it instantly – a sudden, inexplicable pull. Deeper than curiosity, warmer than mere recognition. It wasn't the same intense, commanding draw Daveed exerted. This was different. Sweeter. Warmer. Like stepping into sunlight after being indoors all day. He felt an absurd, overwhelming urge to open the door wide, to welcome him in, to serve him a glass of water, to offer himself. Not out of fear or control, but pleasure. A desire to please.
"Hello again," he said, his words coming easily, any sense of shame banished. "Uh… another delivery?"
The man smiled, his dark eyes crinkling warmly. "Mr. Wheatly. Yes. I am Ehsan. Ehsan Salama. From ‘Zenobia’, as you remember. Big order again." He hefted the bag. The aromas wafting out were different this time – richer spices, the tang of preserved lemons, the deep fragrance of slow-cooked meat. Same cuisine, entirely different experience. "Ah, Daveed did not tell you he had ordered? He can be forgetful when he is excited, that is for certain." Ehsan was now appraising him in return. Remembering again what he was wearing, Dominic almost panicked. But it wouldn't take. The feel of his eyes on Dominic's curves and contours was exciting. He wasn't being mocked or rejected, he was being admired. The man smiled broadly. "He ordered it online and set delivery for this time. Said to bring it straight to…" He glanced towards the receipt.
"Right. The poolhouse," Dominic confirmed, the strange warmth intensifying. He stepped aside. "Come on, I'll show you."
Ehsan followed him through the house. Dominic was acutely aware of the man just behind him. Not necessarily threatening. But a strong presence. Undeniable. The urge to simply hand himself over was almost overpowering. He felt clumsy, his movements uncoordinated. He wanted to drop to his knees and offer anything and everything.
Daveed was waiting at the poolhouse door, leaning against the frame. He watched Ehsan approach, skirting the swimming pool, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. "Ehsan. Perfect timing."
"Daveed," Ehsan nodded, handing over the heavy bag. "Fattoush, Lamb Mansaf, Musakhan rolls, Ma'amoul, the works." They hugged briefly.
"Brilliant," Daveed said, taking the bag. "I'll grab some plates," Dominic immediately offered. "They’re in the main kitchen, be right back."
Dominic turned to go, eager to fulfill his own request, to be part of this, that strange warmth blooming into a sense of purpose.
"Actually," Daveed’s voice stopped him. "On second thought, no plates. We’re roughing it." He gestured inside the poolhouse. Dominic saw he’d cleared a space on a sturdy, dust-sheeted workbench, creating a makeshift table. "Come on in, Ehsan. Join us. It’s too much for two."
Ehsan hesitated only a fraction of a second. "You sure? I got other deliveries…"
"Five minutes," Daveed insisted easily. "Fuel up. You look like you need it."
Ehsan shrugged, a genuine smile returning. "Okay. Five minutes. Smells too good to refuse." He stepped into the poolhouse, glancing around at the chaos of stacked furniture and cleaning supplies with mild curiosity.
Dominic followed, the air inside thick with the scent of damp earth, sawdust, and now, overwhelmingly, the intoxicating aromas from the bag. Daveed unpacked it swiftly onto the plastic sheet covering the bench. Dishes emerged – vibrant salads studded with pomegranate seeds, flatbreads wrapped around spiced chicken and caramelized onions, a mound of fragrant rice topped with tender lamb and toasted almonds, delicate pastries shaped like domes.
"Dig in," Daveed said, tearing off a piece of flatbread. "No ceremony."
They stood around the makeshift table. Dominic watched, mesmerized, as Ehsan picked up a Musakhan roll, the scent of sumac and onions sharp and inviting. He took a bite, closing his eyes briefly in appreciation. "Oh, man. That’s the stuff. Mr. Amal makes the best Musakhan."
The simple pleasure Ehsan took in the food was infectious. Dominic reached for a piece of the lamb, the meat falling apart at the touch. He popped it in his mouth – rich, deeply spiced, meltingly tender. A groan escaped him. "Oh god, that’s incredible."
