I Wanna Be Your Backdoor Man || jimbert

Chapter 4: Calculated Decisions

Mrs. Plant was about as talkative as you'd expect, except she was actually quite interesting to listen to. She led them inside, spewing an endless stream of chatter about anything and everything —the inside was almost the same as the outside. Cozy and colourful, not unlike something out of a fairy-tale, a bit cluttered with figurines and pictures but overall homely.

"Yes, here's Percy at five." She waved her hand at one of the many picture frames adorning the wall. Robert's heartfelt groan of embarrassment encouraged Jimmy to take a closer look.

He wasn't disappointed.

Robert was teetering on the bank of a river, looking not a day past four or so, tiny mouth hanging open in delight, or a shriek of excitement. Completely naked. "He's naked." He pointed out, just to hear Robert groan, clearly embarrassed.

"Mhm, he hated his clothes. Refused to wear them around the house since he was no more than a toddler. The obsession with swimming was since then too." Robert wondered if it would be considered rude to drop dead right there. Jimmy was grinning deviously, which was totally scary and not at all sexy, probably scheming something vile. "We'd dress him and soon enough there'd be a trail of his clothes behind him and he was off splashing in the bathtub or a puddle."

The brunette turned to look at him, expression unreadable. "Hmm... What a pity he's changed." He meant that. Because he can damn well tell that he has changed, Robert's jeans did an absolutely good job if revealing everything. Even now as he stood there, shifting around uncomfortably, hunched over like he was trying to make himself smaller, Jimmy could make out the line of his cock— his poor jeans were struggling. Jimmy would love to help them out.

She snorted, "Oh no. He's still like that, waltzes around the house in next to nothing. If it weren't just the two of us—"

"Mother." His hands are shaking a bit and his reflection in the glass proved he was way past red in the face. "We really should study."

"Oh yes." She glanced at them both, eyes lighting up. "Well I'll make you something to eat. You are staying with us for dinner Jimmy? Or should I call you James?" She really hadn't phrased it like much of a question.

No. It was on the tip of his tongue, followed closely by some bullshit excuse. But the memory of his empty house struck the words from his mouth, and he helplessly blurted: "Sure why not. Jimmy is fine, by the way." His father was the only one who called him James, always managing to inject the expected amount of disdain into that one word.

Robert didn't even bother to hide his pleasure. "More time to study then, come on." Oh shit, did I clean my room? Wait. Is my bed even made?

Jimmy silently trailed him up the stairs, not even trying to hide how hard he was studying Robert's ass. Studying was fucking great. But seriously, it was great. So great he had to dig his nails into his palm to resist doing something obnoxious like slapping, or groping, or spre—

"So, uhm, I know it's not the tidiest right now but you know." Robert rubbed his neck sheepishly, looking down at his feet.

Jimmy snorted and brushed pass him. "Don't worry about it, Goldie. Let's just get the torture over with."

Robert's heart was racing, because Jimmy had dropped his guitar (gently of course), knapsack and his fine self on Robert's bed like he belonged there. He wondered if the bed would smell of whatever expensive cologne he was wearing.

"Yeah, OK, sure."

The sound of the door clicking shut had an air of finality. He was trapped in here with the object of his desires for at least an hour.

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"Do you think Jimmy's for real this time?" Bonzo mused, running his fingers through Jonsey's dark hair.