He does, and gets Sean's. 

"I don't... know how to do a lot of things."

"Mm? What do you mean?"

"Ran away from home when I was thirteen and since then I've mostly been sucking dick and getting high and trying to avoid cops. But I assume"-- he looks at the car-- "you have no use for the knowledge of which Krispy Kremes don't lock their dumpsters."

"I mean, yeah, you're right about that. And sure, it'd be nice if you were more useful, go ahead and find some things to get good at if you want, but I don't super have like... specific life plans that I need people with specific skills for. I want to get a house somewhere and collect a bunch of magic slaves and live in my house with my magic slaves and probably have a lot of sex. So sucking dick is actually a pretty good thing for you to know how to do. —Speaking of dicks, do you, like, want one?"

"...Yes please."

He pets Chris's hair and changes Chris's body so that it matches the way he keeps expecting it to look whenever he's not super thinking about it. No breasts, yes dick. For some reason his subconscious expectations picture Chris's dick as slightly on the small side of average.

"Good?" he asks, still petting him.

Chris is grinning but he's also nigh-imperceptibly relaxed, like Sean took off some burden that Chris had been carrying for so long he no longer remembered he had it.

"Thank you!"

And now Chris can be hard, isn't that convenient. He does not touch his new dick, because last time a hookup wanted to tie him up and hit him they didn't want him to touch himself without permission either.

Awwwww. "You're cute," he says, hugging him and nuzzling his face and groping his lovely new dick. It feels very nice to touch. Good job, Sean's subconscious expectations.

Wow, having your genitals groped is much nicer when you don't want to die when reminded about them.

"...can we go fuck in a bed, rich guy?"

"Sure."

He picks Chris up out of his lap and shifts him over to the passenger seat. And, as an afterthought, teleports his clothes back onto him.

"Put your seatbelt on, I'll find us a hotel."

"What is the point of being omnipotent if you have to wear a seatbelt?" Chris says, putting on his seatbelt.

"I'm not omnipotent enough to mind-control cops, so."

He drives.

Chris feels you should not change your behavior based on cops. It only encourages them. 

"--I'm eighteen. I just look young because I was born a girl."

"Makes sense, I guess. Yeah, I was hoping you were older than you look."

"But not enough to ask? --I guess if you own me it's different, trying to keep the cops from returning me home is a pain."

"I didn't care that much, I could kinda tell you were, like, at least not less than fifteen. Do you wanna look more your age, I bet I can do that too."

"I don't care. If you like jailbait I'm happy to be jailbait."

"I'm not super a fan of jailbait. Mm..." He glances over at Chris's face, makes a thoughtful noise, then turns his attention back to the road. "Yeah, that'll do. You look, like, a little younger than me still but not three years."

"Rachel's not going to recognize me at all."

"Who's that?"

"My girlfriend. Used to be a foster care kid and then she decided if old guys were going to touch her anyway she might as well get paid for it. When she turns 18 she wants to start working indoors and then save up to become a prodomme."

"Huh. She gonna have opinions about," he makes a gesture encompassing him and Chris, "this?"

...This is the first time this thought has occurred to him.

"It's cool if we fuck other people, like, she doesn't give a shit because we're each other's people. But I guess swearing yourself into eternal servitude to someone is different." He kicks the seat. "Maybe she'll want to be yours too."

"That'd be convenient! I don't super want people going around knowing I can do magic when I don't own them, and I don't super want you lying to your girlfriend about why you swore yourself into eternal servitude to some rando."

"I can't lie to Rachel, anyway, she knows me too well."