Daveed chuckled, scooping up some fattoush. "Zenobia is next level." He met Dominic’s gaze over the food, holding out the second bite of his fattoush. "How..." Dominic began, but Daveed interrupted with a grin, "later, Dommie". Dominic leaned in and Daveed slid the remaining morsel into his mouth, right in front this near stranger. "Dominic, this is Ehsan Salama." He paused, his eyes holding Dominic’s, the earlier intensity softened but present. "Ehsan is something special in the organisation."
Dominic swallowed. The pull he felt intensified, mingling with confusion. "The organisation? Special?"
Ehsan looked slightly abashed, wiping his fingers on a napkin. "Ah, Daveed exaggerates. I just deliver food."
Daveed shook his head slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Please. Ehsan has a unique place. A different kind of role." He picked up a piece of flatbread, dipped it into the yogurt sauce accompanying the Mansaf, and held it out towards Dominic. Not demanding, just offering. "He’s a stud, Dom. Like me. But more."
Dominic automatically leaned forward, taking the offered morsel from Daveed's fingers, which lingered briefly on his lips and in his mouth. The tangy yoghurt and soft bread were perfect. "More?" His eyes flicked between Daveed and Ehsan. Ehsan was looking at Daveed with a mixture of respect and something else... affection?
Daveed licked a drop of yogurt from his thumb. "Yeah. Different flavour profile, you might say. Different frequency." He gestured to the food. "Pass me one of those almond things, Ehsan?"
Ehsan plucked a toasted almond from the Mansaf rice and, with a casual intimacy that made Dominic’s breath catch, popped it directly into Daveed’s waiting mouth. Daveed’s eyes closed briefly as he crunched it. "Perfect."
Dominic watched the exchange, the ease between them, the lack of awkwardness. He felt that warm pull towards Ehsan again, a desire to participate in that easy giving. Tentatively, he tore off a piece of the flatbread wrapped around the chicken (Musakhan, he remembered), added a smear of the tangy sauce from the fattoush, and held it out towards Ehsan. "Here. Try this combo?"
Ehsan’s eyes lit up. "Oh, adventurous! Let’s see." He took the morsel from Dominic’s fingers, his touch warm and brief. His lips full and moist. He chewed thoughtfully, then grinned. "Okay, yeah! The tang cuts through the richness. Good call, Mr. Wheatley."
A ridiculous swell of pleasure bloomed in Dominic’s chest at the praise. He found himself smiling back. "Just Dominic. Please."
"Dominic it is," Ehsan agreed easily, reaching for another piece of lamb. He offered it towards Daveed this time. "You need more of this, boss. Hard work burns calories."
Daveed accepted the meat, his expression unreadable for a moment, then he laughed – a genuine, warm sound that filled the dusty space. "Boss? Don't start that." He nudged Dominic’s shoulder playfully. "See? Different frequency. Warm sunlight to focused fire."
They ate, the conversation flowing easier now. Ehsan talked about his deliveries, a funny story about a cat trying to steal someone’s kebab. Daveed shared a ridiculous anecdote about a disastrous DIY project from years ago. Dominic found himself laughing, really laughing, the seriousness and intensity of the last two days momentarily dissolving in the shared warmth, the incredible food, and the strange, comforting presence of these two men. He fed Ehsan a piece of Ma’amoul pastry filled with dates, enjoying the way Ehsan’s eyes crinkled with delight. Daveed offered Dominic a sip of the mint tea Ehsan had included, holding the small cup to his lips.
For a few suspended minutes, surrounded by the evidence of the hidden life being built around them, they were just three guys sharing an impromptu, delicious meal in a messy chalet. The wedding photo on the living room mantel felt galaxies away.
Ehsan finally glanced at his watch. "Right. Five minutes turned into twenty. I gotta run or Mr. Jenkins will get his falafel cold and complain again." He wiped his hands thoroughly. "Thanks for the fuel, guys. Seriously needed that."
"Anytime, Ehsan," Daveed said, bringing him into a tight, full body hug. "Safe driving."
As Ehsan turned to leave, the warm pull Dominic felt flared. He impulsively grabbed one of the remaining Ma’amoul pastries. "For the road?" he offered, holding it out.
