Whit tugs on my nipple ring, and I bite back a moan.
“Hey, you two!” a feminine voice says to our left, and I bite down on my bottom lip as Bev stalks toward us.
“Oh, you’re so damn cute together,” Bev says, moving to stand in front of us. In her arms is a stack of flyers.
“Thanks,” I say, beaming up at her.
Whit says nothing.
She quickly grabs a sheet of paper and holds it out to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking at the colorful print lining the front of it.
“It’s a flyer for our LGBTQIA club. Anyone’s welcome, but I thought you may want to join since you’re out now. Each month, we have socials and a support group for those who need it.”
“This looks cool,” I say, folding the paper and placing it in my pocket.
Bev bounces on her feet. “Awesome! We’ve been trying to get Whit to come for ages, but he won’t.”
“I’m busy,” Whit grumbles.
Bev rolls her eyes and then places a hand on her hips. “How do you stand him?”
“He grows on you, and it helps that he gives amazing head.”
Whit coughs behind me, and I snort a laugh.
“Too gross. So, you’ll come to a meeting then?” Bev asks, and I shrug.
“Not sure how I identify. Just know that I like this guy’s cock.”
Whit sighs heavily behind me, and I beam up at Bev, who’s trying to hold back a laugh. “No problem. No labels are needed. Just come and bring your….”
“Boyfriend,” I say without hesitation.
“Cool,” she says and then waves goodbye, handing a flyer to another person as she leaves.
“Seriously?” Whit asks annoyance lacing his tone.
“You can’t get enough of me. Stop being such a party pooper.”
“No one needs to know how much you love my dick.”
“Ugh, stop saying that word. Makes me hard just thinking about it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
I lean my head back, and he presses his lips to mine, and I smile into it. He places a cold hand on my cheek and turns me farther into him until we’re making out like teenagers. And I would have continued to tongue fuck him if a tiny shadow didn’t loom over us, interrupting us.
“Um, hi guys,” a voice says, making me slowly rip my mouth from Whit’s. I stare up at Magnus who’s wearing tight, ankle-length jeans, suspenders, and another midriff. This guy has style, I’ve got to admit. Dresses better than me, that’s for sure.
“Hi, Mag. What’s up?” I ask, trying to be friendly when I just want to get back to smooching, Whit. I’ve got a major case of blue balls at the moment.
“Um…Sem, your cousin,” he looks around, and I see Sem on the other side of the fire staring at us. He looks like a serial killer. “He’s, well, I think he’s following me around, and I’m not quite sure what to do about it.”
“Warned ya,” I say with a shrug.
Mag huffs a nervous laugh. “You did, but I didn’t think you were serious. He’s like lowkey stalking me.”