Page 71 of Bull's Boy

Dropping his head, Malcolm sighed before looking up at him guiltily. “I didn’t tell my parents I was bringing you. Or, you know, about you in general.”

Bull remembered the conversation from a couple of weeks ago when his moms had dropped by unexpectedly. Malcolm had said he would be sure to tell his parents about their relationship before they showed up for the engagement party. The fact he hadn’t didn’t bother Bull that much. He didn’t really care two shits if these people liked him or not.

What he did care about was why his boy was driving himself crazy worrying about it.

“Okay. Do you think I’m gonna be upset about that?”

Malcolm shook his head, then nodded, then rubbed at his face with both hands. “I don’t know. You probably should be. I said I would, and then I didn’t. But it’s not that I’m embarrassed,” Malcolm added quickly, dropping his hands and looking up at Bull earnestly. “I swear to fucking god, Bull, I am not embarrassed about you or our relationship.”

“I believe you,” Bull said quietly, cupping the side of his face and drawing him closer for a quick kiss.

“It’s just that,” Malcolm said against his lips. “It seemed weird to do over the phone, but I kept putting off driving over to their place, and then I ran out of time.”

“Did you RSVP?” Bull asked, nuzzling against his face.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Did you write down one or two?” He tugged Malcolm’s earlobe into his mouth, grinning around it when his boy sucked in a quick breath.

“T-two. I definitely remember writing two.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” Bull said, taking a half step back and grabbing Malcolm’s hand. “Come here. We have a little bit of time before we need to leave.”

He led Malcolm into his tiny bedroom and grimaced at the full-size bed. His six-and-a-half-foot frame didn’t really fit on it, but they’d made do a couple of times when he’d been over and wanted to take his boy apart on a flat surface. They spent ninety-five percent of their time at Bull’s place, and just as soon as he could figure out how he was going to ask Malcolm, he was going to turn that into one hundred percent of the time.

He carefully unbuttoned his own shirt and laid it across the top of the sad-looking dresser with the crooked bottom drawer. Since he was wearing dark-wash blue jeans, he didn’t bother taking them off. Turning to Malcolm, he started working on his clothes.

“I just put these on,” Malcolm said softly, not fighting him at all.

“You did, and I don’t want them to get wrinkled.”

“I don’t think we have time for what you’re thinking about.” Malcolm grinned and pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. He made a contemplative face. “Well, maybe a couple of blowjobs.”

Bull snorted and carefully helped him step out of his dress pants.

He climbed up on the bed and positioned himself across it diagonally so his feet weren’t hanging off. Malcolm snickered at him and then clambered up, straddling his hips and settling himself on both of their favorite spot.

“You forgot to take your pants off and my underwear,” Malcolm teased, walking his fingers up Bull’s belly and then flicking one of his pierced nipples.

Grunting, Bull grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down, settling Malcolm over top of him. “I don’t need to take my pants off for this.”

“What exactly are we doing, then? Snuggling?”

Bull guided Malcolm’s head over to one side of his chest, watching to see how his boy would react. Sucking on Bull’s pec when they had sex was one thing, but how would he handle using it as a coping mechanism for his stress? Lips brushing against his barbell, Malcolm’s eyes widened a little as his pupils dilated, and he squirmed against Bull.

“We’re going to relax,” Bull said in a low voice, smoothing his other hand down Malcolm’s back and cupping his ass. “Open your mouth, baby boy.”

Malcolm stared at him, but he parted his lips and let Bull pull him onto his nipple. He latched on without needing to be told, his eyes fluttering shut on a soft moan. Bull carded his fingers through his hair, messing up all the work his boy had done to make it presentable, but he liked it messy, wild, and imperfect—just like his boy.

Malcolm shifted against him, making himself more comfortable. He made a soft, questioning sound in the back of his throat when he noticed Bull’s dick was half-hard in his jeans, but he just shushed him, feathering his fingers through his soft strands.

“Don’t worry about anything,” Bull said soothingly. “I want you to just focus on this moment. It’s the only thing that matters.”

Humming, Malcolm sucked a little harder, bringing his hand up to run his fingers delicately over Bull’s collarbones. Slowly, as they lay there for long, peaceful minutes, the rigid tension seeped out of Malcolm’s muscles. His fingers eventually stilled, his body going completely lax except where he suckled at Bull’s pec.

The whole time, Bull kept holding him, hoping his boy knew he’d do anything for him.

While Malcolm put himself back together in the bathroom, having fussed at Bull for messing up his hair, Bull ran back down to his truck and grabbed the light bulb he’d picked up the other day. It took a matter of moments for him to change it out for the burnt one at the top of the stairs outside Malcolm’s door.

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