Ehsan beamed. "You’re a star, Dominic. Thanks." He took the pastry, his fingers brushing Dominic’s. The contact sent a jolt of pure, clean pleasure through him, utterly devoid of the darker, demanding edge he felt with Daveed. It was pure serotonin. He couldn't help himself, his body was demanding it. He opened his arms to Ehsan who immediately walked into them. Dominics head rested right where the Ehsan's chest was exposed. The embrace crushed Dominic's thrumming breasts to Ehsan's tight body, the hot rigidity of his cock laying on Dominic's stomach. "See you around," Ehsan added as they parted, waving as he headed down the path, already unwrapping the pastry.
Dominic watched him go, the strange, pleasant warmth lingering on his stomach. He turned back to Daveed, who was watching him with that knowing look again.
"Different, isn't he?" Daveed murmured, packing away the leftovers.
"Yeah," Dominic breathed, still feeling the echo of Ehsan's presence. "He feels good. Really good. Was that ok? I wasn't sure if I was crossing a line. You said to do what feels right to my body. And I didn't totally follow that or things would have gotten a lot hotter," Dominic was starting to ramble. "It's ok," Daveed replied. "I will tell you immediately if I think you have crossed a line. Things with Ehsan are different than anyone else you might meet from our world, which is why I let it play out. I wanted to see what you would do. I hope that doesn't seem mean?" "No, not at all. I understand and I appreciate your trust," Dominic smiled. "What did you mean when you said, ‘different frequency’? ‘Different flavour profile’? What’s his role?"
Daveed closed the takeaway bag with a rustle. "Ehsan… he’s a Specialist." He met Dominic's questioning gaze. "Think of him as essential infrastructure, but not permanent. The necessary supply teacher, filling a role as required. He is either Stud or Slut, depending on need. Specialists are very rare. I was lucky to have been found by him."
"And he's a... er... Manipulator, you said? Like you?" "No," Daveed replied, calmly. "He is a Director," he added, offering no more. "Like, the director of the organisation?" "Later, Dommie baby, that's enough for now. But your reaction to him?" Daveed paused, his eyes gleaming. "That’s just your system recognizing quality. Good instincts."
Dominic nodded, absorbing it. The organization felt vast, intricate, seemingly populated by beings with extraordinary abilities. Daveed the Manipulator. Ehsan the Director. And him? What was he becoming? The thought was both thrilling and daunting.
He helped Daveed tidy the remnants, the silence companionable now. The spinning from the washing machine had stopped. Dominic slipped back into the house to transfer the load to the dryer. He checked the clock, 7pm. Good. The main house was almost ready for Hilary's return and his attempt to return, at least partly, to his old life.
Wandering back to the poolhouse, he saw Daveed had been busy. The small bedroom off of the open plan area had been completely refreshed. Fresh, unfamiliar bed linens, the dust gone, a light citrus smell there.
"Practicalities first", Daveed chimed out. "Bathroom, please, my darling Slut". Dominic flushed. He wanted Dominic ready for him. He tiptoed in, leaving Daveed to finish disposing of the food containers. He returned shortly after, easily cleaned and refreshed with his new biology, to see Daveed stood by the bed wearing a unexpected surprise.
Dominic stood frozen in the doorway, breath catching. Daveed leaned against the freshly cleaned wall, the delicate black lace clinging to his meaty groin, framing the thick cock already straining against the flimsy material. Sunlight, fading now through the dusty window, caught the sweat beading on his sculpted chest. "See something you like?" Daveed murmured, pushing off the wall with effortless grace. Dominic couldn’t speak, only nod, heat flooding his face and pooling low in his belly, drawn forward as if pulled by a string. "We will talk about my garments more later, but first..."
Daveed closed the distance in two strides. His large hands slid over Dominic’s hips, the thin fabric of the shift suddenly feeling excessive. "Oh, I have been waiting for this," Daveed breathed against his ear, voice thick with promise. "All day, watching you move, those titties swaying, that mancunt calling for me… all mine." He kissed him then, deep and claiming, tongue exploring Dominic’s mouth with possessive intent, igniting sparks that raced down Dominic’s spine. Dominic melted into it, hands finding Daveed’s waist, fingers brushing the coarse hair trailing below Daveed's navel, grazing the taut lace edge.
