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The apartment was clean. There were no personal effects, no sign that a human being lived here: no clutter, no dust. Even the TV's extension cord was cold when Kotetsu felt it, as if Barnaby never turned it on. He moved from one room to the next, tuning out the party, and by the time he reached Barnaby's room and stood at the foot of the bed, staring at the pink plush bunny they'd gifted him, he didn't even realize that all the other guests had filtered out and he was alone.
Alone, that is, except for Barnaby.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of blond hair and a flash of light off Barnaby's glasses, looked back to the bed. There was a brush of air at his side as Barnaby leaned close, his footsteps completely silent.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice flat.
Kotetsu glanced at him again. "Am I not allowed?" he asked lightly. "Is your bedroom off-limits?"
Barnaby's expression was a stone mask.
"And here I thought we'd become so close over the last few weeks," said Kotetsu with a sarcastic click of his tongue. He gestured at the pink bunny. "Why did you keep that? I figured you would have thrown it away first chance you got."
Barnaby followed his gaze, but he didn't smile — not that Kotetsu expected him to — and he didn't look embarrassed. There was no blush, no ducking of the head, no reflexive anger. Just a cool calm that flipped Kotetsu's stomach and made him falter.
"Er, forget about it," he said, edging away from Barnaby's side. "I'm sorry I asked. Look, I better get going..."
He took a step toward the door. Strong fingers curled around his forearm and stopped him cold.
"You really want to know?" Barnaby asked, his voice even and calm.
Kotetsu glanced back at him — at the bunny on the bed — and hesitated, starting to sweat. "Sure," he said, with false humor in his voice. "Lay it on me."
He tugged lightly at his arm, but Barnaby didn't let go. Instead, his grip strengthened.
"I like to rut against it," Barnaby said, so calm and casual that for a moment Kotetsu didn't understand. "I pin it against the bed and I pretend it's you. I pretend I'm fucking into you hard, no lube, making you cry."
Kotetsu let out a pale, humorless laugh. He tugged at his arm again, more insistently this time, but Barnaby tugged back, and with a lurching step forward, he dragged Kotetsu closer to the bed.
"There," Barnaby said, pointing to a spot near his pillow. "That's where I push your face in. That's where you drool and cry into the sheets. And there—" Lower down, toward the middle of the mattress. "That's where you come against your will. Sticky and wet. And when you're done—"
His grip loosened. Adrenaline surged through Kotetsu's body — this was his chance — and he started to yank away. But Barnaby had known he would do that — had planned for it — and he already had his free hand in place, just waiting for Kotetsu to take a step back and place his own hair solidly in Barnaby's grip. With a twist of the wrist, Barnaby tangled his fingers in Kotetsu's hair and slammed him to his knees.
"—I make you lick it up," he said, his breath warm against Kotetsu's ear.
Kotetsu stuttered, his tongue suddenly dry, his pants tight. He didn't have time to get even a single word out: Barnaby's fingers twisted in the back of his shirt and hauled him halfway onto the bed, pressing him down against the mattress face-first.
"What—" Kotetsu gasped when he felt Barnaby's hands on his belt. He squirmed and kicked, a burst of energy in an attempt to get away, but Barnaby just kept going — younger, stronger, unfazed. He kept one hand on the back of Kotetsu's head, pressing his face against the mattress, and with his other hand he shoved Kotetsu's pants down to his ankles.
"Stay still," said Barnaby, his voice cold. "Be good."
Kotetsu made a strangled sound, somewhere between shock and disagreement ... but when Barnaby let go of his head, he stayed put. His limbs were heavy, his stomach quivering with anticipation and fear. This was his chance to escape, to fight back — but he didn't.
He let Barnaby spread his thighs. He laid there, unmoving, eyes closed, as Barnaby's hands skimmed up his inner thigh and brushed over the sensitive skin of his balls, making his cock twitch where it was trapped against the mattress. He didn't fight back when Barnaby's thumbs rubbed circles on his ass, firm and warm and insistent, so light at first that it made Kotetsu shiver — then harder, irritating the nerves there, lighting them up with every persistent touch.
"Relax," Barnaby said, his voice a little warmer now. "You can hold it if you want to."
"Hold it—?" Kotetsu asked. Barnaby held him down and reached over Kotetsu's head, dragging the pink bunny closer to him and placing it in Kotetsu's hands. "Why would I—?"
"Same reason injured people bite down on sticks during field surgery," said Barnaby flatly.
"What?"
But that was when Barnaby stretched Kotetsu's ass cheeks open and pressed his tongue, hot and wet, against Kotetsu's entrance, and ... and Kotetsu kind of understood what he meant. He squeezed the plush bunny with an undignified squeak, his face reddening, his body jerking away from Barnaby's tongue.
"Hold still," Barnaby said, his breath hot against Kotetsu's skin.
"Hold still?" Kotetsu said. "You're licking my assho— hk!"
The tongue again. Wet and hot and firm and flexible, licking the sensitive ring of muscle in a circle pattern — his first quick swipe making Kotetsu flinch — the next swipe almost ticklish, making Kotetsu's stomach flip and flutter — the third swipe making him squirm against the bed, his cock hard, biting down hard on his bottom lip to keep from moaning.
He'd never done anything like this before. Never. But Barnaby clearly had — yet another way he was superior to Kotetsu, yet another embarrassing difference in their abilities and experience, but the longer Barnaby licked at him, the more liquid heat unfurled in Kotetsu's body and the less he cared. He squeezed the bunny plush hard, without thinking, buried his face in its soft fur ... and as Barnaby's tongue pressed against him, as the wet tip dipped inside him and touched him where he'd never been touched before, Kotetsu forgot he was supposed to be fighting back. That he wasn't supposed to like this. That he was supposed to be offended, outraged, embarrassed—
Barnaby's lips were wet against his skin, his tongue so hot it drove Kotetsu wild, bucking and rocking his hips — the patterns changing before he could get used to them, each new swipe of the tongue making him gasp and moan into the bunny's fur, his cock leaking pre-cum against his shirt, against the mattress — Barnaby's breath on his skin, Barnaby's fingers stroking and squeezing at his balls — and tension rising, flinches coalescing into full-body spasms, muscles tightening, a knot of pressure at the base of the cock and—
And when the wave of pleasure faded and Kotetsu came to, he'd drooled all over the bunny, and Barnaby's fingers were twisted in his hair once more, guiding him gently to the cumstain on the sheets. The scent of his own arousal made his face burn and his mouth water.
"You know what to do," Barnaby said.
And, face burning, Kotetsu did.