It wasn't very often - almost never - that Justin Baruch felt unsure. He'd always prided himself on knowing exactly what to do, what to say, in almost any given situation. It was part of what made him so successful in most axes of his life. In fairness, he mostly came by that confidence honestly. He'd worked hard for his success and continued to work hard to maintain it, never fully resting on his laurels, seeking out every possible opportunity to improve, to learn, and to reflect.
But in his more introspective moments he had to admit that there were certainly ways he deliberately played into his strengths, bringing all his many resources to bear to arrange things just so to maintain his own self-image, as well as ways in which he ruthlessly cut out any potential for uncertainty or failure.
A case in point: he'd always approached the Patron-Companion system with very specific goals and types in mind, leaning on the clearly outlined boundaries and agreements of explicitly laid out contracts - just another kind of business dealing, a mutual fulfilling of obligations - to avoid ever over-investing emotionally in another human being, with all the flaws and foibles and frictions that came along with that.
Until Monty.
Perhaps it was simply an inevitable outcome of the way they'd met. Of Monty not being a career Companion, with that ingrained understanding of the transactional nature of the relationship. Justin was very much the type to easily break hearts, but he'd arranged so much of his life to avoid the possibility as much as possible, always alert for the blurring of carefully laid borderlines, for the hints of becoming too attached, and disengaging as gently as possible at the first hint of a warning sign.
Even now in this case, he was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't looking for, or expecting any kind of physical or sexual fidelity. He actively enjoyed their current arrangements, the freedom of choice inherent in a mutual no strings attached backed by the contract, and absolutely relished the way Monty responded to being given so many opportunities to truly revel and bask in their sexuality, to being able to facilitate that for them - even being vital to those experiences for them. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his presence was wanted - needed - that Monty appreciated how Justin made these experiences safe and enjoyable for them.
So what exactly was he finding so disquieting about the fact that Monty had yet to seek him out again after the party last weekend? Monty generally could barely go a day without wanting Justin's touch or his cock or some other tangible outlet for their appetites and eagerness to please. This wasn't even the first time he'd arranged something similar for Monty, who so clearly enjoyed being used as a whore for as many eager participants as Justin trusted and could request the presence of.
He'd always been cautious in the wake of such scenes, providing chaste and affectionate aftercare with his usual and habitual care and consideration - for Monty's physical limits, if nothing else - leaving it up to his Companion to initiate contact again once they felt recovered sufficiently, but it had never really been needed; Monty generally picked up where they'd left off with barely a gap to recover, something that had briefly worried him the first few times they'd tried this, before Monty (and Monty's caseworker) had impressed on him that it was entirely by choice, that Monty loved being used by him while still sore and aching, crying and pleading for more, clenching around the ghosts of a dozen or more cocks, rocking back and forth on Justin's dick while holding a hand to their stomach as if they could still feel the roiling of as many loads of cum as they'd greedily demanded over the course of each of those nights, despite the physical impossibility.
But it had been a few days now since the last time, and Monty had yet to approach him again, leaving Justin to go to work uncharacteristically alone. For a brief, disquieting moment, he regrets the leeway he's allowed in their contract, before he shakes his head and reaches for logic and reason.
If Monty wanted to end their association, they had every right to do so. And Justin had been through just that many times before, with over a dozen former Companions.
It would be fine. He'd be fine.
So why did it feel, for the first time, like he'd be losing something he couldn't even begin to replace?
a gift worth unwrapping
But in his more introspective moments he had to admit that there were certainly ways he deliberately played into his strengths, bringing all his many resources to bear to arrange things just so to maintain his own self-image, as well as ways in which he ruthlessly cut out any potential for uncertainty or failure.
A case in point: he'd always approached the Patron-Companion system with very specific goals and types in mind, leaning on the clearly outlined boundaries and agreements of explicitly laid out contracts - just another kind of business dealing, a mutual fulfilling of obligations - to avoid ever over-investing emotionally in another human being, with all the flaws and foibles and frictions that came along with that.
Until Monty.
Perhaps it was simply an inevitable outcome of the way they'd met. Of Monty not being a career Companion, with that ingrained understanding of the transactional nature of the relationship. Justin was very much the type to easily break hearts, but he'd arranged so much of his life to avoid the possibility as much as possible, always alert for the blurring of carefully laid borderlines, for the hints of becoming too attached, and disengaging as gently as possible at the first hint of a warning sign.
Even now in this case, he was self-aware enough to know that he wasn't looking for, or expecting any kind of physical or sexual fidelity. He actively enjoyed their current arrangements, the freedom of choice inherent in a mutual no strings attached backed by the contract, and absolutely relished the way Monty responded to being given so many opportunities to truly revel and bask in their sexuality, to being able to facilitate that for them - even being vital to those experiences for them. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his presence was wanted - needed - that Monty appreciated how Justin made these experiences safe and enjoyable for them.
So what exactly was he finding so disquieting about the fact that Monty had yet to seek him out again after the party last weekend? Monty generally could barely go a day without wanting Justin's touch or his cock or some other tangible outlet for their appetites and eagerness to please. This wasn't even the first time he'd arranged something similar for Monty, who so clearly enjoyed being used as a whore for as many eager participants as Justin trusted and could request the presence of.
He'd always been cautious in the wake of such scenes, providing chaste and affectionate aftercare with his usual and habitual care and consideration - for Monty's physical limits, if nothing else - leaving it up to his Companion to initiate contact again once they felt recovered sufficiently, but it had never really been needed; Monty generally picked up where they'd left off with barely a gap to recover, something that had briefly worried him the first few times they'd tried this, before Monty (and Monty's caseworker) had impressed on him that it was entirely by choice, that Monty loved being used by him while still sore and aching, crying and pleading for more, clenching around the ghosts of a dozen or more cocks, rocking back and forth on Justin's dick while holding a hand to their stomach as if they could still feel the roiling of as many loads of cum as they'd greedily demanded over the course of each of those nights, despite the physical impossibility.
But it had been a few days now since the last time, and Monty had yet to approach him again, leaving Justin to go to work uncharacteristically alone. For a brief, disquieting moment, he regrets the leeway he's allowed in their contract, before he shakes his head and reaches for logic and reason.
If Monty wanted to end their association, they had every right to do so. And Justin had been through just that many times before, with over a dozen former Companions.
It would be fine. He'd be fine.
So why did it feel, for the first time, like he'd be losing something he couldn't even begin to replace?