Where Were We

Bobby gave the soft silk tie a tug, grinning at the very little give he got. “Ready?” he asked.

St. John shuddered a little. “Yes,” he hissed, tugging at his hands, which were tied above his head, very securely, to the rafter that ran over their heads.

“I don’t know,” Bobby purred, letting his hands run up and down St. John’s neck, back and shoulders without ever trailing any lower. “I don’t know if you really are. Could be you’re lying.”

“No,” St. John shook his head, and Bobby loved the fact that his wet, unjelled hair - Bobbyhad dragged him straight out of the shower to tie him up like this - fell over his eyes and face, loose and free. It was an almost bohemian feel, and between that and the water that still beaded and dripped on St. John’s hot skin, Bobby nearly had to freeze himself to calm down. “Not lying...”

“Mm,” Bobby mused, running his fingers down St. John’s spine again, and loving the way the other bucked into his touch, moaning softly. “I guess you might be....”

And then, without preamble, he brought his hand down a little further, smacking his open palm across St. John’s proudly bare ass.

St. John screamed, tossing his head back and tugging at the tie, looking like he was in seventh heaven. Other people might find it alarming that St. John was screaming like that, but Bobby didn’t. He and St. John had experimented enough times to know that screams like that... were agood thing.

Bobby repeated the action again, and though St. John didn’t scream again - having just been caught off guard last time - he did moan, gnawing on his lower lip as Bobby smacked his rear end red and raw.

They were both very much into it, and gravitating towards the main attraction, as it were, when someone walked in.

And froze.

Bobby cleared his throat. “Can we help you, Mr. Summers?”

Scott gaped at them, mouth opening and closing like a fish on land. Finally, he swallowed, and croaked, “Morning, boys.”

St. John sighed, and glanced over at the clock. “Suppose it is, isn’t it? Early morning.”

Scott swallowed again. “What are you - no wait, don’t answer that, I know what you’re doing.Why are you doing it in the kitchen?”
Bobby blinked at St. John, who blinked back. “Because the ice cream is here?”

Scott blinked back at them. “Right.”

“Look,” Bobby sighed. “We waited til the weekend the kids were all out on their camping trip. No one but teachers around. So go... go tie down Logan and do nasty things to him. We’re busy, here?”

Scott could only gape at them. “Tie... tie Logan....?!”

“Mr. Summers.” St. John grinned tightly. “Get out. Please.”

“Right!” Scott nearly tripped over his own feet in an attempt to hurry out, muttering about horny teenagers and insane mutants and animal men and silk ties.

“So,” Bobby turned to grin at St. John. “Where were we?”