“Yeah, but I thought you meant your fingers, not a toy,” he says.
“Toys.”I kiss his shoulder again, then lie back down.
He turns around to look at me so fast, I’m almost concerned he hurt his neck.“Toys?”he asks, emphasizing thes.“As in plural?”
“Yeah, there’s a prostate massager in there somewhere, too.”
His cheeks flush crimson, eyes darken, and a soft whine escapes him.Then, he pounces on me.His body covers mine as his hands bracket my head.I hum in surprise, but it’s muffled when his lips crash onto mine.I don’t have time to reciprocate before he’s pulling away.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
“I take it you’re interested in my toys?”I ask, unable to stop myself from teasing him just a little.
He nods and kisses me again, more tender this time.
“You can use them on me if you want,” I offer.
He groans and gives me another kiss.“Would you…”
He trails off, and I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.So I prompt, “Would I what?”
“Would you use them on me?”he asks, his voice just above a whisper.
I blink at him.“You’d be interested in that?”He nods.“Have you ever experimented with penetration before?”
He shakes his head.“And please stop saying penetration.”
“Penetration,” I say flatly, then laugh when he gives me a little shove.
“But if you like it enough to have two different toys for it, I’d be interested in trying.”He pulls his lip between his teeth for a moment.“If you’d be into that, that is.If you’re only interested in bottoming, that would be fine with me—”
I cup his cheek to calm him, then guide his lips to mine for a gentle kiss.“I’d definitely be into that.”
He smiles, then kisses me one more time before propping himself up.“I’m going to put on underwear, but then do you want to get under the covers?”
“Yes, please.”
We get partially dressed and slide under the covers.The room is quiet for a while as we enjoy being wrapped up in each other.I’m almost falling asleep when Parker nuzzles his nose into my neck.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
I hum questioningly.
“It was good, right?”he asks.“Like, I wasn’t imagining it?”
I wonder how long that question was knocking around in his brain before he finally asked it.“You weren’t imagining it,” I say, punctuating the statement with a kiss to his forehead.
“And this wasn’t… You want this to happen again, right?”
“I do.”
“But not just this?”
“What do you mean?”I ask, not sure I know where he’s going with these questions.
“Like dates and stuff—being boyfriends.Do you want that?”
“Sweetheart, I told you, I’m crazy about you.Yes, I want that.I want all of it,” I say, wanting there to be zero room for him to misinterpret me.
