Page 19

I’m tall and well-built, so I catch a few people’s eye, but I keep my head down as I make my way through the building. The plain black top covers my tattooed arms, so I don’t stand out all that much. It actually gives me a thrill to be here, on the prowl for my boy. I can almost smell him—fresh cotton and a hint of almond.

I regret waiting so long for his move. Now I’m starving and walking from bookshelf to bookshelf like some maniac, but when I remember the way his legs spread so eagerly for me, and the pink pucker of his hole taking my dick, all I can think of is that I want to lick him. Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?

He can’t, or he wouldn’t be trying to reject me.

I go through the classical literature section first, but since my boy isn’t here, I run up the stairs, all the way to the fourth floor, where ceilings are low, and the endless rows of shelves—even dustier than in my previous hunting ground. Literary theory it is. Will I find him cooped up with a book in one of the upholstered nooks scattered throughout the building? Is he making notes by one of the many desks? Or is he browsing books somewhere in the far corners of this labyrinth of paper and wood?

I exhale, looking left and right, but I follow my instinct and stroll through the quiet floor. I only spot one person hiding behind a pile of old volumes, but it’s an older guy, not the pretty twink with the legs of a gazelle and the cutest porcelain-smooth face I’ve seen.

My walk becomes a zig-zag as I narrow down my search, and I almost miss him at first, but there he is. Sitting in a reading nook in the far off corner of this unpopulated floor, he’s engrossed in some book, while another five lie in a tidy pile by his feet. The bench he occupies is built into a shallow niche hidden between two massive wooden bookshelves, and it gives me a thrill that it’s a dead end.

He can, of course, leave whenever he wants to, but he will want to stay. I’ve got no doubt about it.

He’s leaning his head against the wall, so engrossed in his reading that he doesn’t even notice me approaching, just swipes his slim finger over the page to turn it. The days are becoming colder and he’s wearing a black turtleneck sweater on the baggier side, but his pants, as I hoped, fit him snugly.

He’s a work of art.

Pale as a meringue and just as sweet.

“There you are,” I say in a low voice as I slow my pace, approaching him from the main aisle.

He stares up at me, startled like a bunny at the sight of a wolf. His eyes are a striking pale green, and I love seeing his pupils widen.

“Wh… What are you doing here?” he utters, looking around as if we were already fucking and he needs to make sure the coast is clear.

“What do you think, baby boy?” I ask, towering over his sitting, slender form. The bench is low, and if he leaned forward, his face would be perfectly level with my crotch.

There are no cameras here, are there?

My mind swirls with the memories of his mouth wide open for my cock.

He hugs the book to his chest, and a flush rises to his face as if someone spilled blood in milk.

“You… You brought my shoe?”

Oh, he’s adorable.

I snap my fingers with a fake scowl. “Damn, I forgot about the shoe.” But then I’m leaning down and resting my hands on the edges of the niche, bringing my face closer to those wide eyes, hot cheeks, and quivering lips. “Coming all the way here for nothing.”

And there it is. Despite all those protestations by text, he arches to me and gives my lips a shy little peck, as if he didn’t beg me for cock three days ago.

“You smell nice,” Aaron whispers, and that’s exactly what I want to hear from him.

From now on, I’ll be his drug, and he doesn’t even know it yet.

My toes curl in my boots, because I’ve already won this game. He won’t retreat, because the truth is he doesn’t want to. “So do you,” I whisper, rubbing my nose against his as I breathe in his sweet scent. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you.”

“You have?”

I can just about hear his heart speeding up, and his knees slide together. When I’m around him, I get so hyper focused on every little move he makes, on every little detail. Like how his hair is in a bit of disarray or that he’s wearing a slim metal ring on his pinkie today. I want to suck on that finger and take the jewelry as a souvenir.

There’s no point in waiting anymore. I grab his chin and dive in as his mouth drops open to let in my tongue. And then, I’m tasting the soda he must have had earlier, and a bit of mint, and I lick across his palate until he moans into my lips.

I’m taking a risk doing this in a place where anyone could see us, but I don’t want to drag him off to the restrooms. I’m way too horny for that.

His gentle fingers trail up my forearms, but his touch is as tentative as if I had butterflies landing on me. I love that he lets me take the lead.

And I kinda love that I’m his first.