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Summary
“I said look at me.” He cupped under Sebastian's chin. His smile was corrupted, more a sneer than anything. “Aww, come on Pretty Boy, don't you have anything to say?”
Sebastian tugged away from the hands and backed himself into the wall of the house. “Shut up! Leave me alone.”
“No one's going to hear you.” He stalked a step closer and his boots left heavy imprints in the mud. “No one actually cares.”
Tears didn't well up, not yet. But they would. This particular farmer had enough practice at making pretty boys cry. The smile twisted again, and he almost could be seen as happy.