Page 22 of Nugget

Mmm, Stryker really loved being kissed by Gavin. He hadn’t been lying when he said that he probably wasn’t good at kissing. Bar bathroom hookups weren’t really the atmosphere that encouraged such intimacy. And kissing was intimate. At least to Stryker.

He had no problem finding a partner for a quick hand job, blowjob, or on the rare occasion, a fuck. Stryker had never been in a relationship in his entire life. Not that he was expecting anything more with Gavin. He wanted, ached, for more, but Stryker wouldn’t expect it.

Keeping one foot out the door always made things easier when Stryker wore out his welcome.

Gavin had ruined him.

Stryker would never be able to get the feel of Gavin’s hands, of his cock, of everything they shared from his mind.

In one night, Gavin had shown Stryker something he’d been missing his entire life. A connection to another person.

He whined as Gavin broke the kiss.

“It’s okay,” Gavin soothed. He rubbed his hands down Stryker’s arms. “I’m still not done with you. We need to take this inside though. It’s too cold to stay out here. And now we’re both soaked.”

Stryker blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. Gavin wanted more?

“How about I make us a snack, you can wash up, then I’ll take you back to bed?”

That sounded like heaven to Stryker. “My RV is close.” Stryker waved his hand in the direction he thought he’d come from. He was too tired to really care.

“I think we need more than just chicken nuggets.”

Stryker popped his head up. “You went through my freezer?”

Gavin grunted as he rose. “And you wouldn’t have?”

“Chicken nuggies are the best!” Stryker claimed. It was very important that Gavin understood that. Stryker might sacrifice a lot to have some more time with Gavin but he was not going to give up his nuggies.

“I’m surprised you haven’t turned into a chicken nugget if that’s all you eat,” Gavin told him.

Wait a damn minute! “Is that why you called me nugget?”

Gavin offered his hand.

Stryker slipped his palm inside Gavin’s hold and allowed Gavin to help him up off the log. “Well?” He was curious after all.

“Does it matter?”

“I can think of a hundred other things you can call me,” Stryker argued.

“Brat?” Gavin offered.

Stryker grinned. “Sure.”

“Baby?”

He snorted. “Whatever floats your boat, Papi.”

“How about my good boy?” Gavin suggested.

He froze. Even if Stryker wanted to hide his reaction, there was no way that he could when Gavin said those two words.

“I think you like that,” Gavin said.

“I…”

“I think you really like being my good boy,” Gavin told him with a smirk.

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