Breaking the kiss, Daveed guided Dominic backwards towards the freshly made bed. "Lie down. Let me see you." Dominic obeyed, sinking onto the crisp, cool sheets, his own arousal evident beneath the shift. Daveed knelt between his legs, fingers tracing the outline of Dominic’s soaked cleft through the fabric. "Perfect," he whispered, hooking his fingers into the shift’s shoulder seams and peeling it slowly down Dominic’s arms and down over his body, baring him completely. The cool air kissed Dominic’s heated skin, making him shiver despite the warmth coiling within.
Daveed’s gaze was molten, drinking in the sight. He leaned forward, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Dominic’s inner thigh, teeth grazing lightly. Dominic gasped, hips lifting instinctively. Daveed chuckled, low and dark. "Patience, Slut." His hands moved upwards, palms skimming Dominic’s ribs, thumbs circling the sensitive, swollen nipples already weeping a thin, sweet fluid. Dominic cried out softly as Daveed captured one nipple between his lips, sucking firmly, drawing out more of the slick liquid, swirling his tongue around the pebbled flesh. The sensation was electric, radiating outwards, making Dominic arch helplessly. Daveed switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same intense attention, his saliva mingling with Dominic’s own secretions, creating a glistening sheen.
"You taste like a warm summer's evening being fucked by a big hard dick," Daveed teased, releasing the nipple with a soft pop. Dominic chuckled briefly, appreciating the break in intensity. Daveed dipped his head lower, trailing kisses down Dominic’s trembling abdomen. Dominic’s hands, desperate for contact, found Daveed’s thick cock straining against the lace. His face nuzzled against the webbed pattern, aching for the smell and taste of Daveed's meat. His saliva soaked the material fully before he fumbled with the delicate scrap of material, freeing it, the heavy heat of Daveed’s erection springing against his mouth. Dominic wrapped his fingers around it, marvelling at its girth, stroking slowly, feeling the velvety skin slide over the rigid core beneath. Daveed hissed, hips pushing forward, his own hands sliding lower, tracing the curve of Dominic’s ass, fingers dipping teasingly into the cleft.
Daveed’s breath hitched as Dominic’s fingers, tentative at first, then bolder, found his nipples. They were small, tight buds, surprisingly sensitive. Dominic brushed them lightly, then pinched gently, eliciting a sharp groan from Daveed that vibrated against Dominic’s thigh. "Fuck. Yes," Daveed rasped, his voice rough with surprise and pleasure. "Right. There." He pressed into Dominic’s touch, encouraging him to explore – rolling the stiffened peaks between thumb and forefinger, rubbing circles around them with his palm, remembering what Daveed had done to him. The reaction was immediate; Daveed shuddered, his cock pulsing in Dominic’s grip, a bead of precum welling at the tip.
"Now… here," Daveed commanded hoarsely, shifting position. He nudged Dominic’s legs wider apart, his broad shoulders settling between them. He leaned in, breathing hotly over Dominic’s exposed hole, already glistening with its own natural slickness. Daveed’s thumb brushed over the tight furl, gathering the wetness, spreading it slowly. "Look at you… ready and waiting for me," he murmured, the admiration palpable. Then his mouth covered him, tongue pressing flat, licking broad, wet stripes, circling the rim with deliberate, sensual pressure before spearing inward. Dominic cried out, fingers tightening reflexively on Daveed’s nipples, pulling another deep groan from Daveed, whose tongue plunged deeper, exploring, coaxing more slickness from Dominic’s body. Daveed hummed, the vibration sending jolts straight through Dominic’s core. He felt Daveed’s fingers join the feast, slick and warm, sliding effortlessly inside him now, stretching him gently, thoroughly coated in the combined juices Daveed drew out.
Dominic lost track of time, the sounds of their fluids squelching and slapping, both of their moans bursting and colliding with each other, Daveed's relentless exploration and provocation of his mancunt.
