Re: Graveyard Date
Mao was like one of those cats in cartoons serenading while perched on a fence, waking everyone up, who eventually got a shoe thrown at him. He could carry a tune, his voice wasn’t unpleasant, though it had that higher pitched, raspy quality like Axel Rose or Steven Tyler (both of whom sounded rather feline when singing if you asked Mao) which some may consider annoying.
“Oh, V..! Always trying to tell me to behave.” A tsk and a shake of his head. Mao figured he was already behaving, otherwise he’d have stayed on Vaughn’s lap until there was no hope of waiting until they got to his apartment. Lighter on his feet, he got ahead of Vaughn and made it the car first, practically skipping. He waited, though, until the door was opened for him before getting in.
Brows arched at talk of a ‘warm up’ on the way. “And you’re telling me to behave! Isn’t that how Matthew Broderick killed those people?” Leave it to Mao to know obscure facts/rumors like actors getting into deadly car accidents because of blowjobs, and to act as if everyone else knew these things too. “I think I’ll be a good boy and wait, just because I know you can’t hardly.”
He was enjoying seeing Vaughn suffer anticipation and couldn’t help but grin when he glanced down and saw that telltale bulge still tenting his pants. Mao was worked up too, of course, but he was somehow able to be patient. Maybe it was because he had never been with anyone that made him lose his mind during sex. They had all been young and clumsy and drunk and in a hurry. He could hardly answer Vaughn’s questions because ‘pressed against the bathroom stall of a club’ didn’t really count as a favorite position, did it? He hadn’t had enough of any other kind of sex to form a proper opinion.
“Where’s the fun in planning it all out in advance?” He smirked and reached over to tickle Vaughn’s ear. “Maybe you can teach me something new.”