Page 125 of The Build-a-Boyfriend Project

Peter grins like an idiot. “Yeah, okay!”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Well, you can . . . I mean, if you want, you could jerk me off?”

“Now say that like it’s not a question.”

“Jerk me off.”

“Now say it like you’re not some closeted frat bro.”

“I’m not sure how to respond to that,” Peter says, and Eli can’t resist a laugh.

“Can I try something with you?”

Peter swallows, his voice quiet. “I think I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me.”

Eli can’t even begin to explain how dangerous that is. He thinks of wearing a strap-on, fucking deep into Peter until he’s a whimpering mess. Of riding Peter within an inch of his life, controlling his movements carefully enough to keep Peter from coming until he’s begging for it. Eli imagines eating Peter out while he edges him, his back arched, skin sweaty as he begs for release. He wonders if Peter would like to be tied to the bed so he can’t touch himself. If he might like being spanked or degraded, or if Peter would want to try being more demanding, more in control. He pictures a thousand different ways to make Peter come undone underneath him, and he wants to explore all of them.

But for now, he picks himself up, his legs still feeling like jelly as he sits closer to the wall Peter’s bed rests against, propping himself up with one of the discarded pillows. “Sit between my legs, here, with your back to me.” He rubs his hand on the sheets, and Peter does exactly as he’s told.

It’s an odd feeling. Being the big spoon was never Eli’s preferred role. He likes having that warmth, that comfort around him, almost as if he could suffocate underneath another person at any given moment. And with Peter’s wider frame, it’s a little tough to find the position he wants, but they both manage.

“Now . . .” Eli’s able to whisper in Peter’s ear, the angle right when Peter finally relaxes. “I think I want to go a little slower.”

Peter hisses when Eli touches his leaking cock, the precum providing enough lubrication for what he has planned.

“Is that okay?”

Peter bites at his bottom lip, almost letting it go white. But he still nods.

“Say it, Peter. Tell me if it feels good.”

“It feels so good, Eli.”

“And you tell me if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Mm-hmm . . . good.” Eli continues to stroke. “You know who follows rules, Peter?”

“Hng, I—”

Eli doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “Good boys follow rules.”

Peter swallows.

“You’re a good boy, right, Peter?” Eli whispers, unable to stop himself from nibbling at the skin of Peter’s neck. “I saw the way you blushed when I called you that before. I meant it as a joke, but . . .” Eli twists his wrist carefully, pulling his hand to the tip and rubbing his thumb along the wet slit of Peter’s leaking cock. “You like being called a good boy, don’t you?”

Peter bites at his bottom lip. “Mm-hmm . . .”

“Say it,” Eli pleads. “Tell me.”

“I like it.”

“Like what?”

“Being a good boy.”