Page 23 of Not All Himbos Wear Capes
“Why not?” I interrupted, half-teasing but genuinely curious. “If you’re worried about anyone overhearing us, I promise they’re too busy talking about themselves. Or is the problem that you’ve forgotten howexpertlyyou let myhugecock slide between those perfect lips and down your throat, like the good little cumslut you are?”
“Fu… Xan,” he groaned, his almost-expletive paired with his hand disappearing beneath the table making my cock pull up a chair. “It’s just… I just don’t know what the heck I’m doing here.”
His admission put an immediate stop to my teasing. Thanks to a less-than-stellar childhood, my knee-jerk reaction was to assume the worst—dismissal and rejection—but I forced myself to take a breath and get the facts, instead of retreating behind my protective walls.
Dr. Ownit better give me a gold star on Tuesday.
Tackling cockwasa brand new experience for Butch, and while I probably wasn’t the wisest person to go to for advice, I wanted to see where he was going with this.
I also want him sucking my dick again.
“That’s fine, sweetheart.” I sat back, projecting as much calm as possible while I casually sipped my scotch. “But listen, you don’t have to beat around the bush with me. I’m a big boy—I can take it. And I can give it too.”
He gaped at me a moment before an indulgent smile quirked his lips. “You can’t help being suggestive, can you? It’s part of your DNA.”
If only you knew what my DNA was made of…
The thought of Butch discovering my infamous bloodline—and rightfully running in the other direction—made my breath catch. Normies were usually easy prey for me, with a cluelessness about my world that easily translated to no strings attached. But something was different this time.
Butch was nervously fiddling with his salad fork, probably debating how—orif—he should articulate his thoughts. I took the opportunity to study him, to notice that whatever was bothering him was important.My mouth suddenly went dry as I realized his hesitation was givingmethe perfect opportunity to make an equally important choice.
The question is—how much of a villain am I?
Butchneededto be heard right now, but I could easily take over the conversation and nip this confession in the bud. He might even be thankful for the easy out, since my being in charge clearly spoke to his natural sub tendencies. But then I recalled a comment he’d made in the diner, mistakenly believing me being a top meant he had no say. When I’d corrected him, his entire countenance had changed—as if being given achoicewas the most novel part about this entire situation.
Has he never had anyone listen?
Reallylisten?
Am I capable of being that person for him?
“Talk to me, Butch. Tell me everything that’s on your mind.”
The words escaped me before I could stop them, but instead of immediately panicking, I felt lighter—especially when his pretty blue eyes brightened. There was so much fearful hope in his expression that I wanted to wrap him up in a fluffy blanket and pet him until he purred.
Jesus, maybe I was adopted.
“Gosh, okay…” Butch stammered, clearly not expecting to be given the floor, which produced a hairline crack in my rusty heart.
Definitely adopted.
The waitstaff appeared to set us up with the champagne and some prosciutto-wrapped figs, supplying my date with a moment to collect his thoughts. When they dissolved into the scenery again, Butch swallowed hard, but met my gaze with an impressive level of resolve.
All at once, I realized I’d underestimated my himbo. I would bet that in all other areas of his life, this mandidn’twaver or second-guess himself. He was probably accustomed to things being easy—was born with so much natural talent he could simply coast by—but this situation had thrown him off his game. To admit that to me took an incredible amount of trust on his part.
And I’m not sure I deserve to be trusted like that.
“I’m a big boy too, you know,” he began, before blushing profusely and clearing his throat. Seeing that I was refraining from taking the obvious opening to tease, he powered on. “What I mean is, we both know I’ve never been with a man before. That doesn’t mean you have to take it easy on me. I mean, Ilikeit when you… praise me. But I want toearnit.”
My brow furrowed, but before I could jump in with a clarifying question, he continued. “I highly doubt the way I…” his voice dropped to barely above a whisper, “sucked your… cock… was even close to ‘expertly,’ but Iwantedit to be. I want to be an expert here, and that starts with figuring out why I can’t get you out of my head. You weren’t anywhere near me today. You wouldn’t have known if I’d disobeyed your directions and… touched myself, but I still didn’t. That’s how badly I wanted to be good for you. I want to be good atthis—betterthan an expert—foryou.”
His almost breathless monologue ended on a forceful exhale as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Cheez-its can you please say something? I’m just babbling like a teen girl with a crush at this point…”
If it had been anyone else, this stream of conscious confession would have been a cringe-worthy record scratch, triggering my well-honed fear of intimacy and successfully ending things instantaneously. Instead, pure caveman satisfaction was flowing through my veins. It wasn’t only that I was the first man to have Butch like this—to brand him asmine, inside and out—although that wasdefinitely part of it.
What he’s saying is… validating.
The startling truth was that IlikedButch simping. It simultaneously boosted my ego while also making me want to reward him in every way possible, which somehow cycled back into pleasure for me. I relished him obsessing over me, because the truth was—I couldn’t get him out of my head either.
