“You’re gonna get that yard sorted out or you’ll be in a cock cage till Halloween.”
“You… um, you think we’ll still be doing this at Halloween?”
“Do you not want to?” Sebastian asks, then moves away so he can rummage around in Peter’s fridge.
“We just met. This is a lot is all. Halloween is six months away.” There are marks on Sebastian’s back, red marks from Peter’s fingers, and he has no idea when that happened.
“Yeah. I think there’s a fifty percent chance I’ll leave here and you’ll tell me you don’t want to see me anymore. I don’t want that to happen,” he says, giving Peter a quick up and down leer. “So I’m going to come in here, I’m going to utterly fuck with you and your life, and then I’ll leave, like a villainous, male Mary Poppins, and you’ll either decide you fucking love it or you won’t.”
“Fifty percent?” Peter asks.
Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s one percent. Feels like too fucking much, whatever it is. My instincts are telling me this is good. That you want this. But we’ll see,” he says, turning back to the pan. He frowns. “If it isn’t clear, I hope you want it. I hope, somehow, you’re thinking this is everything you never knew you wanted.”
“Is that… is that what you’re thinking?”
“No. I’ve known for a long time what I wanted. Years. And I know how difficult it is to find. Impossible. You think beautiful, submissive male masochistic sluts who are intelligent and easy to be around are plentiful?”
Another piece of French toast goes on a plate. “Get the bacon out of the oven,” he orders and puts in a new slice of bread.
Peter gets the bacon out using a towel. He sets it on the counter, and the grease splatters onto his arm. “Fuck,” he says, more out of reflex than actual pain.
“Shit. Are you okay?” Sebastian is suddenly there, holding his arm, getting it under the water and then grabbing an ice pack. He puts it in a towel and presses it to Peter’s arm. “Come here. Let’s get you comfortable. You have to be careful, sweetheart.”
He tries to lead Peter out of the kitchen.
“No, I want to stay with you. It’s fine.”
“It isn’t fine. Grease burns hurt. I guess I had the temperature too high. No more bacon duty for you,” he says, kissing his cheek. He’s still holding the ice pack to Peter’s arm.
It’s overwhelming.
“It wasn’t that bad. It was just surprising,” he says, wishing Sebastian was inside him. Still. Just huge and invasive and demanding all of his attention. Sebastian’s body surrounding him, covering him.
“Let me look. I’ll decide.”
Peter shows him. It’s a little pink but fine. He doesn’t think he can even feel it. But Sebastian is looking at him like Peter might lose the arm. As if Peter is really hurt, and he is going to make everything okay.
“Kiss it better?” Peter asks. His voice is fucked. It’s close to begging or something.
Sebastian meets his gaze. Too damned clever. Too smart.
“Let me look, baby doll. Let’s see. Poor you. You just need to be taken care of, don’t you? After you get hurt? Pretty baby,” he says and kisses Peter’s arm gently.
He kisses the burn, and Peter whimpers.
Sebastian kisses down his arm to his hand and then drops down to his knees, his head close to Peter’s hard cock. It twitches, pre-come welling at the tip. He’s hard, and he doesn’t know when that happened either. Maybe the burn. Maybe the ice pack. He’s pretty sure Sebastian does know the exact moment Peter started to get aroused from being hurt and then coddled.
Sebastian kisses his arm again. Licks the skin, the flat of his tongue laving over the mark.
“Please? I?—“
“What?” Sebastian asks, blinking up at him.
Peter shrugs. He can’t go further.
“Do you need it? Is that it? You’re too hard, and I’m right here. You’ve given me so much, and now you need it. Is that it?”
“Yeah, um, yes.”
