The Retired CEO's Guide To Being Spoiled-Chapter 150: A Morning Knot

A mischievous glint flickered in Julian Sterling’s eyes, narrowing them into playful crescents as he lay there. His hand, which had been resting innocently upon the solid expanse of Ethan Caldwell’s abdomen, began a slow, deliberate descent. The movement was teasing, ghosting over the taut muscles before reaching its destination, where he boldly extended a finger and gave the undeniable evidence of the man’s morning arousal a sharp, provocative poke.

"Hmph..."

The sound of a sharp intake of cold air hissed through Ethan’s teeth, audible and distinct in the quiet intimacy of the bedroom. In that split second, the muscles across the man’s entire body seized up, tension rippling through his frame like a shockwave as he fought for control against the sudden assault on his senses.

Julian was thoroughly satisfied with that reaction. He pushed himself up slightly, leaning in to plant a loud, decisive kiss right on the man’s chin. He laughed, a sound of clear, bubbling amusement that was filled with triumphant smugness: "Absolutely not. No touching, and definitely no doing. Too much indulgence is bad for your health, Mr. Caldwell. Besides, I have to go meet people today. If I walk unsteadily or waddle like a duck, it would be utterly humiliating."

Having delivered his verdict, he didn’t wait for a rebuttal. Julian immediately rolled over to the side, sliding down against the plush, high-thread-count sheets until he was sprawled out comfortably, limp and boneless as a cat basking in a sunbeam.

Ethan looked down at the arsonist who had lit the fire and then promptly fled the scene. His gaze was a complex mixture of profound helplessness and overwhelming indulgence. The man reached out, his large hand encircling Julian’s slender wrist, and pulled him back with effortless strength. He gathered Julian’s entire body into his embrace, locking him securely within the cage of his arms. Ethan rested his chin gently on the crown of Julian’s head.

Julian had recently discovered that this man seemed to have a particular fondness for this specific position. Every time they were in close proximity, Ethan would do this, hold him close, bury his face in his hair, and inhale deeply, filling his lungs with the familiar, comforting scent of the milk-based body wash that clung to Julian’s skin.

"CEO Caldwell, look at the time. It is getting late, yet here you are, lazing around in bed. Are you not planning to go to work today?" Julian poked a finger repeatedly into the man’s hard pectoral muscles, his tone dripping with teasing mockery.

The man did not answer immediately. Instead, he captured the wandering, mischievous finger that was wreaking havoc on his chest, bringing it up to his lips to deliver a light, punitive bite. He then let out a long, dramatic sigh that seemed to vibrate through his chest wall against Julian’s back: "I have to go, of course. But... holding you feels much better than reviewing contracts."

As he spoke, Ethan nuzzled deeper into Julian’s soft hair, his voice muffled but warm: "I will head straight to meet a partner later. There is no need for me to stop by the company headquarters first."

After saying this, he shifted his weight, turning slightly to hug Julian for a little while longer. It was a stolen moment of tranquility, a brief respite to recharge his energy before he inevitably had to throw himself back into the relentless, grinding machinery of the corporate world. It wasn’t until his internal biological clock chimed an urgent warning that he could delay no longer that Ethan reluctantly disentangled himself. With a heavy reluctance, he released Julian, climbed out of the warm bed, and headed toward the bathroom.

Julian remained where he was, nestled among the disheveled pillows. His eyes followed the retreating figure of the man, his gaze growing slightly unfocused and dreamy.

Julian’s thoughts drifted aimlessly, not latching onto anything in particular. He lay there in a state of pleasant stupor until the sound of the bathroom door unlatching broke the silence.

Click.

Ethan stepped out, a faint mist of humidity clinging to him from the shower, droplets of water still darkening the hair at his temples. As he walked, his fingers were busy buttoning a crisp, snow-white dress shirt, the fabric parting occasionally to reveal glimpses of a firm, sculpted chest that played hide-and-seek with Julian’s vision.

