Mar. 22nd, 2015

prodigalflame: (Default)
Two nights ago, John had signalled a time out on account of how tired he'd been after teaching three classes and catching up with his load of marking. Last night, he'd begged off with a headache and a wan smile. Both nights, there had been snuggling, and kissing, but nothing too intense. It wasn't that he didn't want Bobby - quite the opposite, he wanted his boyfriend all the fucking time, he wanted him in every goddamn room in the house and across half of London and he wanted to bend over the couch and practically order Bobby to fuck him hard more often than not.

Which explained why movie night that night involved John being hard and uncomfortable and sitting apart on the sofa, trying to disguise his boner with a bowl of popcorn. He knew Bobby wouldn't be ashamed of things, wouldn't judge him, would never judge him. (Okay, he might judge him for some of John's kinkier fantasies, but he wasn't going there. Yet.) And that made it worse, because John knew that the only person who was liable to embarrassed about what a slutty bottom on poppers he'd become was himself.

He didn't know what to do about that. He didn't know how not to be embarrassed guy with awkward boner.
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