The nonnegotiable truth is that I can give him more than Clara ever will.
Yes, he’ll never admit it since he has a case of pathological denial and all that jazz, but I’m not leaving him alone until he does.
Love the way he hides and pretends he didn’t moan, groan, and get hard for me. And how he likes to forget that he came all over my hand and cock.
If Brandon is not gay, I’ll chuck myself down a fucking cliff.
Well, let’s also include bi, because…eh… I’m not in the mood to die before I get another taste of him.
Or a few.
Several is my preferred count.
Depends on how open he is to the prospect.
I’ve got to say, his case of denial runs pretty deep, and I’m not sure how to get him out of his own ass—something a lot more pleasurable needs to go there.
But I digress.
Seriously, Kolya. Thinking of fucking him won’t get you there faster. Let my brain solve this issue for once.
Short of getting him drunk again, I’m lost. I fucking love drunk Bran, by the way, would vote for him to be the official version in the next election.
I’m kidding. I’m never lost.
Sooner or later, I’ll wear him down.
I always do.
No one can resist my undivided attention and constant pushing and shoving and annoying the fucking bejesus out of them.
It never happens with fuck buddies, but then again, I don’t usually chase fuck buddies. To an extent, lotus flower is an exception in many ways.
He can surround himself with walls and I’ll demolish them one at a time.
Every day, I join him for that morning run, without his approval, of course, and bite down a chunk of his steel-like control and uptight, standoffish personality.
Whenever he starts getting agitated, I get closer and call him lotus flower, Prince Charming, my dude, and his personal favorite, baby.
That one usually drives him crazy and forces him to lose his temper. Other times, he opts to ignore me, but I revel in the flush that creeps up his fair complexion and tints his ears.
I revel in how he steps out of the mansion, watching his surroundings with a careful expression, waiting for me to jump out from whatever nook I’ve chosen that day.
My all-time favorite, hands down, is when he does a quick look at me, noticing my shorts for the day, my half-naked chest, and how I choose to tie my hair.
He pretends to be angry about my constant state of half nudity, his face caught in that eternal snobbish expression, but he notices things. He looks at me with those needy eyes that beg me to do bad things to him.
Lotus flower is such a cock-fucking-tease, but I’ll make him come around.
Even if it’s the last thing I do.
Am I too obsessed? I don’t think I am. This is pretty much a good amount, in my humble opinion.
Now, I’ve never played this type of intense push-and-pull game before, but that’s what makes this a lot more thrilling.
Brandon is making himself into a war that I’ll conquer and bring to his fucking knees. Literally.
So I don’t mean to be a stalker or anything. Okay, kidding, I totally do, but I’m in REU’s stadium to watch some boring sport called lacrosse.
I swear to fucking God I never paid attention to this sport until now. Seems like a failed marriage between hockey, cricket, and football, just saying. Our football. Not the European one.
But then again, Bran chose to play the sport, so who am I to judge?
“Why are we here, Niko?” Jeremy asks from beside me, flashing glares at the people surrounding us, who won’t stop staring.
So, apparently, two big, tatted guys stand out in the midst of polka-dotted dresses, feathered hats, and tulle umbrellas. Even though I went through all the trouble to wear a damn T-shirt. The audacity of these motherfuckers.
Of course Bran would play a sport that only prim-and-proper people would attend.
My friend kicks my foot, shifting in the chair that’s definitely not made for bulky guys like us.
“Shush, Jer. I’m concentrating.”
“You wouldn’t do that even if you were paid.”
“I would, too,” I say, and he raises a brow. “Fine, I wouldn’t. This is different.”
“How different, because I’m about to punch some Karens.”
“Different enough that even I won’t punch anyone.”
“Damn. Who are you and what have you done to my friend?”
I snicker. “Just stay there as my backup.”
“Backup?”
“If anyone asks, you brought me here, not the other way around. Can’t look too fucking desperate.”