Complete Me [Tronnor]

f i v e.

Troye feels Connor's thumb trace back and forth on his hip bone, as he pulls out. The sensation floats across his skin effortlessly reminding Troye of what just happened. He feels warm and satisfied, like he got eight hours of sleep, or a video call from his mom. When the truth is he hasn't had either since god knows how long.
He looks up at the boy with the green eyes. He's put on his pants already and is tearing toliet paper off the roll from the stall next to theirs. His hair is still mused from earlier when Troye had grabbed it. He thinks he can still feel Connor's saliva drying on his neck.
"Are you alright? I wasn't to rough was I?" Connor asks concerned.
" No, I'm okay it was..." Troye thinks about how to describe their activities from earlier. Ground shattering? The best sex he's ever had? "Good," he finishes lamely. "10 out of 10 would bang again."
Connor laughs at that before he approaches Troye, with a wet wad of toliet paper in his hand. He hesitates for a second looking for a reaction from the Australian. For him to get up and leave maybe, or flinch again. He just stands there however still smiling at Connor.
"Lets get you cleaned up, someone's bound to walk in and I bet you don't want to get caught with your pants down, huh?" Troye jumps a bit when Connor wipes the cum off his limp dick and from inbetween his thighs, with the cool toliet paper.
"Sorry still sensitive?" Connor asks. Troye doesn't mind the thought of someone walking in, only if its for them to see how tender the top is being. Troye's never known/had a Dom, besides Tyler, who stayed afterward, to clean up their subs. Not that he's Connors sub.
"Just a little, but uh what are you doing?" Connor stops his administrations, confused. " Aftercare is very important in a BDSM relationship Troye, for both Doms and subs. Its my responsibility to make sure you're not injured or retreating into yourself."
Troye knows about subspace and how bad it can be. Subspace can make Troye second guess everything that's every made him Troye. His pretty blue irises, the moles scattered like constellations on his back, the sound he had made when Connors tongue leisurely licked the vein along his neck.
Troye's old Domiant, a man named Sawyer who always met him in hotel rooms ,had once fvcked him raw, with no prep except for the spit from his mouth. He always made sure they only touched during sex and afterwards he had left Troye in a stained bed with rumpled sheets and a rushed "I'll call you when you're needed next." Troye had checked out five hours later when he could remember his own phone number again.
The smile of gratitude he sends in the older boy's direction, burrows in between Connor's ribs. Connor feels proud of himself, but doesn't understand why. This is what it meant to be human, to treat others like they were human. Sure he got pleasure from seeing marks across a previously unblemished back, hearing moans mingled with pain and the feeling of combusting under total dominance. But he also drew pleasure from watching his partner sighing in, much needed,
relief from a hot bath.
That didn't mean he loved them, it meant that he felt a mutual respect for them, saw them for what they really were: a person capable of every emotion on the spectrum. A person who could love themselves one second and loathe themselves the other.
Troye watches Connors face, it always seems to be calculating like a computer that inputs people's comments,and facial expressions. Basing his body language off of that. He doesn't say anything, not when he pulls up Troyes underwear, tucking him in gingerly, or when he kisses the darkening skin around the blue eyed boy's nipples before slipping Troyes arms and head through the fabric.
"So," Troye says.
"So," Connor parrots.
They're saved from their awkward encounter by a different encounter when a sixty year old man strolls through the door and stops when he notices them.
Its painfully obvious what has taken place between them, Troyes zipper is broken off his pants, Connors hair is flying in every direction and it only takes two seconds for Troye to look like a tomato.
They sit there and watch the man wash his hands with the foamy soap found in every coffeeshop in the states. He hums the alphabet two times before turning to dry his hands.
Connor's own hand is resting feather light on Troye's waist, a sign of ownership maybe or a threat begging the stranger to put those letters into words. But what he exclaims isn't what either of them were expecting.
"Enjoy it while you're young boys, because before you know it you're old and saggy and you just can't get it rolling like you use to." With that he strolls out of the bathroom, giving them a wink and leaving on the hand dryer.
"Oh... my god!" Troye screams bringing his hands up to hide his mortified face. Connor's mouth twitches like a burnt lightbulb until he busts out laughing, his hands resting on his knees.
"Can't get it rolling like you use to!" He mocks in a bad interpretation of the mans voice. " was he talking about his dick or a soccer ball? I mean seriously TMI."
TMI, Troye snorts they just had sex in a public restroom."What are you snorting at?"Connor questions.
Troye shakes his head, smiling and responds "you're going to be the death of me."
" Ah, so I passed the trial run?"
Troye doesn't hesitate when he says yes.
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Guys ! We've almost hit 2K reads on here I can't believe it. Thank you so much to everyone that has read, commented and liked this story. You are the best and you make my day just a little brighter. I hope you liked the new chapter.