“Why not?” he asked.
“Because you’re…young.” I latched onto it as the first thing that came to mind.
“I thought you were nineteen,” he said, eyebrows scrunching.
“I am.”
“I’ll be eighteen soon.”
“You’re…innocent,” I said.
He leaned toward me, practically on his hands and knees now. “I bet you could show me a thing or two, oh wise one.” He licked his lips with his little, pink tongue, and I swore to God, I was not built to defend myself against this sort of attack.
“Joshua, I’m the first guy you’ve met in years who’s not a blood relation. I promise you there are other fish in the sea.”
“Do you like boys?” he asked.
“Irrelevant.”
“It’s pretty relevant to me.”
“I’m not coming near you until you straighten up and behave.”
He sighed and slouched back on both hands. The dress rode up in the front, offering me a glimpse of his bulge, which was definitely… bulging. He saw where my gaze had landed and lifted the dress higher, showing off the outline of his erection.
“Stop that,” I said as if the words had been scraped from my lungs.
“Why?” he asked, cupping his cock and balls with one hand and squeezing them over the thin material of his underwear.
“Because it’s inappropriate,” I said, sounding like a dad for real.
“But it hurts,” he said with a needy, little whine.
“Then go to the bathroom and take care of it.” I stared at his eyes, only his eyes.
“Want to come with me?” he asked with a coy smile.
Yes, yes, yes.
“No.”
He sighed, rolled onto his feet, and padded over to the bathroom, the pink soles of his feet flashing in the dark. Like the perv I was, I waited until he’d gone inside, then stood outside the door where I listened to the sounds of him beating off–skin slapping skin–along with his quiet groans and gasps of pleasure. “Cipher,” I thought I heard him whisper with a breathy moan, but it was probably just my lurid imagination. I turned around and pressed my shoulder blades against the door.
Fuck me.
By the time he came back out, I was in my former position, rolling up a sleepytime cigarette and giving away absolutely nothing. “Feel better?” I asked.
“A little,” he said with a bashful smile. “I’d rather you do it for me, though.”
I coughed (more like choked) then cleared my throat. “I don’t think so.”
He shrugged and curled up in his little nest of pillows and blankets. The damned cat made itself comfortable as well, both of them rolled up together like a cinnamon bun. He let out a big yawn and said, “Now, will you sleep here with me?”
“In a few minutes.”
I waited until I knew he was asleep, then stared at the curve of his ass, where the silky material clung to his juicy peach of a rump. I studied him until the shape of him was burned into my brain and I could draw him from memory alone.
There was no harm in looking.
