Bailey fussed with the bedroom window in his usual style, cursing at it with unspeakable expletives as he tried to wedge it open far enough to shove a box fan under it. Those curses had often been directed at Nate in the past. He found them far more amusing in this situation.

The window creaked and squeaked and budged a few inches at a time. Bailey stood on his feet on the mattress, curling his hands under the window and pulling. He got on his knees and pressed up with his palms. Either way, it was a fantastic show. He did not ask for help, and Nate leaned in the doorway without offering any. Watching the muscles flex in Bailey's abdomen, arms, and legs was enough to have him rooting for the window just to make it go on longer.

Eventually, it was open to an acceptable degree. Bailey reached for the box fan, but as soon as he turned his back, the window promptly slid back shut with a thud. Bailey turned his head to look at it, one hand on the box fan and the other hanging in the air. An eerie silence filled the room after all the huffing and puffing. It would probably make the hairs on most people's bodies stand on end.

Nate chuckled and kneed his way across the bed, where he patted Bailey on the back and reached around to slide the window back open. It would have been highly amusing if the window opened smoothly, but as quick as its descent had been, it still fought tooth and nail as Nate pressed it open. But he still managed with one hand.

Bailey avoided looking at him as he placed the box face underneath to prop the window open. As Nate lowered the panel to hold the fan in place, he caught the gleam of Bailey's glare glowing in his periphery. Then, a fist colliding with his side knocked the wind out of him.

He sputtered and fell back on his butt. Bailey turned his nose up haughtily and rolled off the bed, leaving the room. He returned a moment later with a pathetically flat pillow and used it to plug the open space between the side of the fan and the sill. Nate looked at the little furrow in his brow and lost the battle to keep the smile off his face.

"Why'd you hit me?" he complained.

Bailey glanced at him, looked down at his smile, and then rolled his eyes away with a scoff. "Because you are an asshole."

Then he grabbed the power cord and leaned down to wedge himself between the wall and the mattress so he could jam it into the outlet hidden along the side of the bed. He was on his knees as he did this and had to bend down to reach the floor, one hand braced on the wall so that his back was sloped down and twisted. And his ass was up in the air above where his toes were braced against the quilt.

Bailey could not be completely unaware of how often he presented his ass to Nate. It had to be on purpose because otherwise—if this was just how he operated in daily life—he was looking this vulnerable and delicious to everybody on the planet, probably several times a day. That was simply unacceptable. Nate should not be feeling possessive over the sight.

But he was.

He moved forward and grasped Bailey's sloping torso, then pressed his hips right up against his inviting ass. His efforts were met with an exasperated sigh so dramatic that he felt Bailey's ribs expand and contract beneath his palms. He stroked his sides through the gaping holes of his cutout shirt.

"I'm just being helpful," he quipped, safe from errant fists while Bailey's head was buried in the void along the side of his bed. Bailey ignored him. The sounds of the plug scraping against the plastic outlet cover and wall, along with his irate muttering, made it clear he was struggling.

Nate began grinding a little against his ass. He liked Bailey like this just as much as when he was soft. Seeing him irritable and difficult out in the wild was one thing, but it was adorable when he was in his bedroom, in comfy clothes, battling against a window and a box fan.

His muscles bunched and twisted as he wedged himself into a different angle, brushing nicely against Nate's cock. Nate's fingers slid over the arm Bailey had braced against the wall, over his triceps and shoulder. "I could fuck you like this, you know."

"What?" Bailey protested, muffled and strained. "While I'm elbows deep in cobwebs and dust?"

"Maybe you should clean your room more often."

Bailey successfully got the fan plugged in and shoved Nate back so he could sit up and shoot an irritated look over his shoulder. "If you want to fuck me like that, we can do it on the other side of the bed. I'll probably get dizzy as hell, though."

He muttered the last bit mostly to himself, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. His face was a little flushed from leaning down and straining for the past thirty seconds or so. It was a good look on him. But he also looked about ready to throw a punch. Nate reminded himself that he already had, no matter how playful it had been.

"You seem a little grumpy now." He put his hands back around Bailey's hips and drew him into his lap. Bailey was pliant and willing in this, draping his arms across Nate's shoulders. But he was still wearing a righteous pout. "Are you still up for this?"

