“I’m—” the denial was instinctive, but he caught himself, remembering how annoyed Rin had gotten when he’d lied before. If he’d really spied on him at the Seaside as often as he claimed, there was no point to it anyway.
“Good choice,” he said, clearly pleased Bay had stopped on his own. “I’ve seen you claw at your own thighs and shove toys in without preparation. I’m sure I’ve yet to uncover one or two, but for the most part? I know your secrets. I’ll reiterate, before you freak out, I’ve no interest in destroying your social standing. No one has to know the types of things that turn you on but me.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t need other people to do my dirty work.” He grinned. “And you don’t need help to do yours. Enough stalling. Start stroking, Kitten. I’ll talk you through it. It’ll be easier.”
“Please don’t.” This was already embarrassing enough as it was, especially since his arousal was on full display now despite his verbal protests. His emotional state had always confused him, even after he’d gone to school and developed a professional level understanding of how the psyche worked.
There was no childhood trauma, no feeling of rejection growing up. Even having spent the first ten years of his life at the orphanage, Bay had been okay. His birth parents must have had a reason to give him up, and that was never something he’d carried with him. Until two years ago when his grandmother had died suddenly, Bay’s life had been relatively easy. Aside from becoming unhealthily obsessed with a show or a book series, Bay hadn’t experienced that all-consuming drive directed at another person until he’d spotted Sila.
He’d always leaned toward the dark and murky, morally black kind of sexual fantasies, but there’d never been any particular individual who’d starred in them when he masturbated. Then Sila had come along, all sunshine and gleaming gold and…perhaps Bay’s subconscious had associated that vibrancy with warmth, a thing he’d had torn away from him.
For over a year now, it’d been Sila’s face, Sila’s hands, Sila’s cock, that Bay had pictured whenever he’d touched himself and if Rin broke one of his bones with no payoff after…He feared the fantasy would forever be shattered.
If he deflated and couldn’t get it back up, there was little doubt in his mind Rin would follow through on his other threats.
Bay may like pain in the bedroom, but he didn’t like it on its own. When he crashed his hover bike, that shit hurt. He didn’t instantly spring a boner or anything.
“I’m going to,” Rin said, completely ignoring his plea. “You always jump right in, Kitten. Let’s do things a little differently this time.”
Bay frowned. “Why?”
“Because that’s what I want, and you’re going to give me what I want, isn’t that right?”
His silence was answer enough.
“Stroke yourself,” Rin ordered. “Slowly.”
Bay’s hand shifted from where he was still holding his balls loosely, circling around his shaft. They tightened a bit as he trailed them up toward the wet tip and he shuddered at the feel of electricity that pinged through him.
“Play with the crown,” Rin commanded just when he’d been about to go back down.
He rolled the pad of his thumb over the silky head a bit roughly.
“Slower.”
Bay ground his teeth but obliged, shifting to widen his stance even more, the light touches making him throb with want.
“What are you thinking, Kitten?”
“Is this a punishment?” he blurted before he could help it, but even though he was mortified that he asked, his hand didn’t stop its ministrations, thumb still swirling around the sticky precome on his tip. He dug his nail against his slit and groaned at the pinch.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” Rin chuckled. “Why? Do you want it to be? Would that make it better?”
Bay’s brow furrowed as he struggled to think past the agonizing zips of pleasure. They weren’t anywhere near as strong as he needed them to be and it was starting to cloud his judgment. Hell, clearly since he was here, on his knees, his judgment was already shot to shit but whatever.
He could spend an entire lifetime psychoanalyzing himself. He did that to other people for a living, after all. But Bay had long since come to the realization that he didn’t want to. Who cared why he was the way he was and he liked the things he liked? He just did, simple as that. The only reason he hid it was because he knew other people wouldn’t view it the same way.
Just because he didn’t like his job didn’t mean he didn’t need it.
Just because he wasn’t overly fond of his coworkers didn’t mean being alone with no one to talk to would be better.
And just because he got off on the idea of being tossed to the ground like some animal and fucked like one too…
Bay forgot where he’d been going with that thought process.
Oh, right.
