"Bee?"
"Hm?"
"Are you okay?"
"Y-Yeah...Why?"
"You're getting soft."
Barnaby frowned, and he reluctantly opened his eyes to see Gil retracting a hand from his cock. The man's brows were knitted together, and Barnaby worried he might think he did something wrong.
"I'm sorry," he muttered, fixing the backpack-turned-pillow behind his head. He moved his foot from the seat to Gil's shoulder, still wanting to keep him close. "I got distracted."
Gil's smile was small, but he lowered himself to kiss Barnaby on the cheek. "Wanna talk about it?"
Barnaby shrugged. "Nothing really to talk about. Just—"
I'm noticing you never leave anything in your car. Unless it's for sex.
And that's all you keep in your dorm too.
You don't have posters or decorations or trinkets, yet you have drawers full of toys.
You don't have any trash or old assignments or stickers on the bumper of your car, but you keep condoms in the glove compartment.
You have so much personality beyond being a playboy.
Where is it?
He considered asking why he didn't have any stickers, but realizing how ridiculous it would sound without unleashing the entire can of worms, settled for another shrug. "Guess I'm not in the mood."
A flash of disappointment appeared on Gil's face, but before Barnaby could admit he was lying, the man sighed, "You could've said so."
"I wanted to be," Barnaby blurted because that much was true. Neither of them could wait to get their hands on one another between all the teasing.
He cupped the man's face in his hands and looked into his eyes, "You did everything right, Gil. I'm just- broken, I guess. We can try again later?"
Gil's eyes narrowed, and he promptly nipped Barnaby's nose. "You are not broken." He dipped his head, burying himself away in the boy's neck. "If you're not in the mood, you're not in the mood. Besides-" He kissed his ear next. "You did plenty for me last night."
Held close, Barnaby nuzzled him, as if he could rub his creeping blush away.
Gil had been reading a book in bed while Barnaby, already nude, laid curled up at his feet. Then came this compulsion. He was hungry. He sat on Gil's stomach, unzipped his pants, and got to work on his cock. That book was discarded without a word, and Barnaby's hips were pulled back, his pucker greeted by a warm, eager tongue.
He came on Gil's chest. The moment he was sure the man was sucked dry, Barnaby turned around and licked him clean. His own cum, he shamefully realized, had a slightly sweeter taste than Gil's.
Sometime after, he was guided over the edge of the bed and told to present himself. A leash was attached to his collar, and Gil kept a secure grip while pounding into him. It felt safer than he thought it would. Actually, he became so focused on his connection to the man that he'd forgotten his fear of being choked.
He had to trust his master.
Barnaby muttered, nose grazing Gil's ear, "Doesn't mean I can't do more for you today."
The raven laughed, sprinkling him with more kisses before sitting up. "No...But it might mean you need a break."
Barnaby pouted as he was tucked back into his pants, reluctantly pulling himself up when Gil returned to the driver's seat.
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YOU ARE READING
Fawned
RomanceBarnaby Hirsch isn't one to put himself out there - he's shy and, admittedly, awkward - but desperate times call for desperate measures. When he signs up for a dating app, the last person he expects to match with is the campus' gay playboy, Gil Conn...