Parker lifts his head with a confused sort of look. “Know what?”
“Obliviousness is genetic, I see.”
I leave Parker in the garage to shower off the night. At least there’s no bloody laundry to do this time. After my shower, I curl up in bed naked, and pull up my phone. How can a hand-drawn picture of me choking Reid be so fucking hot. I wish it was still early enough in the evening for me to go over to Reid’s place, sneak into his room, take him fucking apart piece by piece. Instead, I send Reid a screenshot of my STD panel as a good morning present.
There was no replyfrom Reid when I woke up. I try to not think too much of it. I’ve got two classes on Tuesdays, both senior-level required engineering courses. The autumn air is crisp when I step out of the engineering building in the early afternoon. Behind the building is a small quad that students use to study between classes.
I head that way out of instinct, some unknown force telling me it’s not yet time to go home. My instinct pays off when my gaze immediately lands on Reid. He’s sprawled out on a blanket in the quad, all by himself, sketchbook on the ground with a graphite pencil caught between his slim fingers. As if feeling the weight of my stare, his gaze lifts to search me out. A small private smile graces his lips when his eyes land on me.
He wiggles his eyebrows slightly, then returns to his sketchbook. I stomp over, toss my backpack to the ground, then join him on the blanket big enough for two. I wonder if he planned this, but surely not, since there’s no way he knows my course load. And his next class isn’t until this afternoon. I know his courses, of course.
“You’re here early,” I point out.
Reid lifts one hand. “You’re not going to pretend you don’t have my class schedule memorized?”
I shrug. “What’s the point?”
Reid rubs at the paper with the edge of his dainty pinkie. “I know your schedule too, just so you know. You think I really sit out here daily in the quad wearing tight jeans that perfectly shape my ass?”
“I hope not.”
His eyes practically roll back into his head. “You’re delusional, but cute, so I give you that.”
“You didn’t reply to my text,”I whine.
Reid rolls his eyes again, but this time he scoffs as well. He pulls a sheet of paper from the back of his sketchbook and hands it to me. Our fingers brush as I take the paper, forcing a vivid red blush to paint his creamy cheeks. Mmm. I hold Reid’s most recent STD panel in my hands showing a clean bill of health.
I clear my throat awkwardly. “No condoms, then?”
“Whatever you want,” Reid replies.
“We should talk through what we both want.”
Reid hums absentmindedly as he continues to sketch in his notebook. A breeze blows over us, carrying the scent of Reid toward me. God, he smells fucking delicious. I want to eat him up. Want to hurt him too. If he’ll let me.
“I like breath play, obviously,” I say softly, careful of people around us.
Reid snorts. “You don’t say?”
“I like to mark and bite. I also like to control. What I say, you do, unless you color out. I don’t do fake rape, it doesn’t turn me on, but I like to fuck hard and make you oversensitive, maybe try for multiple orgasms. Edging is great too. None of that daddy-and-boy crap, we’re the same age. I just want you to do what I say and enjoy it. Also, not averse to public sex if you need it.”
Reid mostly ignores me, just continues to draw. For some reason, that sets me on edge, makes me feel the need to keep talking.
“I won’t let other people touch you, not while you’re mine. No drugs and no self-harm.”
Now I feel like an idiot with the way Reid is just continuingto sketch, totally ignoring everything I’m saying. I can feel my eyes start to twitch with annoyance. My fists clench and unclench of their own accord, looking for something to grab, or someone even. The sun breaks through the clouds, making Reid’s almost white hair glow golden for a moment, despite the hints of light pink throughout. I want to bury my fingers in his hair and yank, make him cry, make him beg for me to take him hard until he can’t think of anything but me. Only ever me.
Reid finishes his drawing and tosses the sketchbook into my lap. It’s us. Reid is face down in the bed, face lost in pleasure with tears streaming down his face, as I loom over him, my fingers digging painfully into the meat of his thighs.
“Is this what you want?” I ask, almost out of breath.
Reid supports his chin with his hand, giving me the most disarming smile possible. That urge to make him cry overwhelms me again.
“I only bottom,” Reid whispers. “You can call me princess, call me slut, call me a piece of shit, I don’t really care. Just make me feel used.”
Fuck. “You liked it when I called you a good boy, though.”
Reid looks away from me then. After a few moments of stilted silence, Reid abruptly sits up, snatches the sketchbook from me, and shoves it into his backpack. Okay, what did I say? Was it the good boy? I stand up to chase after him, but he just rolls up the blanket and shoves it into his backpack.
