Pitbabe S2, Chapter 19 pg1

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 19 pg1

   CHARLIE:

   It takes a long while for both of us to be satisfied. Babe looks exhausted but doesn’t complain even once. No matter how selfish I get with him, his hoarse, pitiful voice saying, “Whatever Papa wants,” eyes half-closed, still fights with all he’s got. More than that, he doesn’t just lie there waiting for pleasure from me. The skilled Pitbabe takes the reins plenty of times, making it a fair dance of leading and following (I lead a bit more due to my reckless enthusiasm). This round of lovemaking, the first in weeks, is truly memorable.

   “Done yet?” I whisper to Babe, who seems about to drift off after my latest bout of selfishness just ended. A glance at the clock shows it’s past 3 a.m. It’s a time when both of us, with our own jobs, should be resting instead of tangled up like this. But what can you do? Adults have needs too. Plus, I’m still a young guy. Unlike Babe, who, to be fair, is just a tad past his youth. “Your eyes are closing.”

   “What about you, Papa? Done?” Babe asks back, eyes still shut, voice dry as a kettle nearly boiled empty.

   “You answer first.”

   “Saying that means you’re not done, huh?”

   Even trying to laugh, Babe barely had the energy, but he still teased me. The older guy lifted his heavy arm and swung his hand to land with a smack right in the middle of my body, which was only precariously covered by a blanket. He pulled off this embarrassing act so naturally—it’s one of the things about Babe that I envy. Even after being with him for so long, I still haven’t picked up this habit of casually touching someone’s personal space. I know Babe wouldn’t mind if I did it too, but it’s still embarrassing for me outside of when we’re having sex. Like, just grabbing someone out of nowhere with a straight face? Really?

   “So, you’re saying you could go again if I asked, but you’re done for. What am I supposed to do?” It seems words are the only thing I’m getting bolder with. I think I’m less shy about expressing these kinds of desires now.

   “Who said I’m done?”

   “Before you say anything, take a look at yourself.”

   “What’s wrong with me?” Babe opened his eyes to look at me, his energy seeming to tick up a notch, probably spurred by my jab. “You think few rounds are enough to take me down?”

   “I don’t think it’s just this,” I said, not trying to put him down about this kind of thing, but Babe’s current state was hard to call “fine.” 

   The over-the-top excitement that started hours ago had us both getting a bit too wild, and looking back, I’m still shocked I let myself go that crazy. “You can barely keep your eyes open. Just sleep.”

   “You’re not tired?”

   “I am tired,” I admitted. Honestly, this was probably the most physically drained I’d been in months. “Carrying you for that long, you know.”

   “Carrying who, huh? I’ll smack you!” Babe made a move like he was going to hit my head for real, but I knew he wouldn’t, so I just grinned at him.

   “Acting all tough. You love it, Babe. I know.”

   Babe didn’t argue, but his lips twitched. I didn’t need him to say it to know he was secretly cursing me out.

   “Cursing me again, huh?” I squeezed his pouty lips shut. Babe glared at me but didn’t do much else. Of course—right now, even raising a fist to playfully hit me like he usually does might be too much for him. “What’s your deal? Why do you love cursing me out?”

   “I’m not cursing. Just annoyed,” Babe mumbled, his voice muffled but still audible.

   “Annoyed about what?”

   “Your energy,” he replied after I let go of his lips. “It’s not like I’m out of steam, but people get tired, right? How are you still acting so normal?”

   “Dunno,” I said, shaking my head lightly. “Maybe cause I’m still young.”

   “I’m not old either!”

   “Oh… right.”

   “Four-eyes!” The moment I hit a nerve, he suddenly found some energy. Babe smacked his hand down on my thigh—thankfully not where his hand was resting earlier—and gave me an accusing look, as if I’d insulted him when I hadn’t even said a word.

   “Still not done calling me ‘Four-Eyes,’ huh?” I leaned my face closer to his, hoping Babe would get a good look and finally realize I’m not the same nerdy guy he used to know. “No glasses anymore.”

   “Why’d you ditch the glasses anyway?”

   “Guess why.”

   “To look cool, obviously,” Babe said with a smirk, clearly annoyed. “Guess wearing glasses made it hard to pull off that flirty look.”

   “Flirty?” I raised an eyebrow, gazing into the beautiful eyes of my gorgeous ex with a pang of nostalgia. I only just realized how much better he looks in person compared to photos. How did I ever think pictures could compare? “Me?”

   “Yeah, you.”

   “When have I ever been flirty?”

   “Right now!” Babe’s eyes widened, pointing at my face like he’d caught me red-handed with perfect timing. “Listen to you! Smooth-talking, batting your eyes, and using that charming voice.”

   “All in your head,” I couldn’t help but laugh. I swear I wasn’t trying to do anything he’s accusing me of—at least, I don’t think my voice sounds particularly charming right now. “You’re the one thinking I’m charming, Babe, and now you’re calling me a poser?”

   “No, it’s different from before.”

   “People change every day.”

   “But why change into a flirt?”

   “If you call me a flirt, what do you call someone who just kissed someone else?”

   Babe shut his mouth instantly. Of course, he couldn’t argue on this one. The heat of the moment might’ve made the pretty boy forget he’s got some baggage of his own. I’m not holding it against him—honestly, I don’t even have the right to be mad—but if we’re throwing around accusations about being a flirt, I can’t just let him attack me without defending myself with some evidence.

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