Mateo had his phone in one hand and his dick in the other, tugging it lazily to one of his tried-and-true videos. Oral sex, tender shit, lots of hair-petting and vulnerable looks up. The kinda shit he just couldn’t seem to get from the nightclub hook-ups, as much as he tried. And this time around, the video wasn’t even getting him there. He sighed, tucking his cock back into his underwear, and pushed himself up to get to his dresser. Maybe one of the toys would help.
In the tiny open crack of one of the lower drawers, he caught a flash of movement. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he hissed. He wrenched it open violently and heard a thud and a squeak. No, no, not the pests again, he just had to do a whole move to avoid fucking pests. It must’ve been trying to escape through the hole in the back of the drawer─ that was what he got for buying all of his furniture secondhand─ and then fell into the drawer below when he pulled it back. Mateo closed the upper drawer and opened the lower, just in time to catch a tiny shoe disappearing into the mess of underwear. He lit up. A borrower. A little voyeur.
Mateo sat down on the carpet and hooked his fingers over the edge of the drawer. “You’re trapped, aren’t you?” he teased. “Hiding in my underwear drawer. Not really helping your case, you think?” He reached in. The little lump dodged around and he heard frantic gasps. Oh, god, just adorable. He closed in on something a bit harder than its surroundings and wrapped his digits around it. Trembling little form. No attempts to bite or scratch or stab. The poor dear must’ve been scared to piss him off.
The borrower was a skinny thing, tussled hair ruddy but fading, clothed in all natural tones, obviously handmade. He was a man, Mateo was pretty sure. It was hard to tell when he was so wrapped up in the fetal position. Maybe he wasn’t voyeuring, then─or he was a gay borrower. Well, why couldn’t borrowers be gay? Just about every other animal could be.
Mateo stroked along his arms, trying to gently, gently tug them away from his head, and the borrower fought against him. “Can I just see your face?” No response. “You know, I only panicked because I thought you were a mouse. I don’t mind so much, if you’re not a mouse.”
Slowly, the borrower relented, looking up at him with wide eyes, guarded. He was cute. Adorable, yes, but cute in the way he’d call a human cute too. Round eyes, round lips, eyes and cheeks dark, the start of crow’s feet. Early 40s, maybe. Mateo stroked the side of his head and marveled at him, how soft his hair was, how his flinch away from Mateo’s touch was so barely noticeable. “What’s your name?” he whispered.
The borrower’s breath picked up, and abruptly he heard little squeaks and sobs from the reburied face.
“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh, no, no, hey, you’re okay.” He couldn’t explain it at all, but even if he couldn’t imagine hurting him, something about the poor little guy’s abject terror was exhilarating. Mateo held him in to his chest and stroked his back. When he felt tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he had to keep himself from crying too, he was so overwhelmed by intoxicating emotion. Was this why people abused them? For this absolute rush? Where was it even coming from, how was he making Mateo feel like this?
The borrower’s breaths became slow and labored. Somehow, his smothering attempt at comfort had actually worked. Mateo brought him back out and unwrapped his hands. The man looked up at him again, lower half of his face hidden behind his arm. Did he even realize what he was doing to him?
“I’m so sorry,” the borrower choked out.
“Yeah? What are you sorry for?”
He blushed. So tiny, it seemed to take over his entire body. “For-for watching you.” He curled further in. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“Hey, I’m just teasing.” Mateo snaked his fingertip down his chin to push his face back up. “You’re a cute mouse.” The borrower squeaked and he giggled. “What’s your name?”
He hesitated. “Farrow.”
“Farrow.” He tasted the name on his tongue. Farrow squirmed. “Little king. Do you watch me a lot?”
Averting his eyes, he nodded.
His heart swelled, working up the courage for his next sentence. “Not very fair, is it? If I never get to watch you.”
Farrow’s head shot up. He shook again, his chest thrumming under Mateo’s fingers, but was it fear or desire? Could he even make the distinction? “You-you want me─“ He cut himself off with a yelp as Mateo’s thumb snuck along his torso.
“What do you do? When you’re watching.”
Farrow stared him head-on for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if this was some cruel joke. Without breaking eye contact (and God that made it all the sexier) he reached down and undid the frantic knot of his drawstring waistband. He slipped his hand underneath and began tugging cautiously at his dick.
“Hey.” Mateo pinched his waistband. “I get to see, don’t I?”
Farrow pulled his hand out of his pants and shoved away the fingertips. “I don’t get it!” he snapped. “I’m sorry! I-I’ll stop, I promise, just-just whatever you’re trying to do, I don’t get it, please just let me go.” His voice threatened to break into sobs again.
“Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because why!?” He gestured to himself broadly, the implications too obvious to even state. Tiny. Aging. Perv.
“Farrow…” Mateo’s thumb came back into his personal space and nudged up his shirt. The muscles underneath spasmed and shook with breath. Mateo gasped. “Just looking at you is driving me crazy,” he muttered. “I’ve never met a borrower. You-you’re so tiny, like I can do anything to you, and─” Farrow’s eyes flashed with genuine terror. Mateo stiffened. “Not like that,” he insisted. “Like feeling you, in my hands… your little shaking body. So responsive to everything I do. It’s getting me so, so horny.” Farrow looked down and rubbed his hands together. Dammit. “I’ll let you leave,” he conceded.
“No,” Farrow blurted out. “If-if you mean it. I mean, I don’t─” he gulped. “Please be gentle.”
Mateo slowly smiled, a little breathless. If the reaction didn’t seem so genuine, he would’ve assumed that Farrow was acting that bashful to turn him on even more. Mateo inched down his pants and growled a little, watching his tiny eager cock slip out, while Farrow looked pointedly away. “Show me your eyes,” Mateo commanded. To his delight, the poor little thing obeyed. His expression was disbelieving, vulnerable, like he still expected Mateo to turn cold and cruel at any second, mock him for daring to think a human would ever lust after a little creature like him. Mateo fought the urge to squeeze him.
