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Summary
The door swung open and, as Khaotung expected, First was hovering awkwardly in front of the sinks, his shirt clutched so tightly in his balled fist that his knuckles had turned white. Behind Khaotung, the door shut with slow finality. Khaotung leaned against its cool surface, his hands behind his back, and looked First over; surreptitiously, he flicked the deadbolt into place.
Pink faced and ashamed, years fell off First in waves, reducing him to an awkward teenage boy again. A big, muscular teenage boy but one all the same.
He didn’t–or couldn’t–meet Khaotung’s gaze, bottom lip back between teeth.
“Lift up your shirt,” Khaotung hummed idly into the air. “Show me.”
If possible, First’s face went a darker red and hesitatingly, he raised the shirt up, hand trembling. His cock tented his gym shorts obviously and he shifted from one leg to the other out of nervous anticipation. Like a curious feline, Khaotung’s head tilted and he kept his face neutral even while his insides bubbled up with hunger.
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