Fawned - A PetPlay Romance Ch. 02

He didn't remember the bed feeling as soft as it did when he was on all fours. In that moment, though, it felt like cozying up on a cloud.

Wrapped up in a black blanket, Barnaby watched as Gil came back from the bathroom separating his dorm from another. He had a damp washcloth in his hand and that warm smile on his face - one that almost seemed to belong to a different person entirely, compared to the wolf that had been grinning up at him minutes ago.

He sat gingerly at the edge of the bed, pressing the cloth to the boy's forehead and sweeping it down the side of his face.

It was cool to the touch, and Barnaby tilted his head to get the most of it. "Thank you," he whispered, "This is really nice of you."

Gil bent down, placing a kiss on his cheek. "Seeing as you've given me just about everything-" He proceeded by wiping the sweat from the boy's chest. "It's the least I can do." Next, he pulled back the blanket, gesturing with the rag below Barnaby's waist. "May I..?"

The boy nodded, heart skipping beats as he was exposed once again. His legs spread to be more accessible, and he shivered while Gil cleaned lube off his thighs and asshole. It must've been a bit of a mess, judging by the time the other took.

He didn't pause until he - accidentally or otherwise - added pressure when cupping Barnaby's balls, making the boy gasp.

There was a hint of concern in Gil's teasing tone when he asked, "Still sensitive?" His hand didn't move an inch.

Barnaby gulped and chewed at his lower lip, struggling not to squirm or think how he'd let Gil do whatever he pleased with his body, if he wanted. But that was wishful thinking, probably. So the boy merely said, "I'm fine. Just that it's...cold."

Gil hummed and finished the task with a quick swipe up Barnaby's shaft.

It took all of the boy's remaining willpower not to buck his hips into that rag.

"Should be all good to go," said Gil, draping the blanket over the other once again before getting to his feet.

Barnaby's brows furrowed, and he rolled onto his side to watch him grab two water bottles from the fridge. 'Go'..? He supposed it did make sense. Since he'd Fulfilled His Purpose, there really wasn't any need for him to stick around. Still, his fingers curled into the blanket.

By the time Gil turned back to him, he'd be sitting upright, wincing as he slowly pulled his boxers and pants on. "You're gonna sleep in those?"

'Sleep'? Barnaby paused, almost too hesitant to look at the other handing him his bottle. "You said..." He cleared his throat, trying to make himself somewhat comprehensible, "I was 'good to go'. So I'm...going?"

Gil's expression was becoming increasingly difficult to read, prompting Barnaby to take the water bottle and scramble for his shirt to avoid his stare. "-No, I didn't mean right now. You can sleepover, I'm not kicking you out."

Unfortunately, those words didn't fully register until Barnaby was completely dressed, standing away from the bed. As tempting as it was, he'd already managed to convince himself that the moment was up. If he continued to act in a rush, he could leave without it tugging at his heart. Or, that was what he told himself.

"Thank you, but...I really should go." He figured there was time to pause in front of the other - seeing as he stood between him and the door anyway. Sweeping Gil's pants off the floor, Barnaby handed them to him with a smile. "This was...fun. For...me at least, but I really hope it was for you too because - because you were really good, and really, really sweet, and it wasn't what I was expecting, but it was like, so much better! So-" The boy paused to catch his breath, realizing, in that moment, that the taller male was looking at him, perhaps - fondly? There was something sad - maybe - in those gray eyes, though. But then, Barnaby thought, he was likely projecting.

"Just - Thank you. For everything." Standing on his toes, he pecked Gil on the cheek and tried to move around him.

He'd almost made it out the door when the other's voice stopped him. "You don't have to be a stranger," Gil said, in the process of dressing himself. "If you see me around, say hi, or...y'know. You can still message me whenever. If you feel like you need more practice-" He looked him over and shrugged.

"I'll-" Barnaby held onto the doorknob, sort of shifting on his feet. Shit. Was he already inviting him back-? "I'll think about it. But thank you. Again. Goodnight, Gil." A flash of a nervous smile, and he was gone.

He supposed this was the fabled Walk of Shame - the trip back to his own dorm building where he was meant to reflect and feel guilt or regret for what had taken place. In reality, there were a few times he found himself trying to rub away a grin at the fresh memory.