He pinched Farrow’s wrist and guided it down to his legs, like he was posing a doll. Farrow’s first strokes were hesitant and robotic. The massive thumb sliding up under his shirt and making delicate circles around a nipple sent him over the edge. “Oh, fuck,” he whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. Borrower swearing. Adorable.
“Look at me,” Mateo snapped.
Opening his eyes seemed to be agony.
Mateo took his spare hand to his own cock and beamed as he saw Farrow sneaking glances. “You’re just so cute. Will you do whatever I say? Squeak for me, mouse.”
He obeyed. Sparks went flying in Mateo’s chest. Was this humiliating for him? Was he living out a fantasy he’d had ever since Mateo first moved in?
“Tell me to do something,” Mateo ordered.
“Fuck, fuck,” he hissed. “Please let me see your cock.”
He was disappointed, almost. He hoped for a moment of real boldness, for him to tell Mateo to suck him off or humiliate himself instead or praise him, worship his little body, but Mateo believed him, this was definitely what Farrow wanted more than anything. He would, though, he realized. He would happily bark like a dog or kiss the soles of those delicate feet, if it made the man tucked within his fingers shudder.
He brought his hand down near the floor so that his shaft loomed above Farrow, hiding him from view. Whimpers emanated from below. After a moment, he felt something almost like pinpricks. Tiny fingertips, on the very edge of sensation, trailed down his shaft, exploring his veins. The little hands pushed his skin around, creating a very gentle sort of pleasure, and they were finally joined by a spot of wetness and a quiet little pop.
His heart fluttered. “Was that a kiss?”
“Is-is that okay?”
He brought his other hand down and felt for Farrow’s head to pet his hair. “Of course it is. Of course.”
Evidently, this was encouraging, because he felt licks a moment later. Farrow gripped around his glans to tug him down. Lips closed around his frenulum and he felt light sucking. Mateo hummed in pleasant surprise. Maybe this guy was more confident than he thought. Or at least very horny.
“Sweet thing…” Mateo whispered. “That feels wonderful.” A shaky breath from underneath. Mateo took his spare hand to the base of his shaft and rubbed himself slow. He had only really let the borrower at his cock to indulge him. He hadn’t expected it to be this good. Mateo’s pleasure mounted in steady, even waves, and he moaned low and quiet as it bubbled over. The tiny sucks and licks at his ridge felt incredible as he came. God, what delicacy. Farrow kept going after the fact, dragging his tongue wide along his head, moving to his slit and dancing his tongue around the entrance. Mateo gasped sharply and tried to control his hips. With this size difference, if he just thrusted a little too fast, he could easily injure him.
A bit of post-nut clarity, maybe, but Farrow’s movements at his tip triggered a flash of recognition. The little circles of his tongue, the fingers sliding in along the bottom, the sucking on the top of his hole… those were cunnilingus techniques. The tiny man was eating out his urethra, instinctively honing in on a nonexistent clit. Not that it mattered much, but was he… bisexual?
Whatever, it felt way too good to be asking questions. He sat on his carpet, eyes closed, silent but for the occasional shaky moan and the wet squelches and smacks of Farrow’s mouth against his cum-wet passage. “Okay,” he finally blurted out. “O-okay, yeah, that’s good. I’m good.”
The stimulation retreated. Mateo cupped Farrow in both hands and held him at chest level. He gasped. A tiny splatter of cum dotted Farrow’s belly and his head was soaked completely. His hair was matted, his face covered, he’d evidently wiped away the gunk from his eyes and mouth best he could. His shirt had been abandoned to the floor, and Mateo’s seed rolled down onto his naked shoulders as well. Farrow met Mateo’s eyes, and then dodged his head away. Mateo choked down a laugh. He tried to wipe off Farrow’s hair. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, you poor thing.”
“It’s─it’s okay,” he muttered.
“I’m cleaning you up. Let’s go.” He tucked his dick back in and walked to his bathroom, letting the sink water warm to a nice temperature at a light trickle. When he went to tug off those little shoes and pants, Farrow was so cooperative. Much more trusting than he had any logical reason to be. Especially with how badly Mateo wanted to just… keep him. If he slipped him into his coat pocket and drove straight to the pet store, would Farrow put up a fight? Would he look up at him through the glass walls of a cage with that same terror from when Mateo first grabbed him? The mental image drove him crazy.
He took his time running his thumbs over Farrow’s skin. Farrow slumped back against his fingers. What a privilege it was to see someone so vulnerable this relaxed.
He muttered something. Mateo smiled. “Speak up a little?”
“I don’t wanna wake up,” he repeated.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
Slowly, Farrow’s face fell. “Oh no,” he muttered. He suddenly sounded a lot less like some delicate ethereal creature and a lot more like a grown man. “I gotta go home. I gotta─ I gotta go.” He sat up, and when Mateo held him back down he panicked and fought against him, almost on instinct.
“Woah, woah, settle down. Your hair’s not even clean yet.”
Farrow gulped. “You… you’ll let me leave, right?”
God, he wanted to say no. “Of course I will.” He leaned down to the sink’s level, holding Farrow out in front of him. “Please don’t let this be the last time I see you. If I let you go, can you promise me that?”
The little man searched his eyes through the curtain of water trickling down his face. Still, he didn’t seem to trust what he was hearing, and Mateo was getting desperate to know what could get through to him. I want you desperately, little thing, and I still haven’t figured out why. Please at least give me a chance to figure out why. Was that too forward?
Farrow bit his fingernail and looked away. “Okay.”