Sebastian ties his own towel around his waist and dries Peter off.
“If I wasn’t so hungry, I could go again.”
“Slut,” Sebastian says fondly.
Peter blushes and grins, feels it fill him up inside. “When are you going to plant my garden?”
“We. When are we going to plant the garden. Two more months, baby.”
They dress and go downstairs.
8
They’ve been together for six months when Sebastian asks him for money.
“Why?” Peter asks. Maybe his question should’ve beenhow much, because he doesn’t mind and he's rich. His father used to have drinks with Nancy Pelosi once a week, and while he didn’t have her "luck" in the stock market, he still made a fortune that he left to his family.
Anyway, he’s so fucking in love with Sebastian he’d give him anything he wants.
He hasn’t told Sebastian he loves him, but he wants to. He’s afraid it’s going to slip out one of these days. If it weren't utterly ridiculous for an almost thirty-six-year-old man to be in love with a boy barely old enough to drink, but here he is.
“Well, you’re rich, right?” Sebastian asks.
“I guess so,” Peter says and eases a plant out of its pot. They're in Peter’s yard, have been gardening all day, and they’re both ready to take a break.
“You could think of it as financial domination… if you want.” He says it in a way that implies he’s aware Peter might want that.And if he does, Sebastian is okay with it. He’s always interested in finding new ways to turn Peter on.
Sebastian doesn't need any help in that department.
Peter huffs. “Funnily enough, that isn’t something I’ve ever thought about.”
Sebastian stands up and tries to stretch out his back, the long line of his shirt rising and exposing his stomach.
Peter can’t help but stare, always transfixed by the beauty of the young man who has not just inserted himself into Peter’s life and bed but has become everything.
He isn’t sure what he is to Sebastian. He doesn’t want to ask. He just knows that Sebastian is always there. He texts, calls, and shows up. He tells Peter he needs to come or to use him, and then he’s there, and Peter is ready and waiting.
Their relationship hasn’t been defined as more than that. He’s met Sebastian’s friends and even his sister. Which was emotional for everyone. He not only got to see Sebastian cry but had been fucked so hard and well that the memory of it still makes him catch his breath in awe.
Sebastian’s hand slides across his own stomach, shirt lifting and exposing more taut skin.
Because he always knows when Peter is watching him.
“I swear you are the easiest thing,” Sebastian says, and Peter blushes, doesn’t even try to deny that he’s been caught looking.
“Only for you,” he says. It’s cheesy.
The young man moves closer, looks down at him, at where Peter has just finished planting some flowers. He stands too close, foot a few inches from Peter’s hand.
Peter goes still, like a rabbit, making the absolute worst decision for a creature that wants to survive.
Sebastian shifts his weight, foot lifting and turning on its heel, settling gently on Peter’s hand. Deliberate and careful. He presses down, Peter’s fingers sinking into the soft dirt.
It doesn’t hurt, but it’s exciting. There’s a promise of hurt. A possibility. Of disregard, the reminder that he is lesser, literally under Sebastian’s boot.
Sebastian has kept his distance all day long, both of them working, but now his lover is here, groin close to Peter’s face, demanding his attention. The shift in Sebastian’s intent makes Peter shiver. He’s always half-hard when Sebastian is around, a constant buzz of want. And then Sebastian will turn his attention to Peter, and that’s it.
Then Peter can’t think about anything until he’s been used. Which almost always means he comes, too.