"Oh, I'm up, Daddy." In an impressive feat of flexibility and joint mobility, Bailey shifted so his legs were wrapped around Nate's waist and pressed flush against Nate's belly. In contrast to his words, he was still soft in his shorts, but perhaps not for long. Desire flashed through Nate, molten and all-consuming—the things he wished to do to this boy and his surprisingly flexible body.

"Yeah?" He skated his hands up Bailey's sides, slid them down his arms, then settled them around his wrists. Bailey's cock stirred against his midriff, and he had to close his eyes for a moment to steady himself. This was all about control. Not just controlling Bailey, he was beginning to realize, but also himself and his urges.

"One last thing, darling," he said, using the endearment he had decided to reserve for outside their scenes. "What are you going to do if you need me to stop?"

Bailey melted in his lap. All the lingering jitters and frustration drained away as though they had never existed. The tension around his eyes softened as his gaze turned tender. It stole Nate's breath and made his heart feel like a bruised peach.

"I'll tell you no or to stop or that I don't like something," he murmured.

"That's right, baby," Nate steeled himself and dove in, "because you are just a little toy for me to play with, and toys don't know how to say no, right?"

Bailey's eyes dropped to Nate's chest like he was embarrassed to submit without any of the usual spitfire brattiness. A hint of pink even spilled across his cheeks. Suddenly, it seemed that Bailey was the bruised peach. And Nate desired to handle him with the utmost care, chest aching with it.

Slowly, Bailey nodded. "That's right, Daddy."

Oh, fuck.

Because he could, Nate prodded, "What are you?"

Bailey was unnaturally still in his lap, hardly even breathing. Perhaps it was still a bit uncomfortable to let Nate see him like this. To be made to say such things right off the bat. Maybe Nate should ease them into this a bit more in the future.

"I'm Daddy's little toy to play with," Bailey mumbled into their laps.

Nate moved his hands down Bailey's arms to his back to gather him closer and duck to meet his eyes. He waited for Bailey to glance up and meet his eyes, then grinned and praised, "Good boy."

A shiver shattered Bailey's stillness. He returned the smile shyly. Nate held him for a moment more, psyching himself up.

He could do this for Bailey. He could give him the space to be shy and honest, to enjoy being a slut, to feel used but not wrong about it. After so many years of building walls in front of each other, he needed a moment to revel in Bailey's soft embrace and come to terms with the fact that deep inside, he felt honored that Bailey was revealing himself like this. That gave him the strength to pull back and gently order, "Show me how good you can be and get down on your knees."

Bailey's tongue poked out to lick his lower lip. Then he removed himself from Nate's lap and settled on the floor. His fingers clasped together in his lap, and his eyes lowered to the floor. He was still feeling shy despite all the forced and blustery confidence with which he first admitted to Nate that he liked this kind of thing.

"Knees a little wider," Nate instructed, keeping his orders simple for both his and Bailey's sake for now—things that had no real impact and could not be done wrong. "And come closer."

Bailey spread his knees and shuffled forward as Nate widened his legs to make room for him between them.

"So eager," Nate put his hands on the bed behind him and leaned back to look down his nose and smirk. He had no fucking clue what he was doing, but hopefully, that made him look like he was not entirely out of his depth, like an overeager puppy panting at the sight of Bailey down on his knees like that. "Go ahead and take my cock out."

Bailey immediately reached for his fly, knuckles brushing against Nate's length as he unzipped it and pulled him out of his boxers. Bailey licked his lips again, and Nate locked down the urge to put himself between them. Control, he reminded himself. Sucking Nate's cock was probably front and center in Bailey's mind too. But he wanted to be kept on his toes. And Nate wanted to show him he could do that for him.

"Just a little slut," he cooed. "So eager, aren't you?"

With wide, expectant eyes, Bailey glanced up, "Yes, Daddy."

"So eager that you'll do whatever I tell you, right?"

Bailey nodded emphatically.

"Get me off with your hands," Nate ordered.

Bailey's expression faltered, but only for a moment. Then he blinked owlishly at Nate's cock and reached for it. He was not quite hard yet, but Bailey got him there quickly, careful with the pressure since there was nothing to lubricate his strokes yet. The light pressure was barely a tease.