Pitbabe S2, Chapter 30 pg 3
. Pitbabe S2, Chapter 30 pg 3
“If you really believe Ken’s still loyal to Tony, why are you out here looking for him?” I’d planned to stay quiet, but his smug attitude, with a brain the size of a peanut, was too annoying. “Just let him do his job. No need to keep tabs on him.”
“I never said I was looking for Kenta,” Winner said with a sly grin. “There’s a bunch of people I’d like to meet. Maybe… even someone you know.”
“Say what you want,” I said, feeling like Winner was just throwing out bait, hoping I’d bite and get confused. Better to cut this off now. “I know what I’m doing. You don’t need to waste your time trying to mess with me.”
“Ugh… buddy, what the hell am I supposed to mess with?” he said in a high-pitched voice. “I’m just giving you a heads-up as someone who knows you. Whatever you think or do, it’s got nothing to do with me anyway.”
“Good then. From now on, don’t let me catch you meddling in my business… or our friends’ either.”
“Oof, that last part I can’t guarantee.”
Damn it. I really wanted to gouge his eyes out.
“Depends on who you consider friends, I guess.”
If it weren’t for someone sick waiting for food at home, Winner and I would’ve had a long, “peaceful” talk. This time, Kenta saved that jerk’s life. I left those infuriating words with Winner and his stupid red Supra, walking away, forcing my brain to focus on what brand of rice to buy for porridge—not that nonsense about whether I should actually trust Kenta.
The answer was obvious. I didn’t need to make any new decisions.
CHARLIE:
“Hmm…”
That was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. Not the roar of my favorite car’s engine, not the morning birds chirping, not even the catchy song stuck in my head lately. All those sounds paled compared to the wordless hum of my darling. It was just a soft throat sound, not even fully voiced, but it screamed pure satisfaction. And since I was the one who made him make that sweet sound, I should be the happiest guy alive.
I spread his slender legs apart for the third time because my pretty boy kept squirming, squeezing his thighs together until I could barely breathe, acting like he wouldn’t let me play. Yet he clearly enjoyed our little game, even if he wasn’t cooperating as much as he should. Sometimes, he’s such a tough one to please.
“Do it properly,” I couldn’t help but grumble, secretly pinching his thighs hard a couple of times as punishment for obstructing an officer’s duties. “Dean, how am I supposed to work like this?”
“It’s just…” Babe started to argue. He lifted his head to look at me, but as soon as our eyes met, he dropped back onto the pillow, covering his face with his hands and whining like he didn’t know how to handle the situation.
“What’s ‘just’?”
“Can you at least get your face out of there for a sec if you’re gonna ask?”
“Why would I?” I asked with a cheeky grin. “I like it here.”
Babe just groaned, “Ugh,” in frustration, while I felt an indescribable thrill. Not only did I get to tease him first thing in the morning, but I also managed to rile up this sleepyhead. Babe only likes morning sex when he’s the one initiating. If he’s the one woken up, he’s sensitive—physically and emotionally. A little teasing, and he whines instead of fighting back like usual, because his brain’s not fully awake. That’s when I have the upper hand.
Call me a bully for picking on the weak, but it’s fun.
“Just hurry up, okay?” Babe mumbled, still covering his face. I don’t get why he’s shy. Isn’t he usually the one doing embarrassing stuff?
“Hurry up with what?”
“With what you’re doing!” The sleepyhead playfully squeezed my head with his thighs, which, for me, was a pretty enjoyable kind of torment. “You talk too much in the morning.”
“Babe, you are being such a grump this morning.”
“And whose fault is it for waking me up at this hour?”
“Oh, please… as if you don’t wake others up whenever you feel like it.” I shot back. This topic is a sore one—someone who wakes people up for sex anytime, anywhere, like him, shouldn’t be acting annoyed with me. “I’m sleepy, and I still manage.”
“But you still curse me out.”
“Well, why do you always wake me up right after I’ve fallen asleep? Can’t you let me sleep for three or four hours first?”
What started as a romantic morning has now turned into a verbal sparring match. The sleepyhead crossed his arms and pouted, refusing to admit fault. Meanwhile, I was getting so irritated I imagined grabbing that automatic arguing mouth of his and squeezing it hard a couple of times to shut him up. But that’s just a thought—my life doesn’t allow for such theatrics.
“Look at that face, like a ghost cat.”
“You jerk, Charlie!” His foot came at me a beat faster than his words, but luckily, I caught it in time. Otherwise, my chin would’ve taken a real hit.
“Just kidding.” I grabbed his foot and kissed it lightly as an apology. I don’t know who’s really at fault here, or maybe neither of us is, but I can never stay mad at him for long. I just like teasing him a little to get him riled up, so I have an excuse to make up with him. I love when Babe gets all huffy from being teased—it’s a kind of cuteness I think only I get to see, which makes me feel extra special. “You’re cute, not a ghost cat.”
“You always find a way to piss me off.”
“Because you’re cute when you’re mad.”
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