The tall, broad-shouldered man lay half-reclining against the headboard, upper body bare, only a pair of loose sleep pants hanging low on his hips. He kept shifting rolling to the side, sitting up, lying back down unable to settle, unable to sleep from the moment he stepped into the room.
The conversation with his friend wouldn't leave his head… and neither would the images of someone else crowding his thoughts. Thirty years old, and only now realizing he could get this worked up over something like that. And yet… that cool little body brushing his arm earlier still tingled on his skin, like he'd been hugged and never let go.
Beep.
One hand tapped the projector remote, casting an adult video onto the wall. The heated, frantic coupling onscreen did nothing for him.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
New company, new clips, new scenes. He kept skipping never lasting even a minute until irritation drowned out any trace of lust. Everything he imagined earlier twisted into frustration, and eventually he shut the whole thing off.
In the dim room, his sharp gaze drifted to the ceiling.
His mind, however, was filled with only one person.
He'd never imagined he'd be so far gone he'd start touching himself and see his debtor's face again and again.
Fffft… fffft…
Would that small mouth be cool or warm?
What would those little hands feel like on him?
Would it really help the way Didi claimed? Love and being loved could that really make life better?
Haaah… mmh—
His eyes half-lidded, unfocused, like someone drunk on something dangerous. In his mind's eye, the smaller man crawled onto the bed half dressed, pale skin glowing under cheap red underwear he'd bought him. In the fantasy, that thin fabric was so see-through it barely hid anything. Small hands and knees crept forward between his spread legs, coming right up to where one knee was bent and the other stretched wide. A large, calloused hand slipped under his loose pants, which sagged halfway down his hips. His abs tightened, breath hitching as heat coiled low, building, pulsing.
Ffffup!
His grip tightened around his own rigid length when the imagined Star leaned in arms braced between his thighs, tilting up that pale face before slowly licking his lips.
Lick…
His rough hand clamped down harder, eyes narrowing as he imagined that small face pressing right beside his length, eyes sparkling as the other stared at what he was holding.
Fffft—ffft—ffft… ahhhh…
"Rock…"
Not only the image he could almost hear it: that soft, pleading voice calling out to him in a way he'd never heard before.
Star knelt between his thighs, chest resting on his leg, lips and nose brushing against the heavy heat in his hand. Warm breath ghosted over his most sensitive spot, making his whole body flare with molten heat.
The smaller figure arched beautifully, crawling closer, cheek brushing along his length such a filthy, unstoppable fantasy he couldn't pull away from.
Hot breath trailed up and down his shaft, making the veins throb against the air. Tiny hands lifted from the mattress, settling on his thigh, dangerously close to where he was most vulnerable.
Ahhh…
Ffff—fff—fff—fff—
His wrist tensed, stroking faster as the Star in his mind wrapped soft lips around the tip of his length and moaned his name.
"Rock… Rock, please…"
Haaah— ngh— kiss… kiss…
That small mouth licked from base to tip, tongue dragging slowly before parting and taking him deeper… deeper… until he felt swallowed whole. The slick tongue curled, stroking around the darkened flesh, teeth barely grazing him. Lost in the vision, he didn't notice how tightly he was jerking himself fists pumping hard, squeezing the heavy weight beneath until the tip leaked thickly, dripping in long strings.
Still, the fantasy wouldn't stop. It was like another person entirely was pleasuring him mouth and hands working him over brutally well.
Slap—slap—slap—slap— ah— ah— ngh—!
Then
The small, red-stained lips messy with white curved into a teasing smile.
A husky little whisper followed:
"Rock… you're so dirty…~"
Splatter!
"—Fff—! God—damn it…!
I'm… coming!"
"Rock, are you awake yet~? Huh? Why're you up this early?"
That little menace slipped out of his own room and swooped straight into mine again. I told him to wake me up at ten every morning, not come barging in whenever he wants. And last night I was already wound up jerking off like usual…
Porn didn't help at all, but his damned face sure did.
…Shit.
With that face and that voice stuck between my legs how the hell was I supposed to hold back? Soft features, red lips, sleepy eyes… damn it! Why do I feel this much for him? Even without looking at him, I can picture exactly what he's wearing, how he walks, how he smiles.
That brat ever since I stopped getting close to him and stopped snapping at him like before he's been pushing back by getting even bolder with kinship. He must think it's fun. I should swallow him whole just so he learns his place.
These days I don't even know who's the creditor and who's the debtor. I keep dodging him, keeping a whole meter between us because I don't want to think about the shape, the smell, the sound of him.
His soft hair's getting long, black at the roots now, two-toned but it still doesn't make him any less attractive. Before this, no matter how I looked at him, he seemed plain. Maybe my eyes were blind. Or maybe I never bothered to look. But now? I can't stop staring.
Tap.
The cool back of his hand settles on my forehead without warning. He steps in close so close I can smell his hair, his skin, his breath brushing mine.