Daveed withdrew his mouth, chin glistening. He lifted Dominic’s hips effortlessly. "Hands on me," he ordered, voice thick with need. Dominic licked his palms and slipped his hands under his hips where they flew to Daveed’s cock, stroking firmly, slicking it with Daveed's precum and his own saliva. Daveed guided himself to Dominic’s entrance, the broad, slick head pressing firmly against the yielding muscle. Their eyes locked – Daveed’s dark and intense, Dominic’s wide with anticipation and trust. Daveed began to push. Slowly. Inexorably. The stretching burn was intense, searing, pushing Dominic’s limits, making him gasp. Daveed paused, buried only halfway, his own breath ragged. "Breathe," he commanded, his voice strained with the effort of control. "Take it slowly." Dominic forced air into his lungs, relaxing into the pressure, yielding. "Push out," Daveed commanded as he pushed deeper, filling Dominic completely, a deep, guttural groan escaping both of them simultaneously as Dominic’s body fully accepted him. The feeling of being stretched, utterly filled, anchored Dominic to the bed, anchored him to Daveed.
Daveed held himself still for a heartbeat, buried to the hilt, letting Dominic adjust to the sheer size, the overwhelming fullness. Dominic felt impossibly full, stretched wide, yet somehow perfectly molded around Daveed. The pressure was immense, bordering on pain, but the radiating heat, the profound connection, transformed it into pure, searing sensation. Daveed’s heavy balls rested against Dominic’s ass, pulsing with heat. "Dominic," Daveed breathed, the name sounding like a benediction. "You feel… incredible. Like you were made for me." He began to move. Withdrawing slowly, agonisingly, letting Dominic feel every ridge, every inch, before thrusting back in with a powerful, smooth glide. Dominic cried out, a sound torn between pleasure and overwhelm. Daveed set a deliberate, deep rhythm, each thrust a controlled surge of power, designed to maximise sensation. Dominic’s hands scrambled on Daveed’s back, nails digging in slightly, then found his nipples again, rolling them firmly, desperately seeking that point of connection that made Daveed gasp and thrust harder.
The air filled with the slick, rhythmic sounds of their joining, mingled with ragged breathing and low groans. Daveed leaned down, capturing Dominic’s mouth in a fierce kiss, muffling his cries. The kiss was messy, desperate, tongues tangling. Daveed’s thrusts grew more urgent, losing a fraction of their precision, driven by the dual sensations: Dominic’s tight heat around his cock and Dominic’s knowing fingers working his sensitive nipples. Dominic was lost in a vortex of sensation. The deep, stretching fullness with each inward thrust, the delicious friction as Daveed withdrew, the sharp jolts of pleasure radiating from his own nipples whenever Daveed’s chest brushed against them, and the overwhelming feedback loop of Daveed’s reactions beneath his fingertips. It was too much. It was everything.
Dominic felt the climax building like a gathering storm within him, centred deep in his belly, coiling tighter with each powerful stroke. Daveed’s rhythm became erratic, his thrusts shorter, harder, deeper. "Going to… fill you…" Daveed gasped against his neck, his voice raw. The declaration tipped Dominic over the edge. Pleasure detonated, white-hot and shattering, radiating outward from his core in blinding waves. His back arched violently off the bed, a wordless cry ripped from his throat as his cock jerked, spilling thick, pearly strands onto his stomach and chest. The intense clenching of Dominic’s passage triggered Daveed’s own release. With a roar that seemed to shake the small room, Daveed drove deep one last time and held, buried to the root. Dominic felt the hot, pulsing jets flooding him deep inside, Daveed’s cock twitching violently against his sensitive inner walls with each surge. Daveed collapsed heavily onto him, crushing him into the mattress, breath coming in ragged gasps against Dominic’s sweat-slicked shoulder. Dominic wrapped trembling arms around Daveed’s broad back, clinging on as the aftershocks shuddered through them both, the remnants of his own release cooling stickily between their pressed bodies. The scent of sex, sweat, and their mingled fluids hung thick and heavy in the still air of the poolhouse sanctuary. Dominic felt utterly spent, blissfully shattered, mind deliciously numb. Daveed’s weight was solid, anchoring, his slowing heartbeat thudding against Dominic’s chest. Outside the window, the suburban streetlights flickered on, casting long shadows across the transformed room – a silent testament to the hidden world beneath the neat lawns.