NSFW (MxM) ✓

• 17

He takes my hand in both of his and smiles at me. "As much as I want to go to pound town right now, I'm still exhausted from yesterday. How about we recharge until tonight. I'm starved." I smirk, kissing his thigh mindlessly.

"Okay. I'll make breakfast."

Ben nods. "I'll watch Edinburgh local television. I'm intrigued." I mirror his nod and stand from the bed. We both toss one of my t-shirts on, the one on Ben covering most of his middle down to the bottom hem of his briefs. I lift his shirt a little and put my hand to his abdomen. He giggles a, "What," at me.

I push into the firm muscle with my thumbs, garnering laughter from both of us. "Those ab workouts already helped. It's getting pretty tight."

Ben rolled his eyes, punching at my abs. "I'll never achieve that carton of golden eggs you have." I toss my head back in a laugh, following him downstairs. Speaking of eggs, I decide to whip up some omelets for the both of us, with a side of bacon. And, guiltily, some bacon sprinkled in the omelet mix. I like bacon. I hate that the kitchen isn't open-bar, so I'm alone in here. Just when I thought that, Ben creeps up behind me and wraps arms around my waist.

"Hello," he whispers.

"Howdy." He grunts at me, tossing his booty onto the counter perpendicular to the stove I'm working on and kicks his legs adorably. Fuck, he's adorable.

"What are we doing today?" he asks. I shrug, holding up my hands and panning to the house.

"I guess you see it. I've got a car here we can take into town, but I didn't really plan anything up to this point." He shrugs in return, glancing around at the house.

"You still have to give me that tour." Oh yeah. I nod, finishing up our breakfast and plating it. I pour us some orange juice and set the table. Ben hurries over and grabs his fork, ready to dig in.

"Ah, ah, ah," I scold, holding up a finger. "We say grace before we eat, child. For we are very religious."

"Yes, of course," he plays along, clasping his hands. "Dear Satan–"

He's cut off by both of our laughter. "Dumbass," I say, biting into my bacon.

—————

"That's pretty much the bedrooms and bathrooms. Other than the living room and kitchen, there is a laundry room, and a basement. We'll go there now. It's really cool." He nods rapidly, following me to the stairs down there. When we enter, the centerpiece of the room shines underneath it's hanging light.

"You have a pool table! Bet I'm gonna smoke you right now," Ben challenges.

I roll my nonexistent sleeves up to my elbows. "Yeah? I'd like to see you try."

Ben jogs toward the wall where the pool sticks are, only to stop and look at the table. On the edge of the table is something most disturbing and possibly panic inducing.

"Calvin, there's– there's a thong on the table!"

"I-I-I can explain that!"

"Seriously, the last time you were here, you hooked up with some chick!"

"N-no?" I try. He folds his arms, scrunching his brow.

"Oh, so this size extra small, leopard print thong— made for women— fits your ass?" He read the tag but refused to touch it. I run the back of my head.

"In my defense, I haven't been here in, like, three years. Those were crazy days, okay?" He calms down a bit, walking toward the staircase.

"Okay, just– you get rid of it." Then he goes upstairs again. I sigh dejectedly, taking a pool stick from the wall and lift the old, possibly putrid thong from the table and toss it in the bin, scoffing.