It would've been one thing for Gil to toss him out the second they were done, and maybe a part of him expected that, based on what little he knew about Hook Up Culture. But cleaning him off afterwards? Implying they could meet again..? He had to wonder if perhaps it wasn't so uncommon, after all. If so, he might be able to develop of sort of appreciation for those relationships.

His mind spinning from one thought to the next, he arrived at his dorm nearly 15 minutes later, greeted by darkness. There was a single light - the glow of a laptop screen illuminating a pale face framed by the most unironically dorky glasses imaginable.

"Did you move at all today?" Barnaby huffed, flicking on the light switch.

The other boy in the room groaned from his bed, immediately rubbing at his eyes. "Who are you - my mom?"

Barnaby rolled his eyes, but bounded over to the strawberry blond, stationing himself directly behind the laptop. "I might as well be if I have to keep looking out for you like this."

"Right," that small boy scoffed, "So be a good mom and be proud of me for trying to get this friggin' paper done." He almost turned his attention back to Said Assignment, but when Barnaby didn't budge, raised a brow at him instead. "What?"

He could feel a proud smile spreading on his face, though maybe he was a little too eager by jutting a hand out to him over the laptop. It would have been better to address it another time, probably, but after all that had happened, he was feeling daring. Who knew when that would happen again. "$100, Jensen."

Jensen snorted, his expression stuck between confusion and annoyance.

Barnaby persisted, "Our deal..?"

A few seconds later, and the realization appeared to dawn on him, Jensen's mismatched, blue-brown eyes widening. "No-" He shut his laptop, leaning forward as if ready to hop off the bed. His brows furrowed, and his lips twitched. To Barnaby, it read as his roommate about to make some smart-ass remark, if not for disbelief leaving him at a loss. "No way - With who?!"

Barnaby's hand lowered to fiddle with the hem of his polo. With how the other seemed to be advancing, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander. "His name was Gil."

"From-?! Class? Work?"

"From-" He tugged lightly at his collar, as Gil had. Shamefully, he admitted, "Uranus."

"The app? No fucking way-" Now Jensen was the one with his palm out. "I need proof."

Barnaby kissed his teeth but reluctantly pulled out his phone, opening the app with Gil's profile. He held out the screen to show him but didn't dare let go. "That's him."

Jensen's jaw dropped, and he reeled back. "Gil Connolly?! No-" He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall behind him. "He doesn't count."

Barnaby pocketed the phone once more, his courage rapidly wilting. "What? Why not?"

"Gil would sleep with practically anyone," his roommate went on. "The whole point is it's supposed to be a challenge."

"Well-" Barnaby took a deep breath. He had to knock on his chest, as if to beat the resulting sting down. Of course Gil got around. He already figured that. Just maybe it felt nice to think that That Specific Care and Attention was meant only for him. At least that night. "You didn't say that. All you said was whoever loses it first-"

Jensen sneered. "I know what I said." It'd be another moment in awkward silence before he added, "Whatever. I'll go to the ATM tomorrow. God, you couldn't wait until next week?"

Barnaby tried to force a smile, quickly putting two and two together. There was a party coming up that his roommate had mentioned on more than one occasion. One that made him drag Barnaby to the local Halloween store to 'help' pick out a costume. Jensen had left with Sexy Dark Side Lord - something he claimed he could play off as a joke but would also attract 'The Right People'. Barnaby bought a deer onesie, still unsure if he'd actually be attending the party or not.

With nothing else to say - and deciding he was done with thinking and analyzing for the night - he was about to turn to his own bed when Jensen threw out another question: "Is he actually any good?"

Barnaby's face flared up in an instant. "I-" He didn't hesitate to turn off the light switch then. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"He was good to me." Barnaby changed into his pajamas and retreated to his bed, flinching somewhat when he laid on his back. "Nice...and really gentle. But I don't know - is that 'good'?"

Jensen huffed, and the light from his laptop once again filled his side of the room. "Sounds boring to me."

Barnaby pouted. "Why - What are people saying about him? Oh. And-" He perked up just a little. "How do you know him?"

"We had LGBT History together last spring. Shocking," the other grumbled, shrugging, "Forgot he was there half the time, honestly. But according to the Resident Homosexuals, he's a freak."

