Snacker

So the little bastard had chosen to hide in plain sight. Not a bad move, actually. Not bad at all. It had taken Jerry a while to get this close to him, but he finally had managed it. It was the reason he had relocated here after all.

Jerry smiled, watching Peter walk in a half-swagger, half-stagger from the cab to the private entance leading to his penthouse suite. He smelled Midori and some nice, spicy aftershave, but under that lay the smell of Peter Vincent himself, dragging Jerry's memories back to a deserted street in Edinburgh where a man and a woman lay dead and a slim, doe eyed boy curled in on himself in abject terror.

He was a slim, doe eyed man now. But just as pretty, just as tempting as he had ever been. Moreso, really. Just look at the ass clad in those tight black trousers. Such an endearing little wiggle in the drunken walk. Such a tight little belly, long, graceful limbs, and neck that screamed for Jerry's special brand of attention. And then there was that mouth with its sweet, pouty bottom lip. Oh, the things he could to that mouth.

Jerry, at times like these, was very glad he sometimes practiced catch and release. Maybe some day Jerry would take him, make him his own. But for now? Oh, just a little taste. Just to tease himself. He'd get to Peter. Easy as shooting fish in a barrel, really. After all, he had already charmed the woman Peter lived with, the lucious little Ginger. All he needed to do was tell her when to put the pills in Peter's Midori and Jerry could have a little fun.