49. Dylan
FORTY-NINE
DYLAN
Adrian is quieter than usual for the next few days. He keeps looking at me with a kind of analytical expression on his face, like he’s trying to take me apart to figure out how I’m made.
It’s just a bit unnerving because I happen to have an ugly side he doesn’t know anything about, and I’d rather he didn’t find out. It’s stupid because I’m pretty sure he can’t read my mind, but I’m also not a hundred percent sure he can’t.
And he gets really… focused. On me. On fucking me, to be more precise.
He sucks me off.
He jerks me off.
He fucks me.
I get his mouth on me and his fingers in me, and it’s not like we were holding back before, but now it’s like having me has suddenly become the entire purpose of Adrian’s existence.
And all the while he’s taking me apart with his hands or his mouth or his cock, he also takes me apart with his eyes.
I don’t know what to do with that.
With him.
So I just cling to him and let him do whatever he wants with me.
For as long as I have him.