Barnaby waited for more, but that seemed to be all Jensen had to offer, as he resumed typing away. 'A freak?' It was hard to imagine from the Gil he'd been introduced to. But then again, he guessed, if he really wanted to find out -

Well, he could always ask around, by the sounds of it.

At last, he sighed, rolling over to face the wall. His bed wasn't anywhere near as warm or comfortable as Gil's, but he had to try.

"Don't stay up too late," was the last thing he muttered to Jensen.

"Whatever you say, mom."

~~~~~~

He'd managed to get through the day.

He went to class as usual, took notes, and never spoke Gil Connolly's name. Jensen at least had enough decency not to ask any more questions. No one pointed out anything different about him, and for once, he was grateful for the lack of attention. No one else knew what he'd done.

But then it was time for his nightshift at the cafe. Of course, he was the only person on duty, and once midnight hit, there wasn't another soul in sight. He put on the radio, did some homework, scrolled through his phone - anything he could to suppress those memories. And yet-

Barnaby eventually huffed, put his phone down, and pressed his face against the marble counter he sat behind. He could push the imagery to the back of his mind as much as he wanted; his body, on the other hand, seemed to have a much more difficult time at forgetting.

Hoping to reach some kind of relief, Barnaby rubbed his thighs together. Only to make himself whimper.

Fuck .

It would have been a safe spot - his back to the security camera, a full view of the entrance in case someone did decide to come in. The counter was high enough that if he stayed sitting on his stool, he could hunch over and hide himself well.

But Barnaby, Being Barnaby, had too many doubts. What if someone watched the security footage and recognized how his arm was moving? What if he somehow contaminated the register? Worse - the pastry display beside the register?

He stared ahead, looking long and careful to the windows. He didn't notice any headlights from any cars, or any shadows creeping in from under the lights of the nearby dorm building. Surely, no one was coming.

Breath baited, Barnaby inevitably convinced himself to get out from behind the counter and hobble to the bathroom.

It was small, having a single toilet, but it was clean, and in that moment, he figured that was all he could ask for. He quickly did away with his work-apron and let his pants, his briefs fall to his ankles.

A relieved sigh left his lips as Barnaby took himself into his hands, eyes closing.

Gil's image was waiting at the forefront of his mind. Cold eyes pierced right through him, making silent commands that Barnaby felt powerless to resist. Gil's fingers were slender, graceful, so he started his strokes slow and feather-like, hoping to imitate that.

'Good boy', he could imagine him whispering. Barnaby shuddered, his knees already going weak below him. 'You're doing beautiful'. With how warm the memory made his face feel alone, it was almost easy to believe the man was right there over his shoulder, breathing onto him. His head tilted to the side, longing to feel Gil's cheek against his own, and he bent slightly forward, his body hoping he'd make contact with a bulge somewhere behind him. He didn't - but he stayed awkwardly hunched over, gradually pumping himself faster.

He became consciously aware of the soreness that still lingered between his legs. He remembered how it felt to be stretched and split open, heated by Gil from the inside out. And so very full. Barnaby could swear something was pulsing deep inside of him, throbbing in that instant.

He didn't realize how much he'd built himself up until he was biting his lip to muffle the moan ripped from his throat. A few more wrings around the head of his cock, and Barnaby locked up entirely, dumping his load out in front of him.

He was still trying to catch his breath when he blinked open his eyes, staring straight down into the toilet.

No Gil. No pillowtalk or tattooed arms to cradle him. Just himself in a public bathroom.

He wondered, in an attempt at keeping shame at bay, how many other guys had performed the same act there before him. He redressed and washed his hands.

He wondered if it was more or less than the number of men Gil had slept with.

Barnaby sighed, fiddling with the front of his apron after tying it. Why did it matter? All they did was have sex. Once. He knew he'd be the odd one out from the start of it. If he'd wanted someone who had as much 'experience' as he did, he would never have joined an app meant for hook-ups. So Gil treated him better than a fleshlight and didn't push him too far out of his comfort zone - that didn't make him special, that made him a decent human being.