Julian shot him a sideways glance, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

The man picked up a dark blue tie from the dresser, a deep, serious shade of navy. He draped it around his neck and began to knot it. However, perhaps due to haste or distraction, the knot was being formed in a haphazard, perfunctory manner. It was slightly askew, the dimple in the fabric missing, and the length uneven. To a perfectionist like Julian, whose artistic eye craved symmetry and balance, it was an eyesore.

Ethan caught Julian’s reflection in the full-length mirror. Seeing the younger man’s critical, almost pained gaze glued to his neck, Ethan raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a knowing smirk. He dropped his hands to his sides, abandoning the half-tied disaster without another attempt.

Julian let out a long, exaggerated sigh of resignation. He lazily pushed himself up, crawling on his hands and knees to the edge of the bed. Sitting back on his heels on the mattress, he waved his hand, beckoning Ethan to come closer.

Ethan obediently walked over, stepping into the space between Julian’s knees.

Julian reached out, his fingers deftly undoing the loose, messy knot Ethan had created. He smoothed the silk fabric and began to tie it again from scratch. His long, fair fingers were nimble and precise, weaving the soft silk through the loops with practiced ease. The distance between them was negligible. It was so close that Julian could smell the clean, crisp scent of peppermint shaving cream radiating from Ethan’s skin, mixing with the natural, masculine musk of his body.

Ethan lowered his head to look at him. His gaze was incredibly tender, soft and fluid like water. He raised a hand to toy with the stray bangs falling across Julian’s forehead, his fingertips grazing the sensitive shell of Julian’s ear. His voice was a low rumble as he asked: "When exactly are you heading over there to complete the enrollment?"

Julian’s hands paused for a fraction of a second, but he quickly resumed adjusting the collar of the shirt. He knew exactly what the man was referring to, the transfer to the Saint Lawrence Arts Academy.

Although the official results regarding his transfer and acceptance into the institute had not yet been released, Ethan seemed to operate on the absolute certainty that Julian would pass. He didn’t even bother asking if the results would be positive; he simply asked for the enrollment date as if Julian’s acceptance was a foregone conclusion written in stone. This absolute, unwavering trust in his abilities made Julian feel a strange mix of amusement and a profound warmth blossoming in his chest.

"According to the schedule published on the academy’s website, it should be at the end of this month." Julian slid the knot of the tie up until it sat perfectly snug against Ethan’s collar, then smoothed down the lapels of the shirt with his palms: "But the results are only being announced in the middle of this week. After that, I have to receive my student account, and only then will the official start date be confirmed. Why are you in such a rush? Are you eager to kick me out of the house to go to school?"

"That is not it." Ethan leaned down further, pressing his forehead gently against Julian’s: "I just want to arrange my schedule so I can drive you there personally for enrollment."

Julian looked up, meeting the man’s sincere, dark eyes. His heart skipped a beat, the rhythm faltering for a moment. Here was the mighty General Director of the Caldwell Empire, a man with a thousand pressing matters and billion-dollar decisions waiting for him, yet he wanted to play the role of a doting parent dropping their child off at kindergarten?

"Hmph." Ethan made a sound of satisfaction when he saw the tie was now perfectly straight and symmetrical. He shrugged on his suit jacket, adjusting the fit, and then leaned in to plant a loud, resonant kiss on Julian’s forehead: "Alright, I am leaving. After you finish your business this evening, stay at The Ebony Lounge. Do not rush home. I will come to take you to meet some friends."

Julian was quite surprised by this sudden instruction. His hand, which had been brushing a speck of imaginary dust from Ethan’s shoulder, froze in mid-air. He lifted his eyes, looking at the man with clear confusion and inquiry.

Meet friends?

But Ethan offered no further explanation. He simply ruffled Julian’s hair in a final gesture of farewell, then turned and strode out of the room with his signature long, confident strides, leaving Julian sitting on the bed, staring blankly at the empty doorway, lost in bewildered thought.