[ or his dad knows a guy. a guy who has covered up a few things for him, yes, and who has protected q when he didn't know he needed protection. idly he thinks he needs to call his dad - it's been a while. he can't quite remember how long it's been and h̴̺͎̙͑̓͘e̴͇͙͛̚͝ c̵̦͚̈́͛̈́a̴̟͖̝̓̐̈́n̵͇̘̙̿͊͝'̸̢͓̦̐͒̚t̸̼̫̒͛̽͜ r̵̝̺͕̐̿̕e̵̡͓̟͐̓͒m̴̠͍̟̈́̒̐e̸̪͚̦͊͛͑m̸̝̪͆͘b̸͖̟͖͊͋͠e̴̝͎̝͒͌͘r̵̦͓͕͑͆ w̵̼͙͍͑͋͊h̸̢͓̺͑͐̚a̴̘̪͋̔̕t̴̡̻̾͊ h̵͉̟̓͌̈́͜i̵̦͇͒̾͆͜s̴̢͉͔͑̒̿ v̴̞̻͎̀͒̽o̸͉̦̘̓͝i̵͉̠͕͌̐̈́c̸͕̞͐̓̓e̴͉͕̺̾̈́̈́ s̴͕̻͎͋͆̔o̸̺̟͓̔̕͝u̸̼͎̽͑̔͜n̴̺͍͎̓͌̔d̴̞͎̠͛͊͝s̸̫͚͛́̾ l̵͍͎̟̈́̈́̓i̵̺͎̓͒͜k̸̙̞̺̒͌͠e̸̙͉͓̽̓͐ a̵͚͖̟̓̔̔ǹ̸̫̙̻̒̕ý̵̢̦̫͒͠m̵͇̺̻͌͒͒o̵̞̼̟̓̓͝r̸̠̘̈́́͛͜e̵̟͙͓̐̓͝.
but when the clomping of boots begins all the way to the moment those very same boots enter his room, he'll find q standing at his dresser, bent to dig out some kind of tshirt. and sure enough, he's in the pink underwear that fits him too tightly. the bottoms of his ass cheeks peek out, the fabric riding up. who knows what's going on in the front. ]
I've met many, many hot nerds. You say it like it's a bad thing.
Uh-huh. [that’s interesting, and koby should absolutely pursue that a bit more, because knowing about quentin’s dad will inform what he does next, how he approaches this odd little entanglement they’ve found themselves in – yes, the shower had thrown him, the show of something like genuine kindness deeply unnerving, but koby can adjust. he can strategize, he can adapt.
except quentin’s standing there in koby’s underwear, the silk straining over the curve of his ass and koby sort of forgets how to think for a moment. it should be comical, how poorly the pink panties fit, but – it’s not. it’s so, so not.
koby swallows, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the doorframe, like he’s unbothered, like it doesn’t matter what quentin’s wearing.] Now you’re telling on yourself. Where do you hang out where you meet that many nerds?
no subject
[ or his dad knows a guy. a guy who has covered up a few things for him, yes, and who has protected q when he didn't know he needed protection. idly he thinks he needs to call his dad - it's been a while. he can't quite remember how long it's been and h̴̺͎̙͑̓͘e̴͇͙͛̚͝ c̵̦͚̈́͛̈́a̴̟͖̝̓̐̈́n̵͇̘̙̿͊͝'̸̢͓̦̐͒̚t̸̼̫̒͛̽͜ r̵̝̺͕̐̿̕e̵̡͓̟͐̓͒m̴̠͍̟̈́̒̐e̸̪͚̦͊͛͑m̸̝̪͆͘b̸͖̟͖͊͋͠e̴̝͎̝͒͌͘r̵̦͓͕͑͆ w̵̼͙͍͑͋͊h̸̢͓̺͑͐̚a̴̘̪͋̔̕t̴̡̻̾͊ h̵͉̟̓͌̈́͜i̵̦͇͒̾͆͜s̴̢͉͔͑̒̿ v̴̞̻͎̀͒̽o̸͉̦̘̓͝i̵͉̠͕͌̐̈́c̸͕̞͐̓̓e̴͉͕̺̾̈́̈́ s̴͕̻͎͋͆̔o̸̺̟͓̔̕͝u̸̼͎̽͑̔͜n̴̺͍͎̓͌̔d̴̞͎̠͛͊͝s̸̫͚͛́̾ l̵͍͎̟̈́̈́̓i̵̺͎̓͒͜k̸̙̞̺̒͌͠e̸̙͉͓̽̓͐ a̵͚͖̟̓̔̔ǹ̸̫̙̻̒̕ý̵̢̦̫͒͠m̵͇̺̻͌͒͒o̵̞̼̟̓̓͝r̸̠̘̈́́͛͜e̵̟͙͓̐̓͝.
but when the clomping of boots begins all the way to the moment those very same boots enter his room, he'll find q standing at his dresser, bent to dig out some kind of tshirt. and sure enough, he's in the pink underwear that fits him too tightly. the bottoms of his ass cheeks peek out, the fabric riding up. who knows what's going on in the front. ]
I've met many, many hot nerds. You say it like it's a bad thing.
no subject
except quentin’s standing there in koby’s underwear, the silk straining over the curve of his ass and koby sort of forgets how to think for a moment. it should be comical, how poorly the pink panties fit, but – it’s not. it’s so, so not.
koby swallows, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the doorframe, like he’s unbothered, like it doesn’t matter what quentin’s wearing.] Now you’re telling on yourself. Where do you hang out where you meet that many nerds?