"What what the hell are you doing?" Rock stiffens when the smaller man leans in to check his temperature.
"Checking if you've got a fever," Star answers brightly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world even though he's basically sitting on Rock's lap.
"I'm not sick!" Rock growls, eyes darting away with suspicious guilt.
"Then why's your face red? Or… is it just dark?"
"Star, don't piss me off. I'll smack you. Go make coffee!"
"Let me put in your eye drops first~ Your eyes are so dry. Stared at your phone too long, hmm? How d' you want your coffee today? Bitter? Sugar? Milk?"
Before you add anything get your damn milk out of my face first.
The little brat's standing right in front of me while I'm on the sofa, letting him touch my face, pry open my eyes like some eye doctor. His hands are so damn soft. Didn't he say he works all kinds of jobs? Why aren't his hands rough like everyone else's? My gaze slips down again his small chest, then lower, to that ridiculous slim waist.
Guys don't usually have a waist shaped like that. But he does.
"…One spoon of sugar. And milk," I mutter.
I've got to head out today red shirt, black trousers, same as always. Guys like me have only a few outfits we like and stick to. A little jewelry. A luxury car. People stare. But this little debtor? No idea why he's obsessed with white. All white. And his clothes are tiny. And thin.
"What the hell are you wearing? If you're gonna keep wearing shirts that short and that see-through, I'm buying you dog clothes next time."
"It's hot here, Rock. Going outside is scorching. Didi said dressing like this is comfortable and matches your social circle."
"What social circle? Look at what I'm wearing. Look at my damn skin. Look at the tattoos. You think anyone cares about my fashion sense? People just look at whether you're rich, what car you drive, how many houses you own. That's it!"
"But I like white."
"Whatever. Grab me a suit jacket."
"You're wearing contacts why're you putting on sunglasses too?"
"My eyes sting!"
It's not the sun. It's you. Walking beside me stings my eyes. Your white hair, white skin, white clothes good thing your pants are black. And when the hell did you learn to do your makeup so well? It's too perfect. I don't know when I started keeping my thoughts to myself instead of yelling at him.
Don't know when I stopped shouting because he keeps looking up at me every time forcing me to turn away first. And no matter how I avoid him, he grabs my hand saying he "can't see," even though he's wearing freaking contacts.
Everything like this keeps piling up. And the pests keep crawling up to my dog whenever we're at company events. I can't let him out of my sight everyone keeps asking for his number. Look at his damn shirt it's so thin and wide, and short as hell. One gust of wind and I'll see everything…Is he trying to seduce rich guys to pay off his debt or what?
"Star!"
I call out without caring who's around.
"What is it, Rock?"
"You. I need you."
"…Huh?"
"I need you to guide me. My contact lens fell out take me to the bathroom."
"Oh, okay."
"Star."
"Yes,"
"Can I get your.."
"No! Move. I need to piss before I unload it in your mouth."
"O-okay! Let's go, let's go."
If Star's the dog, I'm the stick beating off the other dogs. Every damn event every single one. Since he got a makeover and Didi started teaching him social etiquette, he walks straight, speaks up, interacts confidently which is fine. I just hate the parasites hitting on him. Annoying. Every last one of them. Scram!
"Rock, eye drops first. The meeting's gonna be hours. Will you even see the projector?"
The white pup slings the bag I bought him over his shoulder the bag he uses only for my eye care stuff. He has nothing of his own in there just tissues, cotton pads, eye drops, cooling patches. All for me. We've been together nearly two months now.
His so-called boyfriend? I've blocked that bastard in every way possible he can't get near this shorty again. Star hasn't shown a shred of longing for him either, which is perfect. Because I work him twenty-five hours a day.
If he still has time to think about someone else, I'll be damned.
I'm not letting him go anywhere. Who's gonna stop me?
Having him makes life easy no family crap, no bullshit.
I want him.
Well…
I want him to serve me. He's conveniently compact, that's all.
"Hello, Mom~ Star's doing great. How are you and Dad?"
The soft, sugary voice drifted from the balcony as Star chatted and giggled into the phone. The debtor glowed so bright under the sun it made Rock who'd been pacing by for the tenth time perk his ears like a hunting dog.
But the little brat paid zero attention, just kept cooing at his family.
Fair skin, white hair, and clothes so white he practically reflected light Star had been standing there twisting side-to-side for a while now. He had asked for permission to call, but Rock still wanted to know whether this idiot planned to sneak around with someone else again.
He had no idea why he cared only that he didn't want the kid to stay stupid forever. Someone might accuse him of keeping a clueless lackey. He'd gone to the trouble of helping Star change his appearance so much he could probably get ten new partners if he wanted. But if he dared go crawling back to that lousy ex, then forget food grass would be enough.
Cough! cough!
COUGH—COUGH-COUGH!