Trying to keep that in mind, Barnaby flushed the toilet and left the bathroom. He didn't get far though, coming to a halt as his gaze was drawn to the entrance. Someone stood, inside, with a hand on the door and their back to him, their shoulders hiked and tense under a rumpled leather jacket.

As soon as it hit that he'd neglected a customer at the cost of jerking off, Barnaby scrambled to his post behind the register. The words tumbled out of his mouth, "I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Is there anything I can help you with? Anything for the road?" He rushed to hide the textbook and notepad he'd left laying on the marble when something else caught his eye. A card - with GroundWork, the name of the cafe, printed above his own name. His nametag. He hadn't seen it since he'd left for Gil's dorm.

The stranger turned around, and Barnaby, heart skipping a beat, looked up to see a familiar face. He had to blink a few times to see if he was hallucinating.

"Where, uhm-" He picked up the tag and pinned it to his brown button-up. "Where was it?"

"Under my bed," said Gil, scuffing an old boot on the floor and taking a few steps toward the counter. "Hope you didn't get in trouble for not having it."

"No - no," Barnaby assured him, "I don't think anyone even noticed, uhm-" He stole a quick glance to the clock on the wall behind him. A little after two in the morning. "Why did you-" He swallowed his words and reconsidered, not wanting to sound accusatory. "You came out this late to give it back? I mean, I'm grateful! I am, but - wouldn't you rather be...asleep, maybe?"

"Wouldn't you?" Gil retorted, and his lips curled into something of a smile.

Barnaby shrugged, avoiding his gaze by pretending to scrape imaginary dirt off the keys of the register. "It's only for the rest of the week. Midterms, y'know? Did you...not finish yours?"

"I did," came the confident answer. "Wouldn't have gone for a walk otherwise."

"And you usually go out for walks after midnight?"

"Sometimes. If the work's done and I don't have to be up too early."

As best as he tried to hide it, there must have been some hint of suspicion on his face; the instant Barnaby looked up again, Gil was slowly retreating. "Hey, I know how it looks," he sighed, "Hell, I circled back around thinking you'd be closed by now. Would've slipped it under the door, but...what if you never noticed?"

'Well, if you'd messaged me that it was there. Or messaged me to come pick it up in the first place-' Barnaby didn't say that though. Instead, he said, "It's fine. Thank you."

"Fine," Gil repeated. A pause and, "Cool." Another step back. "So guess I'll see you around?"

Barnaby nodded, managed a faint smile and offered a sheepish wave.

He assumed Gil probably would've avoided him at all cost if he could. Leaving the metaphorical door open for him to come back before Barnaby had left the dorm? A courtesy he likely conditioned himself to say after every hookup. Only Barnaby wasn't like every hookup, he must've realized. Because Barnaby was awkward. And anxious. And Had No Idea What He Was Doing. And if he didn't find out what exactly he did wrong, how was he supposed to fix it by the time he got into an actual relationship, on the off-chance that ever happened?

"Hey-!" he called out, and Gil halted, one foot out the door. Unfortunately, Barnaby was never the best at expressing his own words. But then, he thought, he didn't need to; someone else had already called out one, possible reckoning, hadn't they?

Swallowing what iota of dignity he had left, Barnaby asked, "Was I boring?"

Gil looked back over his shoulder, his lips quirked, silent for a few seconds just - waiting. For Barnaby to answer his own question? For permission to leave uninterrupted?

"What the hell made you think I was bored?"

Barnaby cringed, his resolve fleeting fast. He became very interested with a coffee stain on the floor. "I just-" Would Gil be the type to get mad if he told a friend? "I heard ...that you were a, uhm-"

The raven raised a brow, and Barnaby blurted at last, "A 'freak'?"

A few seconds later, it came as an echo, though much more incredulous. "'A freak'."

"Yeah, like-" He didn't mean to speak; he didn't particularly want to. But Gil's tone alone proved enough to spook an explanation out of him. "You know that...saying?'A freak in the sheets' , I guess." His face heated up once again as he started to ramble, "Like - if what we did was more 'vanilla' than what you're used to or...If you were bored and weren't that happy with it, you can just say so-"

Of course, Gil didn't respond right away, and that prompted Barnaby to look up. Curiosity might've been a deadly thing, but thankfully, the other's look did not kill. He'd moved to sit in one of the booths. The second he met the boy's gaze, he laughed. It was short but sweet, and possibly he sounded - relieved?