Chapter 1: The Bunny's Revenge
The only light in the bedroom came from the massive gaming monitor, painting everything in a cold, electric blue. It glinted off half-empty moving boxes, climbed teetering stacks of manga, and got lost in the nest of blankets on the bed. Kaidan was somewhere in that nest, a lump of black fabric and fluffy white trim.
He watched Hank’s profile from his sprawl. Hank was leaned forward in the desk chair, a controller gripped in his big hands, the muscles in his tanned arms flexing. The headset muffled his voice to a low, serious rumble. “Flank left, I’ve got the sniper. No, your other left, Marcus. Christ.”
A soft, deliberate sigh left Kaidan’s lips. It was a perfect, breathy sound he’d practiced for panels in his romance series. Hank didn’t flinch.
Kaidan shifted, the ribbed fabric of his bodysuit whispering against the sheets. He let one leg slide out from the blankets, pale and smooth, his thigh pressing against the worn fabric of Hank’s pajama shorts where he was perched on the edge of the bed. He applied the faintest pressure.
“Hank,” he murmured, his voice syrup-thick with fake sleep.
“One sec, bunny. They’re pushing the objective.”
Bunny. It was a pet name, but it was automatic, distracted. Kaidan’s eyes, half-lidded and the color of a faded winter sky, narrowed. The long ears of his hood drooped over his shoulders as he pushed himself up. He crawled, a slow, deliberate migration across the rumpled terrain, until he was on the floor between Hank’s legs and the bed. The blue glow lit the side of Hank’s face, the专注 etched there, the way his bottom lip was caught slightly between his teeth.
Kaidan let his forehead rest against Hank’s inner thigh. The muscle was tense, even here. He nuzzled the soft cotton of the shorts. He could smell the clean sweat from Hank’s evening workout, the faint, familiar scent of his deodorant. “You’re ignoring me,” Kaidan said, his words muffled against the fabric.
“Am not.” Gunfire chattered through the headset. “I’m multi-tasking.”
“Liar.” Kaidan’s hand came up, his fingers tracing the hem of the shorts. He slipped a single finger beneath the elastic, brushing coarse hair. Hank’s breathing hitched, just for a fraction of a second, but his eyes stayed locked on the screen where digital soldiers were dying.
“Kai, not right now, okay? We’re about to—oh, come on, Marcus!”
That was it. The dismissal. A spark of delicious, bratty annoyance lit up in Kaidan’s chest. He liked this game. He was better at it than any first-person shooter.
With a fluid motion, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Hank’s shorts and briefs and tugged them down in one smooth pull. The cool air of the room, or the suddenness of it, made Hank jolt. “Hey—!”
Kaidan didn’t give him a chance. He leaned forward, pink hair falling over his forehead, and took Hank into his mouth. He was already half-hard, and Kaidan rewarded him with a deep, wet slide all the way down, his throat relaxing effortlessly. He made the first obscene, slurping sound deliberately loud, cutting through the game audio leaking from the headset.
A full-body shudder went through Hank. The controller made a plastic clatter as his grip faltered. “Kai—fuck, wait—”
Kaidan pulled off with a slick pop. The bunny ears on his hood swayed. “You said to wait?” he asked, innocence dripping from his voice. He didn’t wait for an answer. He ducked back down, setting a rhythm that was all wet noise and deliberate, messy spectacle. Each bob of his head made the oversized hood shake, the long ears flopping absurdly. He added little kitten licks to the underside, swallowed him deep until his nose pressed into dark curls, and then pulled back to swirl his tongue around the tip. It was a performance, and he was the star.
On the screen, a red ‘YOU ARE DEAD’ message flashed.
“Guys, I gotta go,” Hank gasped into his mic, his voice strangled. There was a distant, tinny protest from the headset. “Yeah, emergency. Something just… came up. Bye.” He ripped the headset off and tossed it onto the desk. It skidded, knocking over an empty energy drink can.
His hands found Kaidan’s hood, fingers sinking into the fluffy fabric. He wasn’t pushing him away. He was holding on. “You’re a menace,” he breathed, his head falling back against the chair with a thunk. His hips gave an infinitesimal, helpless jerk upward.
Kaidan released him again, leaning back on his heels. A silver strand of saliva connected his lips to Hank’s length for a second before breaking. He looked up, his face a mask of sleepy innocence under the drooping hood. “You were ignoring your bunny,” he said, pouting. “I got lonely.” He ran a single fingertip from base to tip, watching Hank’s stomach muscles clench. “Now you’re all mine, right, puppy?”
Hank groaned at the pet name, his resolve visibly crumbling. He was putty. “Yeah. All yours.”
“Good.” Kaidan smiled, a slow, catlike curl of his lips. He didn’t move to touch him again. He just stayed there, on his knees between Hank’s spread legs, watching him throb in the blue light, making him wait. “So,” Kaidan whispered, tilting his head. “What are you going to do about it?”